TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  "Do not do it, please! Everyone can make mistakes, my love!"

  Among the cries of the terrified King, the demands of the Queen and Tyra not to kill her father, and the busy Bear trying to drive his brother away from the Sovereign without any result, the Dragon only heard "My Love" which soothed his anger. The third rune of Trondheim, replaced the war hammer at his side, before extending his hand to the King whispered to his ear, so lightly as not to allow anyone else to hear:

  "My hammer has been denied you and your son today my King. You have a large debt with me. I expect to see Tyra happy with my brother or I will come to claim that to which I am entitled!"

  The Lord of South Winter was helped to rise by the Bear and the Dragon. Visibly pale and exhausted, he did not speak a word and, escorted by his wife, moved away with uncertain steps. Even Queen Olga, before bidding farewell with her husband, had whispered something to the ear of the Dragon, but the third rune seemed, as usual, made of stone and did not reveal emotions of any kind.

  The Bear embraced Tyra who was frightened, while the third War Master approached a silent, almost absent Sersy. The fourth Nordic rune, addressing his brother Dragon, confessed in a low voice:

  "I saw myself dead. If it had not been for you, King Grigor would have sent me into the limbo of the unworthy!"

  "Do not think about it, little brother, you are alive and in good health. Of course, there will be consequences for my irreverence," answered the cold and still adrenaline-filled Dragon's Head.

  That afternoon, the Lord of Trondheim could be heard yelling to such an extent that he was heard as far as Midgard and perhaps beyond; no one was saved from the Royal Nordic wrath, neither bears nor dragons, nor the crowned head of the northern goat. The meeting between the three brawlers and the Sovereign of the North continued beyond all expectations. From the sturdy doors of the great throne room, at alternating moments you could hear the shouts of Holaf or Grigor. On a couple of occasions the Bear also made his roaring heard, but the Dragon never raised his voice, listened and then apologized as insensitive as an iceberg. The third Trondheim warrior remained calm and composed even when King Grigor shouted in the face of the Bear's Head:

  "I'd rather die than see my daughter at your side!"

  King Holaf noticed the very flat and unusual behaviour of his Champion, usually impetuous and with a cutting tongue. Suspicious, the Lord of the North beat his fists on the armrests of his chair and, like a snake ready to attack, stood up and said:

  "Now, my dear subjects, I will submit you to the verdict of my fiery eye!"

  "I don't understand, what are you talking about, my King?" asked blond Grigor unaware.

  Such a statement did not seem sensible even to Bear's Head, who was also unaware of the gift imposed by Cyfer on his Sovereign. The Dragon remembered what his King alluded to, but remained silent and impassive. Long Sword explained how much he had learned about his volcanic eye and finally asked:

  "Do you have any reservations about submitting yourself to such a test? But no one had any objections.

  For days the Lord of the North had been trying to oppose the power of the eye in an attempt to dominate the longing for pain and secrets inherent in this relic. Despite the effort lavished by the Lord of Trondheim, the practice had given very little result and made the Stoic Sovereign waver.

  His observation of the Bear's Head took little time and was quite edifying for King Holaf, unearthing among the flames that enveloped the warrior, how much dedication he had towards King Holaf, and how much love he felt for young Tyra. King Grigor, as a good Sovereign and skilled politician, required more energy, but the longing of the eye could not be stopped by false thoughts and versatile personalities. Long Sword was pleased with what he saw in the heart of his Vassal. Then he focused on the one who had repeatedly extinguished the flames.

  The third warrior was able to change the nature of the eye by breaking its will, as if a more occult and arcane power did not wish to reveal itself. Every time the Lord of the North focused his gaze on the Dragon, the flames, at first began whirling and were almost white like the colour of the stars. They surrounded him and then withdrew turning blue and ephemeral, like docile frivolous fires. Exhausted by the effort Long Sword fainted falling back on the throne. He was immediately helped by the three who had been observed. They declared a tacit truce at the sight of Holaf’s cadaveric face. The Lord of the North lay back with his eyes unfocused and his face covered by cold sweat.

  The King of South Winter asked, disconcerted:

  "What can reduce a man like our King in this state?"

  The Bear Head answered him, increasing his doubts:

  "The right question is not what, but who! It was Denethor's Cyfer who rescued King Holaf by snatching him from the skeletal hands of death, but the price for what was almost a miracle was a miracle in itself!"

  The Lord of the North remained unconscious for a few minutes. Then Holaf regained color, vigour and speech:

  "I rejoice, for now I know I can trust you, King Grigor! You are a man of good heart, but at the same time a stupid goat, because you don't want to give your daughter in marriage to the fourth Master of the War. I never saw a more faithful man, either with a grey eye or in the midst of mystical flames!" The Lord of Trondheim looked seriously at his Champion and added with ostentatious confidence: "And you, Dragon, I trust you blindly, even if you are still a beautiful mystery! I am sure of your loyalty, you would never betray me, because our bond is both blood and rank. But is it ever possible that you must fight against all those who dare to pass near you?"

  The icy Dragon smiled slightly and turned to Grigor:

  "Regent of the castle of Warm Ice, I ask your pardon for having hit you. My temper often prevents me from moderating my reactions."

  "Sire, you are not the only one to have to apologize, I myself am ashamed of myself for having attacked the fourth Master of War. I hope you can forgive me."

  The Bear, with a good heart despite being a ruthless warrior, accepted with some reservation, the apologies of the reigning monarch, having gained the coveted promise from the King, father of his beloved, to have her hand after the war ended.

  "By the grace of the warriors Gods, everything has been solved as is worthy of true men of the north," the Lord of the North exclaimed happily, sitting bent over the throne holding his painful head with his right hand.

  "My King, let me express my astonishment and dismay at the gift of which you have been given. I saw a similar power in the devil Olghered Swenson's force, whose armour I jealously preserve. Olghered, too, was able to anticipate any enemies he managed to lay his eyes on, which is why his armour is adorned with an infinity of studs one from each of the vanquished," enthused King Grigor.

  "My dear Vassal, for now this eye gives me only troubles, but if while we are in Midgard old Norber could enlighten me with his wisdom, I would be delighted. I would like to know how this gift can be controlled and how I could make good use of it in the imminent war," the powerful Holaf answered with hope.

  The God-Slayer had been accompanied to the armoury of the castle by the Crown prince to the throne, in the hope of finding a new breastplate to replace the old unusable one. In the room full of swords, axes, clubs and shields, High was amazed at the beautiful order of the collection: all the weapons made a fine show, placed on large lines of racks, distracting the two Royal persons, who began to try every type of blade and hammer.

  It was Tyra who surprised them, while they were intent on a fake slow-motion duel, like two children. The reality was quite different: the Lord of the East was giving some of his enviable experience to Prince Geir. The young princess, holding the gift in her hands, caught them sparring as an odd game and, with a smile, interrupted their lesson exclaiming:

  "Now the dark secret of your skill with the sword is revealed, my brother! You receive private lessons from the Lord of the East!"

  Geir and God-Slater were surprised and amazed to see Tyra in such a place, and stopped. It was
her brother who responded:

  "Sister, if I didn't take advantage of such an opportunity to learn some secrets, I would be a fool! Rather, what is it that brings you to the armoury of the Whites?"

  "In a quest for the High King, of course," replied Tyra, who was clumsily trying not to show the gift.

  "But, dear sister, the Lord of the East is happily married to a gorgeous woman," Geir answered, teasing his blond sister.

  "Stupid Prince, don't embarrass our guest! I am here to donate this object in my name, in the name of the fourth Master of War, of my family and of the armourer who gave it as a gift to you, King High, for guiding us towards the light, when everything seemed dark and there were no lights, even in any of our dreams," Tyra exclaimed quite moved, offering a big package to the God-Slayer.

  "But, the young Princess, it was King Holaf who actually led us on most of the journey," the hesitant Lord of the East pointed out.

  "I certainly haven't forgotten it, but regarding the Sovereign of Trondheim I'm having a lot of problems trying to identify an appropriate gift, while you have a real need of such an object, otherwise you wouldn't be here. I'm sure you'll make good use of it, my King!"

  "What are you waiting for, Lord of the East? Take that strange cloth off and find out what lies beneath it," encouraged Geir with curiosity.

  King High picked up the fabric and immediately understood what was inside, but he could never have expected a breastplate of such workmanship and skilled goldsmith's art. The God-Slayer tried it on immediately, helped by the prince, happy to be his squire. Once the fastenings were tightened, Geir took the King with both hands and shook him vigorously then exclaimed with satisfaction:

  "My Lord, just a little wide, it moves very little, I believe it is the right size. How do you feel about it?"

  The God-Slayer moved aside to try some wide passes with his sword. The King's fluid and rapid movement amazed Geir by their dexterity and Tyra by their grace.

  "Fantastic! Lightweight and magnificent! Who is the skilled craftsman by whose hands such pieces are made?" asked the Lord of the East, without having paid attention to the maker’s mark before trying it.

  The young blond girl gave a joyful smile and shouted jumping up and down:

  "It has the three lilies inside!"

  The two men looked at each other in astonishment for a moment. King High shaking the head asked:

  "You mean the three lilies of Rostorov?"

  To the princess' positive response the Lord of the East gave her a strong embrace and whispered to her sweetly:

  "It's the best gift I've ever received! You are a continuous succession of wonderful surprises!"

  "My King, do not exaggerate, otherwise she will boast for years of such words," jokingly commented Prince Geir.

  But the Lord of the East responded with conviction:

  "I'm not exaggerating. After the journey we have faced to get home, I can assure you that I have seen rough knights with experience on battlefields complaining and in tears, while your sister has shed some tears, but never made any complaints."

  Tyra blushed for the great compliment, leading to satisfied comments from her brother Geir:

  "It would seem that you have brought honour to our house, my sister!"

  While the two continued to bicker and tease, as always happens between siblings, High took a black basin-helmet with a sparrow beak visor and its edging covered in bronze from a large shelf full of helmets. He tried many shields, but did not find any to his taste, so he satisfied himself by taking one at random, and then asked:

  "Can we go and find to King Holaf or you want to see something else?" The two young people showed the Lord of the East the way, quickly leaving the armoury.

  In such times not everything could slip by smoothly and limpidly, not even the water of the streams. Even the efforts to organise the troops for departure was suffering lengthy delays. The three reached the throne room, where until recently Holaf was reprimanding his quarrelsome men. At first the noisy room, full of anger, fell silent and filled with contrite silence. The four knights were still there, joined by King High and the two princes who followed him. An elderly and chubby healer was giving grim news about the wounded:

  "Your knight's injuries were so neglected that his badly wounded leg has been devoured by putrefaction. The amputation of the limb, done immediately on your arrival, was also performed too late, the warrior died a few minutes ago."

  Holaf and High looked at each other, as often was the case, joined in common sorrows without words.

  "Dragon's Head, call the survivors of Vyborg and Tulsky to the parade ground, please! The Dragon noisily beat his breastplate with his fist, this gesture echoed in the high wide vaults, and then quickly spread beyond the room.

  "King Grigor, so you'll ride alongside us on the road to Midgard?" Long Sword asked to avoid misunderstandings.

  Tyra's father standing to attention, replied:

  "My King, anything to serve you."

  "How long will the preparation of the army take?" asked the Lord of the East, wearing his new sparkling breastplate.

  "My King, despite some minor difficulties, the White army is ready to move. As I explained to the King of the North earlier, I will leave a small garrison to defend the city and the royal guard to protect the Queen, but the rest of the men will follow us!" replied King Grigor.

  "Very good, my Lord, we couldn't have hoped for more," commented the satisfied God-Slayer. "I also have to thank you again for the magnificent gift given to me by Princess Tyra on behalf of the whole royal family, it's amazing! I don't know where you've managed to find Rostorov steel, but I'm delighted!"

  His host remained silent for a moment, looking at the rare piece of craftsmanship, pervaded by the fear that it was one of his relics, but this fear soon left King Grigor, as his eyes had never seen such decorations, and he said:

  "It is nothing, Lord of the East. You needed a breastplate and here, then, is a piece worthy of a King!"

  The Lord of the fortress of South Winter was not a consummate actor in hiding his surprise for such thanks, nor was he able to easily wear a mask to conceal the envy he felt. The blond King would certainly have wanted such a breastplate in his collection, but he was content to have created a good bond with the powerful Lord of the East.

  High, enjoying the merit and compliments for his new breastplate, much appreciated by King Holaf, went with others to the parade ground. Differently, Tyra gently bid farewell, leaving the Bear's Head in the dark regarding her intentions. When they reached the wide square, they found the green knights and those of Tulsky, all rested, cleaned and well refreshed, carefully lined up and standing to attention. The King of the Nordic Kings approached them and proclaimed:

  "My knights, my companions in arms, you have followed me with great valour, and I could ask for nothing more than you have given! Many of you left the green Vyborg Hills and few of you have arrived here fulfilling your vows. I now release you from your oath on the grounds that you have completed all you promised, and I thank you for having served the United Men's Empire in these dark hours without hesitation. Those of you who think you have the strength will be able to return to your home adequately supplied. King Grigor offers any man who wishes to remain in the fortress food and shelter in exchange for services for the defence of the walls. I can only offer you my most heartfelt thanks!"

  The silence fell in the square, interrupted only by the weak and distant steps of the sentries on the walls. From absolute silence a buzz arose: it was the knights, who were whispering among themselves consulting each other. A green middle-aged soldier came forward and asked:

  "My King, war now surrounds us, right?"

  "Yes, knight," King Holaf asserted without delay.

  The green warrior silenced the murmuring, which had become louder after the fears hidden in everyone's hearts were confirmed, and then responded:

  "I have two children in Vyborg. If I don't fight for them now, then when?" the warrior of the sam
e colour as the hills stopped after calling for silence again. "If I didn't follow you now, I would be forced to run away with my children until breath fails me. I prefer to die fighting, certain of offering a hope for tomorrow to my two treasures, instead of running away to snatch a few months as a fugitive. I will follow you as a free knight, without constraints, as we are fighting for the same cause."

  Immediately other knights took a step forward, lining up to the satisfaction of the three Kings.

  "They are valiant men, after all that has been inflicted on them, they still offer themselves as volunteers," was the admired comment of the Lord of the East.

  King Holaf, felt by a shiver down his back and shouted:

  "You are the pride of your Kings and of all humanity! Together with the South Winter White Army, we'll march north to Midgard, and then head where the runes tell us to go!"

  The square shook to the shouts of the soldiers with their morale reinvigorated. A tiny warrior in splendid armour decorated with flowers and cheerful birds joined them on the thunderous and excited parade ground. When the helmet was removed from her head, the long blond hair of Princess Tyra sprang out, this time without a smile and but also without any pleading: