Viking Tales
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“I know this place. I’ve been here before, though not for a while,” said the woman in a thick Scandinavian accent as she surveyed the dark and dusty room. “It was called something like The Silver Swan.”
The man beside her nodded his head. He wore a long black cloak over the same kind of clothes that she had seen on all of the men from the North, but his eyes were sharp and bright with intelligence. She looked at them both curiously.
They must have noticed because the man smiled and offered a bow. His smile reminded her of one of her old comrades from when she served under Prince Arutha of Krondor. That smile could light up even the darkest day, but this smile seemed to say something more. Something important.
“Lord Saldur of House Jarl?” asked the woman.
He nodded without speaking. Her name was Alys, she knew that much about him from what he’d told her earlier. He didn’t seem bothered by her presence, nor did he try to hide it. In fact, neither of them paid her any mind.
She felt a little uncomfortable being ignored. If they hadn’t been so well-armed and armored, she would have left the two of them behind. However, there was too much at stake for her to do that, though she found herself wishing the woman would simply speak first instead of leaving the decision to Saldur.
They walked down several stone halls until they came upon a large double door in an ancient stone wall. It was a massive piece of architecture and Alys wondered if the people who built these structures had really understood how powerful they were. This place must have taken years to build. There were runes carved into the stone, which made it obvious it was of old Nordic stock.
“This is our destination,” said Saidur, pulling out some iron keys from inside his cloak pocket. He opened the door, revealing a long hall lined with doors. Each of those doors had a rune painted on its surface, and each one bore a different letter: V, F, N, D, R, G. The last symbol she saw, however, was a strange combination of letters and symbols that reminded her of nothing she had ever seen before, yet seemed familiar somehow.
Saldur turned to look at her. She had never seen such a serious expression on his face; perhaps it was because they stood within the heart of the lost city of Sigurd’s hoard.
“Which door has the symbol we seek?” she asked.
“That one,” answered Saldur pointing.
The two of them stepped through the open portal and into another dark hallway. As promised, the corridor led straight ahead and seemed to continue forever. It wasn’t long, however, until they heard voices.
“Well, I can see that Lord Saldur has brought someone to help us.”
A woman’s voice, rich in tone and sensuality.
“You will regret that, my lady. You are about to get very angry,” replied Saldur, his voice cold and calm. He stopped walking and reached inside his coat, withdrawing something from his belt pouch. It was a small silver box about the size of her fist.
“Oh? What is this?”
There was something in the way Saldur spoke that reminded her of Arutha. He sounded as if he were trying to placate her rather than threaten her. And then she heard it too. A flutter of wings.
“What is that sound?” asked Alys, looking around nervously.
Saldur looked at her sharply. “It is a bird, Alys. Nothing to concern yourself with now.” He motioned her on with his hand and she continued forward.
As they neared the voices, Alys realized that the woman’s words were directed toward Saldur and that Saldur was ignoring her.
“How dare you show your face here, Lord Saldur? Why don’t you just leave me to enjoy myself alone?”
“You’re not worth my time, Lady Olina. Your brother, however… will soon join us here.”
Olina laughed, but she was clearly nervous. “Your brother? Who cares about him? Do you think I haven’t killed enough of my own kind?”
“You will be surprised by how many others you’ve slain. All of them were weak or cowards. The men of the South are neither of those things.”
“Is that why you bring her here?”
“We do need someone to translate for us,” he answered, his tone flat and emotionless. “And this woman seems to understand what we wish of her.” He glanced at Alys again. “Do you speak English, my lady?”
“English is no more my native tongue than it is yours, Lord Saldur, but I should hope so considering my position.”
“Then speak. Tell us where the treasure is hidden.”
“I’ll tell you what I know,” said Lady Olina. “But only after I’ve enjoyed myself a bit. You can stay in the hall until I’m finished.”
Lady Olina walked past Alys, leaving her feeling even more isolated and vulnerable. The hallway appeared to end in a short distance, but she could hear the sounds of women laughing and talking coming from the far side.
Her stomach tightened up and her mouth grew dry. She swallowed hard and tried to push away any sense of fear she might feel. If they wanted to use her, then so be it. At least she was safe for the moment.
Alys stepped forward and followed the voices until she came to the end of the hall. She found herself facing a tall door with a thick wooden frame. On either side were carved stone statues of dragons, each larger than life-size.
They were magnificent creatures, their necks curled back with fangs bared, and tails held high above them. Each dragon seemed to carry a shield in its paws. The shields were engraved with runes she had not seen before; some were simple while others bore complex designs.
She took a deep breath and turned to ask Saldur if there was anything else she needed to know when she noticed it; she was no longer alone in the hall. A woman stood behind her with arms crossed over her chest, staring at Lady Olina.
The woman was dressed in a gown of pale green silk with intricate embroidery at the collar and sleeves. It had been sewn so tightly as to make it impossible to tell how old she was. The woman’s hair was a dark shade of red and was tied back severely into a single long braid.
A thin chain circled the base of the braid, which was adorned by a gold medallion hanging below the headdress of a white fox. A pair of emerald eyes glared from under the fox’s face. The woman was beautiful in an unsettling sort of way, like a predator on the hunt.
“I take it you are not a friend of Lady Olina?” asked Lady Olina, smiling broadly.
“The one you seek to find has never had any friends, Lady Olina. That’s part of the reason she is so dangerous.”
Lady Olina’s smile faded. “You are not one of her women. How did you come here?”
“My name is Alys. I am Lord Saldur’s companion.”
Olina laughed and shook her head. “Lord Saldur doesn’t have a companion. His whore thinks that because her father is a lord he must be able to provide her with everything in life and more. My father, Lord Varnhagen, has always provided well for me. I would guess that I am more wealthy than Lord Saldur could ever hope to be.”
“That may be so, but my lord has wealth beyond any I have yet discovered in the North,” Lady Olina went on. “His holdings rival those of Lord Bors, the richest man in all England.”
Alys looked at the woman, trying to gauge whether she was telling the truth. It did sound unlikely that Lord Saldur, who seemed to be such a modest and unassuming sort, could be the owner of so much land, but what other explanation could there be?
She had already heard about Saldur and his reputation for being ruthless, and she suspected he would not care what she thought of him. In fact, if the rumors were true, she was probably better off playing along and pretending to share Lady Olina’s confidence. Perhaps she could even learn something from her.
Lady Olina nodded toward the door. “Go through the door. Walk down the corridor. When you reach the end, go through another set of doors. Take the first left, walk down a hall and then turn right. You will come across a large chamber guarded by four guards.
There will be a secret passage at the back of the room. Go through it and keep going until you emerge at the base of a cliff, then take your first left and follow the path around to the front of the hill where Lord Saldur will meet you. He should arrive in a few days’ time, depending on how quickly he can secure transport and supplies.”
Lady Olina smiled and waved. “Be careful when you get to this secret door; there are many things on the other side waiting for you if you choose the wrong path. Good luck.”
Before she knew what she was doing, Lady Olina was gone. The woman had simply vanished from the hall as though she had never been there. Alys watched until she lost sight of her in a cloud of dust rising from the floor.
“I’d say that’s a bit odd,” muttered the redhead behind her. “What do you think we’ll find on the other side of that door, Alys?”
“No idea, but I’m guessing it won’t be good.”
***
There are only two ways out of this valley. The shortest route lies far away and would require a detour through enemy territory. If we continue on our present course, we shall encounter both enemies and obstacles along the way. We must leave now before we lose more men to death or desertion.”
As they had walked through the valley the previous day, Gyrth had tried to work out some way he might escape without having to kill any of his men, but nothing had presented itself.
Now, after a night spent contemplating the problem, he decided to try his plan again, hoping he hadn’t missed anything in the darkness of his thoughts during the night. He stood up straight and called out, “We’ll camp here tonight.”
Gyrth waited for a response but none came. Instead, he saw men beginning to stand, most staring at him blankly while others were already starting to collect their weapons. They were not pleased about leaving their campsite, but they were ready to face whatever was coming.
It took less than an hour for them to finish loading the cargo wagon and securing it for the horses. As it rolled away, its wheels kicking up clouds of dust, Gyrth stepped down from the cart, pulled himself to the ground with his arms, and climbed over a rock into a shallow gully that cut into the slope.
At least he hoped that’s where it led. He followed it until he reached a narrow trail heading toward the forest below.
He paused to rest, wondering where it would lead and if he dare proceed further. Finally, after making sure that the coast was clear, he picked up his pace. After ten minutes of hiking, he heard the sounds of battle approaches. He stopped, watching in horror as a dozen horsemen rode by and past him, headed in the direction they had originally intended to travel.
Gyrth sighed in frustration. His men were going back, and this time they would see no reward for returning empty-handed.
“This is your last chance,” said Lord Saldur’s voice through the helmet’s speaker. “You can turn around right now and make it back home or you can continue down this path and face certain death.”
Sighing once more, Gyrth kept walking, his mind filled with visions of the men he had already lost that morning as they stumbled across the ridge and into the ambush prepared for them by Lord Bors and his troops.
Lord Saldur chuckled. “I don’t think so. You’ve seen what my soldiers can do, and you know we’re just getting started.”
They were nearing the edge of a steep slope and Lord Saldur’s words seemed to echo off the surrounding peaks. It was as though the world was caving in on him. The ground was crumbling under his feet and he could feel the heat of the fire on his cheeks. The air burned his lungs as it rushed into his open mouth, filling it with ash.
At last, he thought of the man who had betrayed him and sent his own brother to the slaughter. For the first time since he left the castle, he turned and shouted out, “Falk!”
The man did not even have the decency to reply.
“Where are you?” Gyrth demanded.
“Right here, Father.” Falk appeared at his side and grabbed his arm, pulling him along toward the crest of the ridge. “Don’t worry, father; I have a plan.”
“That was your plan yesterday,” Gyrth replied, shaking free of his son’s grasp. “And it’s failed twice now. What makes you think it will work this time?”
“Trust me, it will.”
A sharp pain shot through Gyrth’s chest and his vision blurred for an instant before he recovered. “Why? You don’t care about us anymore. Why should I trust you?”
“Because if you don’t come with us, I’m going to kill your whole family right now and send them down to join those you slew yesterday. Your mother, your sister, all of them.”
The image of the women’s bodies lying in a pool of blood filled Gyrth with dread, but he didn’t let it show. That was too much to bear and he would take any distraction he could get. “Then kill them, Falk. I won’t stop you, but I need you alive.”
His son hesitated and for a moment Gyrth considered trying to wrestle the knife from his son’s hand, but he knew he wouldn’t succeed and would surely draw attention to himself. Instead he looked behind him. His wife was still standing there.
She was beautiful and strong, and despite her recent betrayal, she made him smile with just one look. He had always loved her, and now, with the end approaching, he felt a strange sense of comfort in seeing her face again.
Forcing the tears back, he shook his head. “Go,” he said quietly.
Falk nodded and disappeared around the side of a hill, leaving Gyrth alone. As he watched his son disappear, his eyes wandered over the scene beyond the ridgeline. There were only three soldiers left. Two of them were injured and unable to move while another lay prone on the ground, bleeding heavily. One of the wounded men had managed to crawl into the brush on his hands and knees.
Gyrth could see his wife’s face now, and he saw something else for the first time: a sword sticking out of his chest. A single red drop landed on her white hair, and then he noticed the second man with his throat slit, and a third whose arm was pinned beneath his body as he tried in vain to free it.
“No!” Gyrth cried out and dropped to the ground, reaching down beside him.
It was then that he realized he hadn’t been able to save anyone. Not even his own daughter.
The End