The Forgotten Land (19 page)

“It
took the Kadark and his force nearly three moons to arrive in Byzantium and
gather even more men to him. This time they were not Vikings, but Badawark
warriors. Savage men from the neighbouring land of Badawark, who had always
been opposed to the presence of Byzantium. Using his powers, the Kadark and his
followers entered the Byzantium palace and headed for the Varangian barracks.
They slaughtered the chief of the guard in his sleep so the crystal was now in
the hands of the Kadark.” Romeeros shook his head. “With the crystal in the
hands of a Kadark, our worst fears were realised.”

Romeeros
drained his drinking horn and nodded for a refill.

“However
within a week, the Kadark and his men lay dead, victims of Badawark treachery.
It was not explained how the Badawarks killed the Kadark, for it is believed
the few Kadarks who walk our earth are immortal and cannot be touched by the
mightiest of blades.

"The
Badawarks returned to their land, handing the Crystal of Orises to the Badawark
king, a man of great anger and hatred. In the hands of the Badawark king the
crystal radiated the anger and hatred for the Byzantium Empire that he held. It
was not long before the king and his Badawark army were marching towards
Byzantium with the intention of conquering the nation. The outlying towns and
villages were utterly destroyed, men killed, children slaughtered, women raped
and murdered, livestock butchered. A Byzantium army marched out to meet them,
and so began the ten-year war. It was a black time and many tens of thousands
of lives were lost.

“At
one point after many retreats and losses, the Badawarks managed to breach the
Byzantium capital Constantinok and the fighting changed from open warfare to
street-to-street fighting. This did not last long, however, before the
Badawarks were pushed back over the border towards their own capital.

“A
middle-aged Byzantium warrior-cleric of the Order of The Flame, a man called
Mahaazad, was involved in this final battle. Both sides were weak and exhausted
after the decade-long war. The Badawarks finally fled the field of battle. Many
retreated towards the Badawark capital. But the king, still in possession of
the Crystal of Orises, fled for the nearby hills to the north. Knowing what the
king carried, Mahaazad gave chase and caught the Badawark king as he entered a
cave high up in the mountains. The two soldiers guarding the monarch fought to
protect him. Mahaazad killed them both, but in so doing received a deep wound
to the chest. Even in a weakened state, Mahaazad killed the king and seized the
crystal.”

Romeeros
placed the horn down on the table and continued. “Mahaazad was a warrior-cleric
of incredible power and knowledge. Even today in Byzantium the name of Mahaazad
holds great power. As he was dying, Mahaazad worked his way through the cave
system and found the most isolated place. It was in the bowels of the earth,
hidden behind the back wall of the main cave. The tunnel led out into a giant
chamber, and it was here that he performed an ancient rite that would send the
crystal many years into the future where it could not be touched.

“The
story grows sketchy here, but it is believed that as he finished the ritual, he
threw the crystal at the wall where its shape would be burned for evermore.
With that, the Crystal of Orises was gone forever. We Norse people believe that
the crystal will appear once more when the Tuatha-Day-Dannan come into this
world. The Byzantium people believe that Mahaazad will appear with the crystal
when times call for it.”

The
hall fell silent.

“So
is this the Crystal of Orises?” asked Steve, patting his pocket.

“Without
a shadow of doubt. But there are still questions that I do not have the
knowledge or wisdom to answer,” replied Romeeros.

“But
for now, relax and enjoy yourselves. I would like four families to volunteer to
take one of these men into your home. Feed them and keep them warm and do not
be afraid as they will not harm you, I know their hearts. You can trust me on
this.”

The
council sat for sometime afterwards drinking and talking. Steve was taken in by
an elderly couple whose children had long since grown up and all but one had
left the village. One of their three sons was now a woodworker in a nearby
village, their daughter had married a farmer on the other side of the mountains
and their youngest son had been killed in a Viking raid five years before.

Scott
was invited into the home of a burly, loud man with a thick, untidy beard. His
wife was a short plump lady who was a marvellous cook. That night he sat down
to a steaming meal of venison and corn.

Matt
stayed with a young couple and their two children. The boy would have been no
more than four and the girl only twelve months old at best. They were a
friendly family with a close bond.

Will
was billeted with an elderly couple near the centre of the village. Their
daughter, Heleena, who was twenty-three summers old, also lived with them. She
was a stunning young woman and had refused every suitor, or so her father
boasted. Will was speechless when he laid eyes on her for the first time. She
had flowing dark hair, brown eyes and an honest smile. While her figure was not
overweight, neither was she stick-thin. She was curved as a woman should be. He
tried to feign disinterest but found it impossible.

*
* * * *

Romeeros
walked to a small abandoned building on the outskirts of the village. It was
where he always stayed on his infrequent visits to the village. Ignoring the
cold, he sat inside the long forgotten dwelling and relaxed, closing his eyes.
He felt the familiar warmth flowing through his body.

“Broanar,”
he spoke the name silently in his mind.

There
was no response, but Romeeros held his concentration.

“What
is it?” came a deep voice from inside his mind.

 “I
have some news for you. The crystal is here, yet the carriers are not the Tuatha-Day-Dannan.”

“How
do you know that?”

“Because
they told me they were not,” replied Romeeros silently.

“So,
how do you know they are not?”

“I
trust their word.”

“But
what if they do not even know it themselves?” asked Broanar. “They could well
be the Tuatha and not know it.”

“It
is a possibility.”

“It
is more than a possibility my friend,” replied Broanar. “A prophecy has been
fulfilled this eve whether or not you or the carriers know it. I have read the
stars and it has begun. You and I sensed the crystal enter this world as I am
sure did the Kadark. As we speak he will be gathering people to him. Before
long he will come inland to the village in search of the crystal.”

“What
should we do, Broanar? I can see no solution.”

“There
is a man on his way to you, an Arab warrior-cleric. He can help you. He knows
the history of the crystal and how to use its power. He also knows the location
of the master portal. Although I cannot guarantee he will be there before the
Kadark and his followers arrive. Prepare for battle for I fear blood will be
spilt before his arrival.”

“I
thank you my friend,” said Romeeros, the voice fading from his mind.

“I
am losing your voice my friend. Hold strong, all shall be well.”

Romeeros
opened his eyes and took a deep breath. The dull, silver light from the moon
beamed through a window and shone on his face.

*
* * * *

Will
awoke early the next morning moving quietly from the house as the family slept
on an earthen bench carved into the wall. Only coals were left of the fire, but
they still released a small amount of heat. It would only take some fresh
kindling and a little digging into the coals and the fire would be revived.

He
moved outside and relieved himself against a tree. Pulling up his zip Will
noticed the same warrior who had been standing in the doorway at the meeting.
The man was sitting cross-legged facing the rising sun. His sword was lying
unsheathed across his legs and his head was bowed in prayer.

“He
is greeting the sun and speaking to the Gods.”

Will
turned to see Heleena. She had a cloak pulled around her body, although he
could still see the gentle curve of her breasts.

Clearing
his throat, he asked, “He’s a priest?”

“Priest?
I do not understand,” she said in a thick accent. A dark lock of hair fell
across her face, which she brushed behind her ear.

“A
man of god, if you like.”

“Yes,
Thormdall is a man of Odin,” she replied with a smile. “He is a Berserker. A
man chosen by Odin. Thormdall has done battle against Vikings who tried to
plunder our village many times before.”

“He
is a Berserker?” asked Will. “Does that mean he goes crazy and hacks at
everything he sees moving?”

Heleena
stepped closer, the smile fading from her face as she watched the praying
warrior in the distance. “No quite the opposite. The man sends a chill down my
back. He is calm even in the heat of battle. But I do feel safer knowing that
he is around. He has never been bested with a sword to my knowledge, so it is
good for the village that he is here. Particularly in the autumn time when the
coastal vermin come inland a-viking, looking for supplies and bounty for the
winter months.”

Thormdall
suddenly rose and began walking towards the forest. He turned mid-stride and
eyed them from the distance.

“I
will be gone for some days,” he called. “Inform Berag!”

Heleena
waved and nodded.

“Sounds
like you guys live a hard life,” Will turned to her.

“It
could be much worse. There have been villages, many days ride from here, that
have been burned to the ground by raiders.”

“Let’s
hope that never happens to you guys.”

“What
is guys?” she asked.

“Oh
sorry, it means, uh, you people.”

“I
understand,” Heleena chuckled. “I still find it hard to understand everything
you say.”

“I
know, so do I,” Will said with a smile.

“Come
walk with me,” Heleena said. “Where?”

“In
the forest,” she replied.

“Wait,
don’t you want to get something more comfortable to wear?”

“No,”
Heleena said, as she adjusted the cloak around her.

*
* * * *

Steve
stretched outside. The cold morning air moved around him, chilling him to the
bone. He heard the sound of a woman’s laugh and turned. In the distance, on a
small hill that looked out over the village, he saw Will with an attractive
young lady beside him. She held a blanket around her body and they were talking
and laughing together. That they liked one another was obvious. Smiling, he
turned away and noticed a man sitting cross legged in the near distance. His
sword was lying across his legs and his head was bowed as if he were sleeping,
or perhaps praying.

“That
is Thormdall, he is talking to the Father God. It is a Berserker ritual. They
all seem to do it as the sun rises.”

Steve
turned to see Therfil in the doorway. The man was bald, but for a streak of white
hair at the back of his head that reached down past his shoulders.

“I
thought there was something different about him. Had a feeling he was a crazy.”

“A
crazy?” asked Therfil.

“Not
of sound mind, I guess you could say.”

Therfil
shook his head. “Thormdall is one of the most level-headed men I know. Nothing
mad about that man. If there’s anything chilling about him, it is his absolute
calm. I have not once seen him angry, even in battle.”

As
they spoke Thormdall stood up, resheathed his sword and moved towards the
forest in the distance.

“For
all his level headedness he is still a hard man to read, which can be very
disconcerting,” said Therfil.

*
* * * *

“I’ve
always thought Berserkers were crazy men who went into a fit of rage in
battle,” said Will as they watched Thormdall disappear into the tree line.

Heleena
laughed. “Who told you that? It is not true. The true Berserker is not fazed by
anything, even in the thick of a sword fight. If you see Thormdall in action,
and I hope you never do as it will mean you are in danger yourself, then you
will see what it is that I mean.”

“The
men of your village seem pretty keen to fight. Why is that?”

“Keen?”
Heleena asked.

Will
was about to explain but she stopped him.

“It
does not matter. Fighting is part of our culture. To enter the Hall of Heroes,
our men must die in combat with a sword in their hand. It is why they never shy
away from a fight. From what I hear in the village, it seems a fight will soon
be upon us.”

“It
looks that way. As I understand it warriors from the coast are coming inland
here to Ulfor.”

“Warriors?”
she spat the word. “They are no warriors, they are criminals who fight and kill
in order to steal food, coin or slaves. They no longer believe in the Gods and
so have no respect for them or their will. Instead they have been taken in by
the lies of the Chreest men.”