by T L Greylock
Raef stopped and waited but the ground was still. He had nearly decided he had imagined it when the ground shook again, more violently this time. Raef looked back along the ridge to his companions, who were scattered among the rocks. He could not tell if any of them had felt it as well.
The third tremor struck with wild fury, throwing Raef off balance. Regaining his footing, Raef began to climb back up to his horse, certain now that they were all in danger.
“Get back!” he shouted. Heads turned and looked at him. He gestured and shouted again. “Get back to the top!” He reached for a rock to pull himself up and then the ground fell out from under him and he was falling, sliding against the crumbling, heaving hill, rocks pounding down around him.
Desperate to find something to hold on to, Raef reached out, blind, for anything solid. His fingers found a thick root and he clung to it with both hands, the momentum of his fall jerked to a sudden stop. The hill continued to come apart and a great roar filled Raef’s ears as though the earth itself was breaking apart. On and on it seemed to go until at last all was quiet.
Still holding firmly to the root, Raef twisted his body to see the extent of the destruction. Of his companions, there was no sign. His horse had survived, but was now far out of reach, and the rocky hill face had disintegrated into a smooth dirt cliff that would be nearly impossible to climb. The boulders had smashed to the earth below and a cloud of dust obscured the valley from view. As it cleared, Raef saw the damage was far more extensive than he had imagined.
The valley floor was wiped out. The quaking earth had opened a chasm that spread from the base of the hills, claiming half the village and most of the Gornhald warriors. The fortress still stood, but its hold on the hilltop looked fragile.
Arms aching now, Raef knew he had to find a way up or he would slip and break upon the rocks below. The landslide had exposed more roots and a few rocks remained lodged in place. Swinging to his right, Raef caught hold of a second root and pulled himself up it until he could reach a firm ledge. There he rested his arms for a moment, then continued to climb from root to root until he was just beyond an arm’s length from the top. Raef searched for something else to grab, but could find nothing until his horse, curious but with fear still in his eyes, looked over the edge and the reins dangled down within Raef’s grasp. Twisting them up in one hand and using the other and his toes to push against the sheer, dirt cliff-face, Raef threw himself upward, his only hope that the horse would resist his weight and pull back on the reins.
Snorting, the horse half-reared and backed up just enough to raise Raef over the edge. Heart pounding, Raef lay on the ground for a moment, then raised his head to look for other survivors and was relieved to see Hamil helping Ragnarr climb up. He raced to their side.
“The others?” Raef asked.
Hamil shook his head, his eyes wide. “Orvar fell.” He looked over the edge and Raef knew he meant that Orvar was at the bottom. Ragnarr pointed further down the ridge.
“Gudrik was there?”
Ragnarr nodded and he and Raef ran to look for any sign of the skald. The cliff was even steeper here and Raef got down on his belly to look over. To his relief, Gudrik was in sight, though well out of reach.
“Are you hurt?” Raef called down.
“No. The ledge was right under me.”
Ragnarr threw the end of a rope down to Gudrik and began to haul him up. The singer came up unscathed but shaken. “Eldun went over. I do not think he lives. I saw him strike upon a rock. He seemed,” Gudrik paused, “broken. Two horses tumbled past as well.”
“And Kennet?”
Gudrik shook his head. “I have heard of the earth shaking in this way, but only in the oldest stories. I do not think any living man has felt what we just did.”
They returned to Hamil, who had rounded up the six surviving horses. The men looked to Raef. “We will look for Kennet, but we cannot stay long.”
“And if they are all dead?” Hamil asked.
“We leave them.”
“They deserve a fire,” Hamil said, his face set in a deep frown.
“We cannot risk climbing down to retrieve their bodies. To do so could pull the hill down on top of us.”
“I will not leave them without sending them to the gods.” Hamil’s voice was louder now.
Raef stepped close to Hamil. “You will do as I say or I will leave you with them and let the crows feast on your bloody heart.”
Hamil stared hard at Raef for a moment, his every muscle taut with anger, and then turned away. Raef looked to Gudrik and Ragnarr to see if they would argue as well, but their eyes told of acceptance. No one spoke, but they began to search for Kennet. Hamil kept to himself, while Raef, Gudrik, and Ragnarr searched together, scanning the bottom of the cliff for a burgundy-colored cloak. Gudrik called out Kennet’s name over and over but they heard nothing in response.
“He could be alive and unable to respond, perhaps even within our reach,” Gudrik said. They spread out and continued to search further down the ridge than Raef had thought anyone to be. A moment later, Gudrik called out. “Here!”
Raef hurried to join him and peered over the edge. Kennet was sprawled on a ledge, face down, unmoving. Raef began to loop the rope around his own waist, then handed the other end to Ragnarr, who gave him a nod. Stepping backward, Raef went over the side and allowed Ragnarr to lower him down until his feet landed on the ledge. Raef bent over Kennet and felt for a pulse on his neck. It was there, though fainter than Raef would have liked. Gently, Raef rolled Kennet over and inspected him for broken limbs. A gash on his forehead seemed to be the only wound.
Raef transferred the rope to Kennet and then shouted for Ragnarr to bring him up. It was done slowly to prevent Kennet from banging against the cliff, and then Ragnarr dropped the rope down for Raef and he scrambled back to the top with Ragnarr’s assistance.
Gudrik knelt to examine Kennet more closely. The head wound, though bloody, was in itself not a problem. It would swell up and be painful for many days, and then heal. But Raef knew blows to the head could cause unseen damage. He had once seen a seemingly healthy warrior complain of blurred vision and an ache in the head and then drop dead a day later.
“Will he wake?” Hamil asked.
Gudrik looked at them. “I am no healer. I think he has broken a rib or two. But it is this,” Gudrik pointed to Kennet’s forehead, “that worries me.”
“We cannot wait for him to wake. Ragnarr, we will tie him behind you on your horse,” Raef said. The silent warrior nodded. Raef scanned the base of the hill one last time for any sign of Eldun or Orvar. There was none. “It is time. We must move on.” He glanced over at Hamil, but the other warrior had already turned to gather the horses and help Ragnarr hoist Kennet up on to a horse’s back. Hamil still appeared angry but did not protest their departure and went about his work in silence.
Avoiding the landslide area, Raef led the others west on the ridge until it began to slope down and the rocks were replaced with grass. The way down was easy here and undisturbed by the violent shaking of the earth. If they had come to this place first, Raef knew Orvar and Eldun would be alive and Kennet would not be lost to unnatural sleep.
The valley was in chaos. Though they were some distance away from the chasm, Raef could see enough to know that a frantic rescue effort was underway. Those men who had survived worked to pull out their comrades and were oblivious to Raef’s small party passing by to the west.
The bald peaks loomed closer, blocking direct passage south, and Raef pointed his horse on a course that would take them to the tamer, smaller hills at the western end of the range.
“Wait.” Hamil’s voice brought Raef to a halt and he turned to look back at the warrior. Hamil’s face still showed resentment. “The range is narrow here and there is a way though the mountain. A tunnel not made by men. They say it was made by the hands of giants.”
“You have made this journey?”
“I have not taken the tunnel, but I ha
ve seen the entrance. They say it opens up to the sky and you walk through a deep crevice, reachable only by this passage. It will deliver us into Freywyn lands.”
Raef thought for a moment. “Could you find it again?”
Hamil nodded.
“Lead the way.”
Sixteen
Hamil led them straight toward the shoulder between two of the tallest summits. They climbed over one row of earth-colored foothills and then found nothing but sheer, solid rock in front of them. Hamil paused, looking right and then left, before deciding to follow the face of the mountain that jutted up on their left, taking them east.
They traveled along the mountain for some time, making slow progress as Hamil examined the rocks they passed.
“It is easily missed,” Hamil said. But as time wore on and they had not yet found a trace of the tunnel Hamil spoke of, Raef began to doubt the man’s ability to find what he had seen once years before. Soon, darker thoughts crept in and Raef found himself wondering if Hamil led them astray intentionally, perhaps to betray them to Gornhald for a rich prize, or lure them into an ambush.
Raef cast a glance at Gudrik, but the poet was lost in his own thoughts. “What is on your mind?”
Gudrik looked up. “The world-shaking has put words and music in my head. I am trying to do it justice.”
“I would gladly hear it when you deem it ready.”
Gudrik’s smile was sad. “I think it will be some time before it is ready to be heard.”
Raef turned his attention back to Hamil, who had moved farther ahead, and was nearly about to call off the search and insist they turn back to take the long way around when the other man gave a shout. Raef urged his horse forward past a large, jutting, spike of rock and found Hamil standing before a tunnel entrance that was tucked behind a free-standing boulder and barely visible.
“Made by giants?” For the tunnel was narrow and a man on horseback might ruffle his hair on its ceiling. Raef had expected something larger to be given such repute. But if it led through as Hamil said, it was worth plumbing its depths. Raef dismounted and walked to the entrance. The tunnel was darker than night. “We have no torch. We will have to go in blind.” Checking to see that Kennet’s horse and the spare were tied securely to Ragnarr and Hamil, Raef remounted and, without looking back at the blue sky and bright sun, he plunged forward into the darkness.
As the light of the entrance faded behind them, Raef let his horse walk as it wished, and if the tunnel opened up around them he could not tell. The darkness soon overcame Raef’s sense of time and they plodded on in silence, sometimes seeming to climb slightly, sometimes seeming to descend again. Raef felt himself begin to nod off and then he snapped awake as a warm breeze flowed down the tunnel from ahead of him.
“Did you feel that?” Raef said.
Gudrik’s voice sounded far away though Raef knew the skald was directly behind him. “Yes. The tunnel is wider here.” Raef stretched out his arm and found he could no longer touch the wall of rock. “Perhaps it will open up soon and deliver us back to the light.”
The darkness ahead was as impenetrable as ever, but the warm air returned and with it Raef felt a familiar sensation, one he had hoped to never know again. His skin began to tingle with warmth and he, dropping his reins, gripped the wrist that the Deepminded had seared without leaving a mark. The heat began to spread and Raef closed his eyes to try to shut it out, but the darkness behind his lids was just as complete and even more unnerving, for soon the voices followed, whispers only, and nothing Raef could understand, but all too real and yet, he knew, entirely in his own mind.
His heart began to beat faster and he longed to see the brilliant sun. He tried to imagine the clear sky they had left behind, Sol blazing across the blue, but every time he caught her with his eye, she faded, leapt upon and swallowed by darkness. And then the voices changed and Raef, to his horror, could understand it all. First, there was a scream, high-pitched and terrible, a scream of both rage and terror, and then he heard the Deepminded’s cold voice curse the world of men, curse the nine realms that clung to the branches of Yggdrasil, and curse, more desperately and with more savagery than all the rest, Asgard and the Allfather.
Raef, trembling now with the heat that infused him, forced himself not to cry out and clung to the saddle with every inch of strength he had. And then, as suddenly as the voices had come, they vanished, leaving a void in their wake, and slowly the heat drained from his body. Raef was sure his shaky exhale was audible to all, for the silence of the tunnel was absolute in the absence of the Deepminded’s presence.
How much time passed before Raef felt that even half his mind was his own again, he could not tell. He only knew that never before had he felt so little control and so much chaos within himself. So intent was he on regaining himself that he did not at first notice the dim light that appeared ahead of them and it was only when Gudrik saw and called it out that he became aware. Raef latched onto the growing spot of light and did not look away until it engulfed the tunnel and he emerged into daylight.
The path was wide enough for two horses to walk abreast and on both left and right, cliffs rose up, their summits stretching to the sun. Raef stopped to let the others pass and took a few deep breaths, eyes on the sky, soaking in the light. Hamil took the lead and Ragnarr rode beside him, each trailing a spare horse. Gudrik followed them, but slowed as he passed Raef. Raef could see the curiosity in Gudrik’s glance and he steeled his face to show no hint of what had just raged inside him. Gudrik said nothing and moved on. They rode the path in silence for some time.
“This I could believe was built by giants,” Gudrik said quietly, echoing Raef’s thoughts. The deep crevice was unerringly straight and did not rise or fall. It never diverged and never changed in width. No human hand or tool could have accomplished it.
Dusk was creeping up on them when they came to the end of the path. It opened up into a dense forest and they left the mountains behind. By nightfall, the forest gave way to open land and Ragnarr spotted a farm. They made for it and found the farmer feeding a pair of goats.
“Do you have room to spare? And food?” Raef called out. “We will pay.”
The farmer considered them for a moment. “I have eggs, bread, meat, and clean straw. You are welcome to join us.” Raef thanked him and they dismounted, unsaddled the horses, and tied them to the farmer’s storehouse.
Raef and Hamil carried Kennet inside the modest home, a single-room dwelling dominated by a fireplace and large, rough table. Three young children watched the strangers with wide eyes while their mother worked over the fire. The farmer, who gave his name as Haakon, helped Hamil lay Kennet on a straw bed in a corner. Fresh barley flatbread was already on the table, and a steaming pot of meaty stew roused Raef’s hunger. The warriors laid aside their weapons and then, thanking the farmer and his wife, Thora, joined the family at the table.
“You are certain you can spare this food?” Raef asked.
“I had to slaughter an extra sheep today. There is plenty,” Haakon said. He passed a dish of eggs and a small plate of cheese to Raef. “The cheese is Thora’s best.” He poured ale for them all, sharing his with his oldest child, a boy of perhaps ten. The children overcame their shyness and soon pestered the visitors with questions. Raef smiled as he listened to Gudrik give them clever answers that caused the home to fill with laughter. Then, when all had eaten and drunk their fill, the older boy asked if Gudrik knew any stories. The children clamored for their favorites and Gudrik let the youngest choose. As the skald launched into a tale of Thor, Raef took the opportunity to slip outside, for the room was warm and the ale had filled his bladder to bursting.
The stars were bright in the sky and the air cool on his skin. Gone was any lingering sensation of the Deepminded. In its place was the earth and all that was good. Raef wondered if the Far-Traveled gazed at the same stars. He touched the Thor hammer at his neck and asked the thunder-god to aid him in his search for the son of Urda.
W
hen Raef retreated inside, the children had been tucked into a loft above them and were already sound asleep, but Kennet was awake and speaking, though he still seemed dazed. Thora was examining Kennet with a frown on her face.
“He just woke,” Gudrik said as Raef shut the door behind him.
Raef joined them on the floor. “How is he?”
“As might be expected. But he is calm, which bodes well,” Thora said. “I can do something for the wound, but I do not know how else to help him.”
“We are grateful for anything you can do.”
Thora worked quickly and soon Kennet’s head was dressed. She spoon-fed him broth while Raef spoke to Haakon.
“Have you seen or heard of fighting in the area?”
Haakon shook his head. “Armed men passed through my most southern fields seven days past, but that is all.”
“And your lord? Where is Sigholf of Freywyn?”
“I could not say.”
“We roam in search of Finndar Urdson, the Far-Traveled. Has he come this way?”
Haakon looked at Raef with astonishment. “No, not to us, but my brother farms land near the river and he came to me one morning and boasted that he had housed the Far-Traveled the night before. I did not believe him at first.”
Raef stepped closer, eager to latch onto this news. “When was this?”
Haakon thought for a moment. “Before the warriors. Perhaps half a moon ago.”
Far from a recent sighting and Urdson could have covered a great distance in fifteen days. But to know that the Far-Traveled had passed this way gave Raef some hope.
“Do you know where he was headed?”
“No, my brother said he would not answer questions.”
Raef thanked Haakon for the news and paid him more for the meal and shelter than he had intended.