The Forgotten Land (21 page)

These
were a people whose lives were ruled by the Gods they so devoutly worshipped,
realised Will, and it made them all the stronger. It even made them dangerous.

The
warriors could enter battle without fear, in the belief that if they died then
not only was it the will of Odin, but they would also be richly rewarded. And
if they lived then Odin had other plans for them.

*
* * * *

The
next morning, the Australians were woken by shouts and the clash of steel. The
soldiers had gathered on the outskirts of an open field near the village, deer
skins wrapped about their shoulders. They watched in confusion as warriors,
some dressed in chain mail, others in hardened leather, fought mock battles.
The noise was overwhelming. Amongst the shouts, battle cries and occasional
laughter was the clash of steel, the dull thud of sword blows being blocked by
shields and the clatter of shields slamming against one another. One man
cursed, threw his sword to the ground and held his hand over a wound on his
forehead.

A
large group of women were on the opposite side of the field practising throwing
knives, and fighting daggers, bows and spears. The soldiers, thinking the
worst, had their weapons with them in case they were needed to defend the
village.

“Four
days between each full moon, the village practices with weapons,” explained
Berag, to the concerned Australians.

“So
this is normal?” Scott gestured at the distant fighting.

“Four
times between each full moon, yes,” Berag said as their looks turned from worry
to interest.

As
the minutes passed, the Australians noticed they were not alone. The elders of
the village had gathered close by and were watching the proceedings
 intently,  pointing  and  commenting  about
 certain individuals either for their skill, courage or clumsiness.

“Skyaldaborg!”
the distant voice roared.

The
Australians watched as warriors sprinted to one central point. A dull rattling
was heard as shields slammed together as the warriors formed a line, twenty
warriors wide, and two deep. A man of medium height but wide shoulders stood
before the shield wall. Even from a distance, it was clear that he was
instructing the warriors. Although the boom of his voice could be heard, the
Australians could not make out his words.

At
one point he ran forward and launched a kick into the shield wall sending one
man sprawling to the floor. The two men behind him stumbled backwards.

The
instructor loomed over the downed man and roared at him. Then the instructor
took hold of the warrior’s mail shirt and pulled him to his feet.

The
Ulfor villagers-come warriors dispersed into pairs once again where they
continued to practise their sword skills for another five minutes before the
instructor called out for the shield wall. The warriors sprinted back as
before. This time the instructor seemed satisfied, because although he could be
heard bellowing, he did not attack them this time.

The
Australians watched the warriors practising manoeuvres in the shield wall.
Will, however, was engrossed in the group of women on the other side of the
field. He was watching Heleena throw small knives from a leather belt across
her body. She had thrown six knives with aggression and precision at the face,
throat and chest of a straw- filled dummy stood twenty metres from her. Heleena
also carried two larger daggers on each hip.

When
the women began to spar, Will watched the knives with foot-long blades in
Heleena’s hands. She held the knife in her right hand with the blade towards
the sky, but the knife in her left followed the angle of her forearm. Will
watched her with interest. Within seconds her actions were explained. While her
opponent concentrated on avoiding Heleena’s right hand as it stabbed towards
her belly, Heleena’s other knife could slash across and cut into her opponent’s
shoulder, arm or even their throat.

None
of the women were hurt. The blows that would have killed an enemy were stopped
short, so the blades gently touched the skin to indicate they had been beaten.
As far as Will could see Heleena was never beaten. She was perhaps the fastest
and most deadly.

The
battle practise went on for most of the day. As they walked back towards Ulfor,
the villagers were clearly tired and dirty, but they were in good spirits. Matt
tended to the more serious abrasions and lacerations.

Within
an hour the village had returned to normal. While the rest of the Australians
ate with Berag and his family, Will had excused himself so he could be with
Heleena. She was like a drug, and he was addicted. Once they had eaten Marie’s
beef stew, of which Will had three helpings, the couple walked outside. They
each wore a deer skin, which as Will discovered kept him warmer than any space
blanket.

“Remind
me never to get on the wrong side of you,” smiled Will, as they sat down in the
cave refuge.

“So
you saw me today?” she asked.

“Yeah,
I saw you, you’re a regular bloody knife fighter.”

“I
prefer the bow. I have only had to kill a man with my knives once before and
that was because my arrows were spent.”

“What
happened?” asked Will.

Heleena
shrugged. “It was a Viking raid. They came in the early dawn, before the sun
rose above the mountains. Our men met them outside the village, but they had
very little warning. The Vikings broke into the village within moments. Our men
regrouped and the fighting began, sometimes within homes. It was probably the
worst raid we have ever experienced. I was firing arrows from the roof of my
parent’s house. I had felled perhaps ten raiders but ran out of arrows so I
started climbing down. Someone grabbed me from behind and I thought it was
father until I smelled the stink of the man. I was either about to be killed or
raped. I twisted in his grip, knocked his sword away and stabbed a blade into
his throat. As he fell I stabbed his midriff too. I watched that man die. He
died a slow agonising death.”

Will
watched as she hugged her knees and stared out into the forest, reliving the
hellish moment. He stroked her hair and drew her to him, She wrapped her arms
around him and snuggled into his chest.

*
* * * *

The
sun was hidden behind thick clouds above the mountains the next morning. A dull
grey lit the village at daybreak. Will’s boots crunched and sank into thick
snow. He wore a woollen cap, his uniform, a deerskin and a thick woollen
blanket over that. He had not slept well. The forest nearby was tinged white,
and snow fell lightly. He had left his weapon in the house and felt naked
without it as he walked towards the forest. Within minutes he was urinating
against a tree. Steam rose from the warm liquid as it trickled down frosty
bark. He zipped up his trousers and walked on, looking up at the silent forest
canopy. Even in the cold of a winter dawn birds welcomed the new day. He took a
deep breath and let it out slowly. Will was aware that in cold weather to
inhale through the nose as it filtered, warmed and humidified the air before it
reached the lungs.

Will
detected distant footfalls and turned. He watched Heleena approach with a
smile. He took her in his arms and kissed her.

“Let
us walk,” she said softly.

They
walked hand in hand for several minutes. Whilst the path through the forest was
visible, it was covered by several inches of snow and several times Will almost
tripped on roots or rocks.

“You
are clumsy,” laughed Heleena.

“You’re
not wrong.”

They
walked in silence for another few minutes before Will sensed that Heleena was
melancholy.

“What's
wrong?” he asked.

“I
have had a wonderful time with you,” she said. “I have never met a man like
you. But that just reminds me that soon the Kadark and his men will be amongst
us. War will be upon us. It will be like no Viking raid we have ever seen.”

“Then
we shall fight them,” he said.

“What
if they are too many? What if you fall?”

“I
guarantee as long as I’ve got ammo, we’ll hold them at bay,” Will reassured
her.

She
frowned. “I am not sure you understand the threat, Will.”

“I’m
sure your village will pull through. You’ve never seen our weapons before and I
think you’ll be pleasantly surprised when you do see them in action.”

“Let
us hope so,” Heleena said, coming to a halt. She was peering down the path, her
head slightly cocked as if listening for something.

“Someone
is coming,” she said, grabbing Will’s arm and leading him behind a thick bush.
She pulled off her cloak and dropped it. Now she was wearing a loose fitting
dress that barely covered her body. Over that was her throwing knife belt. She
pulled one of the razor-sharp knives out, her eyes still on the path.

Will
was trying to keep his mind off her seductive body. There was a crack like a
twig snapping. Soft footfalls approached. His mind became blank. He moved
slowly and deliberately, so he could see the path through a gap in the bush.
The top of a man’s head came into view, then his face. Relaxing, he watched
Heleena re-sheath the knife and put her cloak back on.

“Ho,
Thormdall,” called Heleena.

“Ho,”
the berserker replied when he saw them. “There is a problem. The pigs coming
inland to our village a-viking are here, well at least their scouts are. Three
of them.”

“Where?”
Heleena asked.

“I
killed them,” he replied.

It
was then that Will noticed the blood on the Berserker's clothes.

“I
killed their swords too,” the berserker added. He turned and pointed down the
path from where he had come. “I came across them just down the forest path.” He
seemed unruffled by the incident.

“Were
there any others?” Heleena asked.

“Not
that I could see. But there will be more, probably later today. By this night
we will see battle, of that I am sure.”

Heleena
took a deep breath and closed her eyes, as if to blot out a terrible vision.
“We had better tell Romeeros and Berag.”

Will
was about to asked how ones kills a sword, but thought better of it. He could
always ask later.

The
trio ran through the forest towards Ulfor, the blistering cold sweeping past
Will’s face and filling his lungs. Before long the village appeared through the
foliage as they emerged from the forest. They hurried to Berag’s house and
Thormdall rapped sharply on the door. As the heavy door opened they were
confronted by Helga and the smell of frying bacon and egg.

“They
are here,” said Thormdall softly.

Those
three words were like a bolt of lightning to Helga. She gasped and her eyes
widened. For a moment she said nothing. Then she turned and called Berag,
before inviting them in.

Will
shivered as the warmth enveloped him. He put his arm around Heleena’s waist and
drew her close. Berag rose from beside the fire where he was playing with his
daughter, Tina. He smiled at the newcomers. When he had heard Thormdall’s news
the smile disappeared from the big man’s face. Berag strode past them and
pulled a large goat horn from the wall. The horn was ivory white with thin
bands of gold etched into the surface that formed intricate patterns.

He
walked outside and a long, deep, booming blast sounded around the village. The
horn blew again.

“To
arms!” roared Berag. “To arms!”

Will
could hear distant shouts as Berag came back into the house and spoke to Will.

“We
go to war,” he said. “Gather your friends and your weapons and meet me outside
the Great Hall.”

Will
turned to leave, noticing that Thormdall had already gone. Will and Heleena ran
back to her parent’s house, where Foothark, her father, was waiting. He already
had his sword belted to his waist and an iron helmet clasped in his hand.

Will
smiled at Marie. Heleena’s mother looked worried, but she returned an anxious
smile. Will grabbed his weapon, assault helmet and his webbing and rushed
outside.

“No,
I forbid you to go!”

Will
thought Marie was talking to him but he turned to see Heleena trying to
following him, a bow and a quiver of arrows in hand.

“I
will not stand idly by, while our village is attacked!” Heleena argued.

Foothark
joined his wife. “No you will not. You will stay and defend the village with
the others. If they break through us, we will need you here.”

Anger
washed over Heleena’s face. “I am a better fighter than all the women and half
of the men of this village! I shall come. I am of age and can think for myself!
Besides there is nothing for you to worry about Father, I can kill a man from
fifty paces,” she said, holding up the bow.

Marie
pleaded with Heleena, but the young woman would have none of it. She gave her
mother a brief hug before taking Will’s hand.

“Come,
let us go,” said Foothark leading them to the Great Hall where people were
gathering.