TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  "My Ladies and Gentlemen let us return to the discussion regarding the Lady. Please excuse my beast of a son!" invited the smiling loving Demitry.

  "Don't apologize, we all have problems with our children, yet we can't do without them," High replied.

  "I have no problem with my children or with my daughters!" Holaf exclaimed as proud as the oaks of Trondheim.

  "You're right, Lord of the North, it's the children who have a problems with their father, when he is too attached and too protective," High smiled.

  The Kings exchanged glances, smiling, but the Dragon was trembling to know the fate of his beautiful dark Lady and insisted:

  "Forgive me, King, could you tell me the price for her ransom?"

  "Certainly, warrior of the tender heart!" The King of the Free City of Vyborg answered by pointing his finger at a large number.

  "Seven hundred thousand golden dinars!" Holaf exclaimed surprised. "Where did you steal that slave?"

  "This is just the purchase price. I ask for nothing more than to get the investment back. Usually the price is double, but given your loyalty to the Lord of Trondheim, the lower price will do," Demitry struggled to explain just how advantageous his offer was.

  "I’ll go to my horse and count my money, then return to report," replied the mighty Dragon, bitter at the thought of not having enough money.

  While the Kings continued talking, discussing and exchanging information, the dinars came out of one bag and slipped tinkling into another, but at the end of the count the pitiless total came only to five hundred thousand. The Dragon felt his heart beating quickly in his chest, like a blacksmith working, hammering the blade of a sword on the anvil. He jumped suddenly, clenched his fists and looked at the girl, his gaze as straight as a cypress. He had his hands on his chest and the sad gaze of one who has been disappointed and only then understands the meaning of life.

  "You are my hero, whatever happens mighty Dragon!" Sersy told him, caressing the face of her soldier. His face was tense and blocked in a grimace, while her face was damp with tears.

  "My Lady, I cannot leave you in this unworthy place for the lack of only two hundred thousand golden dinars!" The third Master of the War replied.

  "How much do you need to redeem her?" asked the Bear's Head of his comrade-in-arms.

  "The King wants seven hundred thousand of gold, I lack two hundred thousand," said the third northern rune angrily.

  "Take this, my brother, here are a few coins but I do not have more with me," offered the fourth rune holding out a bag of red velvet.

  The Wolf did the same for his brother in arms and not even Leopard spared himself. But the collection to free the beautiful young girl offered by his companions came to just five hundred and fifty dinars even with the contribution offered by the young Princess of South Winter

  The voice of the Dragon broke into the air vigorously, interrupting the Kings, absorbed in their debate:

  "My kind host, I don't have the figure you asked at the moment, but I lack very little. If you were so magnanimous as to accept it anyway, I'd be eternally grateful."

  "Even if the gratitude of such a talented warrior is always a welcome, this, my dear ones, is business, numbers and nothing personal. If the numbers do not balance, I must refuse your request," replied Demitry kindly, but unmoving, closing the book and giving it back to the page bent beneath its weight.

  "How much do you need, third rune, to redeem the girl?" asked High dismayed by the unpleasant disagreement.

  "One hundred and fifty thousand," the Dragon answered coldly, stiffened by the nauseating sense of impotence that irritated him out of all proportion. He was willing to kill every man in Vyborg's army, beating them to death with his hammer, if that had been what was needed to free the luscious wench. Chaotic and cruel thoughts piled up in his mind. For the first time in his life the warrior felt undecided about what to do at the sight of a girl in tears. His hand slid to his war hammer, which still called for enemy blood. Nothing prepared the Dragon for the speed with which King Holaf clasped him in an embrace, which dispelled all of his anger. The Lord of the North placed his hand on the head of the hammer, pushing it back into its place, not allowing it to express its longing for battle:

  "Do not be afraid, my friend, nothing is lost and you are not alone. I would have introduced you to one of my daughters, perhaps the youngest, on our return. Only fate has guided your heart to the choice you have made, and neither Kings nor Gods will be able to do anything now." They were the most beautiful words ever addressed to the knight of the dragon. The warrior, letting go, took the forearm of the King, stared at him straight in the eyes, and spoke with deep feeling:

  "Now you are no longer just my Commander and my King, but also my brother!"

  "Luckily, everything has been sorted out!"Holaf smiled, knowing that he had avoided a diplomatic crisis and certain carnage.

  "Forgive me, what have we solved?" asked the ruler of Vyborg, pretending not to understand what had happened. He had a nose for money, even at a distance, that was better than a good bloodhound.

  "Let the woman go, old man!" said Boris the know-all air of a teacher who can illustrate a situation in a few words.

  A hard loud third blow came quickly, but the lad rolled with it. An experienced boxer could not have done better. The prince simply lowered his head closing his eyes and exclaimed:

  "Father, I did not understood you were pretending!"

  "Son, there are many things you don’t understand in my opinion," commented the Lord of Vyborg harshly.

  After counting the dinars that were missing, King Demitry approached the two lovers and asked the warrior:

  "Did you know, that with the money you paid you could have bought fields, bought yourself a lot of productive land?"

  "Yes, I know! Until now my life was almost perfect, only the sweetness of a woman was missing," replied the soldier convinced.

  The old King turned to the woman:

  "You are a lucky woman! Do you know how many slaves I've seen redeemed in my long life?"

  "No, Your Grace!" Sersy replied frightened.

  "Only one!" was the rapid response of the ruler.

  The dark beauty with her southern complexion was exhausted by the effort of holding back her tears. King Demitry gave a small bag to the brave knight telling him:

  "Please accept a small gift from me. I have had the privilege of seeing a shining and ardent act of love."

  "Thank you, my Lord, are you sure?" asked the Dragon honoured by such a gift.

  "Certainly, great knight! Keep it and use it as best you can!" The old Sovereign answered kindly.

  "Lord of the North, I give this money to you to pay part of the debt," the faithful Dragon offered the money immediately to his good Lord.

  "Take one of your companions and help the three ladies find clothes suitable for the north. You know well where we are heading, and the winds that dominate there. They must be adequately dressed to face it," ordered King Holaf, showing great heart.

  The knight moved immediately after beating his fist on his chest as usual, leaving Holaf with a sweet and warm feeling.

  "What will Anastasia say, when she discovers that so much money has been used to redeem a beautiful woman?" asked sneaky and playful High, barely hiding his smile.

  "Better to face any form of perverse monster that breathes in the Kingdoms, than reveal such a thing to my wife!" answered Holaf always very respectful of his love for his wife.

  "My great Kings, I must ask you for a small favour. In return I offer you everything necessary for your journey and a garrison as an escort," the clever King Demitry began surprisingly.

  "I ask forgiveness, good Demitry, but the it is late and our problems can wait no longer," Holaf answered courteously, shivering at the thought of a further delay.

  "I will not disturb you for more than one turn of the hourglass. Once my dilemma has been solved, you will enjoy the protection of my men until the South Winter. They will break off to retu
rn home only when you are safe," replied the elderly King, a good salesman and well practiced in deals as a merchant.

  "Holaf, my brother, the proposal seems acceptable to me," High later commented. Then, as an expert in merchant’s games he asked cleverly: "My good host, what would this slight additional dilemma be?"

  "Towards the border of my Kingdom to the southeast, where the hills cease and the austere peaks of the Dragon Back dominate, there is a small village, thirty fortified huts, nothing very big," Demitry stopped for a moment to think about how to end. "Could you verify the stories that a merchant who passed through the village brought to my ears?"

  "What stories are you talking about, my King?" Holaf asked, smelling the stench of lies in that smoky and sibylline tale.

  "But, my King, I assume they are only rumours,. They say the warg is in those lands," answered the Lord of the green hills, minimizing, with the air of those who badly hide their worries.

  "What is a warg?" Holaf asked, having never listened to any of the old folk-tales.

  "My brother, it's a story for children. It tells of a horrendous black dog lurking in the dark hours to feed on human flesh," answered High with his thoughts running to the possible connection to the hellish mastiffs, about which there had been so much discussion at Kitan.

  "Well said, Lord of the East! Of course, it's just a story for infants, but I'd like to check the health of my subjects in any case," King Demitry explained worriedly, nervously drumming his fingertips against each other.

  The Lord of the North looked seriously at his brother by the sword and doubtfully reflecting on what to do. High began to walk slowly around the other two and continued his pensive march for a while. The God-Slayer stopped and asked suddenly:

  "My brother, what do you think, what does your instinct tell you?"

  "I accept, there might be nothing else in that village except stupid superstitions, but we'll be safer on our way to the South Winter," Holaf answered with such disarming simplicity that it seemed an ill considered response from a neophyte.

  "Holaf, you might be right, but fate is an unpredictable manager and it could also reserve death and suffering for us. Have you thought of that?" emphasized the God-Slayer with his long-standing philosophy of dismay.

  "My brother, the road to we are travelling on will be long, and certainly Dicius will pursue us as he has done so far. The only possible alternative would be to pass through the Mouth of the Dead, but I would not undertake such a road even if it were the only one left. That place is the tomb of many ingenuous travellers. It is too dangerous and far too close to the mountains," Holaf answered, well prepared, as the excellent warrior he was. He knew full well that he had to make wise choices, not only about his troops, but also in the choice of possible battlefields.

  The King of the North, being a skilled connoisseur of his own territories and all the neighbouring areas, was aware that he had few alternatives to choose from. In the narrow range of options, the only attractive route was to abandon busy roads and head north, crossing the huge Vhola River, where the bed was larger and at the same time not as deep and more peaceful. Leaving the river behind, the plan of the Long Sword would lead them home, entering the Zubrovka forest in the vast free Kingdom of Denethor. A long and tiring road, but very far from the mountains, currently haunted and teeming with impious creatures.

  King Holaf explained the plan for their march to High giving rise to doubts and perplexity in his sword brother. The Lord of the East, who had no knowledge of the territory, asked a little nervously:

  "Forgive me, but is it not better to head straight for the Vhola River once you descended from the plateau? Whichever way we go we will have to cross the river with makeshift barges."

  "My brother, have I ever taken you to places we have been unable to get out of?" Holaf asked the God-Slayer.

  "Certainly, my brother, only the One God knows how you have the instinct for getting us out of certain situations!" High answered.

  "Have I ever guided you towards overwhelming enemies in a suicide mission?" the Demon of Trondheim inquired once again.

  "The very fact that I can see you now and we are speaking is clear evidence of your good leadership, brother!" High replied with an unsatisfied expression on his face, similar that of a disappointed child who receives fruit instead of toys.

  "Well, my dear Lord of the East! So I am asking you to renew your confidence in my abilities. Have no fear any misjudgement regarding the territory," concluded Holaf kindly and convincingly. He then told Demitry: "Lord of Vyborg, we accept your offer! We will pay a visit to your subjects in exchange for your escort to the South Winter.

  The old King rejoiced greatly at the unexpected news and, taking the two Kings arm’s, one on the right and one on the left, they began to walk while he told them about his beautiful Kingdom and how well his family preserved it is over the centuries. So it came as a sudden slap in the face, when he was asked by his second born son if he could have permission to travel in the company of the guests as far as South Winter.

  "Boris, my son, do you know what are you asking? It's not a business for citified young men who are not even all that clever!" The exasperated voice of his father thundered against the prince.

  "But you just said, these are just stories and imaginings, so what risk would I run?" provoked Boris, mockingly.

  "You, my dear, risk your life just by going to the latrine! I don't want to hear any more of these absurdities coming out of your mouth!" Demitry tried to close the argument.

  However, Boris didn’t give up, but not like a whining child who has been refused yet another toy. His seemed to be the serious conviction of an adult man, trying to shake off the insulting reputation of being incapable and to take on the armour of the valiant warrior.

  "Father, I cannot stand your invective and insults any longer! You have treated me like shit, sending me where no one can even remember me. Yet on my return to the city everywhere the friendly greetings of the people are addressed to me personally and not to your arrogant and precious first heir! I will follow the army south with or without your blessing." They were words of a man who was convinced, almost desperate, but proud and noble. But they did not have the desired effect, as Demitry waving his hand, as if to get rid of a fly, kept on walking.

  The ladies returned to the castle of Wall Hill with their companions. The women were happy and vociferous, wrapped in their new and beautiful coats. There was a cloak of sky-coloured fabric for Princess Tyra, who had, without any possibility of haggling, demanded an edging of ermine for the hood. While her two shopping companions willingly accepted more sober, but equally warm, dark green mantles of heavy felt. They were so large that they went round Sersy at least twice.

  Vyborg's soldiers arrived to the sound of a trumpet fanfare and formed up into two tortoise defence formations. They marched furiously, beating their right heels at every step. The green knights presented themselves, as they always did. The Vyborg army was used to announcing their arrival. About forty well-trained and fit men correctly protected like true soldiers off to war. These were the troops granted by the Lord of Wall Hill for the imminent feats of battle.

  All of them had been provided with a large, solid and sturdy steel mesh chain mail, covering their arms up to the elbows and down to their knees. But that was not the only protection. They also had beautiful green lacquered steel breastplates completely covering the soldiers' chests. On the body armour, carefully made of polychrome lacquers, was depicted the ochre-coloured tower overlooking the waves of the river. Each soldier's head was covered by Vyborg's ordinance helmet: an unusual helm in green steel, like the armour, with a sharp visor similar to the beak of a sparrow. The choice of weapon, rightly, as is understood by any good General, was left to the discretion of the men. They had provided themselves with a wide variety of pikes, war scythes, halberds and bill hooks with no thought of aesthetics, which are of absolutely secondary consideration in battle.

  All that forest of pole weapons imm
ediately made the Kings think of the possibility of having to face a cavalry attack or worse, demonic enemies, accustomed to fighting in a melee. Both ideas generated shivers in every soldier escorting the Lords of the North and East.

  "You see, Holaf, now I’ve seen our escort, I feel free of any reservations I had, concerning the detour in our trip," commented High satisfied, referring the shiny metal tips reflecting the sun’s rays onto the ground and into their eyes. Holaf with his hands on his waist nodded satisfied, proud of his decision.

  "What do you think of the new armour of Vyborg, my dear warriors?" asked Boris's father proud of such a capable military display.

  "It certainly makes an impression, with those sharply pointed helmets. The armour looks good, quite robust, but not too tight. I would have added some shoulder covers for all men, able to protect not only the shoulders but also the neck from side blows, blocking them. But this is only my modest opinion," the Lord of the North replied, his answer was thorough and competent.

  "My King, yours is not simply an opinion, and I will put it into practice at the earliest opportunity," King Demitry answered, satisfied by his compliments and constructive criticism.

  Having completed the supplies High approached the King of Vyborg asking him:

  "My King, would you have a good horse to sell us? One of our men has suffered the loss of his steed in an ambush. Since then he has ridden behind a companion in a way more suited to a couple of newlyweds and not to a soldier of his level.

  "I certainly have good horses, I'll give you one without asking for any money in exchange. After all, if there is to be war, your task is the business of all United Men," replied the worried Elder King.

  Everything continued swiftly without any inconvenience in the mild warmth, offered by the sun, between one blast of wind and another. The father, the owner of Vyborg, did not salute his son Boris, nor even look at him. Boris was in full dress, wearing the same beautiful armour as the soldiers. Prince Boris was distinguished only by his lack of a spear or pike. At the departure of the small garrison Boris turned several times to his father without having any reaction from his royal parent. Only Igor from the side of the street had a few words for his brother: