TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  "Thank you, Sire Godwin! How are you and your private army of children doing? I hope you have not made the beautiful Lady of the South lose her mind?"

  Godwin, smiling, answered:

  "All well, by the grace of God, all still alive and in excellent health!"

  Last but not least, Holaf paid his respects to Grigor, who had not even got up and was grinding his teeth, feeling a certain lack of respect towards his person.

  "What have I missed?" asked Holaf.

  "A lot of the rich and ignorant supplicants, who do nothing but complain about a shortfall of two kilos of apples, stolen from one of their hundred thousand plants, taken to feed hungry children," replied the Emperor in a flat and sad tone and with evident dismay. He took a sip of cider and exclaimed with a more cheerful voice: "The south will invade the islands of Dogoon with the advent of summer!"

  "It is about time!" exclaimed Holaf satisfied. He was always well disposed towards war as part of his religious-cultural origins of the north. "Any other good news?" he added, curious.

  "We must now debate the problems encountered in the West, if Sire Godwin feels it is worth listening to," the Emperor replied.

  Godwin swallowed a bite of wild boar stew and stated:

  "I reported everything that needed to be discussed, now I will listen!"

  "Your Imperial Grace, as you know, the west is home to men who are strong and loyal towards the imperial throne, towards their subjects and towards the King of the Kings of the West, so there are no great problems," Grigor commented with false candour.

  "No one threatens our borders?" asked the Emperor in disbelief.

  Grigor smiling with a reassuring look answered:

  "Absolutely none, you can sleep sound and have sweet dreams!"

  "Could you please tell us, Sire Grigor, how you solved the long-standing problem of the Fortress of the Thousand Gates?" Godwin asked politely. He was genuinely curious about this.

  This curiosity was echoed by Holaf, who demanded a clarification.

  "Yes, Grigor, do tell us how you stopped Lucius. If I remember correctly, he wanted to use the guts of the Western royal family as decorations and to festoon the throne room of the Thousand Gates, toasting the victory with the blood of the vanquished!"

  "He was overcome by my diplomacy," replied Grigor, haughtily.

  High was worried by Grigor's sibylline statement, he asked:

  "Have you stopped the three huge armies of Lucius with some honeyed words?"

  "Yes, my dear young man, with diplomacy, armies do not count!" said Grigor, sweetly, while caressing his white well-tended beard.

  "My Commander, what can you tell me about Catacomb? How did you stop the revolutionary moves of the rebels without using a single soldier?" the Emperor asked, visibly worried.

  "I have an agreement with Huron, Lord of the rebels," Grigor answered with satisfaction.

  "You have an agreement with the rebels?" asked Holaf, angry. He was particularly concerned by the question. He was also concerned, since the rebel city bordered on his territories.

  Godwin felt opposed so he exclaimed:

  "Sire Grigor, we don't make agreements with the rebels. It makes us appear weak and fearful!"

  "My Emperor, both with Lucius and with Huron the truce holds, peace is saved, no man in the West will die uselessly! You will be remembered for all of history as the enlightened Emperor. My Emperor, I gave you the most precious thing of all, my daughter's hand, welcoming you into my family. Do you think I would put what I hold most dear at risk? I'm sure of my choices!"

  "So there are no questions requiring the advice of the best Generals in the Kingdom?" asked the Emperor still doubtful.

  "At the moment there are none!"Grigor answered, most offended by the imperial insinuations.

  Holaf rose furiously, beating his fists on the table, he shouted:

  "This is madness! Neither Huron nor Lucius have a scrap of honour. They are corrupt and violent! I do not know what plots are hidden by their indulgence. Perhaps it is just a simple trick to save time. Grant me an army, I cannot move more than a thousand men from the borders, but if the south and east join me, I am sure I can enjoy the support of the High Guard of the Dragon. With that army we will reduce them to nothing."

  "Behold, the powerful men of the north, who come swearing and cursing, with their axes and swords raised to heaven, to save the Kingdom by killing and killing everything that moves!"Grigor commented sarcastically, and all he got in response was the evil eye from his three peers.

  "Let's say that war is not an option at the moment. We must trust the Lord of the West and watch how he manages it all," the Emperor decided with his face tense. He put a hand under his nose and thought for a moment. "After all, Grigor is a talented strategist, one of the Liberators of the Citadel, surely we will not be disappointed!"

  To the Lord of the North, King Godwin and the God-Slayer it seemed that the Emperor was trying to convince himself rather than a truly having esteem for Grigor’s plans and abilities.

  But for the restricted council the troubles had not yet come to an end.

  King High began to speak:

  "My Emperor, without delay or pretty speeches I will explain the bare and raw facts to you. For months now, the mountain ranges, both the Tombs of the Giants and the Vertebrae of the Titans, have been teeming with impious creatures." The explanation was interrupted by the Emperor, who, being more comfortably positioned in chair than the others, asked:

  "What kind of creatures?"

  "Orcs!" exclaimed High in a deeply worried voice.

  "Years ago those unclean beings did not come so close to our borders!" Godwin commented with concern.

  "You are right, Sire Godwin! Something is pushing these enemies to look for dark and silent roads, unprotected routes and, as you can deduce, this does not presage anything good," said the God-Slayer, stopping to drink more beer, before resuming, "my Vassal of Istraa Vladimir Romanov, in his continuing conquest of the barbaric lands, told me of unspeakable horrors beyond the borders. In recent months he has not come across any Barbarian village still intact. In each settlement the same horrific scene is found, mutilated heads, impaled men, women chopped to pieces and missing children.

  "Why are the little barbarians not found?" Grigor asked. Fortunately for him, he had never experienced those hordes of Orcs besieging his walls. The answer was short and horrific:

  "They kidnap them to eat them while they march!" Holaf said sorrowfully.

  At that reply the Emperor felt his blood freeze and he stammered with a trembling voice:

  "But, Sire High, will your forces be able to repel any invasion?"

  High with his head low and his gaze on the map reported, shaking his head:

  "I'm not sure. The armies of all my Vassals have suffered slight losses in recent months, but the Orcs have the ability to defeat the courage of God-fearing men.

  "Are these beings so monstrous?" the Emperor asked.

  The God-Slayer looked at him and, a dark expression on his face, he told his story:

  "Imagine an anthropomorphic warrior of about a meter and sixty intent on running towards you, wielding such a heavy weapon that cannot be used by any man of medium strength. These abominations launch themselves into battle fearlessly and with no idea of chivalrous honour. They only yearn for the destruction of others. Their skin is of various greenish hues. Their backs are covered with scales as hard as the stone, as if it were a kind of natural armour. Inexplicably the good God gave this to them. These beasts are further protected by rough and very heavy metal sheet armour, but more often in mesh tunics and helmets with brightly coloured horsehair. They are very difficult to kill."

  He interrupted the story for a moment as if he was out of breath, but he recovered quickly, continuing with his description of the beasts:

  "Their skull is small in relation to their shoulders. It sits on a wide, short neck, which is joined to the powerful muscles of the shoulders. The faces are elongated by their
pointed jaws. They have a large, lipless mouth, similar to those of an aggressive river fish. Their sharp teeth are always visible and often have shreds of meat, fur and tissue stuck in them. Their speech is incomprehensible words that are growled and barked. Their small fire-coloured eyes are well protected by very pronounced cheekbones and eyebrows. While they attack you, even when they are about ten metres away, you can easily smell their nauseating stench. At five metres, they make a great jump, leaping towards the sky, overtaking men and then striking their enemies, while they fall with the force of a meteorite. Some of them carry nets on their backs containing supplies that are almost always rotting. I remember an Orc warrior in particular, carrying a little girl crying and screaming among the carrion.

  The God-Slayer stopped, remembering a particular moment that still stopped his heart, despite the time that had passed. But Emperor had turned pale, his eyes wide with shock asked him to continue the story, which High reluctantly did:

  "The beast came closer, snarling, and after the usual leap, I did my best to stick my sword into him. This caused a big wound and a copious flow of dark brown blood. The Orc lost neither his blood lust nor the fury for battle. He ran towards me wildly and after unsuccessful attacks, he took the net from his back heaved it over the rusty iron helmet.

  The girl began to shout with all her strength. That sharp cry and her desperate face, dirty with blood, I will never forget, as long as I live. The Orc tried to hit me with the net, and I, having no choice, put my shield in place to parry the shot. The crash was tremendous and threw me far away, making me roll to the ground. I covered myself with my shield, while the horrendous creature continued to hit me, first with his sword and then with the net. After five or six strokes I realized that the only noises to be heard were the thud of the metal and the snarl of the Orc."

  High stopped and drank, but the Emperor, craving more stories, pressed him again:

  "How you survive, my King?"

  "It was my father who came to my aid, knocked down the Orc. My father was angry with me, rebuking me saying that at ten years of age no intelligent man would ever have faced such an enemy. That was my first Orc, and since then I have never lost a battle against the filthy beasts!

  Silence fell on the room, interrupted only by the clink of cutlery in the plates, then Grigor asked:

  "How many breeds of these beasts are there?"

  Holaf answered promptly:

  "There are the Green skins. High has eloquently described the average soldier. We know of the wrinkled Browns, who are much less physically capable and more backward Orcs. They use bark for protection and clubs as weapons in almost all their hordes. The last, coming from the east are the Black Orcs. They are a problematic breed, protected by rough and horrible armour, made of heavy plates which are very difficult to penetrate. They use more refined combat tactics compared with the classic chaotic mass of screaming fangs. They are able to build and effectively use enormous siege weapons, so enormous that they will knock down a wall with a few shots. Other stories speak of the northern clans, such as the Rockheads and the very strong Winter Orcs, who are covered with thick white hair. These are all the races we know of."

  High interrupted himself for a moment with his dark face, looking fixedly at the Emperor. Holaf resumed talking seriously:

  "Emperor, even in the north more and more barbarians are trying to land on our coasts. Many of the prisoners we captured speak languages unknown to us, but an old man, with great difficulty managed to tell us "Beasts from the North descend on our heads."

  "So dark forces move and plot even amidst the northern snows!" exclaimed a thoughtful High.

  "Yes!" Holaf replied dryly and worriedly, adding: "I arrived at the palace late because I stopped in Gotthard Hammer to visit the trusty Bior Thorson, who had long been asking me to visit. To make it brief and save you from lengthy detail, at night from the walls of the castle of the Nordic Pass, looking north, the entire coast is dotted with trembling lights.

  "Fire, in full view?" High, asked well knowing the bare landscape seen from the house of Bior.

  "First Man of the North, the coasts of the Overland have not been inhabited by any being?" naively asked the Emperor, showing that he had no knowledge of the Kingdoms of the north.

  "No, my Emperor, nothing could be seen on the horizon, either by day or by night. The barbarians do not care to live on the coasts whipped by such terrible winds!" Holaf stopped to put such big a piece of boar into his mouth, that he could hardly breathe.

  "Holaf, have you consulted the Lord of the Runes?" Godwin asked.

  "Norber!" exclaimed the white Grigor, so surprised that he almost choked on his wine. "That crazy old man! You, Sire Godwin, how can you suggest such counsels, you who have such an unshakeable faith in the One true God!

  "Certainly, Grigor, I believe in the One God and for me that's enough. But Holaf has no faith other than in the warrior Gods, and Norber himself is the best intermediary between their Kingdom and ours. And in any case, Norber the Druid, is not a mad old man!" Godwin continued calmly in his characteristic monotonous tone of voice,"

  Holaf, once he managed to swallow the boar without dying, took the floor again:

  "The Druid knows what he is doing. Among the fumes, alcoholic vapours and runes he must have seen some omen." He took a gulp of cider, but realized that he had emptied the mug, Holaf got up and filling his mug with alcohol, added: "Meanwhile, as I crossed the Horn of the Goat on the road leading to Shadow of the North, I crossed the path of almost all the runic warriors. Holaf was interrupted by the Emperor who troubled, asked him:

  "What was the whole Midgard army doing there without saying anything to anyone?"

  "I asked the General, who was leading the troops, what the entire army was doing there, without telling me anything about these manoeuvres. In response, he said that they were heading north to Trondheim, to be precise, as support for my troops," Holaf stopped for a moment to finish off the last drop of cider. The other guests remained in total silence. Once done, he resumed the story: "Midgard's officer told me that his King would gladly confer with me as soon as the restricted council was over."

  After learning this news, no one in the small, intimate room had any desire to joke or provoke the others. The Emperor seemed petrified, his head still resting on the back of his right hand, shaking his head slightly, with his eyes fixed on the map. He muttered to himself in a low, concerned voice.

  High interrupted the silence. With his usual ability he analysed the facts they had just learned:

  "This is what’s happening; the west, according to King Grigor, is quiet. So far so good, for now at least. The south seems to be in preparing for an invasion, but given the problems of the East and North, at least for the moment, I would postpone such manoeuvres. The east is plagued by Orcs exploring the mountains. Finally, the north is the usual incomprehensible mess, with armies that lining up without having seen the enemy.

  He stopped, looking at his interlocutors, who were attentive, interested and listening in silence. Having their attention, the God-Slayer continued:

  "Since I am the Lord of the East, I am anxious to discover why the Orcs are exploring our mountain ranges. At the end of the restricted council I will ride alongside Holaf towards the Runic Fortress of Midgard. We will hear the visions of the runes, then I will head east to the Tombtower, where I will talk with Sveslav, asking him to unleash his Night-riders in order to capture some Orc to understand their movements."

  "I do not envy you, Lord of the East, the Tombtower is a gloomy place and its Lord, it is said, is a son of the devil himself!" exclaimed Grigor.

  "True, Sire Grigor, but in war he is a formidable ally, a bit uncontrollable, of course, but if we fight the Orcs, we won't need to control him, just unleash him," High wisely answered.

  Holaf intervened, changing his tone:

  "Well, we will hear the wisdom of the runes and if they reveal bad news for us we must immediately head for to our respective capitals to summ
on the Vassals. In the meantime I will send a drakkar near the coasts of the Outlands to understand who is living in the settlements on the coasts and to discover the extent of their forces.

  Holaf looked at High and reassured him by saying:

  "My brother, I will give you as much help as possible, I will command the Lord of South Winter, to move his army to the Red Ice so there is less road to cover should it become necessary to intervene in your aid. I would like to understand if Ivar Ivar-son of the Long Wall is also suffering from an Orcs infestation similar to yours.

  "My Emperor, if the imperial coffers were prosperous, we could hire the mercenaries of the Volcano Island, they are worth their weight in gold." Grigor suggested to the Emperor who was watching with lost air.

  The Sovereign, in his heart, hoped to reign over a calm and prosperous Kingdom, not have it stained with horrors. He had the mistaken certainty of thinking that the recent battle fought to liberate the Citadel, would be the last to be seen by his tired eyes. Only now he it was as if he was awakening from a beautiful dream. Destiny hit him hard, perhaps hurling him into the middle of a horror that he had never experienced before, being a man from the west. Perhaps it was too great a horror for his heart to be a warrior. Now all he wanted was peace and rest. His Magnificence was forced to bring his concentration back to the room of the restricted council by Grigor, who was arguing with Holaf. The Emperor cried out:

  "My Generals, it's no longer time for jokes and arguments! We must now stand together and watch over each other!"

  Silence fell on the room, and the words spoken by the Emperor echoed in their heads like solemn bells.

  "My Lords, mercenaries are a very good idea. They possess centuries of warlike tradition. Many have historical heroes as their brothers and, it is said, that they descend directly from the Titans of fire," Grigor added.

  Holaf remained strangely silent and did not get involved in the speech, even though the admiration of the Nordic King for these warriors was well known. But such powerful beings have to be summoned with great caution.