by Peter Hall
“Where are we?” Steig asked, still unsure what this place was.
“That’s a better question, but still not the one you should be asking.”
“Alright. So what question should I be asking.” Steig said, too tired to be irritated with the man.
“You should be asking, how do we get out of here.”
“How do we get out of here.”
“We fight. We fight and we win.” The man said, pushing the bowl back across the stone floor.
He heard the door to the dungeon unlock and swing open, then footsteps approaching. He opened his eyes and a slaver grabbed his wrist, unlocking the cuff attached to the chain on the wall. He pulled Steig to his feet and shouted at him as the other prisoners gathered in a line. They followed the slavers through the door and down a tunnel that led to a long thin room with a long window carved in the stone wall looking out into another small outdoor arena and a large steel gate straight ahead. As they approached, the gate raised up and the men were led out into the daylight. Steig looked up, squinting his eyes and saw high walls surrounding this arena like the last one he had seen. He stood in line with the prisoners and a slaver walked up with a stack of rusty old swords. He handed one to Steig and moved down the line, giving one to each of the men.
The ten prisoners were put in groups of two and separated around the arena, then the slavers gestured for them to fight. Steig looked at the man facing him. He was thin and scared and he was shaking as he held his sword up. Steig gripped the hilt of the rusty sword tight and took a deep breath. The skinny man raised his sword and stepped forward as Steig blasted his sword straight through his chest with a powerful stab. He screamed as Steig pulled the blade out. The man dropped his sword and fell to the ground spraying blood across the dusty arena floor.
Steig was then led over to another man to face off against. He looked around and there were two other prisoners facing off and another one waiting next to a slaver nearby. The man in front of him raised his sword and swung. Steig countered the strike with such force the man’s sword flew out of his hand across the arena. He swung with a fierce backhand stroke and decapitated the man, blood spraying in the air as his head and body dropped to the dirt. He was then led to the waiting man as the other two prisoners continued to battle. The prisoner roared and charged at Steig, coming in with a powerful strike that only caught fresh air as Steig spun to his left, swinging his sword around his body and striking the man in the side of his chest. The man was knocked over by the force and hit the dirt hard, blood gushing from his side as he groaned. As he got to his feet Steig slammed his sword down into the man’s spine in a spray of blood. He gurgled blood and dropped to the ground, dead, as Steig ripped the sword back out and flicked the blood from the blade. The slaver’s laughed and obviously approved of that one.
There was one man left to face off against. It was the man Steig had given his bread to in the dungeon. The man had a scruffy brown beard and curly hair. He looked about forty or so and had a large, muscular frame. The slavers gestured for them to fight. The man gripped his sword and gritted his teeth, bracing himself. Steig swung his sword in a figure eight around his body and got behind the blade, gripping it with both hands. Suddenly the man turned and charged at one of the slavers. He swung his sword and hacked the slaver’s head clean off in a spray of blood. Five other slavers rushed toward the man and another four headed over to Steig with their blades drawn, shouting at him. He swung at the first slaver but his strike was deflected. The slaver swung and Steig countered the strike, then kicked the armor clad man in the gut and raised his sword. He heard a blood curdling scream from the other prisoner and a rope net fell over his head, catching his sword and pulling him over onto his back. The slavers were shouting and running around and the last thing Steig saw was a black boot smashing into his face.
Gnomes
‘Races of Eteria’ from ‘Eterialumen 1320th year since the cataclysm’
Gnomes live on the second continent, under the Southern Kotari Mountain Ranges, or ‘Hel’s Claw’. Gnomes are short and stout and live in underground kingdoms, much like the Dwarves of the northern and central areas of Kotari. They also have exceptional vision, yet that is where the similarities end. Gnomes are grey skinned and have red eyes, they have white hair and sharp teeth. Gnomes are known to be Dark Magick Users and they have a reputation for being vicious, savage creatures. The Dwarves and Gnomes are involved in a centuries-long war that continues to rage under the mountains on the eastern coast of Eteria.
E.
XI
The Last Valkyrie
Bryn gripped the old woman’s hand tightly as they journeyed high into the mountains. In her other hand she gripped the doll of her brother, her small fingers frozen solid. Her little legs ached, her feet were numb but she didn’t stop or complain. She fell many times in the snow and each time, the old lady helped her back to her feet and they pushed on. As night began to fall they came to a grand castle. It sat in a large clearing within a ring of mountains that kept it hidden from the world. The walls were white, shiny and high, there were turrets with light blue flags flapping in the wind and the castle itself a spectacle of shining white stone with silver domed ceilings and many balconies and towers surrounding it.
As they approached the huge silver gates, the old woman led her away from the path and walked along the wall. She stopped and ran her hand along the stones. A glowing white, arched door frame appeared in the wall before them, surrounded by glowing runes and symbols. The stone disappeared inside the magickal archway and they walked through. Bryn looked back and saw the glowing door fade and the stone re-appear, as the old lady led her to a wooden door in a nearby tower.
She took a key from her cloak and unlocked the door, leading Bryn inside. She locked the door behind them and led Bryn through another door inside the tower that opened into a long, dark hallway. There were cobwebs and dirt on everything and the wind whistled through the castle as they made their way along. They turned a corner and continued down the hallway to a large winding staircase. They climbed the stone staircase and it came to another long hallway with a red, dusty carpet running the length of the floor. They passed a few doors and the woman stopped and opened one. She led Bryn inside and shut the door behind them.
She let go of Bryn’s hand and shuffled over to a large fireplace. She took a pair of spark-stones from the mantle and lit the fire as Bryn stood shivering, clutching her doll and watching her. The old woman then shuffled over to a table and put some fruit and bread on a plate, bringing it over to Bryn. She crouched down and placed the plate on the dusty wooden beams they stood upon, then untied the strings under Bryn’s chin, removing her white cotton hat. She smiled at Bryn and held her shoulders.
“Everything will be alright now.” she said. “Sit child, eat.”
Bryn sat down and took a berry from the plate with her frozen fingers. She struggled to pick it up but she eventually managed to clutch it in her shaking hand and eat it slowly. The old woman shuffled over to a seat and sat down, pulling the hood back from her face. She had long, silver hair and light blue eyes. She was the oldest person Bryn had ever seen.
“My name is Kara. What is your name, child?” she said, leaning forward.
“Brynhildr.” she said in a quiet voice.
“Brynhildr? Such a beautiful name. You are safe now Brynhildr. Tell me child, where are your parents? What happened to the people of your village?”
Bryn looked around and her heart started racing.
“It is alright my child, you can tell me.”
Bryn looked at Kara and her lip was trembling. “Monsters. Monsters came and... “
“What did they look like, child.”
Bryn wiped her nose on her sleeve and sniffed as tears started to roll down her cheeks. “They were white.” she said in a soft voice.
“White? And what else child.”
“They had claws.”
“Claws?” Kara said, leaning back. “And what else child?”
“They… they had sharp teeth.”
“Sharp teeth? Hmm… the eyes… were they black, Brynhildr?””
Bryn started to sob uncontrollably.
“Oh there there child. No need for tears. They will not help you. Come let’s get you into bed for the night.” Kara said and led Bryn over to a simple wooden bed that was against the wall. She pulled back the covers and took Bryn’s fur coat, removed her small fur shoes, then sat her in bed and tucked her in.
“Rest now child. I will come for you in the morning.” Kara said and left the room, locking the door behind her. Bryn laid in the bed and watched the flames in the fireplace dance and listened to the wind whistling through the huge, empty castle.
The next morning Kara returned with fresh clothes and shoes, and a warm bowl of soup. She sat opposite Bryn at the table and smiled.
“We were fortunate to find each other Brynhildr. It is destiny. The Gods are watching over you my child.” she said. Her face became dark and stern as she leaned forward. “There is a great evil coming Brynhildr. You have seen it yes? Those monsters that killed your parents were demons! There is a dark force conjuring these creatures, and they will keep coming until they spread all throughout the land.”
Bryn stared at the old lady, terrified at what she was hearing.
“The dead will rise from their graves and Eteria will fall to darkness. The Old Gods will return and destroy everything. No one will be spared, Brynhildr.”
Bryn started to cry but the old lady didn’t seem to notice or care.
“In this castle, Brynhildr, once lived many brave women known as the Valkyries. They were great warriors and heroes. They were to stop this darkness from spreading.” she looked away and stared into the fireplace as Bryn wiped her eyes.
“The Valkyries, Brynhildr… they are gone. There was a great war and they all perished on the battlefield, all but one.” she looked back at Bryn. “The Gods have sent you to me Brynhildr. You must become a Valkyrie. It is the will of Odin. If you do not do this Brynhildr, everyone will die.” she said and put her hand on Bryn’s knee.
“Do you understand what I have told you Brynhildr?”
Bryn looked up at her and nodded.
“And do you swear to do as you are told, so that you may fulfill the will of the Gods?”
Again, Bryn nodded.
“Good, good child. We will start your lessons tomorrow.”
She stood up and walked over to a bookshelf in the room and pulled out a thick, dusty volume. She brought the book back to the table and placed it in front of Bryn.
“Can you read, Brynhildr?” she said. Bryn shook her head.
“That will be your first lesson. Look through that book and tomorrow I will show you how to read, for now just look at the words and the pictures. This book is written by the first Valkyrie, it is very special. I will bring you supper in the evening.” she said and left the room, locking the door behind her.
Bryn moved her soup to the side and flipped open the book. She looked at the writing and the images of swords and shields, of women fighting monsters and strange creatures and beasts of all kinds. She was fascinated by the book even though she didn’t understand it.
For months Bryn learned how to read and write, she learned about the Valkyries, about the history of Eteria, the different races, the magicks, the kingdoms. She learned the art of war and battle tactics. She learned about the Gods and the forces of light and dark. Once she had mastered all this, her training moved on to feats of strength and endurance.
She learned to endure extreme suffering and pain. At night she would stand on a tree stump in the courtyard with only her cotton gown to protect her from the wind and snow. She would stand there all night until sunrise and if she fell she would stay there all day. She had to balance on logs and punch trees with her bare hands until the skin was completely gone and her hands were bloody and shaking. She was lowered down a well and left for three months, alone in the deep dark, every day a basket would drop down with some food scraps to keep her alive. Then she moved on to weapons.
She learned to wield the sword and the shield. She was taught ancient secrets of battle, only Valkyries were aware of. She practiced her striking in the courtyard on wooden dummies and mastered all of the techniques Kara taught her. The old woman was pleased. Bryn never stopped, never complained and never cried again. She became strong. For six long years she trained with Kara in the castle, hidden in the mountains of Asgard.
One night, Kara took Bryn to the castle library and she pushed a bookshelf across, revealing a stairwell that led down to a large room full of shining silver swords, shields and armor. There were fur lined boots and white capes with golden embroidery. Winged silver helmets with fur lining. There were spears and clubs, bows and arrows, axes and maces. Bryn had been training with a wooden sword, now Kara handed her a beautiful silver longsword with a white hilt and a diamond embedded in the crossbar.
“Take this sword child and use it to defend yourself and the land from the forces of darkness.” Kara said. “When a sword has an enchanted gem inside Brynhildr, it takes on the magicks of that gem. It can give your sword a special quality. The diamond will make your sword shine bright in the darkest light.”
The old woman walked over and doused out the torch on the wall and the sword in Bryn’s hand started to glow a bright white. Bryn was awestruck and held the glowing sword up, inspecting it as if it was some trick of light.
“You see Brynhildr.” Kara said and smiled.
It was snowing heavily the night the demons finally found the castle. Kara burst into Bryn’s room in a panic, waking Bryn from her sleep.
“Wake up child! We must leave the castle, the demons have come for us.” she said, as she packed some books into a sack and slung it over her shoulder.
“Quickly child, get dressed and gather your sword.”
Bryn sprang up from the bed and did as she was told. She took the small bone figure of her brother from the shelf next to her bed and stuffed it in a small pouch at her waist. They left the room and rushed down the hallway towards the kitchen, then they made their way down to the cellar below. Bryn could hear them now, bashing on the doors to the castle. Kara unlocked a small door in the back of the cellar and they went inside the dark tunnel beyond, locking the door behind them.
Bryn followed close behind Kara, her sword glowing bright white and lighting their way through the darkness. The tunnel stretched on for a long while until they came to a set of stone stairs. The stairs led them to a dark cave that finally came out on the outer side of the ring of mountains surrounding the castle. They hurried away from the cave and headed south, with Bryn’s sword guiding the way. They continued all night and stopped to rest only once the sun had risen. It was a narrow escape, but they were alive.
“Just keep moving Brynhildr, just keep moving.” Kara said every time Bryn slowed down.
The two travelled south through Asgard for weeks, Kara said that Siera would be the safest place to go for now, so that was the plan. They made it as far as the Dead Wastes before their journey was cut short. They were camped out in the barren wasteland, huddled together in the freezing cold, when a group of riders appeared on the southern horizon. By the time they woke up, the men were already upon them. Bryn only remembered flashes, images of that night.
The riders wore black and they surrounded the two women. They laughed and stabbed Kara through her stomach, then chopped her head off as Bryn watched on in horror. They took Bryn’s sword and put a Tekion Collar around her neck, the kind that only a magick user can remove. They burned the books that Kara had gathered from the castle and tied a rope to Bryn’s hands, pulling her along behind one of the horses. If she fell, they kept going and dragged her in the dirt so she kept on her feet, running behind them for days.
They came to a caravan of slavers from Sharilan and sold Bryn for a pouch of coins. The slavers threw the young girl of no more than twelve years of age into a metal box, locked it shut and head
ed for the Great Desert.
It was dark inside the box. It rattled and shook all day and night and the only time Bryn felt like she could breathe was when they would open the lid for a moment and throw water on her once a day. The sides of the box became scorching hot during the day and freezing cold at night. Her head and body was bruised and sore from rattling around with the motion of the wagon. Bryn realized that she was alone again. For the first time in years, she cried.
She lost all track of time on that journey to the desert. When they finally took her out, she couldn't see. She couldn’t stand. They threw her on the ground and she laid there in the sand, crouched in a ball. A slaver grabbed her by the neck and lifted her to her feet and shouted at her. When he let go she fell back down and cried. As her vision slowly returned she saw that there were other prisoners, standing in a line. There was a man in a dusty white robe walking along the line inspecting the slaves. He pointed at one muscular young man and the slavers pushed him forward. He chose another couple of burly men and a woman, then he got to Bryn. The slavers were shouting at her but she just laid there crying. They kicked her but she wouldn’t get up. The man in the white robe seemed annoyed and chastised the slavers. They grabbed Bryn and threw her back inside the box.
“No, please.” she said in a raspy voice as they slammed the lid down again and locked it shut.
Another week or so went by and the caravan kept rolling. As she sat in the cramped metal box, she remembered her teachings and all the books she had read at the castle. She went over her sword training in her mind and something began to change in her. She stopped being frightened, she stopped being sad; she became angry. She remembered how they had mercilessly killed Kara and laughed about it. Her blood began to boil. I’m going to escape, and when I do, I’m going to kill these men.
Months went by and the only time Bryn was let out of her box was when the slavers encountered a potential buyer, but each time, Bryn would collapse on the ground and anger the slavers. They started striking her with their thick, leather whips. She laid there and cried while they whipped her, until they would eventually put her back in the box and continue on.