Gateway to Nifleheim (6 page)

“So the barren area got larger?” said Gabriel.

“Aye, and we have no idea how or why,” said Claradon “So father decided we should investigate the area at night. He felt whomever or whatever was causing these strange goings-on was hiding amidst the fog.”

“Quite sensible,” said Tanch. “I would have advised the same but, of course, I wasn’t consulted. Most folk hold the advice of wizards in high regard, but—”

“The next patrol left at dusk. Father led it himself.” Looking toward Theta, he continued. “With him was House Eotrus's high cleric, Brother Donnelin; Par Talbon, our House Wizard, and his apprentices—five or six of them, I think, though I’m not really certain, as they are a mysterious lot. With them was Captain Stern and our other three rangers, eight knights, a dozen men-at-arms, and a half squadron of archers. Before he left, father ordered that in the event . . .” Claradon paused and looked as if he were about to vomit or break down. He took a breath and then continued, his voice unsteady at first. “In the event that he didn't return, I was to await the return of Sir Gabriel or Ob before taking further action. Father had sent scouts to locate you,” he said gesturing toward Gabriel and Ob, “the same day that the circle was first discovered, and he sent more the next, so we hoped you would be back soon.”

“Get to the point, boy,” said Ob, “What became of the patrol?”

“I am getting there,” said Claradon, his voice strained. “Sir Gabriel said to leave nothing out, so I’m not.”

“Fine,” said Ob. “Just talk quicker.”

“Alright,” he said, and took a deep breath. “Very late in the evening of the third day, shortly before midnight, the guards atop the battlements spotted the fog. It had expanded further from its extent the previous evening. Shortly thereafter, the horrid sounds began anew and were louder than before. Then we saw several bright flashes of light and heard two thunderous explosions that shook the keep. Par Tanch and I were atop the central tower, watching.”

“Tanch—what do you make of them flashes and explosions?” said Ob. “Was it a storm over the wood, or something else?”

Tanch hesitated, and glanced over at Theta and Dolan. “I'm not sure that—”

“Do you think the arcane arts were invoked?” asked Gabriel.

“I—well, I wouldn't—”

“It's alright,” said Gabriel. “Such things are known to our guests. Speak freely.”

“Very well then. Yes. I have no doubt that the explosions were magical discharges and that the fog itself has a sorcerous nature. Lord Eotrus's party engaged some enemy force within the fogbank, and one side or both threw powerful spells—very powerful spells. The last blast before the wood went silent held a sorcery greater than any I have felt before. The blast before that was near as strong. Something frightful happened out there. Something beyond my ken, I freely admit.”

“My apologies, Lord Theta, but I didn't think it appropriate to mention things arcane. Besides, this is all so hard to imagine. A lord of a noble house attacked on his own lands by sorcery. Such things just don't happen—not in Lomion. Not in modern times. It's unfathomable. The nerve, the audacity, the—”

“The sounds,” said Claradon, “stopped for some time after the second explosion, but then they began anew and continued until first light. Father's patrol failed to return; their fate unknown. A full day and this much of the night has passed since their disappearance, and the fog and the sounds have continued in the same pattern. Most of us saw the fog from the high tower not long ago.”

“Tonight marks the fifth night since the sounds were first heard. The rumors making their way through the Dor have grown worse, and taken on a life of their own,” said Claradon. “People are saying that father is dead—killed by whatever is making that cursed noise. They say the Dor is next; that we're all doomed. The people are beginning to panic.”

“Bah,” spouted Ob as he rose. He stood on his chair’s high footrest and pounded his small fist on the table. “Who cares what them folks say; they don't know nothing from nothing. Your father is alive,” he said, his voice wavering and his face contorting as he tried to stay his emotions, “until I say he's not. Do you hear me, boy? We will be going to them woods and we will be bringing him back, I say. Him and Donnelin, Stern, Talbon, and the rest.” Quaking, he sat back down, and loudly blew his bulbous nose into his handkerchief.

“The circle,” said Gabriel. “Where in the forest is it?”

“Two hours ride through the wood, nearly due west,” said Claradon.

“Near the old stone ruins?” said Gabriel.

“It must be close, but the men say they didn't come across them.”

“Those ruins,” said Tanch, “There's nothing there but a few scattered pillars of some peculiar black stone, and one crumbling building that looks like an old temple. To what forsaken gods, though, who knows? Sir Gabriel, you'll remember, we rode out there together once—must have been six or seven years ago. You spent half the day studying the ruins.”

“He rides out that way all the time,” said Ob. “Odin knows why.”

“The woods are quiet,” said Gabriel. “Helps me think straight, which I need to do to keep you lot out of trouble.”

“That one time was enough for me,” said Tanch. “That wretched place made my skin crawl. And it wasn't just me; we had a terrible time keeping the horses calm near there. I can’t imagine why you would go back. As I recall, there is no game to be found within a mile or more of the ruins, which is why we never hunt out that way. The whole time we were there, I felt as if we were being watched by someone or something unseen, something sinister—as if the place was haunted.”

“Bah,” said Ob. “Don't start spouting fairy stories, Magic Boy. I have no interest in hearing about boggles, sprites, bugbears, and such. We get enough of those from Donnelin. Ain't no such thing as hauntings or forest faeries. Spirits and such are nothing but bunk, bother, and bad digestion.”

“I'm not saying it was haunted, Ob. I'm just saying that's what it felt like when I was there.”

“How would you know what a haunting felt like, when there’s no such thing?” said Ob. “It makes no sense. Pluck the wax back out of your ears and I bet I can see clear through to the other side.”

“So who is doing the wailing?” said Dolan before Tanch could fire back.

No one responded; no one had an answer.

Theta leaned forward and spoke in a strong, measured voice. “Speak more of these ruins, Gabriel.”

All eyes turned to the foreigner and then to Gabriel.

Gabriel hesitated for some moments before responding. “Par Tanch is correct,” he said. “It is a dark and evil place. The ruins are ancient.” He stared across the table at Theta for several seconds, seemingly considering whether to continue. “I believe they were not volsung made.”

Theta nodded.

“I'm doubting that, Gabe,” said Ob. “Dwarves and gnomes don’t build in the woods. Elves and smallfolk don't work much in stone, and lugron and their kin don't have the brains. It's you volsungs—your ancestors anyway—that had to make it; there is nobody else it could've been.”

“What about the svart?” said Tanch.

Ob’s eyes narrowed to slits and his next words came through clenched teeth. “Best not to speak of that lot, especially around me.”

Tanch rolled his eyes and shook his head. Theta glanced down at the war hammer that hung from his belt.

“Who cares about the darned ruins anyways?” said Ob. “All I care about is what happened to our people. Let’s keep our focus on that. They must've been ambushed. That's the only way that patrol could've been defeated or captured to a man.”

Tanch shook his head. “Between the wizards and Brother Donnelin we had a formidable magical force in the field that night. Such men cannot easily be overcome.”

“Maybe some force fell on them quickly, before they were able to mount a defense,” said Ector. “Maybe a whole horde of lugron came down from the north looking for plunder and prisoners to ransom.”

“Doubtful,” said Ob.

“Lugron don’t make sounds like we've heard,” said Gabriel. “And Stern and his rangers would not easily be taken unawares. There is more to this than a simple ambush, and we’ve seen no evidence of an invasion.”

“Is it possible that those flashes and explosions were spells thrown by the enemy, against our patrol?” said Claradon.

“Aye, maybe that could be,” said Ob. “That would mean a magical ambush. But Aradon is no fool; I doubt he would walk into such a thing, and Talbon would have smelled it coming from a league away.”

“Who would have the power to mount such a magical attack?” said Claradon.

“Not many,” said Tanch, “but the mystic arts are so hidden these days, it’s hard to say who and how many know its secrets—and of those few, how many have real power.”

“We have our share of enemies, same as any noble House,” said Ob. “It’s doubtful any of them would act against us directly, but there are rogue wizards and mercenary companies for hire for the right price. Anyone could be behind it.”

“Are you saying that there are mercenary companies that have wizards in their employ; true wizards?” said Tanch.

“Aye, there are a few,” said Ob.

“Scandalous,” said Tanch. “Shocking. Our members would never work for mercenary companies—I can’t believe this.”

“Not every wizard got their training at your pretty tower, you know,” said Ob. “There are other sources of such knowledge.”

Tanch looked surprised.

“We will not find any answers sitting here,” said Ob. “None at all. We need to get our behinds out there.” He looked over at Gabriel. “Only question is—who and how many is to go?”

Gabriel paused for a few moments, gathering his thoughts. He turned toward the younger Eotrus. “Ector,” he said, “you are needed here.”

Ector grumbled and clenched his jaw, but offered no protestations.

“You must take command of the Dor, and try to quell the panic of the people,” said Gabriel. “They need to see your face and hear directly from you that everything is under control. They need to know that the Eotrus family is with them and that they’ve not been abandoned.” He shifted his gaze to Claradon. “Claradon, in your father's absence, you are the acting Lord of the Dor. The expedition is yours to command.”

Claradon’s mouth dropped open and his eyes went wide. “But I thought since you are here—”

“Unless he defers command to the Dor's Castellan,” said Ob. “Which he does, and I hereby pass it to you, weapons master—and there will be no more debating about it. We can't fool around with this one, it's too darned important. In a standup battle, either Claradon or I could lead, but that's not what we have. There's something odd about this whole business, what with the wailing and the circle and such. It's just not natural at all. I hate to admit it, but it does stink of sorcery, top to bottom.” Ob turned to Claradon. “In this, the only man amongst us that has the right experience to lead is Gabriel. He must take command.”

“I agree,” said Claradon quickly. “Sir Gabriel, you can handle this much better than I. You must lead us. I don't have the experience.”

Gabriel stared down at the table for several seconds. “For good or ill, it is your place to lead us, Claradon, not mine. But Ob's points are well taken. Aradon's life and that of every man on his patrol, and perhaps more than that, may well depend on our course. For that reason only will I agree to this.”

He stood up. “We will take two squadrons of knights equipped with full battle gear and heavy horse. Ob, you will choose them and captain the squadrons. Be sure to include Glimador and Indigo—as they're among my best students. And Artol and my squire, of course, will accompany us. The rest of the garrison will remain to defend the Dor. Par Tanch, since matters arcane are involved, you will come with us as well.”

Tanch's face blanched.

“Ob—you will need to choose your squadrons quickly, because we’re gathering in the Odinhome in an hour to vow our paths. Make sure that the men you select are there—every one. Claradon—in Brother Donnelin's absence, I trust that you will lead us in prayer.”

“I will; I can do that.”

“Good,” said Gabriel. He turned to the group. “Have your gear ready—we will leave at dawn. I know it won’t be easy, but once we’re done at the Odinhome, do your best to get some sleep, as much as you can before dawn, for tomorrow will be a long day.”

“Should we leave sooner?” said Claradon. “Tonight, I mean?”

“The Vermion is too thick and the footing too treacherous to venture through in the black,” said Gabriel. “Ector—if there is no word from us by midday, the day after tomorrow, send word to Lomion, Kern, and Doriath Forest, beseeching them each for aid. You will also send scouts and ravens to each manor, keep, town, and hamlet within our demesne, instructing them to prepare for battle or to flee to Lomion City or to the Dor. Understood?”

“Understood,” said Ector.

“Perhaps I should stay behind and assist young Master Ector,” said Tanch. “What with my delicate back and such I may not be of much—”

“We need your skills, wizard,” said Gabriel. “You're going.”

Tanch slumped back in defeat.

Gabriel's gaze, and then everyone else's, shifted to the two foreigners.

“I will accompany you,” said Theta before any could address him, “and Dolan as well.”

“I thank you, sir,” said Claradon, “but you are a guest here, this isn't your fight. Don't feel obligated.”

Theta cut Claradon off with a wave of his hand and a shake of his head. “I will accompany you.”

“Then you have my gratitude.”

Theta nodded.

VI

ON MAGIC AND MUMMERY

As the men filed from the room, Theta motioned to Claradon to remain. He walked over as Theta gathered up his equipment.

“That's quite a shield,” said Claradon as he moved in to get a better look. Theta held it out for inspection.

“Nearly all steel and a heavy gauge,” said Claradon as he looked it over, a surprised look on his face. “Very heavy gauge,” he said, running his fingers along its length. “I’ve never seen a large shield made entirely of metal. Even a man your size can’t hold such a thing for long—it must weigh at least fifty pounds. No offense, but it just doesn’t seem practical.”