Episode 1 - Year Walk

You sit alone in a dark room. You avoid eating and drinking, and all attempts at conversation you meet with stoic, contemplative silence.

You must tell nobody of your plans

As the sun sets, and midnight approaches, you stand. Wrap your coat tight around your shoulders against the winter cold, and you leave your house.

It is Christmas Eve, but your purposes are not merriment tonight. Tonight you seek knowledge.

You walk into the woods. First the sounds from the town fade away. Then the lights. Until you are left in the dark forest surrounded by nothing but silence and the falling snow. You are deep enough that even if a rooster were to crow, or a dog to bark, you would not hear it.

Now the true trials begin. Standing between you and your goals are a series of supernatural creatures. Some will seek to make you break the rules, preventing you from accomplishing your goal. Others will seek to trick you, to take something from you or lure you away never to be seen again. The most dangerous among them will try to kill you.

Your goal, the purpose that has carried you so far, and must carry you farther still, is the Year Walk.

Welcome, listeners, to the first episode of this exploration of folklore, supernatural tradition, and magic.
I am Andrew Eagle. And I invite you to join me, and come with me Through the Veil.

Arsgang (oorsh gong), also known as year walking, is a ritual from Swedish folk traditions, meant to provide the practitioner knowledge of the coming year.

The first record of this divination dates back to the 1600s, however, those records refer to the tradition as ancient.

It has been impossible to determine when exactly the practice first took root.

A Year Walk had to be attempted on a significant day. Records offer different dates that can be used, but the most common are the winter solstice, or Christmas Eve. Some offer New Year’s Eve, and a rare few suggest that Midsummer’s Eve meets the requirements.

There are many other divinatory practices in Swedish folklore, but most are quite limited in scope, providing the barest hint of the future.

Year Walk is different, with a sweeping scope, providing insight into the entirety of the next year, it is a far more powerful magic. Of course, it also was far more dangerous.

You pause for a moment, to catch your breath, before continuing on your way.

You make your way toward the cemetery that sat beyond the small parish nearby.

The journey will take time, and will almost certainly be fraught with peril.

Should you make it that far without breaking any of the rules, the cemetery will be the most active part of your year walk, and the most revealing.

You arrive at the brook that cuts across the path. It is flowing slowly under a small layer of ice. The bubbling sound of the brook is muffled but present in the otherwise silent night. Then a sound. Hooves. Too many hooves.

The Backahast gallops into view, following the bends and swirls of the river. The glowing white horse already carried two people, who were screaming for help. They, like any caught by the majesty of the Backahast, are already doomed.

You watch as the creature passes by, stoically watching the horse dive under the water carrying its riders with it. And eventually to their death.

You feel the beginnings of fear, but you cannot let it show.

As the creature finally vanishes, you take a deep breath and proceed forward. They were beyond help, you tell yourself, being afraid would not help them, and it could cost you everything.

There were many reasons to complete a Year Walk. Everyone who chose to attempt one had a purpose.

Primarily, it could reveal disasters, that they might be averted. Events like fires, or floods, could be seen during a year walk.

Other records suggest it was most useful to discover who might die from a town and more than one story describes a year walker stumbling upon their own funeral procession, bringing them face to face with knowledge of their impending death.

Stories of young year walkers in particular often describe them witnessing their own wedding or discovering the identity of a lover they would meet within the next year.

Records from some regions seem to imply that a year walker could perform the task with a question in mind to discover the answer, while others offer a less defined set of insight into the future.

But all agree, that those that completed a year walk were equipped to affect great change on the future with their knowledge if they chose to.

You are nearly out of the woods, nearly to the point where the path breaks from the trees and wraps up the hill to the cemetery.

Then you see the figure ahead of you. They are standing on a branch, balancing precariously and walking ever closer to the edge.

They see you, waving their stubby green hand at you with a wide grin. The wave starts to throw them off balance and they begin wildly waving their arms.

The figure sways, and sways. The whole time loosing a ridiculous “whoooa, whooa!”

You fight the desire to smile at the ridiculous creature. You know what a smile could cost, your eyes perhaps. Or your mind.

Just as the creature nearly catches itself with a satisfied sigh it tumbles down. Hitting every branch, almost impossibly, on the way down. Each time loosing a squeak of pain. A laugh bubbles in your chest, but you swallow it. The creature looks up when it hits the ground, eyes up to see if you broke.

Disappointed, it growled and shuffled away into the underbrush.

You continue on your way.

Those determined to Year Walk were expecting to encounter dangerous spirits, bent on disrupting the journey undertaken. Some were simply mischievous, various goblins and minor spirits taking comical forms, hoping to cause a year walker to smile or laugh. Some reports of failed year walks present those that broke the rule and smiled would see the spirits vanish, and their journey would be for nothing.

Worse off were year walkers who broke the rules about expressing fear. For some, it meant simple failure. For others, the unfortunate souls who showed fear could vanish forever. Never to be seen or heard from again.

There were extraordinary cases, reports of people who returned from the year walk blind, or mute, or mad. People who returned missing something that was taken from them.

Your journey is coming to an end, the year walk almost over. You can see the parish, with its winding cobble path and a cemetery full of headstones like broken teeth. Only one great obstacle remains. Within the cemetery, where you might learn truths, lies the Church Grim.

As you approach the gate, you see it. Treading among the markers was the large, black dog. Its eyes burning like embers. An eternal guardian to the dead.

It growls as you cross into the cemetery. A simple warning.

“Do not disturb the dead.”

You pass by with a respectful bow in your head. Your intention here is not to disturb those in peaceful rest.

You walk the boundary wall of the cemetery slowly. Circling at the edge of the place three times. Each time you pass the Grim you bow again.

On the third pass you see something at the gate. A procession, figures in funerary shrouds on horseback lead a set of pall-bearers. The coffin is simple and wooden, but well-made.

You have seen many like it, it is the same as any coffin made in your town. The lead rider turns its head slightly as you approach.

“Who do we mourn?” You want to say, but of course cannot. It does not matter, the rider responds.

“A good and loving man. He kept his family safe and fed. His passing will be greatly mourned.” The leader responds.

When the coffin passes, you can see who is within, in spite of the wood of the coffin. A farmer near the village. One who was always kind and warm to you and the rest of the town. You offer a somber prayer. The farmer will die within the year, now you know.

You leave the graveyard and head to the church atop the hill. Peering through the open doors, you see a wedding. The pews are full, but not as full as they should be. You count the missing people.

You know they will die or leave the town within the year. And the two at the altar, two locals, you remember them as children, now adults and getting married.

With your insight gained, you turn, satisfied and begin the long trek back to your home. Prepared to face the coming year with great knowledge.

The goals of year walks, and their end results, are reported as different across all regions. Each town had their own variation, their own rules and their own consequences for breaking them.

In some records, Year Walkers were occasionally met with visions of a traveler that is often described bearing features that were hallmarks of Odin. Others faced a monstrous spirit, Gloson, a hellish boar that sought to kill year walkers by running them down and using its razor spines to slice them apart. An encounter with Gloson spelled terrible danger, but also offered the chance for immense reward.

Gloson carries a scroll in its mouth, and if a year walker managed to retrieve it, it carried the secrets of powerful magic.

Some stories claim that each time someone completes a year walk, their next journey becomes more difficult. If a year walker manages to complete seven walks, they become all-knowing, learning the secrets of magic.

Most stories of Year Walk require that walkers go it alone, but there are records that suggest pairs, or even small groups able to complete the task together.

People across time and across the world have tried to peer ahead, desiring to learn something about what comes next.

Maybe we have a desire to control the outcomes, to change our fates. Or perhaps it is simple curiosity. A desire to know, rather than to control.

I hope you enjoyed this first episode of Through the Veil. I believe that stories, particularly those about the fringe of what we think we know, can offer great insight. And that magic lies around every corner if we let it.

If you have found your time exploring with me today well-spent, I encourage you to subscribe and catch new episodes weekly as I attempt to share the strange and wonderful world of folklore and the supernatural.

Thank you for listening.