TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  "Very well, Jan, son of Vibar, welcome among the ranks of the future heroes, of the despisers of death, welcome among those who will be remembered and glorified! When Kings and Emperors, are kneeling terrified and give in to despondency hiding like dogs, these warriors will not flee from the struggle. Such men face the enemy sacrificing themselves for the sake of many others while shouting "Our hour has not yet come!" Holaf breathed life into the feeling of respect he held in his heart for all his men. His words had an epic flavour, which proudly cloaked their acts with heroic values as they breathlessly embarked on a ship that was too small to withstand the sea, fighting with a storm of such magnitude.

  Men looked at each other. Everyone felt the sacred fire of righteousness and heroism fill his breast. It only needed a poetic harangue from brave Holaf to reinvigorate their step and bring back the sensation of springtime. Smiles bloomed on the faces of the soldiers and the juvenile jokes bubbled among them teasing words blossomed, reminding them of the mood that reigned when they left Vyborg many moons ago. King Holaf again lay down and closed his eyes, tying the ropes holding him onto the stretcher himself.

  "How do you feel, my brother?" asked High, approaching the stretcher.

  "In truth, weak and hungry, as well as feeling strong painful cramps and a burning sensation deep in my flesh," Holaf answered in a low voice so as not to allow the others to hear news that could break down the renewed vigour of the troops.

  "Soon we will be safe near South Winter and we will be able to refresh you and medicate your wounds in an appropriate manner," reassured God-Slayer.

  "My brother, don’t doubt you. Your choices are always perfect, and the men are aware of this. What happened can be laid at the door of the weak mind of a man corrupted by treason, not any mistakes in your command." With these words Holaf tried to cleanse the conscience of the Lord of the East from dirty fleeting doubts.

  High felt Holaf’s strange and disturbing eye penetrate his soul, perhaps to tear it apart and devour its secrets, fears and desires.

  "My brother, how did you comprehend my doubts," bewildered God-Slayer asked, his eyes widening as if he had seen a miracle.

  Long sword gave a friendly smile and answered in a whisper:

  "You are an open book for all who meet you. Your sincere and open manner, with your extraordinary lack of a dark side has earned you my deepest esteem." The mighty Nordic King stopped for a moment, clenching his teeth because of a sudden strong pain, that lasted for several seconds in blocking his breathing and then finally relenting, "I hope my beloved wife Anastasia is not disgusted at the sight of me and will still want to stay at my side after these horrific events."

  "What are you saying, my brother! Your wife certainly loves you, and a wound will not make her run from your arms," High reassured the wounded King again, not mentioning the evident change in him caused by the being who was his saviour.

  "I know my face has suffered some ugly damage. Everyone but you avoids looking into my eyes, and not even your eyes can stand to look me in the eye for long. I'm not new to wounds, but I don't have any headaches and my sight isn’t shaky or blurred, so I don't understand causes the disgust," Holaf answered frankly and disappointed looking at his embarrassed peer.

  It was lightning that dissipated the darkness that clouded the mind of the wounded King. He saw flames lapping everything. Among those fiery tongues flowed words, doubts, and secrets. The Nordic King could sense the fears of his men even if they were buried in a mountain of pride. He saw the faces of loved ones waiting in their dwellings in Vyborg and Tulsky, and felt the affection that came from God-Slayer and the young Boris. His mind absorbed each sentiment felt by the person upon whom the Sovereign's flaming gaze fell. He could even hear the thoughts of the kitten, carried in Tyra’s: the miaowing of the kitten was perfectly understandable through his flaming eye. But all the information he received also gave him a feeling of severe pain in his Nordic King’s mind, which was unprepared for such knowledge. He fought against allowing a loud scream to escape from his lips but it left a disturbing expression on his face.

  King Holaf, agitated and for the first time in his life in panic, fell into a sudden faint frightening all present, making them think that he had died suddenly. Tyra burst into tears as the elderly Lady ran to the bedside of the Nordic Lord listening for a heartbeat as best she could.

  "What do you say, Elisabet? Is King Holaf still with us?" asked the visibly frightened and worried God-Slayer.

  The old Lady moved away from the chest of the Sovereign of Trondheim and gave her verdict:

  "He has such a powerful heartbeat that it shatters through the wall of all your chatter. He has only fainted. His breathing is regular, and there is no trace of weakness. Any attempt to understand the cause of his disease is beyond my abilities!

  After the news there was a general sigh of relief, joyfully given by the warriors, full of rare and recently found good humour.

  Chapter 27

  Horror from the Black Boughs

  Once the column had moved off again for South Winter, the Bear's Head approached his princess, whose face was still marked by ephemeral tears. He smiled at her, giving her a miraculously clean and perfumed handkerchief, a rare commodity after such a long and tormented journey.

  "Where did you find it, my knight," she asked the young man, sniffing it deeply, as if it were a freshly baked cake.

  "My Lady, I have kept it for a long time to be used in a moment like this," answered the Bear's Head.

  "Have you known about my tears for a long time?" asked the princess playfully as she recomposed herself.

  "Certainly, my Lady, since perfection requires tears to blossom, just as a flower needs water to make it open," the fourth Master of War answered romantically.

  The princess, astonished by this poetry, gazed enchanted at the young soldier, concentrating on riding beside her. A gaze like hers could rarely be seen all in history, offered by a noblewoman to a rough and violent warrior.

  "When we reach South Winter, my knight, I will show you the beautiful fortress of Hot Ice," the blonde beauty exclaimed happily.

  "I will be honoured. It is always instructive and fun to visit fortifications and castles," replied the happy Bear’s Head.

  "I'll also show you the collection of armour and weapons belonging to my father, he has some very valuable ones," Tyra added, smiling.

  "I will be proud to be able to say that I have visited this collection," the Nordic warrior exclaimed with satisfaction.

  "I will introduce you to my father and my mother, if you wish," the young princess whispered quickly, embarrassed.

  The Bear's Head was dazed, as he had not expected to hear such words. He had imagined a different path, perhaps in a more peaceful period, and certainly thought he should make the first step as Nordic tradition theoretically dictated. But Tyra was, after all, a woman from the north, and with these proud daughters from the ice, certain stereotypes could never be maintained. The fourth Master of the War was silent with his head bowed, while sweet Tyra’s eyes began to redden fearing a refusal.

  "Could someone, please, hit the Bear's Head, gently though," ordered the revived Northern Lord.

  The Dragon readily gave a noisy slap to the back of the neck of Trondheim's fourth rune. The Bear's Head received the signal, and said a word that was highly inappropriate for a knight. Then he returned among the living. Bringing his hand to his head and massaging the affected part he exclaimed:

  "What do you have instead of hands, brother Dragon, steel? I only needed a moment!"

  "And what do you have instead of the brain," replied the third Nordic rune lifting the hand guilty of the slap as a warning.

  "Yes, yes, I understand! But I would have got there by myself," replied the Bear's Head before addressing the princess with a wide smile. "Princess Tyra, my Lady, nothing in the world could make me happier than to meet your parents!"

  The Nordic beauty passed the handkerchief over her eyes and gave a deep bow, offe
ring to the troubled world one of the most brilliant and pure smiles that had ever been seen by a living soul. The fourth Master of the War slowed his pace to approach his King. Looking at him he said:

  "Lord of the North, I owe you a favour!"

  Then he moved back next to his restless and excited blonde. The elderly Lady who remained beside King Holaf to watch over his health also commented smilingly:

  "My Sovereign, I don't know how you make fun of death by passing from one bank to the other of the River Stige at your pleasure, but I thank you for your divine intervention in favour of Tyra. It is years Tyra since was so radiant with joy!"

  "Thank the Dragon, he's the one who made the material gesture, I just asked to wake him up!"

  King Holaf showed more and more signs of recovery in the coming moons.

  The desire to speak returned, as did hunger, which like a dear old friend tormented his stomach, perhaps even more than the insatiable War Masters.

  The climate went to great lengths to oppress the morale of travellers by hurling rain, hail and sleet against them. But after so many difficulties and unforgettable horrors, the morale did not falter for a moment. The wind came to give a strong hand to the treacherous sky, sweeping the ground with such energy as to lift the fallen snowflakes again. But even the wind was not able to bend the iron will of the weakened men. Between the fleeting flash and the infernal roar of thunder, covered by leaden clouds of ancient hatred, the Lord of the North observed the fury of the elements with intensity, covering his right eye with his hand, in an extreme attempt to come to terms with the most difficult of riddles.

  The flames, that only the Sovereign could see, continued to reveal the most intimate of secrets that lived in the soul of those whom he was watching. Long Sword, looking at Tyra learned to appreciate her strength and loyalty, but the flames of his eye dug more deeply, greedily until he unearthed the pain she felt for the rape suffered, the beatings and other unpleasant facts. The flames were not interested in joys but in sorrows, as if they were vital to them. They consumed sorrow avidly, accustomed to horrendous memories.

  He could read everything about everyone, but flames took no notice of the Dragon, almost repudiating him, fearful of how much his black heart could conceal. The magnitude of the emotions and pain weighed on the King making him collapse after only a few minutes of observation. The new gift seemed more like a curse. It was so painful that Long Sword considered the crazy option of having his eye removed so that he would not have to bear the burden. Holaf called High to him as he needed a trusted confident.

  "My brother, please come next to me!"

  "Here I am, King of the North! What can I do for you?" asked the God-Slayer who quickly joined his friend.

  "My brother, who took care of me?" asked the Lord of the North whispering.

  "We were about to be overwhelmed by the Orcs, you were on the ground at the mercy of the a terrible beast and no one, apart from the Dragon, was able to help you, because we were all assaulted by overpowering enemy warriors. We were saved only through the unexpected but very welcome intervention of the Cyfer Inquisitor," High stopped for a moment shaking his head, overwhelmed by memory. "Cyfer, revealing a mysterious power worthy of a God, made the Orcs run away. Then just how he did it I don’t know, but he was able to stop the haemorrhage as your life flowed far away, killing you. The Inquisitor hinted that your life would be saved, but at a price. He also emphasised that the cost could be onerous. I asked him for clarification, but you too, my brother, know how skilful the Lords of Denethor are at avoiding answers!

  Holaf, using only the grey eye, looked thoughtfully at his peers. The King of the North made a grimace or two and confessed to the good High what was happening to his body:

  "Brother, my left eye must be added to the pile of your burdensome crosses. I am afraid that it may be the victim of a curse or of an arcane spell! When I open it and look at a person, I see their body enveloped in flames. When these symptoms first appeared, I thought it was the result of the collision between me and the great beast, but now, in my head, I do not see any man or woman, unless they are covered with whirls of strong flames."

  The Lord of the North took breath and feeling himself getting stronger as time passed. Even his good humour was no longer missing, leaving only the thought of his eye as a problem to be solved. The God-Slayer was amazed and equally stunned by the revelation:

  "My brother, don't be afraid, we will soon reach South Winter, there the healers will be able to help you."

  Holaf smiled bitterly and frowning he confided in the God-Slayer revealing completely the extent of his new gift:

  "Dear High, that's not all. The flames that I see licking at the people, burn their flesh tearing away their feelings and joys, secrets and pains. In very few moments everything about them is revealed but within me it provokes continuous fainting fits."

  "So, this is your secret! That is how you discovered my sense of guilt for the decisions taken?" asked the Lord of the East, appalled.

  "Yes, my brother, in the flames I saw not only your sense of guilt, but also feelings, for which I was filled with joy, and you must know I return completely those feelings of affection and fidelity that you placed in me," the King of Trondheim replied sincerely.

  High smiled, not knowing well what to say or think, stammered some words uncertainly, to which Holaf was not able to attribute a proper meaning, and finally exclaimed excitedly:

  "But all this is incredible. The Gods must love you, brother! Imagine, how many lives you could save by using this gift! Now going to Midgard to read the runes seems almost unnecessary, just look at a suspicious person and you would know the truth immediately.

  "Calm your joy, King of the East, it is not as simple as that! First of all, I don't know how to control it. For the moment the eye dominates me and not the other way around. Secondly to make use of the eye, if I faint every two grains of sand of the hourglass, how would that ever help," the Sovereign of the North firmly objected.

  Holaf feared the truth and never desired arcane powers. He only wanted to be a good King and to try to accomplish feats worthy of poems or sagas only with the strength of his heart and his sword.

  "The old Norber Biorson has more winters behind him than all of us, he'll certainly explain what's happening to me!" exclaimed the confident Long Sword.

  The intimate whispered conversation between the two Sovereigns was not completely private. Other ears had been listening unbeknownst to them, like a sea snake about to wrap a Viking drakkar in its coils. The Dragon had heard everything and felt a previously unknown tremor down his back, followed by a rapid tremor throughout his body. The unusual sensation dizzyingly descended from his neck along his arms to his hands, unaware he was grasping the bridle of the horse, like the vice of a blacksmith bending steel before immersing it in flames.

  Sersy, a beautiful and far from stupid woman, took a few moments to notice the strange tension of her favoured swain. She approached him now with great sweetness asked:

  "My knight, I see you are gloomy as you have not been for days. What disturbs your thoughts?"

  "Oh, my beloved, I'm sorry to have disturbed you with my thoughts. Don't be afraid, it is probably nothing more than tiredness," the third Master reassured her by smiling.

  "As you wish, my Dragon, you know you can tell me anything. You will find in me an attentive and non judgemental listener," replied the dark beauty showing great class.

  The Dragon's Head answered nothing and tried to change the subject. But he had no interests beyond weapons and battles, so he became entangled in dangerous territory for him:

  "My sweet Sersy, have you heard? There are plans for a happy event in the future!"

  "Which marriage are you referring to?" the black-haired Lady asked coquettishly.

  "The one between Princess Tyra and the fourth brother, of course!"

  "Yes, I guessed their intentions, but I hope it's not the only marriage that awaits us, my warrior," answered the provocative Ser
sy.

  "But, certainly not, more will come! If we win the war, they’ll be clamouring at the gates of the Kingdom," replied the Dragon not very gallantly.

  Sersy raised her eyes to the sky and sighed. As she slowed her horse's pace until she joined the blonde Tyra, who was playing with her kitten.

  "Princess, would you'd let me pamper him a bit," Sersy asked gloomily.

  "Of course, dear, here you are and don't put a sulky look on your beautiful face. Everything is going to be all right," her blonde friend encouraged Sersy trying to instil a little optimism.

  Sersy took a deep breath and playing with the furry kitten she exclaimed:

  "What if it wasn’t my place to be here?"

  "How complicated you are, young Lady, the knight asked for your hand and you ignored his proposal until now! I think he is too proud to ask the same thing a second time and risk being rejected again. Now it's up to you to make the next move and not to weep, feeling sorry for yourself," Tyra gave her opinion even though she was the one with the least number of winters behind her.

  "You, Princess, amaze me every the time! You are younger than me, but much wiser, and always give good advice. How do you do it?" Sersy exclaimed.

  "I think I was born old, or reading every kind of romantic story really helps to understand love. Moreover, I am only a few years younger than you," replied the smiling Northern Princess.

  Other moons rose in the sky and then were left behind by the companions, just like the difficulties of the knights. The days were varied by the intensity of rain or snow, but never in the level of desolation. After the meeting with Jan, they met no other man, just as no animal of any kind was seen for a long time.

  For days now, the lookouts had been seeing horrifying shapes in the distance, always busy in sniffing and smelling like wolves in search of a prey. The dreadful beasts studied the column without testing the real strength of the humans. It wasn't the climate or their hunger that ended the luck of the march, but a lookout found sinister omens by chance, while satisfying physiological needs. From the dark shadows of a deep hole hidden by dry shrubs a decaying corpse was found. The man found him because of his nauseating acid smell that penetrated his nose so strongly that it showed him the way to the body, allowing him to tell the Sovereigns.