"You are Asmoday, Denethor Chaplain, an adept of Belial Cerno!"
The man with the silvery hair nodded his head slightly and made a half bow before saying anything:
"Then I correct myself, here we all know each other, King of the South! Therefore, the way you have travelled is a way to your possessions. Castrum Leonis awaits your coming with joy. The good Josef will certainly welcome you triumphantly."
"Your Excellency, the being you are caring for, what sort of spell evoked him," Fulk asked, bewildered by the dark presence of the strange warrior.
"This is not the same magic as that feathered beast, it wasn't an evil spell!" noted Asmoday in a calm tone, showing the basket to the curious warrior and explaining: "This is a Gardener of the Fronds. They are small, shy and never show themselves to anyone, even less frequently to the great warriors, even if they are not very wise. Your feathered friend, on the other hand, is called the Deceiver in this land; he is a bad opponent with few weak points. Not much can be done to defeat or drive him away, and certainly you can't succeed by brandishing simple steel, even one as good with a hammer as Sire Gotthard.
"Were you the one who sent the gardeners to our rescue? I will be grateful to you eternally!" Righteous thanked him from the bottom of his heart, offering a deep bow.
"It's not me who you have to bow to, but Belial. He gave you into my care. It was only because of his farsightedness that I arrived in time to save you," he said refusing the royal bow so quickly that doubts and questions were created, but Godwin preferred not to ask, just as Asmoday preferred not to answer.
"Your mission seems to be so vital that it has unleashed arcane forces that have not been seen since the dawn of time. They have the task of hunting you down and annihilating you. No bounty hunter alive in the lands of the west will miss being part of the hunt, looking for you even in the smallest hiding places. The entire army of Varius is on the move in the lands of Long Plain, like a blind man without assistance, looting and torturing in the vain hope of finding you. Belial himself is travelling to the northwest to see the red flashes occurring there with his own eyes. They fly into the sky from esoteric clouds, thickening over the city of Old Tumulus. Black magical beasts roam ravenously throughout the Kingdom. Only the Emperor seems blind to the flow of chilling events." Thus spoke the gruesome warrior without eyes, in serious tone of voice.
"So everyone is in danger! Is the whole Kingdom under invasion?" asked the Lord of the South, feeling his heart beat fast at the thought of his many children.
"The defensive barriers have held up for now, but the walls have been circumvented using unknown roads and paths, and over passes that are forbidden to weak humans. The Green Skins, Blacks and Wrinkly Ones are on the move, spreading horror on the earth. From the tombs and caves creatures of the Cursed Word pour out, like necrotic flowers. Huge beasts ride the mountains and heights sending people away and devouring the men in order to keep the way clear for a future invasion," Asmoday spoke in a worried tone, caressing the little Gardener in the basket. He raised his head in the direction of Godwin and stated: "King, you're wasting time with a stupid old man! Move on and quickly. Much depends on the reinforcements from the south. The road will now be unsafe, stay true and strong!
Godwin did not answer or linger. He ordered his men to remount and spurred his horse to a gallop without much delicacy.
They were several kilometres from the castle Hal Barat, which had to be covered as fast as the wind and as quiet as the night. Leaving behind the warrior monk and his evasive responses, the knights entered the hilliest part of the Long Plain. The black outline of Varius could be seen perched like a raven on a corpse at the foot of the mountains of the west, watching them lazily.
Chapter 19
Return to the south
The knights travelled south. The high mountains were witnesses to how much road the small company had to cover to reach friendly land. The repeated night bivouac was prepared as soon as it was too dark to see. The usual circle of sleeping knights was hidden among the tall weeds lush in the fields, which was the shelter of the weary travellers. With the gloomy sky playing the part of their ceiling and a slight icy drizzle gave good night kisses until sleep caught them all.
In the darkest black night, thunder came, arrogant and noisy, not caring a bit about the repose of tired soldiers. Flashes lit up the sky with extraordinary power, making the shadows darker and increasing doubts in the heart of Godwin, awakened by the din. Gotthard, restless in mind and sleepless in body, moved away to practice a rite common to all living beings. When the Nordic Prince returned, he came across a slender silhouette lurking in the bushes, betrayed by the light of lightning. Gotthard rushed to the onslaught with his hammer, which moved wildly in the air. There was a loud cry from the Nordic warrior aimed at awakening his companions and instilling terror in the shadowy attacker, who was also being attacked. A heavy blow from the steel head of the hammer hit the weak bronze shield, deforming its round shape.
"Cursed dog, you're also a man from the north," Gotthard shouted as he delivered a second powerful blow and then a third.
The long spear of the unknown assailant whistled loudly through the rain, just missing the Prince of Stahldorf’s face, slightly unbalancing him as he dodged the spear. A second soldier, also with a round Nordic shield, jumped from another shrub and struck Gotthard on the chest. The black steel armour, pride of Stahldorf, did not give way and suffered nothing more than a scratch from the enemy sword. It took all Gotthard’s strength and skill to not fall to the ground. But the wicked spear returned to bite, like a snake hidden in the grass: the point pierced the chain mail right between his body armour and the red shoulder strap. Gotthard stifled the cry of pain and anger between his teeth, and grabbed the spear with his unusual gauntlet to prevent it from sinking any further. Kicking his aggressor in the groin, as the man recklessly came too close with glory in his eyes. Stahldorf made him collapse like a falling handkerchief dropped by a Lady.
A third cowardly man arrived. Until now he had been silently waiting and moved only when victory was certain. Steel in the shape of an axe whistled coldly and mercilessly towards the warrior in difficulty. But he was saved only thanks to the divine intervention of the Lord of the South. The large shield of the south stood firm and upright to stop the blow. The King holding the shield pierced the man brandishing the spear with his royal sword. Tearing his belly just under the short body armour. This stopped the man from pushing his weapon further, thus freeing the angry wounded warrior. An irascible scream arose from Gotthard's inner soul and echoed the loud thud, as the hammer made its way through his opponent's skull. Blood, bones and a pink brain were scattered among the bushes, resting on branches and leaves, like a plant with disgusting fruit.
A fatal anger still pervaded Gotthard and drove him to strike the fleeing coward, throwing the hammer at him like a warrior God. The deep thud was a prelude to what King Godwin did not want to see; the furious warrior kicked and punched the stunned imploring man, completely forgetting his knightly vows. Gotthard's large weight collapsed like a landslide on his victim’s chest, immobilizing him. He pulled out a dagger, destroying him. The screams of man resonated long and loud, full of despair, carrying his desperation almost to the walls of Varius. The shocking spectacle was so crude and startling that it disturbed the knights of Terra so much that they begged King Godwin to intercede, putting an end to the carnage. The Righteous neither answered nor intervened, Prince Gotthard was too furious for there to be any hope of him listening to reason.
At first light Gotthard was still sitting among the remains of the attackers with his eyes closed, waiting for his King.
"Warrior, have you beaten your demons?" Godwin asked in his flat tone, as if nothing had happened.
"Yes, my King! I cut them all down, these bags of meat were nothing more than vile mercenaries," Gotthard answered motionless.
"Come, Prince! I will need your keenness for the dark times that await us. And have yourself medi
cated by Sire Melkior!" ordered the Righteous while controlling his magnificent Balter.
The healer, still shaken, approached the lake of blood, in which an almost skinned man seemed to float. His open arms, his entrails arranged as if they were tentacles spread out horrifyingly, while the pallor of his ribs, cleaned like a knife blade, stood out in the lacerated flesh. The vision was too much for Melkior, who returned his newly eaten breakfast to sunlight.
"Move from there, warrior! What sort of man are you?" barked the annoyed healer.
"At once" was the unexpected and polite reply, whispered by the great Nordic warrior. His wound seemed almost like a scratch on his impressive bulging thick muscle, showing even the muscle fibers.
"I've never seen such thick muscles before," commented the surgeon at work cleaning the wound.
"You've probably never travelled north," Gotthard answered.
"Everyone knows the stories about the giants of the Overland," Melkior answered, roughly, now carefully sewing the wound like a diligent tailor.
"I'm not talking about myths, but about Kings and warriors! Did your eyes ever see King Holaf or King Bior called the Great Shadow? Have you never heard of Piotar Magnusen and his giant war bear? My brother Gottvert also beats me in size," Gotthard listed only the most famous Nordic warriors, but he could have named many other heroes.
"You, messere, would like me to believe that you're a small example of a man from the north," Melkior curiously asked continuing the game.
"King Holaf is a monumental man, I can swear it as I was with him in the Citadel, and even one of his guards would make all of us seem tiny, except for Gotthard and Sigfred," intervened the Lord of the South advocating the cause of the Nordic men.
"If they are so strong, why don't they save us all," mumbled a contemptuous knight of Terra.
"They do, they have always protected us! Unthinkable beasts fall on us from time to time trying their unparalleled strength against the Nordic defences. The last, if you remember, reached the Citadel, and if it had not been for the armies of the north and their weapons, now there would be few of us, fleeing like rabbits hunted by bloodhounds," explained the Righteous with strong feeling.
"My King, I'm ready to ride! Sire Melkior has repaired me, all I need is a bow and I can start again," Gotthard joked, moving his shoulder to assess its condition.
"Excellent! God protects us through our hands. This night he chose the hands of the north, so, with such protection what can we fear? We're going to fly as fast as the warm southern wind," Godwin exclaimed, setting off to his lands with a calm and relaxed expression, like one who already feels the warmth of home.
Riding lightning fast through the morning along the twisting pilgrims' path, they found untamed branches covered in dew invading the road and the first non-hostile people since many moons before. A couple of young people in love and happy, holding each other tight, greeted the noble in transit with big smiles, a very rare commodity in those times.
"My children, where are you heading?" asked King Godwin, who was pleased to be able to talk to new people of frivolities, without having to fear their weapons. After a quick exchange of jokes, the satisfied King said goodbye, wishing the two young people good travelling.
The hours passed and the miles accumulated behind them, like wooden logs in warehouses. The high sun battled with clouds to take over the sky, drying the travellers in a warm embrace. The good wishes for their journey, exchanged during the fortuitous meeting with the couple hours before, did not have any beneficial effect on the tired Sovereign. Announced by trumpet blasts accompanied by the deep and threatening drumming of galloping horses, behind the Righteous a wide charge of cavalry sparkled in the shy sun. The terrain fell under their hooves in a mad rush and Varius' polychrome livery was perfectly recognisable, even if far away.
"Come on, my companions, have your steeds give their best," the Lord of the South ordered agitatedly, asking his beloved Balter to make one last effort.
Despite the remarkable temperament of the horses, they were too tired to escape. I was a bad game with a predictable outcome. Everyone did their best until, already resigned to battle but wanting to make the enemy pay dearly, they dismounted from their horses, forming a thin wall of shields to defend themselves as best they could. Then the thunder of the hoofs became stronger, spreading in every direction. Then horsemen raced behind them, with a soft hiss like angels, emerging from the light mist that was lying like a light mantle enveloping the fields. They were knights in blue tunics, shiny armour and white crests, loosely dancing as they the charged.
"They are my subjects," the Lord of the South exclaimed smilingly.
"Look at the lion, it's the cavalry of Hal Barat," Fulk shouted excitedly lifting his sword.
The azure mass of knights divided, flowing to either side of exhausted warriors, and then lined up again a few meters after passing them, just like the sea around the rocks. As the Righteous identified himself, the horsemen cried out in unison: "For the South, for King Godwin," so loud as to cover the roaring thunder of the charge. The long spears dropped one row after the other their sharp spikes pointing toward the treacherous row of attackers, not at all intimidated by the considerable charge.
The noise of the impact was surprising, like a landslide on a mountain. When the impact became stronger there was a film of dust that blurred the colourful steel. The noise of wood gave way to a sharp tinkling of unspeakable ugliness in the background. The first rows of the emplacement at the mercy of the charge were compressed and joined by the slower successive more precise lines. For a strange few minutes it seemed there was a perfectly equal tangle of screaming bodies, but the illusion broke into pieces, like crystal on marble with the arrival of the infantry support in blue livery.
The men in blue tunics, screaming with anger and exaltation, with unsheathed their weapons attacked the flanks of the warring group, stabbing horses and knights and cutting off their retreat. The men of Varius lost the initiative and retreating, were overwhelmed by the superiority of the Protectors of the Way. Helmets, as well as their precious contents were smashed, the wrath and thirst of steel was not tamed until all men with their colourful livery were lying dying on the ground.
As the shadows and light lessened, the ground turned red with blood and was impassable because of the many bodies stretched out. The cries and the metallic crashes gave way to subdued wails and occasional desperate groans. Even Hal Barat saw many valuable soldiers and perhaps excellent fathers of families die. The wounded in blue livery were immediately rescued at the behest of King Godwin.
"My Sovereign, I'm Carol, Commander of the cavalry of Hal Barat. I'm happy to be there safe and sound," a young man appeared who was well groomed and equipped.
"My heart is filled with joy to see how efficient you are in carrying out your oath to protect the road that crosses our borders," congratulated King Godwin as proud as a father.
"We've been waiting for you for weeks. Voices of the price on your head came on horseback from nearby lands in recent times. Terrible lies, which King Josef immediately denied, and increased the search for Your Majesty," the soldier explained shrewdly, before ending by saying: "My King, the Sovereign of Hal Barat awaits you with impatience! From now on, the ground is clear. Do you want to go on alone or do you need an escort?"
"No, no, my good soldier, for these well known and loved roads, my escort is already too large. I thank you and here I leave you to your duties," King Godwin answered kindly.
As the group moved away, they could hear an order being shouted threatening a whipping at the sole idea of taking prisoners. Times and customs had deteriorated to such to a degree that similar orders were obeyed and excused without complaint or muttering.
It didn't take long for them to see the two towers on the horizon of Castrum Leonis, a fortress overlooking Hal Barat, which was ruled by Josef Hennen. This meant that it was a friendly castle and promised a bath full of invigorating water, not to mention a comfortable bed and abundan
t quantities of food.
The walls of the allies soon cast their modest shadows on the head of the Lord of the South. Hal Barat was defended by ancient fortifications, standing since the dawn of time, and like all strongholds, it reached dizzying heights. But these walls had been reduced in more recent times, when an ancestor of the King had the large stones taken to reinforce Castrum Leonis. Walls of little account in the eyes of gigantic vagrant beings or titans, coming from the northern lands, but certainly more than enough for men and even beasts, occasionally passing by on their way south. The purely military structure did not have anything superfluous. Wide battlements towered over the terraces, well guarded by armigers happy at the sight of their Sovereign.
Beyond the city walls, the layout of the town was simple and welcoming: a large square opened immediately after the drawbridge, part of a large octagonal tower. On the square there were well kept and cleverly built wooden houses. The brick chimneys poked through the roofs, puffing black smoke, from burning wood sending an acrid smell into the air. Towards the city centre, past the wooden houses, stood tall square red brick buildings above which towers and turrets soared, arrogantly flaunting the wealth of the family living there. In almost every corner skeletal trunks of wisteria climbed between the buildings, creating in unusual passages, particularly at the intersection of winding streets. These dense vaults offered an idyllic spectacle in spring. The dirt roads had been levelled out, perhaps to welcome the Lord of all the Sovereigns of the South. Life swarmed frenetically through the noisy streets, where the citizens were so busy that they did not greet the Righteous, and frequently hindered his way unintentionally.
"Beautiful city, my Lord, without pretentious palaces adorned with gold and marble," commented Gotthard, positively impressed, arriving for the first time in his life in the south.
"It is impossible to compare our cities with the opulence of the highland buildings, nor with the fine inlaid wooden buildings of the north. We're more used to simplicity in the south. The buildings are similar to eastern buildings, but our houses are warmer," replied smiling King Godwin. It didn't seem possible to him that he was among his loyal subjects.
TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering Page 35