TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering

by Andreas Hennen

  "Take heart, son, you're not a beginner," thundered his father, stung by the defeatism evident in his son's words.

  But Prince Geir was not wrong. A burning arrow shot through the darkness aimed at revealing the enemy. It gave an unpleasant response. The awful growling hairless muzzles were well highlighted by the amber light of the flares. Geir again leaned out to tell the Sovereigns:

  "Here in the battlements there are white snouted monster dogs!" The prince withdrew and cried with all the breath he had in his body: "For the North! Fire at will!"

  The God-Slayer turned to his brother in arms worried about the looming events:

  "Those beasts are almost immune to arrows. Their shaggy fur protects them, and their skulls have very thick bones. My men in the woods cut one down piercing its brain through the eye. But it is needless to say that is a very lucky shot even for a skilled and experienced archer."

  "Geir! Geir! Withdraw within the walls," the Lord of the North ordered, shouting with as loud as he could, but unfortunately without luck.

  High exchanged glances with Grigor and Long Sword. Without needing to say anything else he quickly ran through the door disappearing on the stairs.

  The filthy arrows of the Orcs began to reach the troops, placed at the foot of the Damwall, falling onto the wooden shields of South Winter. The eastern side of the fortress was once again targeted by stones and large rocks. Fortunately huge boulders were not thrown, avoiding endless problems for those who held the passage. Panic reigned supreme on the rooftops of the fortification. As High well remembered, the beasts did not take much notice of the sharp wood, which only tickled them.

  Geir unsheathed his sword and put on his helmet ready to resist to the last man so as not to suffer the shame of retreat. The prince bold, but desperate at heart, commanded:

  "Archers, take up your swords, we will entrust our lives to hard steel!"

  The dreadful beasts jumped over the first rows to the north and south, dismembering soldiers with tusks and claws. The men of South Winter had already faced these enemies in the battlements of their city, but at home they had enjoyed the support of heavy infantry, now blocked by the gates of the fortress, and of the catapults placed to defend them from the walls. They all found themselves face to face with the bestiality of such creatures capable of cutting off large pieces of flesh, despite steel plates and chain mail.

  The noise of the archers called the Dragon and the Bear’s Head to the battlements. They ordered their ladies to wait for them in the dormitories with Elisabet, before launching into the fray. The two Masters barely made their way to the enemy with its blood-soaked snout. While the beast was sinking its teeth into the chest of a poor archer, grasping his shoulder, the Dragon wasted no time in giving a powerful hammer blow to the repugnant being. The welcome sound of broken bones was heard for the first time from the enemy ranks. A second blow to the yelping dog like monster opened its skull, but the beast still bit at the archers who were filled with panic and chaotically crowded into each other in search of salvation.

  The third rune, moving skilfully among the corpses of his companions, shouted vigorously:

  "Come here you disgusting piece of shit."

  As the wounded animal turned its nose, the deadly hammer fell on it. Shards of bones and teeth were thrown at a great distance by the sadistic hammer. With his free hand that held no weapon or Dragonhead shield, he stretched out to his stunned opponent and sank his metal pointed fingers into its brain. Having violated the bleeding organ and killed the enemy, even the mighty warrior realized he could do no more. Showing a predisposition for command, that was not exactly his role, he shouted:

  "My companions, retreat! Get into the trapdoors, the battlements are lost!"

  The Bear's Head, not far away, stuck the sword into the chest of a monster, causing an enormous wound; other archers imitated him, violating flesh to quench the thirst of their weapons for the blood of the beast. The animals died, but not without reaping victims. The knight of the fourth rune reprimanded a group of archers reluctant to retreat:

  "Move your asses, idiots! Didn’t you hear your orders? In the absence of the Sovereigns the command belongs to the highest degree, therefore the Dragon is the legitimate leader!"

  The two warriors of Trondheim, joining forces, were able to knock down one beast and wound three others, allowing time for the retreat. Finally, tired and once more covered in blood, they also retreated into the lower rooms. Tyra threw her arms around the neck of her Bear, while the Dragon did not hide his joy at seeing King High race into the dormitory. The third northern rune thanked him:

  "I owe you a lot, my King, you have come to defend my dearest possession!"

  The sincere Lord of the East, as usual, answered:

  "To tell you the truth, my dear friend, I ran here to order the retreat, but seeing the men come down through the trapdoors in great haste, I suppose it was you who gave this order and I stayed with the ladies."

  The door between the safe dormitory and the rest of the building was swept open in anger. From the darkness of the adjacent room emerged Jan holding a little girl by the hand.

  "Beasts, demons in the rooms of my father's house," Jan shouted with his eyes wide in the white pallor of his face.

  High went towards them quickly and with a cold gaze took the weeping girl by the hand and entrusted her breathlessly to Tyra, who did not refuse. The King of the Kings of the East turned to Jan and questioned him harshly:

  "Calm yourself, soldier, what drives you to madness? We're all frightened, our enemies attack us from all directions, but apart from your cries no one else is going crazy!"

  Jan pointed his finger towards the Dragon's Head embraced by dark Sersy and whispered crazily:

  "He has the seed of evil! He commands them and guides them to our flesh. They are everywhere in every room, from the north to here. We'll all die!"

  Sersy turned to stone. Her old sensations and fears, which had never completely abated, immediately regained strength following the silly affirmations of that unknown knight. The Dragon looking into the eyes of his beloved saw the terror, shaking her gently and not understanding her state of mind, exclaimed:

  "My beautiful Lady, as long as I live nothing will ever harm you!"

  The black beauty embraced him without replying, thoughtful and frightened.

  "You say there are beasts in the rooms," asked the God-Slayer, addressing Jan who was lost again in prayer, no longer answering any voice or question.

  "My Lord, you must go and warn King Holaf and with him decide what to do," advised the Bear’s Head in apprehension for his beloved.

  Not much had changed outside the Damwall. On the east side stones were still being thrown at the shields able to withstand such blows, while on the west side, after there were no more arrows, some Green Skin Orcs attacked but were killed without victims by the lines of South Winter. High arrived beside his brother in arms lit by the glow of the dawn. The long sections of rock began to project their endless shadows westwards. The sky, ridding itself of the night without attracting any interest, presented itself clear and well disposed to show heroic human deeds to the Warrior Gods, who yearned for new heroes awaiting the clamour of battle.

  "My brother, what is happening above our heads?" Holaf asked, intent on observing the enemy forces, finally about to reveal exactly who they were.

  "Brother, I bring bad news, the Damwall is lost. The monsters have had their way. They have taken the battlements the majority of the rooms. There's nothing left for us except a battle in the open field!"

  The Lord of the East spoke without weighing words down or making wise choices of expression. He didn't have time to play semantic games; moreover, he believed in the frank communication of bad news.

  King Holaf looked at him winking his icy eye and, his face rigid, asked:

  "You're sure you can't repel the enemy on the walls?"

  The God-Slayer entrusted the answer to a simple fact:

  "Your Champion was
the first to order abandonment!"

  Grigor put his hand to his forehead and sighed:

  "If even your Dragon considers the Damwall to be indefensible, I really don't think there are any alternatives."

  Long sword nodded sadly wondering:

  "Do we have time to allow the sun to rise and identify which enemy is best tackled first?"

  High shook his head and explained:

  "The third and fourth Masters are still in the dormitories, until they leave, no one will move! Those two heroes are defending archers heavily attacked by the beasts. Geir told me about the carnage that took place on the battlements."

  Holaf bowed his head, gritted his teeth and snarled:

  "So now we're in debt to archers, it’s going from bad to worse!"

  While the Kings organized the move, Eivind arrived exhausted and interrupted the consultation:

  "My Sovereigns, father, to the east the sun reveals brown Orcs without Commanders. From the beginning of the second attack only pebbles and stones have hit our shields."

  "Thank you, son, the first good news of the day!" exclaimed his proud smiling father before proposing: "My King, let's attack to the east: without a Commander, the Orcs, especially the Browns, are within reach of every good soldier!"

  A meditative silence fell, interrupted by God-Slayer, to whom the overly reckless plans did not sound right to his ears. It seemed only like arrogant boasting, but once he evaluated the situation King High commented:

  "If nothing else, we would be going in the right direction."

  Holaf went among the soldiers to scrutinize enemy lines beyond the shields and be able to make less risky decisions. Towards the east, the Long Sword recognized the enormous size of the Black Commander, who fled after the attack of the Whites of South Winter. The colossus moved among the soldiers heavily in a threatening manner. The Lord of the North drew conclusions with the bitter taste of a heroic death:

  "To the east there may be no Commanders, but to the west I see the largest I have ever seen. It would take trebuchets and catapults to overcome such a being! Therefore, the only path to travel pushes us eastwards, into ignorance of the actual enemy force."

  The King of Trondheim certainly wasn't without resources and the same could be said for High and Grigor, but it seemed strange to all to see solitary Browns, not guided against the lines of men. The doubt that snaked through their heart was great, because the possibility of falling into a trap among the very high rocks seemed all too real. A tremor running down his back induced Holaf to look towards the sky, just in time to escape himself and also push the King of the East from the trajectory of an entire piece of the battlements pushed from the top of the fortress.

  Broken off and pushed onto their heads by the beasts, the enormous block collapsed to the ground. The solid thud was terrible, raising a large cloud of pale dust, which was followed by other similar thuds. Not everyone was as quick or as lucky as the Long Sword, and they were overwhelmed and crushed onto the cobblestones on the ground. Shouts of pain came from the lips of those who had not skilfully moved away, some being hit in the leg or arm. Blood was flooding and spurting from the squashed bodies, covering the flesh and dyeing their white tunics.

  The smell of the vermilion nectar mixed with the stench of fear was picked up by the wind and carried to the nostrils of the enemies. A growling roar exploded from the adversaries, who noisily leaped into sight and at the edge of the pile of stones.

  Other stones were thrown down onto the warriors. The laboriously prepared stones became enemy weapons, whistling loudly as they fell, bouncing to the ground. One of them struck the man next to Gunnar, exploding his head and neck, sticking onto his body, from which began to sparkle with red and cheerful blood. Pieces of bone and brain adhered to the face of the young Prince of Midgard, who had left his visor open in a burst of youthful recklessness. Gunnar immediately moved under cover, not completely aware of what had happened, but certainly shocked into kneeling and vomiting. The Lord of the North made the only possible decision and ordered:

  "Men, with me to the east, we send some of these abominations to rot."

  Long sword ran towards the east valley covering his head with his shield. The men imitated him following him and screaming: "For South Winter! Let us kill them all!"

  Others were eagerly shouting: "For the North!"

  And again: "Never defeated!"

  Eivind pulled out his sword and seeing King Holaf in the attack, moved to his side screaming:

  "For the Nordic Kings, for the United Men!"

  Only a small handful of soldiers remained under cover between the two doors to shield against the threat coming from the west. The command of these brave warriors was taken by the Lord of the East, who had to withstand the impact of the Green Skins until the two Masters of War were emerged from the door, as they were still inside the Damwall.

  The dog–like monsters had control of the roof in addition to the hall on the upper floor. Their furious attacks lost momentum in tight spaces, but having killed the first, ten others were ready to take its place and to fight. The two Masters of War despite their great courage, were now exhausted and tired. They could barely defend each other. The men lost the battle for the intermediate floor, but a positive aspect was numerically few were lost. No archer was chewed up, only a couple fell, being trampled to death by their frightened companions. For four others the fate was more benevolent, allowing them to come out with only a few bruises and scratches.

  Tyra and Sersy escaped through the door with the elderly Elisabet, all breathless and nervously muttering. Jan was also taken outside quite roughly. The shocked man stumbled upon a corpse and sank into the pool of blood and crushed flesh that had collected under the vault between the two gates.

  The Bear's Head came out. He took Tyra by the hand, shocked by the bloody and brutal sights his eyes had seen. In a hurry, the knight tugged at her, saying:

  "Come, follow me away from here, I don't want to see you lose your mind!"

  A few moments later, the Dragon also appeared with the clear intention of informing King High, who was still busy holding up the barrier of the west gate:

  "Lord of the East, there is no longer anyone behind me who is worth saving."

  The third Master took the opportunity to give a heavy blow to a Green Skin, which had succeeded in its intent of ripping a blue and white shield on the northern wall. The beast tried to stab the exhausted knight with its rusty spear, but the sadistic hammer hit the neck of the Orc, breaking the cervical vertebrae and the enemy collapsed immediately. However, the Dragon did not seem too satisfied with such a clean death.

  King High ordered the handful of brave warriors:

  "Let’s move, soldiers, there is nothing among these stones that is worth fighting for anymore."

  The Dragon gave Sersy his hand, with Elisabet clawing her arm, as she had been left behind by the upset Tyra. The group of laggards made their way through the increasingly shorter shadows of the natural stone columns. They ran without turning around, reaching where the Demon of Trondheim was easily guiding the manoeuvres against the slow, barely awake Browns. The Lord of the East called the archers to him, but the White archers were not all there after the heavy trail of death, left in the battlements. He answered Fyodor in the voice of his Lord:

  "Tell me, my King, what do you need?"

  The God-Slayer stopped for a moment next to his man and smiled, exclaiming:

  "Well, you're still alive! I didn't see you go through the Damwall and I feared the worst!" King High sorely tried by the battle sought relief in a deep breath, and then ordered: "Knight, encourage the archers and ask them to retrieved the arrows, I want you to fire at anything that tries to cross the Damwall!"

  Not many of the archers capable of effectively practicing the fine art of archery remained. The majority appeared shocked and shaky, incapable of precise shots. Many random arrows are always better than few unable to stop the enemy.

  Geir arrived and volunteered hi
mself and his men to carry out the order to the best of human ability. High, running towards Holaf, shouted to King Grigor who was intent on finishing off an Orc:

  "King of South Winter, be very proud of your children, they are excellent warriors!"

  Hearing these compliments, Swollen Winter stuck his sword into the throat of his struggling enemy on the ground and full of pride answered:

  "Did you have any doubts? They are my children, apples never fall far from the tree!"

  Sersy pulled along by the Dragon turning towards the fortress, gave a sharp cry:

  "We left Jan at the Damwall alone!"

  The third Master of the War did not hear or pretended not to hear, but the dark beauty shouted the phrase again with all the force she had in her body. The warrior of the third rune looked at his beloved and pronounced icy words:

  "We have no need of such a coward! If he can't get by on his own strength, I won't waste a single drop of sweat of any soldier here to get him back!"

  The third Master left the dark beauty with the Lady Elisabet and Tyra together with the wounded in the middle of the ranked warriors.

  Not even half of the horses had been rescued, having left them at the foot of the fortress as a diversion to slow down the enemy. The black knight of the third symbol ran to the wall line to bring all the help he can. In reality, by now, the Browns were few and defeated, their morale destroyed, and the survivors escaping. The Leopard cut the upper part of the skull of an Orc and then it collapsed to the ground with a strong kick. The body fell like an old rotten tree, spilling blood and what remained of the brain among tremors and contractions. The second warrior raised the great sword of blood to heaven and shouted ferociously:

  "Dead meat!"

  He was echoed by the Wolf's Head, extracting his blade from a powerless enemy:

  "Again! I'm not satisfied yet, are these the only offerings for lunch?"

  Very few of the Orcs were able to move or breathe. The price paid by Midgard's army was certainly not lower than that paid by the enemy, but joy began to flow into the hearts of men, blossoming in smiles and loud cries. High was inspecting, watching attentively, while Grigor was celebrating with his son Eivind, proud to have protected his father as best he could.