VIKING: THE THRONE OF BEOWULF: The Killing Beast Was Released (Viking, Throne, Legend, Thriller, Beowulf, Murder, Gotland Saga) (2 page)

“He once saved our lands, in his name we shall dance – Hrothgar, Hrothgar! Again will he save our lands, in his name we will dance, all hail King Hrothgar!”

The chant came from farther and farther away as the old king quietly withdrew from Heorot. He sighed to himself softly, his heart sitting heavy in his chest. Certainly, he had gone out and saved his lands from the monstrous beasts that had once threatened it, but now…
now
, he was helpless – he was nowhere near worthy of the praise his subjects were heaping upon him. He was failing; he could not protect them the way a king ought to.

He was old and ailing – he couldn’t take on Grendel and win against the beast. He would only be killed and leave his people behind without a leader of any sort.

His heart ached as he walked up the stairs of the castle, leading straight to the watcher’s tower. In the distance, he could hear the merry making from Heorot grow louder and louder; a part of him worried that the noise would awaken the killing beast he knew was sleeping deep in the woods of Germania. But he trusted that Wealhtheow would keep things under control; his queen was only a woman, but she was fierce and she knew how to run the state – it was how he had survived all these years.

Once, Heorot had been his crowning glory; once, he had been a powerful and fierce warrior, ready to take on the most powerful of beasts. Once, he had even been capable of defeating them. Now, he was old and he was king – he had to protect his people, but he knew not how.

Bitterness welled up within him as he trudged up the stairs. His old knees ached and he found it hard to breathe as he climbed step after step. How easily he used to race up these very stairs in his youth! Sighing a third time, he finally huffed his way on to the final step, breathing in deeply as the cold night air whipped across his face and lifted his long beard.

The world was finally quiet.

Swallowing hard, Hrothgar walked towards the wall, looking over his kingdom – from up here, he could see every inch of his lands, spread out in front of him. The lands of which
he
was ruler… the lands he sought to keep safe from the beast that dwelt in the woods that bordered Daner. His people knew nothing of Grendel yet, but it would not be long before they discovered the truth.

Grendel was deep asleep within the woods even now, he knew. Guilt swelled bitter on his tongue; what had he
done
? In an attempt to bring prosperity to his people, in his attempt to ensure that his name lived on in the bards’ glory forever, he had doomed his people to an eternity of suffering.

He had no heirs; he had only wanted his name to continue. Was he so very wrong?

“The feast is to honor
your
strength, Milord,” Wealhtheow’s voice from behind him was soft and he turned around in surprise, fists automatically raised to punch the throat of whoever had snuck up on him. His queen simply raised her eyebrow and he dropped his arms instantly, shaking his head mutely.

“What strength do you speak of, Milady?” he asked hoarsely, “Even now, the people face the horror of my ‘strength’. I made a deal with the Devil and our kingdom suffers for it.”

“Then why do you stand here and do nothing about it?” she asked softly, “You are a hero, a
warrior
. You have been, all your life. You saved us from the dragons that threatened our lands and you have protected us all through these years. Why do your hands hesitate now to wield the sword?”

She moved in closer, her hand trailing over the hilt of his sword, her body curving into his. The years had been kind to her; she was still as beautiful as the day they had wed. But more than that, she had grown stronger, capable of commanding and leading their people without him by her side, as she had done in all the years he was out defending their borders from the monsters that attacked Daner.

She would do it again if he but asked.

“I am no longer a young man, Milady,” he whispered, allowing himself to be weak in front of her. He couldn’t show vulnerability to his people; he was a man and he was a king – he must be strong. But this was
his
woman and she was gentleness personified. She could soothe the hurt in his heart.

“I am growing older and I cannot defeat Grendel,” he mourned. Wealhtheow pulled him close, holding him to her breast and stroking his hair.

“Then you should not have released him in the first place,” her voice was accusatory but her hands remained gentle as they caressed his back, moving further and further down. She pressed herself closer to him, the tips of her breasts grazing against his chest, their hips aligning and he felt the beginnings of arousal stir within his gut.

He maybe old but he was still only a man. And he had his woman in his arms, warm and willing – how could he resist?

But her words rang clear in his mind and he looked at her sorrowfully.

“’Twas my mistake, Wealhtheow,” he muttered, his fingers moving over her gown and undoing the laces on her back. The softness of her skin soothed him as always and he sighed, rubbing his beard against her neck, hoping for absolution from her at least.

She did not give it to him, remaining quiet even as titled her head and offered him her neck and skin.

“I-I just…” he stumbled, frowning, “I wanted glory. I wanted my name to live on in the songs of the bards and I wanted our people to remember me for all eternity – the King who would have brought them prosperity. And now… now, I will be remembered for all eternity, only as the King who brought them ruin and chaos.”

Wealhtheow sighed, leaning up on her toes to kiss him square on the mouth. Her lips were soft and sweet and he drunk the taste of her from them eagerly, pinching her bottom as she wiggled against him.

“You are king,” she muttered against his skin, grinding their hips together, “You
must
protect your people, even if it means protecting them from the consequences of your own actions. I will stand by you, but
you
are the one that must take the measures to keep them safe.”

Her tone was final and Hrothgar sighed, yanking her closer and biting at her neck. She yelped in surprise before she melted against him, wrapping her slim form against his thick, bearded one.

Nothing more was to be said as husband and wife began to shed their clothing under the stream of the silvery moonlight. Wealhtheow was on her knees, in the process of removing his trousers, the ghost of her soft touch exciting him even further –

- that was when they heard it.

Loud screams of men and women, utterly terrified and frightened, followed by a low, guttural growl that would send chills down the spine of even a fierce warrior.

Grendel
.

It had to be.

Wealhtheow jumped up, her eyes going wide and she grabbed at her own laces. Hrothgar fumbled with the cloth of his trousers, yanking them on quickly and king and queen raced down the watchtower in the direction of the mead hall, where the horrified shrieks were coming from. Wealhtheow whimpered from next to him as a particularly loud, shrill scream tore through the night sky, full of terror and pain. Hrothgar cursed quietly under his breath as they came to a stop in front of Heorot.

The sight that greeted their eyes was not pretty.

It was utter chaos.

Heorot was burning. The candles and torches that had lit up the entire mead hall had been knocked over – they had apparently fallen on to the wooden walls, setting the entire hall ablaze. Inside, people were scrambling about, trying to run, to escape, to breathe, even as something big caught them and tore them apart from inside.

Hrothgar didn’t need to see the monster to know that it was Grendel.

He yanked at his sword, ready to plunge into the chaos in front of him when the monster appeared.

He was gruesome – his entire body was made of nothing but bone and torn flesh and seemingly no skin. What little remained on the surface was torn apart, hanging off his frame like skin bearing off a corpse. His eyes were not so much eyes as they were just big, wide eyeballs in sunken sockets in a face that was broken and tattered. The teeth that hang off the jaws were yellow, gnarled and shattered.

Blood was dripping off the edges of his fingernails and he growled low in his throat, those wide eyeballs coming to rest on one of the servant-maids standing in front of the door, trying to yank it open and run out with her life.

She froze at the sound and turned around, trembling in fear. Grendel stood behind her, his mouth curling into a low grin and she shrieked in terror, her entire countenance that of a cornered animal, crying and sobbing. The killing beast roared in response, picking her up in one swift motion – she shrieked louder, her face a mess of tears and snot, even as he yanked on her legs, snapping them like twigs. He turned his attention to her face next, choking her in his tight grip, her voice dying out as his gnarled, bony fingers closed around her throat.

Red wetness squirted out of his hands, dripping to the floor as his hands squeezed through her throat – she died, mouth still open in a silent scream, gurgling on her own blood as Grendel’s grip tore right through her skin and bones, leaving her little more than a mass of shattered flesh.

“Noooooo!”
Wealhtheow screamed, tears flowing down her face at the plight of one of her own handmaidens. Hrothgar shook where he stood, hands gripping his sword tightly, even as his men ran to fight the monster that stood in their midst.

“A sword, someone throw me a sword!”

Unferth was crying out loud to the soldiers, calling his men to action and Hrothgar snapped out of his fear – he could be terrified later, his people needed him
now
. Turning to his wife, he pushed her roughly behind the remains of a tattered table, yelling at her to remain safe.

“Stay down!” he cried, “You must stay down!”

She acknowledged him with a terrified nod of her head, ducking as Grendel threw a chair in their direction. It floated right past where her head had been but a moment ago and crying, she crawled on all fours to hide behind the table, grabbing the hands of two more terrified women on her way and pulling them along with her.

With a loud cry, Hrothgar joined the fray, brandishing his sword over his head. Grendel’s grin turned even more menacing and angry and the killing beast jumped on his knees even as Unferth ordered for a volley of arrows to be launched at him.

“Attack!” Unferth yelled from somewhere within the din; six arrows came flying at Grendel who swatted at them like one would swat a fly. Not one pierced through that slimy skin; they simply fell to the ground, useless. His back, though, turned to the king in that moment.

Swallowing hard, Hrothgar took the distraction for what it was and ran in behind him, thrusting his sword into the creature’s knee – the highest part of him that he could reach. He was not tall for a man, but it was humbling to see just how small he actually was in comparison to the beast he had released.

It was terrifying to take on that monster too.

Grendel froze, a loud yowl ripping itself out of his throat – blood dripped down the length of his gnarly skin, Hrothgar’s sword lodged inside his bone and the old king swore quietly as the monster turned around, snarling. With one sweep of his huge hand, he threw Hrothgar into the wall. His head connected with the wood, hard and he groaned, shuddering on the ground as his head pounded and his entire body ached.

Struggling to pull himself up, he pressed a hand to stem the bleeding from his forehead. Grendel yanked at two of the men who were attempting to fight him off with spears – he broke the spears and then picked them up like they were little more than cloth sacks. Hrothgar could only watch in growing horror as the monster smashed the two men’s heads together before throwing them over his head. One smashed into the wooden table behind him, shuddering before he went still. The other fell right into the torrential blaze that was fast overtaking everything else, screaming loudly as his skin caught fire. He lasted a moment longer before giving in to the inevitable death that awaited him.

Christ almighty, what had he
done?

Hrothgar’s heart sank, the blackness seeping in as he trembled on his feet. He had brought this horror down upon them, he was the reason that his people were being torn to bits, slaughtered like lambs – he must do something,
anything
–

Grendel yowled, beating his arms against his chest and then waving them around in excitement. Smoke covered the entire room, making it difficult to see or breathe and distantly, Hrothgar heard the whimpers and screams of his men as they struggled to take on the killing beast.

Without another word, the old king staggered to where the monster was wreaking havoc. He caught one of the soldieries by the leg and yanked him into the air. Bile rose up in Hrothgar’s throat as he watched Grendel stick the man’s leg into his mouth, chewing loudly, even as the man yelled in horror and anguish, his lower half becoming mangled flesh and bone.

“That’s enough, beast!” Hrothgar yelled; he was too weak and dizzy to be of any real threat, but he would provide a good distraction, he knew. From the corner of his eye, he watched Unferth quietly creep behind the monster, sword in one hand and a spear in the other. He stumbled across the blazing hall to the monster he’d released, who was staring at him, a low rumble emanating from his chest.

“You shall cause no further damage tonight!” he declared, bending down to pick up the shattered remains of his sword and pointing it at the beast. Grendel growled, retracting his arms, as if ready to pounce –

- just as Unferth, swinging from a rigging in the ceiling thrust his spear and his sword right through one of the creature’s eyes.

Grendel howled in agony, yanking at the weapons and pulling them out. Blood spurted out of his eye and he shrieked an inhuman sound that made the hairs on the back of Hrothgar's neck stand up. Before anyone could do anything more, the creature jumped up, yowling loudly and thundered past the cowering men and women, hiding behind the various tattered pieces of furniture.