TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  "Don't get yourself killed!"

  "No, of course not! I will come back covered with glory and you will be able to do is to give me greater respect!" Boris exclaimed shortly.

  In his round blond head he already imagined himself acclaimed by the crowds, when he returned home covered in glory. The young Prince of Vyborg came up to King High smiling. But the God-Slayer kindly asked him:

  "Prince, are you aware of the adversities we can expect to find along our path?"

  Boris was torn away from his dream of glory and answered:

  "Sorry, I was day dreaming."

  "You know that this is not a simple walk in the hills, don’t you?" High replied with less troublesome words to avoid misunderstanding.

  "Certainly, Sire!" exclaimed Boris. "I'm new to armed action. If in some quiet moments you or King Holaf could explain a few things to me, at least in part, introducing me to the tactics of battles, I'd be honoured.

  "Bravo, boy!" the Lord of the East exclaimed, satisfied, as it was the correct response from a man who is about to become a knight and not just a warrior.

  Chapter 12

  The Dark Monastery

  The valiant Godwin, who had left his peers behind a while before, quickly rode westward to reach the austere city of Terra, the religious capital of the Empire of United Men. In the Empire, full freedom of worship was still in force, with the exception of a few cases. So many religions were practiced in the shadow of the Titan that insistent voices claimed that there were over one hundred thousand cults scattered from one border to the other of that vast Kingdom. In truth the number of religions was reduced to a most limited figure and this number became even more miserable, when the actual practice among citizens was calculated.

  The religion of the one and only God had the overwhelming majority of adherents and consent of the Empire. This was adopted as the state religion and was skilfully incorporated into almost all aspects of the daily and political life of the Empire. This religion was correct and permissive, allowing for vocations to other belief systems without being contaminated itself.

  In the religion of the men of the north there was a wish for more adventurous lives, leading their believers to search for glorious deaths in battle, in order to earn the favour of their unloving Gods, who were powerful, belligerent and quick-tempered. It was brutal polytheism, requiring sacrifices of animals or enemy blood. There were some satellite cults, which were even more extreme, among which were the Masters of the Trondheim War or the darker Nights of Gorod, bringing terror of the dark hours in the east.

  The third and last major religion saw everything as revolving around the worship of the sun and the stars. There was no luminescent point in heaven, yellow or white, without its corresponding divinity. This fairly simple cult was of immediate importance, especially for the less educated and the rural populations. It was based on the simple conviction, which believed that everything anyone did, from rising in the morning, eating or killing, upset at least one of their infinite Gods and pleased others. Therefore, everything was based on Gods in favour or Gods against. Those who died suddenly had certainly displeased too many luminous points at the same time, while those who found a treasure or who gave birth to a healthy child, had obviously done their calculations well. This religion was prevalent in the south, where there was a wide gap in education and well-being in the society between two groups; the rich, hidden from the sight of the unfortunates in the shadows of their fortifications, the illiterate poor people with no arrows to their bows.

  Many other beliefs could be found among the peoples of the Kingdom, such as the ancient cult of the shadows of Denethor. Lead by the Supreme Inquisitor Belial, who dominated the faithful with his mystical legacy and obscure written signs, resulting in a cult, which was incomprehensible to many. There was another minor group, which continued through the centuries with its followers, was the cult of War. Still practiced only by Wolfmar Volsun and his mercenary subjects, but the Emperor considered it to be evil witchcraft by and banished it from the Kingdom.

  The forbidden cults were stories unto themselves, such as the Cursed Word of the Dark Apostle of Catacomb and his disquieting ally Lucius, Grand Master of the Blood. These two religions bristled with hatred, horror and depravity and both dragged their followers into the most tormented level of human perversion. They were banned and vigorously suppressed, even by the use of massive repression. It is common knowledge that the seed of evil germinates in the hearts of the greedy and the weak, perpetrating disease inherent in the very flesh of man over the centuries.

  Godwin galloped fast for many hours silent but watchful. Many doubts made him observant and hesitant at the idea of venturing on a night ride, well imagining there could be predators lurking. With only his two poorly equipped armigers as companions, nothing could have spurred him on more to stay in the saddle and to reach the city of Terra.

  "Another night in the cold, squeezed under a bridge in the company of mice and insects, doesn't attract me at all!" the Lord of the South exclaimed seriously to his men.

  "No, no, my King, nor do we want a bed like that!" the rider to his right replied, riding as if he were an expert man of arms.

  "You, sir, ride your horse with grace and ability," Godwin commented, slightly astonished at this fact.

  "I thank you, my King, I have been fighting at your side in battle for a long time," replied the gracious and proud dark well groomed warrior.

  "My Lord, so much haste and so many problems do not presage well for the future," the other man commented, as he rode on Godwin’s left.

  "For now, your task, soldiers, is to keep us all safe and get us home untouched to our families at last," Godwin replied, who carried a heavy burden of knowledge, "but on an unofficial basis I can tell you that sinister shadows are hovering silent and furtive over every living being.

  After this final and not very reassuring phrase, the two soldiers fell silent, overwhelmed by questions not asked, as they did not want to hear unwelcome answers. Sometimes it was better to get into trouble unknowingly, without anguishing over how little life they may have left. But in truth their hearts were full of life, just as there was a lot of long road lying before them and for the legs of the poor horses, who were now almost exhausted.

  At dusk the long shadows flowing from the low flaming globe, reached the Vyborg hills. The bright light was in the eyes of the warriors and forced them to peer through half-closed eyes at the road, hidden on the horizon. Then they saw a tall sharp peak, close to a series of smaller sisters. It was the unequivocal sign of having reached the dominions of Terra.

  As the horses, foaming from fatigue, slowed from a gallop to a walk, the three men dismounted from their saddles to cover the last hundred feet in a great hurry. The playful blackbirds that flew from the banks of the moat had by now become quiet, like the magpies and the crows, perched in their large nests on the tops of the bare trees. There were quiet field mice in the thick spontaneous vegetation that grew lush at the edge of the road. Rodents unaware of being able to serve as dinner to the barn owls, flying dizzily like clear shadows in the dark sky.

  Hesitantly the timid lights appeared here and there at the top of the black and bare walls, always austerely prepared to defend the city from any enemies. The dark-coloured walls stood out imposing. They were reinforced by powerful pillars, starting from the highest point falling the whole way into the moat, where they sank into the soft bottom of the artificial marsh. At the top of each pillar severe stone gargoyles jutted out with ferocious expressions and menacing open mouths, in which disturbing fires were lit. The powerful pillars all had slits, disguised as stuccoes that were difficult to see due to the darkness of the night.

  "Who goes there? Reveal yourself! You, advancing towards the glow of fireflies!" ordered a male voice from the top from the large drawbridge still open despite the late hour.

  Godwin had not even noticed the thousands of tiny green and white lights scattered as a natural decoration on the banks of the
moat.

  "I am Godwin Wellinton, Lord of the South, with two escorts," he presented himself with extreme courtesy, which was not, however reciprocated.

  "Pleased to meet you, I am Holaf Erlingson!" the discourteous soldier on the drawbridge answered, mocking the Righteous.

  "I don't think you are who you claim to be, because King Holaf is heading east and besides, he does not have the voice of a commoner. If you would be so kind as to come and verify our identities, we will be grateful to you," Godwin's response masked a certain annoyance.

  "I see you well enough from here and I don't believe you!" the stubborn soldier replied.

  "Do you see us? By grace, do you affirm that you see us concealed in this heavy gloom, even though you are at least forty meters away? I would be amazed to be recognized at five meters! I invite you again to make a more accurate verification, my good friend." At the second invitation, perhaps overwhelmed by doubt, the metal grille came up and out came a child in covered in armour. He was so young that it seemed like a stratagem.

  "Describe him to me, stable boy!" The cowardly man cried out from above the tower.

  The young man, dressed in armour at least three sizes too big, approached fearfully and looked at the three knights, trying not to be overcome by his fear. The little man above continued to scrutinize the unknown dark beyond the shoulders of strangers. He seemed to be more worried by the beasts, the animals living in the fairy tales read to him by his mother. When he was lying down in his bed he became a child again.

  "Come here immediately!" exclaimed Godwin friendly.

  "If I get too close, will you not hurt me?" the little soldier asked in a baby voice.

  "No, of course not! Can you see me from there?" Godwin asked the child in a paternal tone.

  "Not well," replied the young and trembling guard.

  "Now I will approach you, don’t go backwards," proposed the great man with his blood stained robes.

  "He has a friendly face this knight!" the child cried out looking at the top of the battlements.

  "Good, but you must tell me what symbols there are on their clothes, you useless stable boy!" answered the armiger hiding behind the battlement.

  "A big black fist with a gold inscription, but I can't read it, so I don't know what is written!" the child shouted, turning towards the tower.

  "What do the words of your shield say foreigner?" he asked the adult armiger with less courage than the child.

  "God wills it!" In the silence of the evening thundered the low and powerful voice of Godwin, always happy and proud to shout his motto.

  A slow and constant squeaking announced that the guard believed him. The enormous grating rose from its housing to about the height of a man, allowing the two soldiers, escort to the King, to breathe a sigh of relief as did the young very courageous stable boy.

  "Pray, my King, come in to safety from the shadows of the night!" A chubby man next to the door invited them in.

  This character seemed so many things to Godwin's eyes, but certainly not one of the guards. The man was not very tall and moved slowly and clumsily because of his size, but not only because of that. In fact he limped heavily favouring his right leg presumably because of a hair shirt. His clothes were poor in miserable grey jute. He was carried a sword with a strange apple-shaped pommel, which had a shameful patina of rust due to neglect. A steel helmet with four reinforcing ribs protected his head. Though the shape was horrendous it did offer some protection.

  "I would like to introduce myself, I am Cyril, the Chamberlain and Master Brewer of the Fortress Monastery! I was just passing by, fortuitously, when the armigers stopped me to identify the King of the Southern Kingdoms," the chubby monk bowed low.

  "Thank you for welcoming us! We wouldn't have liked to spend the night outdoors, given what is said about these lands," Godwin answered caressing his exhausted Balter. "Could you take care of our horses? They are tired and hungry, they deserve a bit of care and attention."

  "We have here the young stable boy just suited to the task: he gives so much dedication and care in his work, this boy," replied smiling Cyril.

  Entrusting the three tired steeds to the young stable lad, the Chamberlain showed them the way to the Abbey Fortress, which dominated the summit of the only hill, to be found in the flat plain of Under Throne.

  The night fell gloomy, icy and merciless darkening everything in the silent and austere city of Terra. The narrow, winding streets were delicately lit by small oil lamps, secured to high poles along the streets, mostly located at the intersections. On the poles danced long banners, sometimes wildly, sometimes sinuously. They were black and white, with a large blue cross on the background and two lions, one above the other, carrying blue flags on a black background; at the foot of the lower lion there was a skull and crossbones symbol of mercy, suffrage and the hope for good death. These were recurring symbols on all of the ecclesiastical buildings of the Kingdom, especially if they were managed by warrior monks of the religious order of the One God, as in the case of the Abbey Deus Ex Terra.

  No man, woman or child could be seen moving in the shadows of the tomb-like streets. Not even stray dogs with their exuberant wagging tails gave life to these dark streets. In the city of Terra the law imposed a nocturnal curfew in order to avoid shouting, scuffles and vagabonds all the resulting disorder.

  The streets were paved with river stones laid close together, circling the hill, like the coils of a snake. The streets were sunken between tall austere buildings with the dark colours of the underworld, illuminated by trembling lights. The windows were high, narrow and divided in two mullions. The understated buildings followed an architectural style that carried vertical lines to extremes, forcing the builders to use bold solutions. In order to obtain the maximum amount of light, aimed at recalling the closeness of the One God, they converted walls into colonnades with glass walls, similar to greenhouses in plant nurseries. The extreme efforts to reach the Most High made the buildings weak, like sand castles on a beach waiting for high tide.

  Because of the need to strengthen these structures, pillars, columns and rampant arches like aerial roots of the mangroves descended everywhere, sometimes singly but sometimes many together. Solid arms of hard stone joined a building to its neighbour, like two trees that came to each other's aid by knotting their canopies together. Gargoyles and griffons silently watched the intimidated passers-by from with rooftops, flanked by spires and l buttresses on each balustrade and parapet. There was not a single cornice emerging without a prominent monstrosity perched on it in an illusory balancing act.

  Doorways and gates with bronze shutters were artfully enhanced by fine bas-reliefs narrating dark religious stories bring to everyone’s mind the black abysses. Images of men, subjected to every torture imaginable, proliferated in large numbers, intimidating visitors and inhabitants.

  There were no trees or gardens in any angle of the concentric maze of streets. Huge statues of cruelly gazing abbot warriors dominated the tiny empty squares. These effigies held the book of the One God in their left hand, facing the observer, and in their right hand an unsheathed sword in aimed ready to attack, generating a feeling of fearful deference.

  Nothing disturbed the absolute silence prevailing among those stones, all cloaked in sacred beliefs. Even Godwin who had been a guest of this city several times and to which he owed the religious honours for the conquest in his youth of the mountain of the Divine Sepulchres, was still enthralled.

  "Good night," whispered the Chamberlain to a man, intent on the difficult task of lighting a lantern with a long and heavy rod.

  The man turned around, lifted his hat and kneeled and answered:

  "Good night, my Chamberlain!"

  They were the only people authorized by the sacred militia to walk about at night, as they were indispensable in keeping the lights burning.

  The chubby monk, without further ado, took the three guests to the walls of the Abbey. The building was so high that it was not fully visible,
fading into darkness as if it were a bridge linking the Kingdom of Man to that of the One God.

  Deus Ex Terra was a fortress dating back to the time of the first men. It was built immediately after the last great heresy. A long series of bloody wars filled with unspeakable horrors; such massacres were decreed by men who clothed their own vulgar plots in the false garments of the sacred will of the Gods. These wars were so violent and fratricidal that there was a risk of the extinction of the human race. The high and severe walls of the fortress were the scene of important meetings of Kings first and Emperors later. All passed through these stones in the Long Age of Man, but no violence ever crossed the threshold.

  The Abbey Fortress, in addition to the strong outer wall, which was square and not too high, had a back wall that was three times as high as the first. It had been added in much more recent times. After the second wall, you entered the High Square. In the centre was placed the tomb of the Abbot founder. The small square structure, surrounded by bare, low columns, was not really an ark, but the entrance to the catacombs of warrior monks.

  An immense maze of galleries, built steeply into the heart of the mountain, it was the burial place of the warrior monks, the Guardians of the Faith since the founding of the order. The remains of Abbots, Priors and valiant monks, fallen while protecting the creed, rested forever, guarded as treasures in the cold belly of the earth. Countless squared arches with almost no aesthetic additions served as tombs for the brave warriors, placed side by side as the only decoration of the dark and humid tunnels of rough stone. The top of the tunnels had been roughly dug to the point of proudly displaying the marks of pickaxes and chisels, left by the miners in removing the hard stone.

  About these catacombs stories were told of underground connections to every corner of the Empire, roads travelled by the heroic Guardians of the Faith to reach where evil reigned. The opening to the crypt had been buried with large stones, a detail impossible to hide from the careful observation and gathering of information, carried out by Godwin.