by Dan Davis
Herkuhlos agreed. “What do you want done with Hrungna, Nehalennia? Surely, he must die for what he has done?”
“Perhaps he does deserve death but we will not give it to him.”
“Because of your Covenant?” Sif blurted out.
The Mother gave her a look. “Partly. But also for the sake of order over chaos. He had no love for Torkos but because of the ways of our people he was bound to follow him as his lord. When Hrungna could have helped him, he did not, and by his inaction he helped me. That deserves a reward. Besides, he lived in harmony before and so he will again. The people of these lands will bring him their unwanted for his sacrifices and he will bring them harmony.”
“Harmony?” Herkuhlos asked, incredulous. “While he eats them?”
“We will ensure their sacrifices are once again only animals and criminals. That is the proper way. That is the way of order. Things will be as they were.”
“No,” Sif said, startling them and even herself but she felt compelled to speak the truth. “There can be no going back. Alef was a traitor but he spoke truthfully about the Heryos once. The way is open to the east and there is no end to the coming of the Heryos and they will conquer the last of the Furun.” She gestured at the Mother. “And now they have also raided across the sea. That is no barrier to their conquests and my people will not stop the Heryos.”
Herkuhlos laid a hand on her shoulder. “This was your vision?”
“A vision?” the Mother asked.
She smiled. “Yes, goddess.”
“What else was in your vision?”
Feeling the pain of the loss, she touched her belly and imagined the life within. “Children. And loss. Herkuhlos leaving for the west to hunt a great stag.”
The goddess was apparently impressed. “Come with me, both of you,” she said and led them across the bloody ground and into the tent of Torkos. It was surprisingly soft inside, with furs covering the ground and a wide bed and a high seat for a chief, along with an abundance of plundered wealth. Herkuhlos’ bronze armour was there and a Furun servant was crouched beside it, already scrubbing the blood from it. His lion pelt also had been brought, as had the mighty bronze war club, and Herkuhlos stared longingly at it all. There was pleasure in his eyes and satisfaction at winning back what was his from his enemies and she was pleased for him but almost sad for herself. Already, a part of him was longing for his next battle and that would one day take him away from her.
Lying on the bed was the skinned remains of the great hound of the goddess and Nehalennia crossed to it and stroked the bloodied fur of Kerdheros as tears rolled silently down her bronze cheeks.
But Sif hardly noticed any of that, for on the curved wooden seat perched the massive bulk of the yotunan Hrungna the Gorger and the hideousness of his face and the evil in his eyes astonished her. She thought that the Mother must surely be wrong about keeping this monster alive but it was not her place to question a goddess.
“Where is the Stag?” Nehalennia demanded as she crossed from the remains of Kerdheros and stood, majestic and powerful before Hrungna.
Hrungna, remarkably, seemed afraid. Afraid of Nehalennia and above all afraid of Herkuhlos and he cringed from her question like a child from its mother.
“The west,” he growled. “The Stag is in the west. The great island there is swarming with Furun. They make great sacred circles for the gods who the Stag will dominate but there is no Heryos.” He scoffed with a disgusting kind of grunt. “Not yet.”
“What are they doing, Hrungna?” Nehalennia asked. “Why have they fled everywhere like this?”
He shrugged his massive shoulders and would not meet her eye. “I know nothing of them, why would I?”
Nehalennia took a half step closer to him and lowered her voice. “You know that I will have it out of you eventually Hrungna, I always do. So tell me now.”
Sighing, he rolled his eyes. “They are fighting the war, of course.”
“The war is over,” she said.
He seemed to find that amusing. “Not for them.”
“What are their plans?”
“I don’t know. I swear it, Nehalennia, I don’t know.” He shrugged. “Well, I know that they mean to build their strength and then overthrow the Usurper.” He caught himself and glanced at Herkuhlos. “I mean Sky Father.” He waved a massive hand and sniffed. “And all of them. Conquer Tartaros, the Sacred Mountain, and devour all the gods.” Hrungna rubbed his belly. “I am hungry, Nehalennia. Have them bring me some horse, will you.”
Her gaze conveyed her deepest contempt. “You have eaten enough,” she said and turned away. Sif and Herkuhlos followed her back out of the tent. The sun was setting now. Had the entire day passed already? This morning seemed so long ago and yet it also seemed as though no time had passed since then. The terrible cloying smoke had now cleared but still the wailing of the wounded filled the air.
“The world is more disturbed than I thought,” Nehalennia said, speaking to Herkuhlos. “I see now why Kolnos sent you after them. I see why you have sworn your oath.”
“But the gods cannot be in danger,” Herkuhlos said, a confused smile on his face.
“They and all the peoples of the earth are in the greatest danger,” Nehalennia said. “They all must be stopped, every one of them, and I think that perhaps you are the only one of us who can stop them.”
Herkuhlos stared for a moment before nodding. “As I have already sworn.”
“Your task is both greater and more urgent than I knew,” Nehalennia said. “And you will indeed have to pursue the Stag to the land across the sea to the west.”
Still bloodied, bruised, his skin tattered and his body weak, Herkuhlos nodded again. “Then I will.”
Sif stepped forward and took his hand in hers. “But not yet,” she said firmly, looking at him and ignoring Nehalennia. “Not for years.”
Turning his face to hers, the stunned, faraway look in his eyes vanished to be replaced with a curious joy. “Years?”
She felt an echo of the motherhood she had known in her vision and squeezed his fingers. “You will become the chief of chiefs and even then it will take years to bring order over all the peoples of this land. When that is done, and I have born you sons and daughters, then you will go to the west and fight to stop this war against the gods.”
He looked down at her hands holding his and then at her face. Finally, he smiled and nodded.
“Do you think I am worthy?” he asked suddenly.
Surprised, she was going to ask, “worthy of what?” but in truth it did not matter for the answer would be the same.
“Yes, you are worthy, my love,” she said. “You are Herkuhlos, you are godborn, slayer of demons, war chief of the Furun and the Heryos. You are the Thunderer.”
AUTHOR’S NOTE
Herkuhlos will return in Gods of Bronze Book 3.
If you enjoyed Thunderer please leave a review! Even a couple of lines saying what you liked about the story would help me enormously.
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BOOKS BY DAN DAVIS
Gods of Bronze
(Bronze Age fantasy)
Wolf God (Prequel novella)
Godborn
Thunderer
The Immortal Knight Chronicles
(Action-packed historical fantasy)
Vampire Crusader
Vampire Outlaw
Vampire Khan
Vampire Knight
Vampire Heretic
Vampire Impaler
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p; Vampire Armada
Vampire Cavalier
Immortal Knight Box Set 1
Immortal Knight Box Set 2
The Galactic Arena Series
(Earth's champions fight for humanity)
Orb Station Zero
Earth Colony Sentinel
Outpost Omega
Inhuman Contact (Prequel 1)
Onca’s Duty (Prequel 2)
Galactic Arena Box Set
For a complete and up-to-date list of Dan’s available books, visit:
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ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Dan Davis is the author of action-packed sci-fi and fantasy.
He writes the fantasy series THE IMMORTAL KNIGHT CHRONICLES and GODS OF BRONZE and the science fiction series GALACTIC ARENA.
Dan is a husband and father living in Essex, England.
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