TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  "You look disgusting, Sovereign of Trondheim, now you need rest, while I work to save your ass!"

  The failed attempt at mutiny had damaged the feeling of brotherhood, that had been created but at the high price in blood, sweat and respect among men. It was just like a strange wave striking against the hull of a ship in port can damage the order, creating small cracks. Insatiable and hardworking, the deleterious suspicion of being untrustworthy struck to the heart of the arrogant lancers of Tulsky. The mistrust spread through the heads of Vyborg's green soldiers and finally had an effect on the almost inviolable and brave minds of the Trondheim War Masters. Not even King High could ignore or tolerate such a tragedy, which ended with the loss of a soldier and his sword. The price was too high in the eyes of the God-Slayer, at the moment evaluating the decrease troop at his disposal.

  After the unpleasant event, the men marched silent and thoughtful, arranged in compact blocks according to their origins. The three ladies travelled with the archers of the east, who were now entrusted with the organisation of the column, despite their doubts. They were followed by the crowned heads and the four Nordic warriors, who moved dark and meditative, paying attention to every whisper. More numerous and contrite the Vyborgs followed the north, while closing the column were the cavalry of Tulsky, who was also entrusted with the task of the rear guard.

  The days were passed by, tiring and but similar, the dismal routine crushed the travellers almost as much as the fear of new horrendous encounters. For days now, the land over which they rode, belonged to the Kingdom of Trondheim and more precisely to the South Winter Kingdom. The cold desolation and sadness that is part of winter did not change. The road offered the same kind of vegetation and the ruthless absence of life, a travel companion since the Mouth of the Dead.

  "Much will not return," commented Evghenij, a hunter, remaining the only one who was not disturbed by the divisions, created by the attempted betrayal and was willing to talk to all of them.

  "What disturbs you, Duke of Vilniar," the God-Slayer asked in a slightly distracted manner.

  "I have been hunting for a long time, as you probably have, and I have never seen such a shortage of game," the Duke noted with concern.

  "Probably these strange disturbances have led the animals to unusual migration patterns," High said, striving to be as rational as ever.

  "My King, we haven’t even seen any birds, neither by day nor by night," the Devil of Vilniar emphasized.

  "Perhaps birds have taken wing to more stable climes?" the Lord of the East answered with a question, now interested by the insistence of Evghenij and the observations that had increasingly plausible explanations.

  Prince Boris introduced himself into the conversation uninvited, but always welcome, with his now dirty and quite knotty blond hair.

  "My Sovereign, one of the things I was looking forward to in this journey, was to have the chance to admire the Emperor Owl of the Ice. This bird of prey has been observed in the Kingdom where we find ourselves now. However, to date I have not seen any, and it is certainly not a bird that is afraid of icy or rainy climates," Boris amazed them again, by offering evidence of a new and unexpected passion.

  "So you are a tactician, a talented killer of terrifying beasts and a knowledgeable ornithologist. How many qualities are hidden under your blonde curls," commented High smiling with satisfaction. "So tell me, knights expert in hunting and animals to what can this lack of fauna be attributed?" Boris shook his thoughtful head as his tired horse began to get nervous and have difficulty in keeping up with the rapid pace.

  "In my opinion, it could be because of the bloody river," the Duke exclaimed in a strong and proud voice.

  "Plausible, without water the plants die and the herbivores move away in search of food. The birds of prey and carnivores then follow in succession," God-Slayer hypothesized, drawing logical conclusions.

  "My King, and if the problem for animals wasn’t so much finding abundant food and water, even now, but to avoid becoming food themselves?" suggested Boris

  "What are you saying, Prince, explain yourself better," Evghenij encouraged him to dispel the tortuous veils inherent in his reasoning.

  The blond young man looked around and noticed that he had caught the attention not only of King High and the Devil of Vilniar, but also of the War Masters and archers, placed at the head. Given their interest, the young Boris felt compelled to clarify:

  "It could just be my imagination, full of old readings. But I remember the story of the Green Tide of long ago. That story told of nature dying, of a dead sky and of the inhabitants who fled elsewhere to get food, more or less as we see today."

  Leopard interrupted the prince, pointing out sceptically:

  "The chronicles of the ancient Green Tide are known to everyone, but there is no mention of red waters."

  Ready and effective, Boris was like a student who had prepared for days for an exam with his tutor replied:

  "I don't think it's the same situation, I'm afraid it's worse," he interrupted looking at the Eastern Sovereign who was very interested. The King indicated with his hand that Boris should continue. "You see, my Lords, the red waters are not part of the same saga, but appear in Denethor's Book before the annihilation of the God of Blood. The Green Tide with its lack of wild animals, the trolls escaping from their usual areas to avoid being enslaved are all signs, described in detail in the book of the Green Tide.

  The insight of the prince broke the scepticism and chilled the blood in the veins of every open-minded man, able to understand these words. In total human silence, accompanied by the noise of the gallop, there fell a mantle of worry and fear. Boris spoke again:

  "My Lords, the Orcs we fought in the Zubrovka wood were many, but certainly not the only ones: Cyfer himself mentioned them. All that mass of muscle and tusks will have to eat, and since during the winter very few men remain in these lands. The obvious conclusion suggests that food is provided by anything that moves.

  After such explanations, no one dared to have the illusion of not understanding Boris’s explanation. It was so well documented as to sweep away any easy assumption that did not give due importance to the dreamy reasoning of the young prince. King High shook his head considering what he had heard, like all the listeners. The Dragon was looking at the horizon pensively and the Devil of Vilniar, still struck by young Boris, gazed at his green armour.

  The thoughtful moment was interrupted by the least expected comments, from the least expected listener. King Holaf, lying on his stretcher, without opening an eye had been following every word of his companions, and intervened by commenting:

  "The Prince, I am afraid you are right."

  "My brother, you shouldn't be worrying about such matters, but resting to get back your strength," High rebuked him, slowing down his horse to get closer.

  "Yes, mummy, just one more thing before I sleep!" the suffering King replied in a weak voice, before addressing Boris directly: "Prince, you are a constant surprise. If you abandon the management and frequentation of brothels, I will introduce you to my daughter Sigrid. She is more or less your age and is splendid. But I must warn you, she is worthy daughter of his father, and uses her sword with great skill. She will only want a man who is to be able to fight her, so you will have to train a lot!" After that revelation, Holaf stopped talking knowing that he had left his warriors and his brother High speechless.

  "I would be an honoured and proud to meet your daughter," the young prince exclaimed in a manner worthy of a high-ranking man. Boris, smiling for having received praise and approval from his model of strength and courage, marched with a different step, and seemed more of an adult and less a child.

  "Boris, you're lucky, King Holaf's daughters are like their mother; she's said to be like a shining star arrived on earth. If the girls had inherited the beauty of their father, I would have offered you my condolences!" King High joked, making everyone smile.

  "I'm not dead yet, my brother, I hear your wicked words a
nd I'll avenge myself!"

  It had been many moons since there was such an exchange of jokes. For so long joking had been unthinkable. But the jovial character of the two Kings always lifted morale to heaven. They were also thankful for the clear symptoms of the miraculous recovery of the Lord of the North, a guide and example for them all.

  In the rose red brushstrokes, instinctively painted here and there by the sun, as if it were an artist about to finish his masterpiece, a knight of Tulsky, one of the scouts, stood out in the distance. The man stood there still on horseback, erect and dark, much smaller than his extended shadow. The warrior waited because on the muddy road, a small, slow figure calmly approached the unmoving knight. The archers of the east, with good long vision, stopped the column invoking the Sovereign of Black Portal. They were too far away to hear the exchange of jokes, but they recognized the courteous doffing of a hat, shaken in welcome to the column of warriors. A few moments passed before the knight of Tulsky turned towards his companions and waved to show that the road was free.

  The man he met was middle-aged, wearing simple but very well padded clothing and protecting himself from the rigours of winter with a bearskin. He carried a club reinforced with nails by his side and a large rucksack on his back. The jute bag overflowed with objects and fabric. The traveller had so much to carry that he had tied some bags to a wooden stick. He had a beautiful helmet with ram horns and the beaten decorations typical of the north. Also his round riveted shield tied to the stick was typical of the Kingdom of Holaf, but it had a painting of a smaller city. Because of this, the origins of man were not clear.

  "Good morning, foreigner. It's a pleasure and a relief to meet a human being again from time to time!" King High cheerfully exclaimed, very pleased with the encounter, hoping it would mean the land was free of monstrosities.

  "The pleasure is mine, Lord of the East," replied the man bowing slightly to that crowned King.

  "Where are you heading, warrior?" asked the God-Slayer courteously.

  "To the south, my King, and if you want to live a few months longer, that is the only direction to take," the young man answered brazenly.

  "I am the third War Master of Trondheim. I could ask your name, foreigner?" the Dragon spoke.

  "Certainly, my Lord, my parents called me Jan and of Vibar, Regent of the Damwall, I am the son," replied the lone traveller.

  "The Damwall is the defensive line built to block Rockroad. How come you fled leaving your position?" asked the Dragon Head harshly.

  "I do not mean to insult you, knight, but you do not have any rights, nor can you accuse me of cowardice!"

  "We, the Masters, are the greatest military force of the North. It is our right to investigate any child of the Arctic lands. There is a law that states this," Trondheim's third rune thundered angrily, energetically dismounting from his horse.

  "I answer only to the King of the Finger of Fate or to the Lord of the North, and at this moment I can see neither of them," the heavily burdened warrior replied boldly and madly.

  While the Dragon was walking slowly and watchfully towards the soldier of Rockroad with all of his imposing and threatening manner on show, the no longer tremulous voice of King Holaf was heard as he rose from his stretcher.

  "If the Lord of the North is called upon by his subjects, not even death will prevent him from responding!"

  Long sword raised a hand and beckoned the solitary man to approach. Jan immediately obeyed and approached, but was shocked to see his King lying down and wounded. With difficulty and in a broken voice, he whispered as if he were at the bedside of a dying man:

  "My Lord, what happened to you, who reduced you to that state?"

  "My problems seem more severe from the outside than they actually are. Do not be afraid, my subject, it would take greater enemies to put an end to me. Nothing will keep me away from this war!" replied King Holaf.

  "My King, what war do you speak of?" Jan asked, confusedly.

  "Of the same war from which you are fleeing," answered the supine Sovereign sharply and in no uncertain terms.

  "I'm not running away, Your Majesty, the situation is much more complex than you know!" Jan replied miserably.

  "Get on with it, do not delay, enlighten us on what evils afflict my people," encouraged Long Sword.

  The warrior looked at the Dragon, King High and all the others coming around to hear what he alone had seen. He brought his hands to his sides, began to report:

  "My King, the scree to the north of Rockroad, has long been the scene of nefarious apparitions. We found large and ignorant animals that had not been seen for many long years. Many trolls came down the salient then ran screaming against the fortification, trying to break down the door. We were able to defeat at least five of them a day and at least twice as many at night for a long time. These assaults continued for several moons thanks to our minimal losses, and these mostly due to lack of due attention. With such a strange winter and an unusual shortage of game, the list of applications for a place with the guards had never been so long. The fact pleased my father and allowed me to fulfil my request to raise men and replace the fallen quickly.

  Everything changed with the death of the Superintendent of the Damwall He was old and with a weak heart. The position is not inherited through the bloodline and despite the requests for orders, sent by me to the Lord of Windy Fortress, who is responsible for Rockroad, no answer came to satisfy our needs. Supplies of food and money ended forcing those few soldiers still stationed among those battlements to abandon the Damwall. I stayed to fight, but the trolls, however stupid, were able to break through the wooden door, while I defeated those who were not near the breach.

  "So the way is open and unattended," asked King Holaf shortly.

  "Not exactly, my Sovereign. Before leaving the fortification I lowered the portcullis behind both gates and made sure that I barred the doors to the east and closed the door to the west. This is usually kept open, because the enemy never arrives from that side," was the proud response of the keeper.

  "Why didn't you ask Midgard for help?" the Dragon asked in an austere tone.

  "My knight, I sent a request for help to many places, but neither crows nor men come back - I don't know if they deserted or suffered misfortune. Midgard was the only city to answer saying that they were not able to send help, as he had sent the entire army to Trondheim to defend the Queen. I can report nothing more than that, but I would like to express my sorrow and shame at having had to abandon the Damwall, leaving it unattended. In my defence I can only say that there remains the enormous size of the fortification along an entire valley: to cross it from north to south takes four hours, and alone it was impossible to defend," was the heartfelt response of the proud man.

  "Why is it that instead of making your way to the northern city, you headed south," the Long Sword insisted continuing his interrogation.

  "My King, the trolls will soon fill every forest, cave and hole in the lands of the Reign of the North. In the south the climate is unfriendly for them, so they won't move so far," Jan replied contrite, staring nervously at his feet, hopping from one leg to the other. However he had not given all of the bad news and began speaking again. "My Sovereign, more ugly news concerns the water of the rivers," Jan was interrupted by the Lord of the East. To him did not seem appropriate to linger on news they already knew, and informed the fleeing man about what they had seen:

  "The rivers are sick, full of tiny red beings with an insatiable appetite. There is no stream, ditch or body of water from here to the Dragon's Back that is not infested."

  "But then it's a widespread scourge, where can I go?" wondered aloud the unfortunate warrior clearly terrified.

  "Please, pull yourself together, you are a child of the North don’t whine like those effeminate people of the West! Come with us to Midgard and continue alongside us wherever King Holaf or King High decide to go!" Dragon's Head, harshly rebuked him. He was unable to comprehend the fears of others, and had no patience wit
h useless whiners and deserters. Death in battle with atrocious suffering seemed more gratifying to the third rune than a life on the run, hunted like an animal.

  Guardian Jan remained silent observing the group of men intent on exchanging icy glances. He noticed the tired expressions and the thin faces of those who had eaten little and badly for a long time. He saw wounds more or less serious, an unwanted addition for all knights. Jan was overwhelmed by panic when he saw King Holaf, now sitting on his sedan chair, with his left eye full of dark evil contrasting with the other colour of Trondheim's ice.

  "Jan, I will not impose my will on you, even though I am your King. I do not wish to pull the strings of your life, treating you like a puppet. But know if you go south, you have the chance to live one, perhaps two more winters. Then the bony fingers of death will certainly grasp you as you shiver. This is the time to fight, because soon we will all be overwhelmed, if we do not now unite now but prefer to go our separate ways. Our destiny will be in the hands of others and we will never see our children grow and prosper! If you follow us, you will have to confront your innermost fears by fighting a violent and subtle evil force such as you have never seen before,. You will have the honour of standing alongside the greatest and most talented warriors of humanity. With a little luck we will see a new era of peace," the Lord of the North spoke to the hearts of them all. But his sincere words had a bittersweet taste.

  Faced with the toughest and most troubling decision with the horrific truth facing him clearly, the choice was relatively simple for Jan, in whose veins the proud blood of the north pulsed strong.

  "Lord of the North, my father was always standing at your side, marching with you everywhere, even for the conquest of the Overland. I will follow you faithfully in any direction you choose to take," the newcomer shouted proudly to the King.