"Yes, my King, a hawk coming from the Sepulchre of the Gods, carried a message, in which the blockade of the underground ways was imposed, while not revealing the reasons for it," Josef answered with senile calm.
"You have obeyed, I hope, my friend?" urged the Righteous alarmed.
"You should know, my beloved King, Hal Barat always obeys without questioning! For good reason, the explanations came shortly after in the form of wailing, screaming and moaning. Strange tongues were heard whispering in the underworld. Even today, where there was access to the catacombs, all these disturbing signs are heard, mixed with persistent sounds of scratching. I was so worried that I had the entire antechamber to the dark ways filled in. In that place, day and night ten soldiers change the guard every hour. It seems that such noises are able to corrupt men, if they go on for too long.
King Josef recounted details with skill. The Righteous was pleased heartened to discover the effectiveness of his message.
The road was now indicated, the dice thrown, and the gigantic cogs of war set in motion. Nothing could be seen in the same way. The future was uncertain and human survival difficult, but the outcome could not be taken for granted.
Chapter 20
Changing plans
The moon had recently fallen asleep, and dawn bloomed in a pale rosy haze. The sky a soft blue tint mixed with pink, gave rise to soft pastel shades and a feeling of spring in the air. All creation was gently reawakening, drifting in blissful ignorance of the future. A pair of blackbirds, shiny and black, trilled cheerfully as they looked for breakfast in quiet bushes.
The men wearing the green armour of Vyborg were not too cheerful. Their mood was suffering a hard defeat after a bloody battle against the terrible creatures. Once the intoxicating taste of the victory won against such superior enemies had vanished and the jubilation of hearing their own hearts still pulsing diminished, they were left with only death.
The funeral pyres set up in the village square burnt for a long time, pushing souls with their smoke towards the sky and the Gods, whatever their beliefs. It was a diminished group that set out on their journey, while tormented tongues of fire still licked the remains on the eleven pyres. The men filed through the entrance through which they had passed on their arrival, passing by the charred carcasses of the defeated beasts they that they had set on fire for safety. Holaf tried to send the young Boris and his wounded to Vyborg to tell King Demitry about the horrendous developments of the situation. But both the blond prince and the guardian Commander of the guards refused to obey the order, which had been given more as an invitation. Neither High nor Holaf insisted. Having already suffered heavy losses, two more swords were certainly more than welcome. Only the three wounded green soldiers separated from the group, turning eastwards to their homeland.
Princess Tyra did not speak for several hours. Silent and tearful she followed the group crying in the arms of her helpless duenna. Strange to say, it took a Bear to utter the first words in the midst of all that oppression. Along the way that went between the edge of the hills and the Victoria plain, following a delicate rustle that was coming from a bush, the knight of the fourth rune rapidly threw himself into the tangle of branches without saying anything. Strongly shaking the bush, the Bear Head re-emerged with a tiny meowing kitten in his hand with thick long ruffled smoke-coloured fur.
"I thought it was a rabbit, when I saw the shape among the leaves," the knight puffed, holding the small creature by the neck at the height of his eyes.
"If you skin him, taking off his head and paws, you won't notice any difference between the two, you and him!" exclaimed the cynical and cold Dragon.
"I don't know about you, my brother in arms, but I would prefer a real rabbit and not a pretty replacement. I have other plans for this ball of fur! Hurrying, he approached the sad Tyra and with grace that only he was capable of, among the War Masters, he exclaimed: "My beautiful Princess, I bring you this foundling in the belief that I am offering you something you’d enjoy!"
The small ball with long grey fur and blue eyes performed a miracle. A meltingly beautiful smile appeared on the face of the Princess of South Winter. She swept her sleeve where the tiny rivers of tears flowed, removing the droplets.
"What a magnificent little animal you are giving me, my knight, I thank you from the bottom of my heart," the princess wept a little more holding her new companion to her chest.
"After seeing your beautiful smile I can go back to galloping serenely at the head of the procession," the knight of the Bear's Head answered respectfully, mounting on his steed and leaving.
"At the first stop, come and look for me, my knight," the noble Lady invited him.
"I will be sure to, my Lady," the young warrior of the fourth rune replied smilingly.
The kitten was welcomed, being petted and pampered by all the ladies. Even Sersy approached and whispered while caressing the pet:
"My dear, how lucky you are! The knight who is interested in you has a heart and proper ways, as well as strength and good looks!"
"Who is courting me?" Tyra asked, almost completely surprised, "I don't think he is courting, it was only the gesture of a kind soul."
"Open your eyes, young Lady! Men do not treat women so tenderly without infatuation," she answered the dark haired beauty of humble origins, with a knowing air.
"Now, now, girls, it's neither the place nor the time for such speculation! The meaning of this gesture, if it has any meaning, we will see in due course. Now it is useless to dream, let the fruit mature and it will repay you with sweetness," Elisabet closed the discussion. She was more experienced and paid more attention than the others who were listening.
For hours they had been travelling over Victoria Plain, leaving behind the hills and the city of Vyborg. They were moving along a secondary road. Narrow and forgotten by the traders, it had almost vanished. It was covered with vegetation for long stretches. Where the brambles were thinner, the Quiet River and its waters were visible. Usually the river was calm and green, now it appeared rough and silvery. An unnatural number of fish crowded into the large riverbed, swimming nervously, jumping above the surface of the water now and then, breaking up its surface. It was a very strange but attractive spectacle, never seen by human eyes, at least not in recent times.
This noisy display of possible food persuaded Holaf and High to make a short stop to gather food for their soldiers. Fishing had never been like that before, nor as profitable: all that was needed was to walk in to the water up to your knees holding open a cloak, and it filled with trout, carp, tench and many other species swimming crazily through the river.
"My King, this behaviour is very strange!" exclaimed a green warrior who was looking doubtful.
"Explain to us, knight, why you are so perplexed?" asked High interested.
"My King, I have been fishing in this river for years and I have never seen such a spectacle as long as I can remember. Moreover, I can swear to you that I have never fished trout along the Quiet River. They are good fish, present in the coldest waters like those of the sacred Vhola River," said the knight who was a fishing expert.
Convinced by his story, the Lord of the North and the God-Slayer whispered together, puzzled.
"Knight, what could create such ferment?" asked High in a serious tone.
"My King, I'm sorry but I'm just a knight accustomed to indulge in his modest hobby, I don't think I have the exact answer to your question," answered the humble green warrior.
"If I were to ask you for an answer without claiming what you say is the truth, what would you think," insisted Holaf, who didn't like to leave anything out, no matter how crazy it might appear.
"Then, my King, I would tell you to look for something similar that can happen when a pack of animals escape, fleeing bigger predators. I was witness to such a turmoil created by a great pike among his obviously smaller prey," the expert fisherman offered his ideas to the crowned heads.
"What does this desperate escape of the fish s
how?" asked High, who was always keen to learn new things.
"My Sovereign, if you observe with care, you will notice the movement of the fish is in a single direction, none of them goes north, but all are rushing in the direction of the river’s source. Another factor which leads to this conclusion is the mixture of species never seen before, but mine is only a modest opinion without a firm basis in fact," concluded the knight.
"Modest or not, your opinion is very well structured and convincing, thank you, soldier!" King Holaf congratulated the green knight before he ordered loudly: "Men, out of the river, we already have enough fish!"
As the noisy soldiers tidied themselves and finished cleaning the fish, it became necessary to cook it to keep it longer. The Lord of the North knew well that he could not deprive his men, nor the weakest of Vyborg, of a hot and steaming fish just roasted, especially after too many horrendous and tasteless soups, during this long journey.
The friendly Bear kept his word, given to the blonde northern beauty, carrying roasted fish for her and her Lady, as well as a few bites for the little new traveling companion. The kitten between cuddles, food and a warm bed in a bag, hooked to the saddle of a horse, had settled in very well.
"It hardly seems true!" sighed Tyra, now relaxed and smiling.
"What can't you believe, my Princess?" asked the Bear Head.
"To be alive after such an adventure!" exclaimed the young princess.
"King High and King Holaf would never have allowed anything to happen to you," began number four of the War Masters.
The girl looked at him smiling and asked with malice:
"Moreover, you yourself would have done your best to defend me, true?"
"Certainly, my Princess, I would fight in your defence if it is necessary, but in my heart I hope the Gods do not want to expose you to such a risk," the young Bear answered promptly.
Not far away Boris, after being glorified for merits that were not his, had taken the wise decision of keeping away from the ladies and ate sheltered from the decidedly unfriendly wind.
"Can I sit down?" asked Holaf. He didn't really care about what answer he received, as he lay down before he even finished the sentence. Detaching a large piece of fish he complimented Boris with a full mouth: "You were extraordinarily valiant at the village!"
"Thank you, my King, but you exaggerate with your flattery," the blond prince answered strangely humble.
"What is happening to you, my boy? You killed a monster and you survived! I will send a falcon from the South Winter, entrusting him with a message to give your praise to the King your father. You could allow yourself more airs, triumphant and lively as you were at our departure," provoked the great Nordic King.
The young man did not answer and continued to eat staring at the ground with his mouth twisted.
"Boris! I congratulated you on the courage you showed behind the wall of shields of the phalanx, because you remained firm even when it was shattered by the beasts. I congratulate you on the sword, aimed at random into the eye of the second beast. You probably acted while hiding from sight, but in any case you acted despite your fear! Finally, I am pleased that you spurred the men on to charge, which may have been a risky move, but the soldiers followed and recognised you as their leader.
The beast that was struck down between the houses was not your prize and you understood that well: you are brave and skilful in your strategy, but not a warrior able to prevail over such enemies. I don't know why the Dragon gave you a gift of that glory, but I will certainly respect such a gift." Holaf gave credit to the young man for his indisputable acts of valour and then put into almost a whole fish his own mouth with a satisfied look, so that he could not say a word without spitting out small pieces of chewed pulp.
Long sword put a hand on Boris's shoulder and heavily shook him with friendly strength. The prince settled his hair looking at the Sovereign and exclaimed smiling:
"My King, your sincere compliments give me more joy than the vain glory given me by the Dragon, I thank you!"
"Enough of this chat! Eat up and make the warrior Gods proud, perhaps it will be the last hot meal for days!"
As most of the group ate and drank, sentries galloped over miles to the east and west. The sky became dark, gnarled clouds moved gloomy, like ships without a living captain, pushed by the icy wind of the East. Angry gusts shook the trees and beat violently on the poor horses. Prophetically the first few enormous droplets fell, prelude to great and imminent rushes of water, soaking the ground and the group. The Kings saw the vanguard return with care. They quickly became clearer and closer.
"My King, non-human tracks over the rise to the north," the newly arrived Vyborg warrior reported.
"Calm yourself, soldier, don’t behave like a novice!" his wounded Commander reproached him in a strong temper.
"What traces are you telling us about, knight, what lies ahead on our journey," Holaf always questioned very exactly and concisely.
"Sire, big feet with claws, the signs can be easily distinguished in the damp soil. The tracks come from the east, and then turn to the north," the scout explained in detail.
"Orcs from the Barbarian Lands, maybe?" commented doubtful High.
"That can’t be so. It is too far from your territories to the east. They are probably other terrible beasts," the Commander of Vyborg hypothesized.
"No, my Commander, there are clear traces of something walking upright. They are few and far between. There are six distinct tracks," the explorer answered without a doubt.
"Therefore, Orcs explorers cross the lands of the East with impunity. We will have to discover how these abominations travel without being seen," bitterly commented the God-Slayer, who was repelled by the Orcs more than all other beasts of creation.
The Lord of Trondheim gave the order:
"The first Nordic rune, go out with these soldiers. It would be better if there are more than two of you, and do not forget a horn for the signalling. Sound the alarm in case of emergency and help will be sent."
The three left quickly and lightly, soon disappearing from view behind a rise covered in vegetation.
"What do you think, my brother? You are an expert in these disgusting beings, you have killed more than anyone else," Holaf asked the God-Slayer.
"I do not understand how they can have penetrated so deeply into our lands without raising any alarm. What are my nobles are doing? Where have they been looking?" High questioned, his face dark, shaking his head.
The news they received upset the morale of everyone, transforming the journey into a sort of leap back in time, taking them back to the era before the struggle to prevail over the beasts was won. Every thicket became a possible ambush, every hollow a possible trap. With their morale in tatters, the men continued past tree after tree, brooding over fears and frustration.
The only possible track broke away from the lively waters of the Quiet River to enter the endless flat and brown desolation of the Victoria Valley. The sun made its complete cycle finally hiding where, unseen, it rested. The high moon, covered by a black cloudy mantle, tried vainly to show its splendour, but with little success. Only the nocturnal birds of prey flew frenetically emitting their strange sounds, diving into bushes, looking for a meal. Disquieting cracklings and rustlings evocative of ancient fears sounded louder, permeating the hearts of adults.
Only the Dragon, still furious about the continuous silence of Sersy, did not suffer from any of the self-suggested spells. The warrior stubbornly went into every bush that made a sound, hunting shadows and ghosts tirelessly.
"My warrior, I know what fills your soul with anger and disheartenment," the beautiful Tyra whispered to him, sitting next to the black hearted Dragon.
"What did you say, princess?" asked the man his gaze distracted by multiple imaginary enemies.
"You are suffering because of Sersy. You are angry with her. Her incomprehensible silence makes you furious. Your anger is showing. It is getting away from you and devouring you," Tyra
interrupted herself, amazed at how the eyes of the warrior of the war hammer vanished into the dark of the night. She continued only when she was certain she had his attention: "Every hour, behind your back your anger swells frighteningly, disturbing Sersy and taking her away from you. Perhaps a flower, a gesture or poetic pearls of wisdom would dissolve the reserve of your beloved, allowing her to speak."
"My young Princess, I thank you for your advice, but where can I find a winter flower?" pointed out the Dragon roughly with little elasticity.
"Don't let me down! I just want to see you happy!" replied the blonde princess, bowing her head and hiding under the big hood of the now slightly worn ermine.
"Milady, if it were daylight, you would see my hands. I know how to work with them. I am a warrior of the north, and stopping hearts or splitting skulls is my job and in it I excel in every way. Picking flowers or writing verses is delightful for ladies or fat inhabitants of the west!"
The reply given by the crude warrior put an end to the discourse. This stubbornness reminded the young Nordic princess of the speech of her father and four brothers. Sighing, the blonde beauty took her leave, disappointed, and lying next to the older Lady, she hugged her kitten to herself.
The wind swept them at the first hint of dawn, a moment when it was difficult to distinguish between early morning and late night. With a sprinkling of icy rain, subtle and pungent on their faces, the awakening was quite abrupt. Laments and curses came from the still sleepy lips of the tired soldiers. Flashes illuminated the flat desolate landscape, where only the plants jutted up slightly from the ground.
"Men, sleeping under such showers is far from easy. We might as well continue on our way," High shouted, agreeing with King Holaf that they should avoiding wasting time.
"We will proceed on foot and not burden our horses with further. Only women should to mount their horses," was the peremptory order of the Nordic Lord. It was not a welcome move, arousing complaints and rude ugliness. But that was only wasted breath because the King of the North had never taken notice of grievances allowing them to slip over him like sea foam.
TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering Page 37