The Abomination of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  Grum asked: “Well, when was the last time you fought a skeleton?”

  “Point taken, and I hope to never battle one again. Could someone else reach in and get the belt?”

  “Of course,” said Arastead as he pulled out the belt in a few seconds. “I will wear it until we get back to our forge.”

  Before anyone could respond, the sound of the anchor being lifted pounded through the ship. Under their feet, they could feel the ship starting to move.

  Arastead cried: “The ship weighs anchor! Farling, can you move?”

  “My legs still work,” said Farling as they ran for the rowboat. Looking over the railing, they saw relief on the bodyguard’s face.

  “Hurry down,” said the bodyguard anxiously, “as the ship appears eager to leave.”

  Grum and Arastead helped Farling down the side and into the rowboat. Grum cut the rope with one slash and the bodyguard pulled hard on the oars. They sped away from the black ship just as it fully weighed anchor. An unseen wind filled its sails and the black ship silently ghosted out of the harbor just as quietly as it had appeared.

  A loud cheer went up from all the other sailors on the other boats.

  And in a few more strokes, the rowboat bumped up against the ladder of a dock. Grum tied the rowboat off and they all helped Farling up the ladder.

  At the top of the dock, they were met by whoops and yells.

  The merchants guild man met them at the dock, said: “Well, well, well, are not you three full of surprises. As agreed, here is your reward,” and he placed the bag of coins in Grum’s hand.

  Grum bounced the bag of coins in his right hand, squeezed it then bounced it in his left.

  “You are off by one coin,” said Grum.

  The guildsman smiled, said: “That I am. And here it is.” He gave the remaining coin to Grum who put it in the small bag. “I was curious if you lived up to your reputation and I see you do. Very impressive. I could use someone of your skill. Now, what are your names?”

  Farling said: “You paid us to remove the harbor of the black ship. You did not pay us for our names.”

  And with that, they headed back to Bringon’s forge, leaving the sailors and merchants to their celebrations. Along the way, they made sure no one followed them, and none did.

  Back at the forge, Farling asked: “Where shall we hide the reward?”

  Grum and Arastead smiled at each other. “Here,” said Grum, as he lifted a panel off the floor revealing a hidden space. “Even Bringon does not know of this hidden space.”

  Arastead asked: “What of the jeweled belt?”

  “Can you wear it?” asked Farling. “I would feel better if we did not leave the belt hidden, just in case someone does find this hidden space.”

  “I cannot wear it at night,” said Arastead, “but I will wear it during the day.”

  Grum suggested: “We can take turns wearing it.”

  “Agreed,” said Farling as they placed the belt and the bag of coins in the hiding place and resealed it.

  And as soon as their eyes closed, they were fast asleep.

  ***

  Doshmin had never felt such fear. He had stabbed Orlough deeply but knew it was not a killing blow. As he was about to stab Orlough again, two hounds, the largest he had ever seen, came hurtling out of the woods towards him.

  Doshmin stood rooted to the ground paralyzed. He knew he could never outrun hounds such as these. He gripped his small knife hoping to at least fight them before they tore out his throat.

  But the hounds pulled up short and stared at him, growling. Then Doshmin saw someone that made his mouth go dry.

  Walking towards him was the Master of the Hunt. It had to be him. Doshmin had seen drawings, heard stories, but never thought they were true. He assumed those stories were meant to frighten children to eat their vegetables, that the Master of the Hunt was a myth. But here he was walking towards Doshmin and a dying Orlough while his massive hounds sat on haunches waiting for their master’s command.

  The Master of the Hunt said: “Your knife will do you no good, thief.”

  Doshmin dropped the knife on the ground and stared at the antlers that adorned the Master of the Hunt’s helmet. Above one shoulder jutted the handle of a two-handed sword—just like the pictures.

  Then the Master of the Hunt said: “Bind this man’s wounds.”

  Without hesitation, Doshmin tore strips of cloth from Orlough’s cloak and tied them about Orlough’s chest.

  Once he was done, Doshmin said: “That is the best I can do.”

  “Then go and do not return. It was wrong to spill blood in this temple. Today, you are very fortunate. If we meet again, you will not be so lucky.”

  Then Doshmin fled, his heart pounding in his ears. He did not turn to look behind and he did not stop running until he was through the Paupers Temple cemetery and at the gates of Trondheim.

  ***

  The Master of the Hunt lifted Orlough as easily as if he was picking up a small child. He strode across the floor of Freya’s ancient temple, down a barely remembered footpath, and came to the hidden door that opened to the tunnel that led to the Paupers Temple. He pulled the hidden latch and the door opened silently. Without a word, he walked into the tunnel, down the stairs, his two hounds silently padding behind him.

  At the other end of the tunnel, the Master of the Hunt opened the door that led into the basement of the Paupers Temple. He laid Orlough on the ground. Seeing that Orlough was unconscious, he found a flask on his belt, pulled out the stopper, opened Orlough’s mouth, and poured in a little of the liquid.

  The reaction was swift. Orlough coughed and was alert. He groaned at his injury, then noticed who was kneeling beside him.

  Orlough’s voice was barely above a whisper. “What must I do?”

  “I will enter the tunnel. You must stand and pull the hidden latch here behind the torch bracket as that will close the door, sealing off the tunnel once again. There are people awake in this temple. Find a hero, tell him to board the black ship in the harbor, find the jeweled belt, and give the belt to its rightful owner.”

  A deep cough racked Orlough’s thin frame and he spat blood on the ground. “How are they to get aboard the black ship? All that do jump off in fear.”

  “They need to put salt in their boots.”

  “Of course.” Orlough’s eyes went wide with realization and wonder.

  The Master of the Hunt walked into the black mouth of the tunnel followed by his hounds. Orlough found the strength to find the hidden latch and pull. The door closed silently hiding the tunnel’s entrance once again.

  Then Orlough dragged his dying body up the stairs and collapsed in front of Sihr.

  ***

  Doshmin was exhausted but still had one more thing to do before he could go to bed. He could not believe he had come face-to-face with the Master of the Hunt—and lived. Especially since the Master of the Hunt knew he had stabbed Orlough. It must be an omen, a positive sign.

  Still, he would have to find Orlough and see if he lived. While he was deathly afraid of the Master of the Hunt, he was more afraid of Alchemist. Fear was something Doshmin had dealt with his entire life. The life of a thief was all about conquering one’s fear to achieve riches and profit. It had taken him years to move up the ranks in the Pitcairn thieves guild and now he was master. But as master, he was ultimately responsible for ensuring the profitability of the thieves guild. And while he had been master, the years had not been kind. Which is why he had taken the job from Alchemist.

  Alchemist had promised a mighty reward for work performed down in Trondheim. Why he had not asked for thieves from Trondheim, Doshmin knew not. But he had been able to extract higher payment from Alchemist as the amount of risk was great. If the thieves of Trondheim discovered Doshmin, the punishment would be swift and brutal. He had not asked permission to do thief’s work in Trondheim. He was not paying a portion of his payment to the Trondheim thieves guild. Any mistakes—or if someone recognized him
while he was doing his jobs—would prove disastrous.

  Doshmin’s lieutenants and seconds-in-command had begged to do the work. But Doshmin had refused all except for a select few. The politics was thick in a thieves guild, and the Pitcairn thieves guild was no exception. All the thieves that directly reported to him wanted his position. As thieves guild master, the profits could prove to be very handsome. And as profits had been weak under Doshmin, it was only a matter of time before he was replaced. He knew he would not be killed; thieves did not kill their leaders, but he would be voted out. And then he could not vie for position of master ever again.

  These jobs with Alchemist were his last chance to prove he was able to provide his guild with profit. And because the thieves all shared a percentage of the profits, they were very interested and keenly aware of how much coin was coming to the guild. So, he had accepted this work to keep his title.

  He had shadowed Orlough to the old temple deep in the forest. Then he had crept up and stabbed Orlough while he stood motionless in front of the seated statue that was covered in vines and green growth.

  And then it had all fallen apart when the Master of the Hunt and his hounds appeared. But here in the city he was safe from those hounds. Here, he was master of his emotions and was able to control the situation.

  He saw the pavilion of Baron Cai and strode towards it. To the guard he showed a ring given to him by Cai that allowed Doshmin entrance. As he walked in, he swallowed his fear and made his face impassive. They did not know about his encounter with the Master of the Hunt and did not need to know.

  Inside the tent were Baron Cai, Baron Lars, and Baron Sakarias. Baron Sakarias was well beyond drunk, his voice slurred. Cai and Lars appeared flushed but still had their wits.

  Doshmin spoke to Lars, said: “I understand you have already met Goran, the illusionist.”

  Lars nodded, said: “Yes, and he is here in the tent.” Lars lazily pointed towards a thin man who stood apart from everyone else.

  Doshmin faced the illusionist, said: “Tomorrow night, once King Frederick bids the queen a good night and makes his way to his private bed chamber, I and my thieves will meet you there.”

  Goran nodded, said: “I will be there, waiting for you.”

  Doshmin turned and faced Lars, said: “Once I bring the king back here to this tent. I will expect payment in full. We have an agreement.”

  “We do,” said Lars as they shook hands.

  “And do not think of double-crossing me,” said Doshmin gripping the baron’s hand tightly. “For if you do, you will anger Alchemist.”

  And in that moment, Doshmin knew that the barons had thought to betray the thief, but that the threat of angering Alchemist dispelled those thoughts.

  Breaking the handshake, Lars said: “You will have payment in full.”

  Outside, a loud cheer could be heard.

  Lars turned to a page boy, said: “You there, find out what the commotion is.”

  The boy ran from the pavilion. Within a few minutes, he returned, his face flushed pink from running.

  “The black ship,” the boy started, in-between gulps of air.

  “Yes, what of it?”

  “It is gone.”

  And a wave of fear passed through Doshmin and he shivered.

  ***

  The rooster greeted the morning sun and woke the Hive.

  But not Farling, Grum, and Arastead as they slept through the rooster’s call.

  It was not until Bringon came downstairs banging a wooden stick on an empty pot that they woke.

  “You boys need to go to sleep earlier if you ask me,” he said. “Hold on, what is this?” He noticed the unusual commotion on the street and went to investigate.

  The boys got up, folded their blankets and washed their faces and hands in cold water to revive.

  Outside the forge they could hear Bringon talking loudly, excitement in his voice. He came rushing back into the forge.

  “Did you hear? The black ship is gone from the harbor. The ships will start unloading their holds again and it will be business as usual. A strange boat that was, I wonder why it appeared and is now gone?”

  “That is good news,” said Farling. “But we also heard news last night that may upset you.”

  “What news could that be?”

  “We heard that Orlough was murdered and lies in internment at the Paupers Temple.”

  Bringon raised a hand to his mouth in disbelief, said: “No. But then again, sadly, it was just a matter of time before one of the people that Orlough angered with his words made him pay. I just never thought anyone would really care enough to take Orlough’s life. Poor man, to have once walked with kings, and now his bones will feed the worms. That is life, boys. The Norns have already woven our destinies in the Tapestry of life, we just need to find out what it is they have planned for us.”

  Bringon then looked distracted as he mumbled some words about seeing certain people and telling his wife.

  “The funeral is not until late tonight,” said Grum. “We were hoping we might go, as he was a friend of yours and Farling’s.”

  “Yes, yes, of course. Good news and bad, always something to balance everything out. Actually, boys, after breakfast, let us pay a quick visit to the Paupers Temple. We will fire up the forge afterwards. What say you?”

  The three boys all nodded in agreement, their faces grim.

  ***

  The sun was rising and even though the morning was cool, where there was a break from the slight wind, it felt warm.

  As they walked up the steps of the Paupers Temple, a large contingent was walking out. Bringon and the boys step aside to let the group pass.

  Once the group was further up the street, Bringon said: “Bless me, I think that was King Frederick and Secretary Phillius. I see our king does remember Orlough. Orlough would have been happy to have seen the king one last time. A pity it has to be now.”

  Inside, Rickters the old caretaker, was busy washing the floor and cleaning. The sun’s rays had just started to touch the Paupers Temple and were beginning to illuminate the many stained-glass windows.

  Sihr greeted them, said: “Welcome to the Paupers Temple. How may I be of service?”

  Bringon spoke for the group, said: “I understand Orlough waits in internment here. I would see his body before he is put in the cold ground. My apologies, where are my manners. My name is Bringon, this is Farling, Grum, and Arastead.”

  Sihr nodded, said: “Please, Bringon, everyone, follow me.” Sihr led them to another room where the bodies were wrapped for burial. Orlough was at the first stone table.

  There were other people in the room, and when Grum saw who they were, he cried: “What are you doing here?”

  Farling looked to see who Grum was talking to and saw Meanog and two of his friends hovering near Orlough’s body.

  “Nothing,” said Meanog, “we were just paying our respect to Orlough, that is all.”

  Sihr shook his head, said: “I think you boys have something of Orlough’s. You had better return it.”

  “Let us get out of here,” said Meanog as they ran for the door.

  But Farling, Grum, and Arastead were just as fast. They each tackled a boy at the entrance and punched and wrestled them into submission.

  Meanog sneered, said: “You are lucky we do not have our weapons.” A fat lip already started to show.

  “What?” Grum cried in disbelief. “You are lucky we do not. How many times did Arastead and I beat you at School tournaments? And you have not seen Farling yet with a sword, but I have, and he is fierce.”

  A sullen but unrepentant Meanog glared angrily.

  “Let them stand,” said Sihr. “I will have Orlough’s ring back.” He held out his hand. Sihr looked the same age as the other boys but his position as priest at the Paupers Temple gave him authority.

  Meanog and his friends stole glances at each other. Meanog looked at Farling and his friends blocking the door.

  Meanog said: “I wi
ll give you Orlough’s ring, but someone will be coming to ask you for it.”

  “I will gladly meet this person,” said Sihr. “But he had better meet me before Orlough is buried as he will wear his ring into the ground.”

  Meanog reached into a pocket and pulled out Orlough’s ring and dropped it in Sihr’s hand.

  Sihr nodded, said: “You have done the right thing, now go.”

  “Well,” said Grum watching Meanog and his friends leave through the main door, “I have always wanted a good punch-up with them. I just did not expect it until the Squires Tournament.”

  Bringon said: “Let us now pay our respects to Orlough. Good fight, by the way,” he added with a wink.

  They all stood around Orlough’s body. Bringon reached out and wrapped his mitt of a hand over Orlough’s, said: “Cold. Orlough never did take good care of himself.”

  Sihr asked: “My pardon, Bringon, but may I borrow your three young blacksmiths? There is something I think they may help me with here.”

  “Of course, of course. That’s okay with you boys? Well okay then, off you go. Come fetch me when you are done, and we will head back up to the forge.”

  Sihr added: “There is also fresh tea and biscuits in the kitchen if you are hungry.”

  “Ah, wonderful. Yes, a mug of tea would be nice about now.”

  “Rickters?” called Sihr, who appeared in just a few moments. “Could you please see Bringon here to the kitchen for some tea and biscuits?”

  “Of course, please follow me, sir,” said Rickters as he and Bringon left.

  ***

  Sihr led the boys out to the stables.

  “What news?” asked Farling.

  Sihr looked around but they were alone. He told them how when he was cleaning the floor he had found a secret door in the basement that opened into a long tunnel that led to an old temple in the forest. And how he had found a blood-covered knife in front of the statue and how he had been chased by two of the biggest hounds he had ever seen back into the tunnel and had closed the door just in time.

  Sihr continued: “My legs still are sore. What of your adventure? I heard the black ship has left the harbor. Congratulations on your success.”