"Prince, now we'll have some fun!" closed his visor and turned, stretching his arm with the second stick toward his challenger, who now was being incited by his companions:
"You can't back out now!" one shouted.
"You are a knight of Vyborg, fight for the honour of all!" another cried.
The challenger took the shield and put on the helm with sparrow beak, before heading to the arena, where he claimed the wooden weapon. The green knight stood sideways, on guard favouring his right arm, covering most of the big target he made with his shield, and provoked:
"Sire, whenever you're ready!"
A fury that barely seemed human overwhelmed the paladin of Vyborg, forcing him to retreat, though he was hit like a snare drum as he went backwards. The number one rune ferociously pushed the poor green knight, who was a great warrior with words but less active with sword and shield. Unable to attack, closed into defence, he ended up like a quarter of beef, thrown on the butcher's table. Once his enemy was on the ground, with Nordic ardour, the Wolf pushed his stick against the losing man's throat, exclaiming:
"I see and hear no difference between your defeat and that of the prince. So, explain to me the difference in the silence now afflicting your companions. Before they were more than willing to mock the Prince of Vyborg."
No one answered this question. They were silent and apathetic, like the forest around the garrison, until there was a spontaneous apology from a young man of good heart:
"My Prince, our joking was rough and ill-timed. We have been rude, we ask forgiveness! Many other soldiers joined in asking for forgiveness, raising the devastated moral of the prince, still sitting on the hollow tree trunk.
The Wolf's Head helped his opponent to get up. The man was not very happy about the sound defeat he had suffered.
"I stumbled!" exclaimed the whimpering loser with little humility.
The first rune smiled, but did not comment. He had had enough, sitting next to the prince as he caught his breath.
"You see, boy," said the Wolf interrupting himself to take off his helmet and recover himself. "They are all very talented and heroic, when they sit and watch. However, once they are challenged, fear, if it is not controlled, leads to error, and finally they fall on their asses just like you."
"But you were not afraid? You were a fury, really amazing!" the blonde boy answered excitedly.
"You are right, I wasn't afraid of anything this time, but when the blades are real and there many enemies - I am afraid too. The important thing is not to be dominated by it," the Wolf answered calmly.
"You have seen, Prince, there are only two ways to emerge from a battle, if you live you are frightened and damaged, otherwise the road is only one, but not very tempting, despite the religious ideals promising grandeur in the next life," King Holaf interrupted smiling. "I attacked you as a Trondheim warrior would do, to show you what it means to be pushed by a shield. Not many would remain standing, Prince, my weight is much greater than yours, and so will the average Orc be. Trust my words Boris, you will become as skilful as all your men, perhaps even much better. Just keep working on yourself in the practices!"
The young prince was enthusiastic about these words and in his round head began to fantasize about large duels and laurel wreaths to crown his head.
The entire garrison was fed with a miserable potato soup, with only a few pieces of dry meat to give it some body. This was accompanied by bread, which was more like granite balls thrown from a sling than a fragrant loaf warm and redolent straight from the oven. Then the group set off again.
Many leagues divided the soldiers from the small village of Cernyj Les, right on the border of the Kingdom of Vyborg. The early morning gave promise of a humid journey. The beautiful sun of the previous day seemed a distant memory to the travellers. No rays played happily, reflecting on the long pikes and halberds but only a uniform grey like charcoal smoke slid across the sky, allowing only slight glimpses of a timid fiery globe. Starlings and magpies flew low, prey to ravens and hawks, the usual masters of the sky, but today their flight was submissive and fearful.
Galloping rapidly, the men returned to the road, previously abandoned as a precaution. Not one wayfarer or pilgrim passed by. They received no greetings or bows. The abandoned road did not seem the same as the day before. Not even the lush undergrowth, an excellent travelling companion from the start, rustled cheerfully now, but it seemed to diminish growing less and thinning out at every step. Then the underbrush gave way to the desolation of barren and wet expanses of mud. Slender yellow oaks dominated the landscape with bushes from time to time and occasional solitary trees. Boris and the Wolf who were the avant-garde, galloped back to the ranks in a hurry, with their horses tired out because of the crazy race that continued back and forth to the horizon. The road in that area changed from slushy mud to subtle unstable gravel, which caused problems in manoeuvring.
"My King!" exclaimed the Wolf dismounting from his horse to give it relief, while he reported what the two had seen: "My Lords, there at the end, beyond the last hill in sight, there is a tiny lake. The road there turns, skirting it as far as the eye can see, because the scrub is as thick as it was in the freshness of this morning. There were knights among that foliage which we were unable to recognize.
Holaf looked at thoughtful High and asked:
"What do you think, my brother?"
"I think many things and none of them please me," the God-Slayer answered cryptically.
"My King, there shouldn't be soldiers of Varius on this side of the Vyborg Hills. They would be very far from home!" the mighty Dragon stoically asserted.
"Rune number one, you are not sure of the number or the banners of these men?" he asked the scout.
"No, my King, we have seen them slip quickly into the vegetation. I can only tell you that I have counted six, Boris says seven, but this is very limited information," replied the Wolf, sorry he cannot be of any further help.
"My King, if you were to grant me command over the men of Vyborg, I could go closer deliberately and openly on purpose, perhaps our number will seem great enough to put those men in flight," proposed the Dragon. His heart was swollen with anger at the obstinate silence of young Sersy.
"It could be a solution, but stay at a safe distance, I do not want any injuries caused by arrows!" the Lord of the North answered.
Once they had decided to try this trick, they advanced together, silent and observing the ground carefully, as it was unstable under the hoofs of the horses, forcing everyone to dismount from their horses. The three women were kept at the centre of the formation, which consisted of well built Vyborg knights. The column was closed by the knights of the East and their arrows, while at the head the Masters of War acted as a battering ram against any enemies who threw themselves into attack.
Arriving on the last hill before the long, narrow stretch of water, the troop stopped at a place that offered shelter from any enemy glances. The Wolf, moving stealthily among the rocks and the brushwood, showed the way to King Holaf, the God-Slayer and the Dragon. Boris, strangely, stayed with the others, as ordered by the Lord of the East, without saying anything more than "I obey you!"
The four moved ahead, like lions hunting, low and hidden among the weeds, down the slope cautiously to the edge of the undergrowth. They remained hidden to watch for any signs of the enemy. Many unknown factors and doubts crowded into the minds of the Kings. The men they were seeking might not have been hostile, but what army would move so far from its borders and for what reason? All their fears and thoughts snaked treacherously, cloaking the four in bad omens and corrupting their hearts. They saw fluttering everywhere among the shadows, but often it was only imaginary movement.
The Lord of the North decided to move even further downstream, closer to the possible enemy. He was followed by his three companions. The stony hill descended, making the route even more difficult, which reduced possibility of encountering prying eyes. The four men squeezed into a narrow, winding, tren
ch-like natural cleft in the ground, just like the ditches dug for a siege. The bottom was muddy, making walking sticky. They were so close to the lake that they had become tiny dots to the eyes of the watching second Nordic rune. He was in charge of controlling the situation from the high ground. The Kings, as they moved weighed down by the mud, came out not far from the area of leafy undergrowth. They looked at every leaf, branch and stone, well in view, but nothing suspicious moved. No strange noises were heard nor voices speaking; only the muted breaking of the waves on the muddy banks in the lake not far away disturbed the bucolic silence. High whispered in a thin breathy voice that seemed like the rustle of a withered leaf floating through the air before it settled on the ground:
"My brother, the situation doesn't make sense. I don't see anyone, there should be at least some lookouts!"
"True. If they're still there, they're not rough robbers. These are very clever and efficient at concealing their presence," Holaf replied, gritting his teeth to diminish the full ringing tone of his voice.
"What if they aren’t waiting in ambush?" asked Dragon in the ear of the God-Slayer doubtful of the existence of invisible enemies.
"Do you mean, are they just civilians in hiding? That could also be true!" the Lord of the East answered.
While at the edge of the lake they discussed thus, immersed in the mud, hissing like snakes, from the top of the rocky slope the Prince of Vyborg had reached the Leopard's Head.
"Do you see them, brave Leopard?" he asked in a very polite way, in a manner so unlike Boris’s usual tone.
"Until a moment ago, I could see them! They were standing on the left side of the rocky cliff, on the edge of the clearing near the lakeshore. They have hidden at the foot of that large elder, or at least what remains in winter, to hide themselves in its branches," the War Master answered without turning.
"I don't see them, I hope they're not in danger!" replied the young worried Boris squinting his eyes to improve their focus.
"Now I can't see them anymore," commented the Leopard, annoyed, "it is foolish to enter the thickest part of the forest!"
"What is happening, my brother?" the fourth rune was behind them, hidden by the line of the grey rocks covered by greenish lichen.
"Brother, I can't see them anymore, they have gone down into the valley closer to the tree-line, and I'm not sure if they're still standing in the place, where I last saw them," answered the Leopard.
"Curses! What are we going to do now? Should we go down?" asked the Bear's Head.
"We can attack in tight formation and knock down everything in our path, enemies and the underbrush, until we find them!" exclaimed the second rune as vigorous as the North Sea and full of ardour.
"But the Dragon suggested a less risky plan. I heard him say that we should move forward making as much noise as possible in order to attract the attention of the attackers and discourage their hostile intentions, convincing them our forces are stronger." Boris reported on the alternative plan of the Dragon.
The two warriors looked at each other with little conviction and began discussing the plans animatedly.
"A young Prince, we are little more than forty, not exactly a gigantic army," the Bear's Head objected, crossing his arms.
"True, but perhaps even fewer soldiers would be needed, say twenty, one of them with a battle horn. We will make them believe that it was the vanguard of a whole division arriving!" Boris replied, convinced and satisfied with his intuition.
Astonished, with the air of people who had witnessed a miracle, the others who were arguing with Boris remained silent.
"And do we have a horn?" asked the Leopard very interested.
"I think so, we usually have one for every twenty men to make each team independent," replied the Prince of Vyborg, touching his blond hair, blown about by a cold wind that had just begun.
"Well! Let's try this game of chess!" exclaimed the Bear Head satisfied with the plan.
"We, Prince Boris, will ride down the slope with twenty men, pretending to be the vanguard. With the remaining twenty you will wait and intervene only in case of need. If a dangerous situation should occur, Prince, we will retreat quickly so as to be closer to you so we can join forces quickly," Leopard explained the simple plan quickly, while the Bear scribbled a horrendous sketch in the damp ground, before calling twenty men to him and checking that there was a horn.
"Prince, stand straight, be attentive, indomitable and valiant, and you will see the sun rise tomorrow!" were the words of encouragement from the fourth Nordic rune to a young prince frightened of commanding twenty knights for the first time in his life.
They advanced in a compact line along the road, which was more like an old, bumpy mule track than the busy main road it should have been. Carefully, on the horseback, they moved along the edge of the trees, but always at a safe distance. No one would have liked to be under a rain of arrows. In fact, all the green shields were ready to come forward and block the probable assault.
To deceive the enemy, the two runes had camouflaged themselves, as far as possible, in the middle of the formation of soldiers, so as to hide their indisputable Nordic appearance. In this position, taken by the two warriors of the north it was it was more difficult for them to identify the four missing warriors, but it was more efficient.
Boris crouching between the stones and the brushwood remained alert, watching over the situation from above the last hill. The fake avant-garde descended the salient, from which they could enjoy a good view, since from that point on the immense Victoria Valley opened up in front of the eyes of the Nordic runes. While southwards the Mountains of the Dragon were in stark contrast with the low round hills. The mountains were made up of sharp pointed heights and ridges were so jagged that they seemed to have exploded from the depths of the earth through smooth green hills.
Holaf, High and the first and third Nordic rune were still well ahead and remained uncertain about what to do. They continued to search among the black and brown vegetation, bare because of the season, but still very dense. The search became complicated to the point that the idea of following the road along the lake seemed almost impossible.
"I'm starting to think I chose the wrong strategy. An ancient demon could hide in this scrub, and we wouldn't be able to see anything," commented Holaf in a whisper.
"Let's try to go back and follow the plan of the third rune, it seemed valid!" suggested the God-Slayer in one breath, as he crawled along the unknown path.
The silence of the late morning, until now only interrupted by the gurgling of the lake and loud vocal exercises of some finches, was torn apart by a mighty trumpeting, deep and low followed by a voice praising the glory of Vyborg.
Holaf rolled cautiously onto his back silently to see what was happening. When he saw the vanguard advance on horseback, he smiled and commented:
"My War Masters, your brothers are coming to help us. They are acting on the plan proposed by the Dragon!"
"There is nothing left to say. I want warriors like that at the Black Portal. If I can't train them well enough so that they are just as skilled, I will hire you, my brave brother!" High commented. He hadn't turned around and continued to scrutinize the vegetation.
The line of shrubs was broken and they moved. Squeaks and snaps were heard strong and clear coming from the bush, now it was shaken by a strong force. Black figures began to appear, moving clumsily in the tangle of branches. Another call from the horn resonated clear on the wind, unmistakably identifying the fake avant-garde standing firm and quite visible at the base of the stony hill, waiting for the rest of the hypothetical division.
"Very strange, they have turned to head out into the open towards us. I do not understand, is it their intention to attack us?" reflected the Wolf head aloud, noticing the increasing size of the black shadows.
"I don't think so, there seem to be too few of them even for a possible diversion, I can only count five," the Dragon replied, almost disappointed by such a small number of enemies.
A green knight broke away from the avant-garde and rode back up the hill, as a true reconnaissance patrol would have done. The trap set and was well enacted. Now all they could do was to wait for the response of the adversary. The enemy was visible at that moment, but not easy to understand. A few meters from King Holaf and his companions, right at the edge of the forest, emerged a young brown boy with inexperienced eyes. He was short of breath because of his fight against the branches. The hostile vegetation had knotted itself with the plates of his armour, which was full of dents and devastated by rust to the point of showing clear signs of corrosion. He was followed by other people including women, old people and children, all visibly tired, dirty and cold. There were only seven men of military age, including the boy. The people dragged their bodies as if they had been escaping from the enemy, since time immemorial, passing from rock to ravine to hiding places in the bush.
In random order they continued to approach the soldiers walking at a slow pace and not speaking, moaning or lamenting, as if they were ghosts. A soldier of Vyborg called for a halt but none of the people stopped. The call was repeated, this time having the desired effect by making the group of people stop. The young man in corroded armour, gathering his last bit of energy, shouted to them:
"Vyborg soldiers, we are the subjects of the good King Demitry. We are fleeing from certain death to warn the Kingdom of hidden dangers in the night."
High jumped to his feet, followed by the fierce War Masters and ready to in defence. Holaf also raised his tall muddy figure but much more calmly. The group had passed them by a few hundred steps. When the rear guard soldier of the survivors saw them, he didn't even have the strength to give the alarm. He limited himself to lowering his pike, moving it back and forth a couple of times, as if to frighten a stray dog.
"Do not be afraid! We are not assailants, but we have been sent by your King to verify stories and rumours from the village of Cernyj Les," explained King High in a reassuring tone of voice to the survivor in green armour.
That tired and worn armiger wore a mixed set of green-coloured armour with the symbol of Vyborg. The man seemed to be an old soldier of King Demitry, given the old livery and armour, which had since been replaced by chain mail and more robust and flexible body armour.
TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering Page 28