"What do you recommend doing, having seen the threat?" Holaf asked, as he tried to see some sign on the horizon.
"To say with certainty what we have seen would mean lying or guessing! We could not even understand if they were men or beasts. The only thing that is certain, they were not huge, they were no taller than you, my King," the Dragon answered sincerely.
The last part of the journey was unnerving, to say the least. It created foolish tensions among the green soldiers of Vyborg. Finally, they arrived, agitated and nervous, a few meters from the palisade, but without encountering enemies, traps or wild animals. The fog reluctantly hinted at rising, revealing perhaps the early hours of the afternoon. The journey had been slow, with falls, quarrels and anxieties, stretching the distance and making the green soldiers look like petulant children. Now the whitish birch trees forming the palisade around Cernyj Les shyly showed their knots and their characteristic dark spots on the bark.
Arriving very close to the village with the help of the fog, intent on spreading out quickly, Holaf could see the high silhouette of a building over the top of the palisade. Even the typical onion on the church bell tower was dark in the mist, but nothing else could be seen past the protective walls, except the watchtower next to the gate with its doors open. Complete silence reigned in the village: no chatter, scent or noise of fervent work was carried on the wind. The village looked desolate and abandoned like a settlement that had survived the flames after a battle.
"We should use our eyes on that tower while the volunteers explore the village," proposed King Holaf gazing into the unknown.
"My brother, I agree with you. My men are skilled archers and could watch from the towers," said King High, heartened by the retreat of the mist.
"Why should an Eastern man be safe on the tower?" one of the captains of Vyborg asked.
"Captain, if in your ranks you have a good crossbowman or a good archer, you will be welcome to take that tower!" the God-Slayer answered courteously, knowing full well that he had only rough riders before him.
The Commander made a half bow and retired among his green knights without any adequate reply.
"Who volunteers to explore the village?" asked Long Sword tough, as if he were commanding his own men.
"I, my King, will be the first volunteer!" The Dragon answered, searching for targets to vent his anger.
The third rune of Trondheim was joined, as always, by all the War Masters, and five valiant Vyborg men also showed that they were not there just to fill a space. The last to volunteer was also the one who no one would have wished to have by his side. Andor, with his sword in his hand leaning against his shoulder to giving himself airs, offered himself as a tenth explorer. The Lord of the North formed the pairs very carefully choosing who was companion to whom. A War Master and a Vyborg soldier were matched, leaving Andor in the company of the Commander, who had been the first to offer himself from among the green warriors.
The village was desolate. The huts were built of solid overlapping trunks with low walls small doors and small windows the size of the head of an adult man. Those loopholes were used to keep in the heat on cold winter nights, when winds rushed violently along the steep mountain slopes, filling the cramped ravine where Cernyj Les lay. Each low and massive door appeared to be barred from the inside. Very few huts were accessible without having to break down their doors. However, everywhere, despite external appearances, there were large holes in the straw roofs, while the interior of the houses always presented the same macabre evidence of bestial violence. Few human remains were found, consumed and violated. Even now small rodents and insects did not disdain easy meals in the middle of winter. Long splashes of blood decorated the walls with lines and sketches worthy of futurist artists. No matter how much effort the explorers made, they found no one in any building of the village, now only wooden structures remained.
All the soldiers slipped through the fence and began working at their separate tasks: some cooking the latest tasteless soup, while others repaired the two entrances to the village. Large fires were prepared and burned in the buildings chosen for destruction, to dry as much as possible the wood and straw that had been dampened by the fog. This was so that they could light a fire rapidly if necessary.
Holaf and High walked quickly lost in their thoughts, reviewing and evaluating the plan in every detail, thoroughly analysing every decision they had previously made.
"If they were to assault us from behind?" asked Boris walking in the wake of the two Sovereigns.
"We will form up in the middle of the square and set fire to the buildings on both sides of it. In this way we will have light and not have them dancing over our heads, using the buildings as a springboard," explained clearly The Lord of the East.
"But what if they go through the fires? After all, they are the hellish beasts, they live in the flames!" Boris contested, arguing and drawing from the sources of his limited knowledge.
"If they do not fear fire, we will give them steel and knowledge of the existence of men who are not intimidated by their horrific reputation for dark glory. We'll give them a sound reason to whimper and take refuge in that disgusting evil-smelling black hole of sulphuric fumes from which they emerged!" was the response of a true man from the north with his crown firmly on his head, even while a demonic sneer concealed his face.
In answer to such a proud declaration of strength, the Dragon gave an angry vigorous cry, which was echoed by his brothers of the evocative helmets.
"Now I see my father!" were the words that pierced the dusk shouted by the Nordic warriors with their shabby fleeces. Those were ancient words and the motto of the soldiers of Trondheim, taken from propitiatory prayers for a good death and the wish for reunion with their heroic ancestors who died in battle. Even King High, followed by all the others, participated in this practice, which was cloaked in beliefs and magical properties, capable, according to ancient prophecies, to make the body of the most valiant warriors inviolable.
"Yes!" exclaimed King Holaf as he sat on the damp ground. "At least morale is high to keep company with the Gods!
"You're right, my good brother, it's a great place to start," answered High, keeping his doubts to himself so as not to ruin that ardour.
The ladies did not participate in the propitiatory virile outburst. In truth they would have escaped as far as a steed could take them.
"I have some doubts about the decision to keep us at their sides during the battle," Tyra burst out nervously. At that moment she was not very attracted by the fairy tales of beautiful knights launched into battle. Elisabet embraced her and whispered sweetly, reassuringly in a motherly tone:
"King High and King Holaf will not allow any attacks against us by those horrible beasts."
"I will protect you, my Ladies, as I have done in the past for others. I know the obnoxious beings that nestle in the shadows. But you mustn’t be afraid any aggression, as long as I am by your side!" Andor offered himself as the defender of the ladies, but his eyes were fixed on the dark beauty of Sersy.
"Don't make fun of this, young knight. When the shadows fall, the hunt will on, and you will be a quarry, like all of us!" Tyra replied, trying to reduce the boy in the eyes of the smiling Sersy.
Andor bowed before the attractive brunette sitting in front of him. He asked if he could take her hand in a cloying customary gesture common at royal courts frequented by noble beauties.
"I will be your knight and you my Queen so you need fear no evil!"Andor uttered this sentence, stealing a kiss on her forehead with his hungry lips.
"Yes, yes! Good try, my little friend! Too bad there is a detail lacking: you are not a knight, but a peasant with weapons. And looking closer, they are rusty weapons. Your sword will certainly shatter at the first contact. You must be hoping to be blinded by the splinters so you don’t see the muzzles of those beasts chewing out your guts while you are still breathing!" The knight of the Wolf expressed this harsh opinion, hissing like a snake unseen before it
bites. This undid the image of the arrogant Andor in all his boastful glory.
This sour joke raised a laugh from some of the green knights as they tinkered with their spears near Andor and the Wolf. Of those present only the Dragon did not smile at all, but did his best to conceal his overwhelming anger. High, as usual, calmed down the ardent spirits, while Holaf approached the boastful young man bluntly sentencing:
"You are foolish and boastful. You show no limits. There is no place for a person like you under my command. Tomorrow, if you are still alive, you will leave, taking to the road alone."
The boy answered giving wildly improbable inventions that were offensive and scornful of the green soldiers, the result of a fervent, but inconvenient imagination. No one liked the childish lies.
The shadows commanded the village as the sun disappeared behind the peaks. The last reflected ray was caught on a long pike and renewed the frightening wounds buried in the hearts of every man and woman there. Through the dark mantle of the night bald, hairless beings would seem like nightmares in troubled sleep. From the south tower came a whistle that chilled the blood flowing in their veins so that they felt no warmth from the crackling fire though it had been dreamed of for many moons. A brave archer of the Black Portal raced down in a furious hurry, calling his Lords for attention:
"My Kings, there are shadows on the ridge. They are slow and inexorable and move furtively, all dark and hairy, concealing their great size most effectively. If it hadn’t been for the reflection on their albino skin, I would never have seen them."
The confirmation of his words came from an arrow that had been shot from a great distance, aimed unerringly at its target. After all, everyone had feared these beasts from the very first stories they heard, the Kings for much longer than anyone else. Now that it was the time for action, it was no longer possible to indulge in childish nervousness.
"Men, to arms! Form a square of pikes! We still do not know how many there are, but by dawn they will all be dead!" King Holaf urged his soldiers on, with phrases of great emotional impact now that he was completely absorbed by the tension of the coming battle.
A second whistle came mercilessly from the west gate, just before the arrival of a second crossbowman from the east. He looked upset and was completely winded.
"What have you seen, knight?" asked King High emphatically, helping him to sit down.
"There are demons among the huts, the ones outside the palisade, those assigned to Andor and his companion," the warrior of the east reported with unconcealed anger and rancour, but with honesty.
"Are you sure of what you say?" replied the God-Slayer in a severe tone.
"Of course, the existence of those beasts is now well-known," replied the warrior between one breath and another.
The high-ranking Kings exchanged glances in a long silent interrogation. Both perhaps regretted that they had stopped the bloodthirsty Dragon, but by now the damage was done.
With tensed muscles, the men formed up in a square. They were on their knees protected by their shields, held in one hand while in the other hand they had their long handled arms at the ready. The number of pikes, halberds and spears were sadly too few to be certain of their effectiveness. Uncertain and worried, the three women clung to each other near the burning brazier at the centre of the battle formation.
"Set fire to the huts!" King Holaf ordered, speaking slowly.
Immediately the three archers of the east set fire to the arrows in their bows. They were arrows that had been collected earlier, on the day of the ambush. The arrows were fired towards the huts. Giving a hiss, the three arrows drew a perfect parabola in the black cloud that covered sky, before sticking into the straw roofs. Three other arrows suffered the same fate. Once again lines of light dominated the scene, like fires of some careless alchemist that were out of control. The man-made falling stars all ended in a crackling bonfire from which a large black shadow slipped away rapidly and stealthily.
"Did you see Prince Boris? They are afraid of fire! The Gods have granted us at least one advantage!" King Holaf exclaimed a bit too enthusiastically, holding his enormous sword and round shield in his hands, bent down like a hero ready for the history books.
It only took a few minutes for the flames to grow huge and revealing, but what they showed nobody much liked. Four shadows fixed the brave barricaded warriors. They were four huge beasts creeping like ferrets, studying their victims. They had come from the side of a building then rapidly slid behind it covered by shadows, only hinted at by the flames.
"Show yourselves, horrendous creatures!" shouted the brave Commander of the knights of Vyborg.
"Sire, don't provoke them, please!" implored one of his subordinates tormented by fear.
"What, are you afraid of offending them? Those creatures will try to kill us all, it’s all the same, with or without your insults!" emphasized the Dragon ready to move.
From the deepest and darkest shadow, showing through the narrow gap between the huts in front of the soldiers, right on the edge of the square, two fiery circles appeared, reflecting the lively swirl of the flames. They were fixed and indomitable. There were dark baritone guttural growls as if a prelude to massacres and atrocities. Emerging, like the back of an icy whale from the North Sea, was an enormous limb equipped with long and powerful claws, followed by a death mask of a face, born of the devil and the black night.
The long visage appeared like the skull of a lion, more like bones than living flesh. It had noticeably big canines like long blades sticking out past its chin, which sent strong silent tremors through the limbs of the paladins. From the lipless jaws two thick sets of teeth promised battle. The straight and neat row of teeth seemed built for clamping onto enemies and biting off limbs and anything else. A second set of teeth randomly attached to the red gums looked more like gutting tools. They looked like the tops of mallets showing with each movement of the beast’s head.
The body that followed the terrifying visage did not promise anything better. The monolithic being had prickly black mottled hair, so sparse that it showed parts of the skin. It was camouflaged by lead grey streaks on its back. The legs were covered with short smooth fur that showed muscles and tendons flexing at every step. The beast walked slowly in front of the line of shields, parallel to the soldiers, showing its haughty ability to inflict terror in weak human hearts.
There was a sudden leap and an excruciating roar, followed by cries and the noise of steel. From the shadows the beasts launched themselves into attack. While the first was roaring and jumping with the sole purpose of distracting the men, the pikes were rapidly lifted and stuck deeply into the thorax of the second beast. Despite that, full of hatred, it shook itself, burying the weapons deeper in its flesh. The animal longed to get close enough to trample and shred the men under him. The soldiers, bent with the effort, had great difficulty in holding up the pikes made slippery by the copious blood flowing along the handles from the wounds. The other demon in animal form had been much more difficult to combat. Quick and silent, he managed to crush the pikes to the ground and break them before they were lifted, tearing apart two soldiers with its claws.
"Wall of shields!" commanded the Lord of the North to the warriors frightened by the beast.
Immediately the War Masters stood in a solid wall, but however strong and brave they were, they were thrown away like leaves in the wind. The arrows from the crossbows hit the neck of the animal, resulting in only anger and death, while the beast hit out with his all of his bloody arsenal striking everything he could get close to. High with his sword in his hand launched an assault on the beast, But the animal, with a jump of pure brute force overwhelmed, him, snarling and sinking his claws into High’s flesh. Overcome by the excruciating pain in his shoulder, he could see his death coming in the form of lurid serrated teeth, illuminated by the yellow lights of the fires.
"Damnation!" cried the proud God-Slayer at the point of death.
Next he was greatly surprised by seeing pieces
of teeth flying past his head. The bloody war hammer of decorated Nordic steel made its welcome appearance, hitting the slathering being hard, making it stagger next to High. A second blow made a dry sound generating a big jet of red liquid, smashing the skull of the beast, which remained erect and able to gnaw at a green Vyborg soldier who had come forward to the rescue.
The Vyborg soldier's new armour could do nothing against the teeth of the hell-hound, who was strong enough to crush the two parts of the body armour against each other, letting blood and guts escape from every hole and soft part. Very little remained of the poor soldier fallen mercilessly in that horrible way. The Dragon shaken by anger, was not stopped by this. Despite the horrific vision, he threw himself screaming like those beasts with his hammer ready to issue its sentence. Taking advantage of the arrival of his brother Wolf, who distracted the bloody beast, the third rune took the opportunity to inflict a blow with the claw on the back of the hammer. The raven-beak tip tore deeply into the neck of the beast, making it shake itself instinctively, hitting the thigh of number three rune with its teeth. The warrior dropped his shield, and with his hand freed the axe from his belt, but the beast did not seem to be either tamed or defeated, and ran staggering, dragging the warrior toward the flames in the huts in a mad race.
While the rest of the warriors spilled blood from wounds or were engaged by the other beasts that had reached the battle, the first beast to fall was the one impaled on the pikes of the still resisting phalanx. The victory spread its wings to the wind, taking the form of the long sword swung in the winning hands of the Demon of Trondheim. The sharp steel cut the skull from the body cleanly, with a single blow, putting an end to the roars and groans of the animal.
The second trophy was the beast dragging the Dragon, who was even more leathery and combative than the being he was stuck to. The warrior, shouting all sorts of curses, swirling the axe with his free hand, stuck it into the soft belly of the beast. The beast was winded and forced to slow down his insecure steps, dripping blood from his jaws. The third War Master seized the moment, slipping his arm into the wound and forcibly extracting as much flesh and blood as possible. A dull thud followed by a long chilling screech as the last breath left the being, attracting the gaze of Holaf. The Lord of the North filled his eyes with the sight of his soldier standing erect next to a weak mass lying on the ground, while he gave the last tremendous and in a way merciful hammer blow to his adversary.
TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering Page 31