The Forgotten Land (18 page)

Realisation
seemed to strike the oddly dressed man.  “You speak Anglish?” he asked,
his accent strong.

“We
speak English, yes.”

“Anglish,”
he whispered and remained in silent thought for a while. Eventually he spoke
once more. “I will beckon our Chieftain here.” With that he was gone.

“This
is a bloody set up,” said Matt, his chair creaking as he leaned back. “These
guys are obviously those fanatical re-enactment type people. They were
pretending to speak a different language when we arrived. Pretty impressive
really.”

“Mate,
I don’t know what’s going on,” said Steve. “They don’t look Iraqi and neither
does the landscape look like Iraq, there’s far too much rain.”

“Look,
it’s this simple,” said Scott. “Remember those protestors who wanted to become
human shields just as the Gulf War broke out? It was organised by a Pommy guy I
think. They hired a big double- decker London bus and made their way over to
Iraq picking supporters up along the way. Remember? What if these people are a
break off from that group? What if they are here specifically to ruin our
mission? I mean, so far they have done a pretty good job.”

“You’re
not thinking, mate,” replied Steve. “Where did all this rain come from? I mean
this isn’t a just a bit of rain and sleet, these guys have had a good
three-hundred mil. Those mountains off to our west weren’t there yesterday. And
how did we get from a totally sheltered underground cave to being out here?
Something’s not right.”

“I
agree,” said Will. “Something definitely ain’t right here. It’s almost as if we
are in another time, but that’s impossible.”

A
tall man ducked under the entrance followed by the cloaked man they had spoken
to before. The older, taller man was the same who had greeted them at the
start.

“Righto,”
said Scott. “Just what the fuck’s going on here? We’ve got a job to do and we
need to move on! I understand you don’t agree with the conflict in Iraq but
that’s no fuckin’ reason to endanger our lives. If you don’t explain or let us
go, we will shoot our way out of here.”

“Scott!”
said Steve, placing his hand on the man’s shoulder. “Relax, mate.”

“My
name is Berag,” said the newcomer, seeming to struggle with the language. “I am
Chief of Ulfor, the village here. I do not understand all of what you speak.
What is Iraq? And what is fuck? I do not understand these things.”

Steve
 decided  to introduce  himself and  his men  and
 their predicament.

“Listen
Berag, our language doesn’t matter for now. What matters is we don’t know
what’s going on here. Something seems to have happened, and it happened after
we came into possession of this crystal.” He pulled the crystal from his
pocket.

Berag
sat wide-eyed and silent. He seemed fearful of the crystal in Steve’s palm.

“I
understand that you may be a little confused, but all will be clear soon,” said
the cloaked man. “I must apologise for not introducing myself sooner. I am
known as Romeeros.

“Berag
has called a council to discuss the situation with the rest of the village. The
council is to be held in the Great Hall immediately. Please accompany us.”

CHAPTER
9

Berag
and Romeeros disappeared through the doorway. Confused and unsure, the soldiers
nonetheless stood and followed. The cold air bit into their clothing and their
boots squelched through the wet, muddy ground. Steve could see the crowd
outside had dispersed. Only a few remained, watching the soldiers and talking
in hushed whispers.

As
they followed Romeeros and Berag along the muddy road that wound through the
village, Steve noticed the villagers were flocking in the near distance.
Suddenly, the huddle of dwellings was far behind them and the group was standing
in open ground, about the size and shape of a football oval. At the centre
stood a huge longhouse with an entrance that was an imposing eight-foot high.
The double wooden doors, attached by thick, steel hinges, were swung open and
the villagers began filing in. Steve guessed the building was almost two
hundred feet long. As they walked closer, Steve noticed intricate patterns
carved into the great doors. There were also runes embedded in the wood under
beautifully detailed motifs of heroic warriors squaring up against mighty
dragons. A huge serpent was carved around the edge of the doors, its mouth
latched firmly around a mighty looking helmed warrior wielding a great hammer.
The wood work was beyond skilled; it was perfect and spoke of the pride, patience
and passion of the craftsman who had created the images.

Steve
was the first of the Australians to walk through the entrance. He felt dwarfed
by the doors. He stopped and looked around the massive building. The roof was
at least fifteen feet high and thick beams of painted hardwood held the roof in
place.

“Looks
well and truly cyclone proof,” Matt whispered to Steve.

The
walls were decorated with various polished weapons, helms, shields and animal
hides. Most of the village people were now sitting around a long table that was
almost as long as the building itself. They watched the soldiers with
curiosity.

Romeeros
approached the Tuatha-Day-Dannan.

“Welcome
to the Great Hall,” he said.

Berag
lead the soldiers to seats on the right of the high backed chair at the head of
the table. Romeeros sat down opposite them and gave them a reassuring nod.
Berag sat at the head of the table but remained silent as he watched the
villagers and let the burbled noise of voices and laughter wash over him.

The
table itself had been crafted from oak. Steve admired the tiny creatures,
warriors and runes that had been carved along the edge of the table lending
character and life to the wood. They were beautiful depictions of great battles
and heroic deaths, he thought.

“Welcome
to the council,” said Berag, clapping his hands. Silence followed.

“I
speak in Anglish as this is the only language spoken by our guests.” Berag
spoke slowly so he could be understood by all. It was clear he also struggled a
little with the language.

“Can
someone please translate for those who do not know Anglish? I have called a
council so we may all understand what has happened here.”

It
seemed to Steve that all the married men had been invited to the meeting,
because their wives sat beside them. But there were no single people here, nor
were there any children. Steve noticed one man, however, who stood near the
exit at the far end of the building. His piercing blue eyes sent a chill
through Steve. The man’s hand rested on the hilt of his sword and although he
seemed relaxed, everything about the man spoke of controlled violence. This man
had killed people, of that Steve was sure.

“Welcome
people of Ulfor to this council. We are here today to speak of the
Tuatha-Day-Dannan.”

There
was a gasp and all eyes turned to the four newcomers. It was the first time
Berag had mentioned the Gods of Light.

“What’s
the Tuatha-Day-Dannan?” Will asked Matt. “Christ knows,” Matt replied.

“No
more games now, my friends,” Berag said to the Australians. “Why have you
come?”

“Berag,”
Steve leaned forward. “We don’t know what’s going on here. We found this,” he
said, placing the crystal on the table, “and the next thing we know, we are
here. We were hoping you could tell us what’s going on.”

“What
is he saying?” called a voice.

“Wait
my friend,” spoke Berag, holding his hand up. The chieftain leaned in towards
Steve. “You mean you are not the Tuatha-Day- Dannan?” he asked.

“What
exactly is the Tuatha-Day-Dannan?” asked Steve.

“They
are gods, sent by Odin to the world of man when times turn ill. Legend says
that they will come bearing the Crystal of Orises.”

“I
am sorry to disappoint you, mate, but we are not gods. We are men just like
you.”

“I’ve
had enough of this bloody role-play shit,” shouted Scott. “What the fuck’s
going on here?”

“Scott!”
Steve hissed. “These people aren’t re-enactors. And this isn’t Iraq. As crazy
as it might sound, I think we have come back in time. I know it sounds crazy,
but I can’t think of anything else. It’s the only way I can explain what
happened to us back in that cave!”

“That
can’t be right,” said Scott quietly. “We can’t have gone back in time, it’s
impossible!”

“That’s
what I thought, but something definitely ain’t right here.” Steve turned back to
find Berag and Romeeros talking in hushed voices.

Seconds
later, Berag leaned back in his chair and looked at the soldiers.

“You
are not the Tuatha-Day-Dannan?” asked Romeeros.

“No,
of course not! We are just men, and what’s more we want to get back to where we
came from!”

“What
is it you mean?” asked Romeeros.

“What
is going on?” bellowed a deep voice from the other end of the great hall.

“Silence!”
roared Berag. “All will be revealed.”

“Well
it seems to us,” continued Steve, “that we moved through space and time after
we took that bloody crystal.” He pointed at the pitch black crystal resting on
the table before him. “But now we want to get back to where we came from!”

“You
have travelled across the land?” queried Romeeros.

“Not
just the land, but also through time. It seems we’re from your future, and we’d
like to go back. That’s where we live. We don’t belong here.”

“You
think we’ve come back in time?” asked Matt.

“It’s
the only thing I can think of,” replied Steve.

“That’s
fuckin’ impossible!” Scott's face was red with fury or fear, or both; it was
hard to tell.

“We
should never have stuffed around with that crystal,” said Will. “What’s done is
done. We can’t help that now. But we need to find a way back, otherwise we’re
screwed,” said Steve.

 “So
what exactly is that thing?” asked Steve, pointing at the crystal.

“If
you tell the truth and you are from our future then I can think that it must
only be,” Romeeros’s eyes were fixed on the black crystal. “It can only be the
magical Crystal of Orises. It was found in this village by Orises many hundreds
of years ago. Orises was a great warrior who fought with the Yarmsklinga, as
well as the Varangian Guard.”

“Yarms
what?” asked Matt.

“Yarmsklinga.
There were a group of warriors who fought as mercenaries. They were well
trained and turned more than one battle in the favour of their employers. In
fact, Orises became leader of the Varangian Guard, commonly known as the Host.
He returned home when he heard of the death of his father. By the time he
arrived back in Ulfor, almost two moons had passed since his father’s death and
he had long since been buried. Orises went out to the ship under which his
father lay and dug a grave for himself. He made it known that following his
death he would lie beside his father and would not leave for the afterlife
until it was so. But as he dug, he came upon a crystal,” Romeeros stopped for a
moment and picked up the crystal. “This crystal,” he said, holding it up for
all to see.

“Even
today it is possible to see the burial ships under which Orises and his father
lie.”

None
of the soldiers understood what Romeeros was talking about. But they knew it
was for the benefit of the village not just for them, so they remained silent.

“The
Crystal of Orises was believed to have been a gift from the Gods. It was to
become a talisman for each man who led the Varangian Host. Orises was the first
leader and after he stepped down the next Varangian Guard chief was to take
possession of the crystal. It was a sign of power and demonstrated who was in
charge of the Host at that time.”

When
Romeeros put the crystal back on the table, Steve quickly took it and put it
back in his pocket. If the crystal was the key to their return home, he would
keep control of it.

Two
boys, who cannot have been more than twelve and who were obviously the sons of
one of the couples present, appeared in the doorway. They struggled to heave a
large wooden keg into the room. Behind them appeared a teenage girl holding a
large sack over her shoulder. A cheer went up and after the keg had been put in
position, the boys waved and left. Swinging the sack from her shoulder, the
girl delved into it and took out what looked a bull’s horn. She opened the keg
and submerged the horn. Then she handed the wet, dripping horn to the nearest
man, who passed it on to the next, and so on, until it reached Berag.

The
chieftain up-ended the horn and took a long drink. All eyes were on him. Berag
held the horn in the air. “Some of the best I’ve tasted!” he shouted.

“Do
not drink it all Berag, you are very thirsty when it comes to mead!” shouted an
older woman nearby. Good-natured laughter followed and the girl began handing
out horns filled with mead until everyone had one.

“Go
on, take a sip,” said Berag to the four newcomers.

Steve
took a sip and the others watched him to see his reaction. Up ending the horn,
he gulped down the rest. Berag and Romeeros laughed heartily.

Matt
sipped the drink and was surprised by the sweet taste. It tasted like honey, but
with a tang and slight bitterness that was irresistible. He quickly finished
his drink too. The empty horns were passed back down the table where they were
refilled once more.

“Don’t
gulp this one down,” Berag warned. “Otherwise your head will spin.”

Romeeros
called for silence. “As I was saying, the crystal became a sign of power.
However, they did not know the Crystal of Orises radiated and enhanced what the
carrier felt and believed to be right. If he was a man of malice and believed
all those opposed to him should be killed, then his hatred influenced those
around him. It is a tool for good or evil, depending on who carried it. If a
Kadark was carrying this crystal, then the sentiment in this room would be
dark, anger would flare and people would begin to bicker and fight.”

“A
Kadark?” asked Matt. “What’s that?” he asked.

“Kadarks,”
said Romeeros, “are not of this world. They are ageless beings, or so it is
said. I have yet to meet one, Odin pray I never do. If what you say is true,
then you travelled through a portal to arrive in our land.” Romeeros's English,
or Anglish as he called it, was exceptional, although his accent was thick. He
did not seem to struggle with the words as much as Berag.

“The
portals are ancient. They were made by elders whose bones were dust long before
the eldest amongst us was born.

It
was through these portals that the Kadarks were pulled. I say pulled, because
they arrived through no intention of their own. When the portals on earth were
created, the Kadarks were dragged from a different realm into this world, or so
it is told. It is not known how many walk this earth, but all they want is to
return to their land. They will do anything to do so, including murder and
rapine. The Kadarks are evil beings.”

Romeeros
took a long sip from the drinking horn.

“They
are not human,” he said. “There are only three Norse priests that I know of who
have come face to face with a Kadark and lived to tell the tale. Not one of
them think the Kadarks are human.”

“Not
one,” whispered Romeeros. “The Kadarks wear long dark, hooded robes. Their
faces are filled with shadow and malevolence. It is believed the cloaks hide
inhuman, demon-like faces of which Loki would be proud.”

When
Romeeros stopped speaking, the hall was silent. The villagers had heard the
tales of the Kadarks since they were babes in arms. Steve noticed, the people
of Ulfor continued to believe the story of the Kadarks.

“Let
us pray we never encounter one here,” said Romeeros. Steve noticed several
people gesture across their chests with their thumbs as if to ward off evil.

“Alas!”
continued Romeeros loudly. “As I was saying, the crystal of Orises is a neutral
force. Not of the light or of the darkness, but can be used for either. At the
time the crystal was discovered, Orises did not realise this, nor did any of
the other commanders of the Varangian Guard. But a Kadark did know the power of
the crystal and gathered men to him willing to fight for his cause.”