The Reckoning of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  “No, only that the elves always believed a Sorceress would return and would help them rule all the Norse realms. Tell me, Master Pressan, is a Sorceress truly that powerful?”

  “Ogre Mage believes, with the right training, your child could become that powerful a Sorceress.”

  “But she is not evil.”

  “The books I have found about the Sorceress write that it was not so much that she was evil, just that she had unlimited power. And that power allowed her to do unspeakable things. It was almost like living a dream, where with your every thought, you make reality.”

  Astrid shuddered. “My daughter will not be like that. I refuse to believe it.”

  “I think you are right. I do not believe she will be like the Sorceress of legend. She is your daughter, a daughter of Dennland. But still—”

  “Yes, but still, power unchecked, the ability to make your dreams reality.”

  Pressan thought it best to change the subject. “Queen Astrid, we hope you find this room to your liking.”

  “Yes, Master Pressan, I appreciate the effort your thieves have put into this room. It is very comfortable. Still, I miss my husband.”

  “Ah, yes, he does know this guild, but he also knows he must pretend Princess Margret is you, so that means he must stay at the castle. You only need stay the nights here. Margret is certain they will attack at night.”

  “Will Princess Margret be safe?”

  “She is a strong warrior, a daughter of Aarlund. And it appears her training in Alfheim by Ogre Mage only improved her fighting skills and her ability at using the magical circlet.”

  “So, Ogre Mage is a good teacher?”

  “It appears he is. Farling, Grum, and Arastead also are much improved, although Farling does miss his magical sword. Though, not as much as Grum misses his war hammer and Gloves and Belt of Strength.”

  “The frost giants have returned to their realm, the elves are awake in theirs, and the dwarves mine and work their anvils. And I carry a Sorceress. Am I missing anything?”

  “The few remaining gods have returned to Asgard. Which is positive, except that Loki, the God of Thieves has also returned.”

  “Do you thieves not revere him?”

  “Yes, but in the days of old, we never invoked his name as he usually caused more damage than good. We may revere him, but we try and keep our distance. I understand he is still a thief, as it was he who stole Farling’s sword and Grum’s enchanted weapons.”

  “To what end?”

  “Matters of the heart. The reason he was cursed to stand as a statue was that he almost caused a war between the frost giants and the Norse gods. Now he has awakened, he has gone back to his old ways. Once again, he woos the hand of the frost king’s daughter.”

  “I fear for the realms.”

  “It does appear we have returned to the times of chaos when all the Norse gods lived and caused mischief throughout all the realms. It is the time of the Midgard Serpent, when chaos rules. The time of the dragon, some call it.”

  Astrid yawned. “What time of night is it, Master Pressan? It is so hard to tell in this guild as the time is backwards here.”

  “It does take some getting used to. I still occasionally, wear a scarf about my eyes at night to keep the light out to help me sleep. If you pull all the drapes about your 4-poster bed, it should keep it nice and dark.”

  “An excellent idea. By the way, are there any weapons in this room?”

  “There are two guards outside your door, Your Highness, you should be fine.”

  “I was attacked in the safety of my own bedroom in the castle not very long ago. While I do not sleep with a sword in my hand, I do enjoy knowing there is one nearby.”

  “Of course, I apologize for my thoughtlessness.”

  Pressan walked to the fireplace. Beside the fire iron, leaning up against the wall, was a sword and scabbard. Pressan handed the weapon to Astrid.

  She unsheathed the sword, admiring the sharpness of the blade. “I will keep this close.”

  “I hope it is not necessary.”

  Astrid sighed loudly. “I agree.” She smiled wryly.

  “Good, well then, we shall see you in the morning.”

  “Thank you for your hospitality, Master Pressan.”

  “You honor this guild, Your Majesty.”

  “I will see you in the morn, Master Pressan.”

  “We will prepare a fine meal to break your fast.” Pressan bowed and left the room, closing the door behind him.

  Astrid walked to the door locking it from the inside. On the other side of the door, she heard Pressan talking to the guards, encouraging their vigilance.

  Astrid smiled to herself as she prepared for bed. After changing into her sleeping gown, she pulled all the drapes closed around the bed. She loosely tied the sword’s hilt to one of the posts. Nodding to herself, satisfied she could grab the sword at a moment’s notice, she lay down, pulled the duvet over her, made the pillow just right, and after a few minutes, fell fast asleep.

  CHAPTER 10

  Assassins in Trondheim

  Six assassins crouched on the rooftops surrounding the alleyway that led to the Trondheim thieves guild.

  Communicating by hand signals, the assassins dropped effortlessly into the alleyway. They slipped inside the antique shop with barely a whisper of sound.

  Once inside, the assassins spread about the store.

  One of the assassins noticed that the shopkeeper was asleep on the ground. Upon closer inspection, the assassin discovered the shopkeeper had been knocked unconscious, even though an empty jug of wine lay on the ground nearby.

  The assassins, now certain the way was clear, parted the heavy curtain, and moved into the next room.

  There, a single candle lit the room, and an empty doorway stood open. Across the entrance lay what appeared to be an unconscious body.

  An assassin, keeping to the shadows, motioned to another assassin closest to the body to investigate. The assassin nodded and moved closer.

  Crouching over the body, the assassin signaled the way was clear.

  The assassins silently entered the thieves guild of Trondheim and at the sight of two people carrying blood-red armor towards them, attacked.

  CHAPTER 11

  Elves in Trondheim

  The two elves found the entrance to the thieves guild of Trondheim. Wearing their cloaks rendered them practically invisible. Inside the antique shop, they overpowered the shopkeeper and rendered him unconscious with the fumes of a sleeping draught. They had been instructed by the elf king to avoid killing as much as possible. And so they had been armed with potions and draughts that could overpower legions of men.

  Inside the next room lit by a single candle, using an enchanted amulet, one of the elves opened the thieves guild’s door while simultaneously the other elf threw a sleeping draught through the door. Caught unaware, the two guards and Horund breathed too deeply of the fumes and fell to the ground, asleep in a deep dreamless slumber.

  Once inside, the elves blinked as the sun shone brightly. They drew their cloaks tighter about their bodies and kept to the shadows, as one of the elves used the enchanted knife compass to find the Graydon Armor.

  They made their way silently through the guild, avoiding any thief who came too close. And, if any thieves did come too close, the elves rendered them unconscious with a sleeping draught. After many minutes of skulking about the guild, they found the door behind which lay the Graydon Armor.

  Pushing the door open just enough, they threw several bottles of sleeping draught at the guards. Once the guards fell to the ground asleep, the elves were down the stairs in a heartbeat and opened the doors just as quick.

  One elf grabbed the bottom part of the armor while the other grabbed the rest.

  Making their way back through the thieves guild, they knew would be much trickier. Using all their skills, and often with a bit of luck, they avoided any wandering thief and made their way back to the entrance of the guild.


  But as they approached it, six people dressed in black, only their eyes barely visible through a thin slit in the fabric, came through the entrance, weapons appearing in their hands in a heartbeat.

  CHAPTER 12

  Race to the Thieves Guild

  Margret, Farling, Arastead, Grum, Nas, and the two guards ran swiftly towards the thieves guild. As they ran through the near empty streets, the more fleet of foot outpaced the slower ones. Farling and Margret were soon in the lead, followed by Arastead, then Grum, then Nas, and lastly, the two guards.

  Arastead yelled at Grum: “You always were the slowest during our running drills at the School!”

  “I do not find that encouraging!” gasped Grum.

  As Farling and Margret entered the alley that led to the entrance, they did not slacken their headlong pace. As they approached the entrance to the antique store, they drew their weapons and ran into store, running past the still sleeping guard, through the heavy drapes, then stopped dead in their tracks at the sight of all the bodies on the ground

  Farling silently mouthed at Margret: “What happened?”

  Margret motioned at the drapes. Farling nodded, as he slipped through the drapes to stop everyone else from making too much noise.

  Margret—the pearl in her circlet feeling hot to the touch—silently padded towards the bodies, and as she noticed the Graydon Armor, she felt her stomach churn.

  Once inside, glancing down the hall, she saw no movement. Using the circlet, she instantly could tell that the two guards were merely sleeping, as was Horund. But all the assassins were dead as were two people she did not recognize. A whisper over her shoulder woke her from her thoughts.

  “Elves,” whispered Farling again. Margret nodded. He pointed with his sword at the two bodies that lay near the Graydon Armor. “I do not recognize them from Alfheim, but I recognize them as elves.”

  By now, everyone else had caught up. Grum’s breath still came in deep rasps.

  Astonished at what he saw, Nas said: “Assassins fighting elves. Unbelievable.”

  “The way I see,” began Farling, “the elves had stolen the Graydon Armor when they ran into this group of assassins. Wait, are there more assassins?”

  The sound of fighting ringing distinctly through the air was his answer.

  “The Queen!” shouted Margret, ignoring her queasiness as she ran towards the sound of fighting.

  “Come on, Grum!” yelled Arastead.

  Grum gritted his teeth and ran as fast as he could.

  CHAPTER 13

  Astrid and the Assassins

  Astrid woke in an instant.

  She was not sure if she had slept but it did not matter. She was now fully and completely awake.

  She evened her breathing, not allowing it to interfere with her hearing. Silently cursing under her breath, she pushed her duvet aside, rose to her hands and knees, and reached for the hilt of the sword. She held her breath as she pulled the sword free of the scabbard worried at any possible noise.

  Holding the sword in one hand, she listened not daring to breath. She thought she had heard the door open, but with the thick curtains drawn about the bed, she could not be certain.

  A slight glow from the embers of the fire gave some light. Her eyes by now had adjusted to the darkness. She moved to open the curtains on the far side of the bed, opposite the door, when the curtains on the other side of her bed were torn down.

  Instead of hiding from the attack, Astrid leapt to her feet and hurled herself towards her attackers, her sword slicing through the air.

  The curtain fell to the ground at the same time Astrid landed on top of it.

  At a glance, she struck at the assassin who had torn down the curtain. Caught unaware by her swift attack, the assassin had no time to defend himself. Her sword cleaved his neck deeply. The assassin died without making a noise, blood bubbling on his lips.

  The other three assassins attacked. One hurled darts at Astrid, while two moved to encircle her, daggers drawn.

  With a free hand, in one swift motion, Astrid stopped the darts in mid-flight, the pupils and whites of her eyes instantly turning black as if stained with ink. She murmured incantations under her breath. The darts turned in mid-air and flew towards the assassin who had thrown them. Raising his arm in defense, the darts caught harmlessly in his loose fabric.

  The other assassins, thinking Astrid distracted, ran at her, daggers raised.

  Astrid glanced at the glowing embers in the fireplace and in a heartbeat, flames engulfed the fireplace. She pointed at the attacking assassins and the flames jetted across the room, engulfing the two assassins in fire.

  Unable to avoid the attack, the flames incinerated the two assassins so quickly they had no time to scream, their mouths wide open in shock. Their burnt bodies struck the ground, exposing bones that gleamed white while smoke rose from charred flesh.

  The remaining assassin shook the darts free of his clothing.

  And in his odd monotone voice said: “This one believes he will kill the mother of the Sorceress.”

  Astrid growled: “No one harms me or my child.”

  “This one believes you are already performing magic as if born to it.”

  “I do what I do to protect my child.”

  “This one wonders if the Sorceress is not already born.”

  Astrid shook her head. While the assassin spoke, it was as if a fog had descended on her mind, clouding it. She blinked and raised her sword just in time as the assassin struck. Somehow, he had cleared the distance between them and caught her unawares.

  “No!” she cried and struck the assassin’s chest with an open palm.

  As if struck by a charging bull, the assassin lifted off the ground and was hurled against the far wall.

  A sharp crack sounded through the room as the assassin’s shattered numerous bones. His limp body held momentarily against the wall. Then, he peeled off the wall as his dead body slumped to the ground, a red stain of blood leaving an outline on the wall for all to see.

  Astrid breathed deeply glancing fearfully about the room for other assassins.

  But all the assassins were dead.

  She had killed them all single-handedly.

  She stuck the tip of her sword in the ground falling exhausted to her knees. Tears streamed down her checks as she sobbed loudly, the full shock of what had just happened overwhelming her.

  It was at that moment that Margret ran into the room.

  Astrid dropped her sword, and, in a moment, they held onto each other in a fierce and long hug.

  Both wept unabashedly.

  CHAPTER 14

  Ogre Mage Trains Astrid

  Margret walked Astrid to the guild library where Einar had taken every opportunity to make the queen feel safe and secure. It was not until Margret had assured Astrid that she could see no attacks in the near future that Astrid relaxed enough that she would eat and drink.

  In the courtyard of the Trondheim thieves guild, Farling drank strong black tea while he listened to the ongoing conversations and stared at all the dead bodies strewn about the courtyard floor.

  It had been an hour, but it felt as if it had been days. Someone had sent the two guards up to the castle to fetch Frederick. While they were gone, Farling and Grum, two people unaffected by the magic of the Graydon Armor, had returned it to its usual hiding room. They had woken the guards, who at their first chance apologized deeply to Einar, throwing themselves on his mercy. Einar, realizing it had been near impossible for anyone to defend themselves against the potency of the elves’ sleeping draughts, only gave them minor chores as punishment, and only docked them, and the guards at the front door, a small penalty from their pay.

  At this time of day in the courtyard, the sun began to set, and by the light of the dying sun, they inspected their attackers and guessed at their motives.

  Pressan removed his glasses and cleaned them. Said: “It appears the elves and assassins did not anticipate that they would be here at the same
time. The assassins assumed the elves were thieves, and the elves defended themselves—admirably—to the death. It would also appear that each elf killed at least three assassins. From all accounts from what Margret has said, assassins are highly trained fighters. Once again, elves proved themselves to be adept fighters.” He put his glasses on.

  Farling finished his tea and drew his scarf closer about his nose as the stench from the burnt bodies was overpowering.

  Grum asked: “What of the sleeping draughts the elves used on your thieves? Are any still intact?”

  Einar shook his head, the said: “It would appear the elves knocked out all my thieves with their sleeping draughts. That is why none of my thieves joined the fight at the main entrance. All the remaining weapons of the elves have been recovered, as have all their skeleton keys and other amulets that gave them entrance to this guild.”

  “No magical weapons I presume?” continued Grum.

  Pressan said: “No, there are no runes of magic on any of the weapons.”

  “A pity,” said Grum. “I do miss my enchanted war hammer.”

  “So, the elves know of the Graydon Armor,” said Pressan. “Are we to move it?”

  “I must consider all options,” said Einar.

  “The elves may try again,” said Pressan.

  “I will not destroy it, if that is what you think.”

  “On the contrary, I thought we move the armor to the Pitcairn thieves guild.”

  “An option I will consider.”

  Farling cleared his throat and moved away from the dead bodies. “What of this assassins guild?” he asked.

  “You mean, are we going after it?” said Grum.

  “The assassins guild is down 10 members,” said Farling.

  “Eleven,” said Arastead. “Do not forget the assassin killed in the jail cells of this guild.”

  “I stand corrected,” said Farling. “Eleven. How many more assassins does their guild hold?”