*
*
Mershad’s body was permeated with soreness, thoroughly chafed from the prolonged saddle ride, as the group finally reached the outskirts of Midragard. Becoming more attuned to the two companions from his home world, he could see that neither had been immune to the harsh effects of the lengthy journey. Kent’s grumbling had increased significantly over the past few hours, while Derek’s unwavering, stoic demeanor was a telltale sign of the discomforts that he was enduring.
While Mershad was aware that they were all enraptured by the electrifying sensations and spectacular views afforded by the high altitude, open-air flight, he knew that his companions were anything but upset that the journey’s end was finally within reach. As for himself, he was more than ready to feel the reassuring presence of solid ground lying directly beneath his feet.
The lands of Midragard initially appeared as a sprawling haze on the far horizon, the sight instantly raising the spirits of their stalwart Midragardan guide, Einar. Prior to that moment, Einar was shrouded in a deep, brooding silence, even during the few times when the group had landed for the night, to rest themselves and their hard-pressed steeds.
The first such respite had taken place at a small farm and homestead, situated upon an island that was not much bigger than the one that they had escaped from. Mershad and his comrades had consumed a little food, and then had barely gotten a few hours rest when Einar had brusquely pressed them onward, much to the protest of their generous hosts. Kent had shared the reluctance, as the farmstead’s occupants were more than willing to share ale and meat with their visitors. He had held his tongue, which did not surprise Mershad, even as boisterous as Kent had shown himself to be, as Einar’s blackened mood stifled any arguments on the matter.
A couple of layovers later, they had caused much more of a commotion within a market town that was located on a sizeable island, which they had learned was not all that far from Midragard itself. The great jarl of that large hall, a demonstrative, haughty man named Atli, had nearly come to physical blows with Einar at being denied a good tale and the opportunity for some time spent with the exotic foreign travelers.
The surly giant of a man was held back only by the slim thread of a fact that Einar was taking them directly to King Hakon, at the king’s firm request. Mershad was relieved that things had not worsened. Even though Einar was a strong man, the glittering, crazed look that flared within the jarl’s eyes heralded the presence of a very dangerous individual. Had the argument broken down into a melee, Mershad was not all that certain that Einar would have emerged in a condition capable of continuing their flight together.
The air had cooled precipitously as they proceeded deeper southward. At Einar’s behest, the party had all been provided with fur-lined cloaks for the last stretches of travel.
Mershad had encountered some trouble donning his own cloak, fumbling with the pin of the bronze ring-brooch, as he worked to clasp the woolen cloak at his right shoulder. He had no difficulty motivating himself to pull the cloak more snugly about his body within the brisk, icy winds that they encountered when climbing up into the airy heights. He found himself pulling the front of his tunic up like a makeshift mask for his face, his skin having become slightly numb with the incessant flow of chilly air against it.
Mershad had no choice but to set his mind firmly against the cold as they continued onward. Eventually, and mercifully, he found himself becoming more inured to the chill. He was settled well into that state on the afternoon that the outskirts of Midragard had drawn into sight.
The hazy, shadowy forms spanning the distant horizon were soon revealed to be a great land front. The broad boundary was marked by an expansive stretch of high crags, cliffs, and mountains, their continuity broken up by deep channels and rivulets that cut far into them from the sea.
The Fenraren and their riders were no longer the lone occupants of the air, as a number of seabirds flew about in the skies all around them. A few curious gulls shadowed Mershad’s party from a safe distance, loosing excited cries, as if extending the incoming party a boisterous welcome. The sight of the birds and the land brought a smile to Mershad’s face, raising his attentiveness to take in the full spectrum of their approach.
Their avian visitors continued to glide and dart around the Fenraren, as if providing a kind of escort. The winged steeds paid the seabirds little heed, and were not distracted in the least by their sustained chorus of squawks and cries. The Fenraren kept their loose formation and did not react, other than to growl whenever one of the birds drifted too near.
“There!” Einar suddenly yelled out to the party, pointing downward with a burst of enthusiasm, of a kind that had not been present during the entire journey.
Mershad looked down to see a number of shapes darting swiftly along the surface of the water, their small, triangular dorsal fins the only part of their bodies that cleaved the ocean’s surface. The porpoises moved with a swift, elegant grace, powerfully cutting through the water as they swam in a unified cluster.
Not long after they sighted the porpoises, a massive explosion of spray denoted the presence of a behemoth that had just surfaced for breath. Mershad looked down in sheer wonderment, as the huge fin whale descended towards the depths once again, its enormous tail briefly lifting out from the water, and coming down with a thunderous splash. Another fin whale, a monstrosity well over seventy-five feet in length, surfaced just a moment later, replenishing its own breath and sending a fountain of water soaring into the air before submerging to join its oceanic companion.
Soon after, Mershad sighted a pod of around fifteen whales, of a markedly different type with distinctly rounded heads. On average, they were only a fourth of the size of the great fin whales.
“Now they have the right idea,” Einar exclaimed loudly, as an assortment of skerries came into view, breaking up the blue of the ocean. The small, rocky islands were scattered all across the surface of the water, rendered in a wide array of irregular shapes. “What I would not give to just lie around, and indulge myself in as much herring as my belly could hold!”
Einar’s eyes were fixed upon a host of life forms that had taken occupancy of the skerries, basking in the open sun on the broad rock surfaces. A few of the seals flopped into the water as Mershad gazed down on them.
“Best they be careful though,” Einar then added, gesturing off towards the right.
A few tall, ebony dorsal fins protruded far out of the water, mixed with ones of a lower profile. They were spaced well apart, and attached to massive bodies lurking just beneath the waves. The killer whales were large, some being nearly thirty feet in length. The pack of predators were still a good distance away from the main concentration of seals, but Mershad did not doubt that the bulky hunters were well aware of the seals’ territory.
A series of high escarpments met the sea a short distance beyond the end of the staggered array of skerries. The expanse of cliffs was riddled with crevices, ledges, and nooks, where a host of seabirds had made their homes. Vegetation was scanty around the first series of cliffs and mountains, with very sparse tree growth visible. Lichens clung to rock facings, coating them with a deep green.
Still at their lead, Einar turned his steed to the left, so that their course shadowed the cliff facings. The jagged facades defiantly withstood the ocean and its crashing waves, which boomed thunderously into their bases. The passage of the Fenraren stirred up a number of the cliff-side denizens, stoking the seabirds’ more cautious, protective instincts around their nesting sites. A few throaty rumbles and bared teeth from the Fenraren prevented the seabirds from becoming overly bold in warding their nests.
The quartet soon passed into a more mountainous area, where regal fjords reached deeper into the landmass. The fjords, mountains, and other natural elements were incredible to behold. Mershad glimpsed thickly forested valleys nestled among the towering heights. Flashes of vibrant gold broke up the rich green blanketing the valleys, exposing meadows gilded in golden, floral brilliance. The group had continued by a few gleaming channels, before a particularly broad channel beckoned to them, from up ahead to the right.
“The Silver Fjord!” Einar shouted. “This is where we pass into the heart of Midragard!”
Einar guided them down from the upper heights, turning them to the right as they descended through the air over the center of the great fjord. The wide, sparkling waters indeed looked like a silvery pathway, as the great fjord reflected the light of the sun with a jewel’s splendor.
The steep, elevated heights flanking the fjord looked foreboding and uninhabitable. Yet not everything within the confines of the fjord and its bordering rises was inhospitable. Once flying down the length of the fjord, Mershad espied some relatively narrow stretches of flatter, greener land hugging the water’s edge, some of the expanses reaching a little farther back than others.
On more than one of the larger swathes, Mershad observed the rectangular structures and cleared land that indicated the presence of modest farmsteads. Clusters of sheep and cattle grazed idly out in the open air, taking little notice of the group as they passed overhead.
The first signs of ships then began to come into sight, as Mershad beheld some vessels pulled up onto the shorelines of the farmsteads, and a few out upon the fjord waters. The forms of the ships became increasingly clearer to the eye, as Mershad’s group descended lower. Some were simply very small rowing vessels, while others were longships, provided with both a mast and square sail.
Mershad looked farther ahead, and was instantly struck by the sheer magnitude and beauty of the majestic fjord. Tree growth had increased substantially, conifers such as spruce and pine rising up from the steep slopes, some clinging tenaciously to sparse holds along the minimal rocky ledges and crevices.
The resplendent waters continued forward between two particularly massive mountains, just a short distance ahead. The great rises flanked the water, looking like mirror images of each other.
“The Great Helms! You can see why they are named so,” Einar called to Mershad and the others, gesturing towards the two towering rock formations, which did resemble the profile of the conical helms worn by the Midragardans. “Old tales say great giants that are the offspring of gods stand beneath them to this day, awaiting the final battle of Ragaras-Narok.”
Mershad had almost no idea of what Einar was referring to, but was fascinated by the claim nonetheless. The huge mountains were certainly of a size capable of containing giants, if such beings even existed.
The party was then blessed with an unfettered view of the gorgeous scenes spread all around them, as the sun broke out fully from the scudding clouds far overhead. The clear skies allowed for dramatic effects from the sun’s radiance, as the mountains along the fjord broke the beaming rays up. Striking contrasts were created instantly, as the greater portion of a mountain’s facing on one side was left draped in shadow, while the areas opposite it, across the fjord, were bathed in an abundance of golden light.
More than once, the quartet passed by dazzling waterfalls that tumbled and cascaded with silvery grace down the facings of towering escarpments. Some falls looked like long staircases carved into the sides of the lofty mountains, while others poured over the lips of high ledges, to plummet great distances into pools far below.
A few of the great mountains were still crowned in pure white, their summits reaching high enough that snows could continue to resist the onset of spring.
Einar drew the Fenraren even lower as they passed down the Silver Fjord, until Mershad was able to make out the faces of the people on the ships and settlements that they encountered along their path. The water and land collaborated to form a dizzying array of offshoots, nooks, and crannies, but Einar had no trouble in navigating the seeming maze, as they kept faithfully to the main channel of the fjord.
The Silver Fjord twisted and turned as it drove ever deeper into the Midragardan lands. Mershad sat back in his saddle, wholly content to relax, and take in the surrounding sights. He noticed that the traffic on the water was picking up considerably, with a much greater frequency of boats visible.
He also noticed that the mountains were gradually lowering in height, some more aptly described as great hills. His suspicions that they were approaching a larger settlement, or series of settlements, were confirmed not long afterwards. Expecting a larger estate or a small town, Mershad realized that he had greatly underestimated in his conjecture, as a very large market town loomed into sight. An expanse filled with edifices, the market town was spread out ahead of them, from the left side of the fjord.
A vast, semi-circular earthen rampart and timber palisade shielded the market town’s landward side. A ditch and moat paralleled the course of the rampart, reinforcing the protective elements. The curving outer wall was pierced by three main gates, providing access into the town. Each gate was provided with timber bridges that spanned the exterior ditch and moat. Stout wooden towers of a square profile were perched atop the gates. Armed warriors stood upon the upper platforms of the towers, overseeing the principle entrance and exit points of the large market town.
An amalgam of packhorses, pedestrians, and carts could be seen in the process of approaching, or departing from, the market town. Many were moving along the earthen pathways running across the neighboring lands up to the market town, and all manner of traffic was entering and exiting through the three main gates. The town itself was awash with vibrant activity. Narrow streets surfaced with wooden planking were lined on the sides by a variety of timber-built structures. Low fences demarcated larger plots of land, upon which multiple buildings had been erected.
The fjord’s waters around the market town teemed with numerous ships, of a great range of sizes. The area was itself provided with a kind of palisade, which formed a large crescent extending far out into the water from the town’s edge.
Some of the vessels were the size of great warships, long and elegant in profile, while others were much broader of beam, resting at anchor farther out in the water. There were more than a few small rowboats, which could be manned by just one or two persons.
Visible a short distance outside the walls of the market town, and standing atop its own great hill, was what appeared to be a circular fort. Looking over the town, its elevated position was marked by its tall earthen rampart, and thick crowning of wooden palisades. The fort did not seem to have much, if any, activity occurring within it, though there were some wooden structures within its protective circumference.
Einar led the party further inland, taking them around the outskirts of the market-town, and slowing down their pace, which allowed Mershad to take in the sights more easily.
“Hedirka, the great market town under King Hakon,” Einar yelled out, as they continued their passage around the town. “You will visit it soon enough! But we have pressing business with the king, and we cannot delay.”
After curling around Hedirka, they broke away from the market town and headed farther to the southeast. A roadway of hard packed dirt, cleaved by many continuous lines of wagon tracks, stretched onward beneath them. They shadowed the roadway from above as it reached out from the walled market town and meandered deep into the Midragardan lands, leaving the fjord increasingly farther behind.
The airborne party covered several more leagues before an expansive swathe of flatter, open ground came into view, upon which a large cluster of buildings was located. There were some trees dotting the area, turning into a much denser mass where the ground sloped up far behind the homestead to the east, ascending towards the top of a great ridge overlooking the estate.
A lake could be seen to the eastern side of the homestead, nestled serenely within the shadow of the prominent ridge. The lake was ornamented all around its edges by an abundance of purple, gold, and white, as a wealth of blooming flowers brought the richness of spring to grace the gleaming body of water.
Mershad was transfixed for a moment by the striking beauty of the sight, but his eyes were soon drawn toward the throng of structures that they were fast approaching. A hall of exceptional size was located at the center of the various timber edifices and outbuildings. The great hall drew the eye immediately, its gable ends decorated by crossing extensions that projected well above the apex of the roofline, shaped into what looked to be animal forms. Tendrils of smoke lazily wafted out of a sheltered opening placed midway down the ridge of the steeply-pitched roof.
Mershad’s gaze then roved onward, scanning the surrounding edifices and land around the regal hall that so clearly anchored the estate. There were fenced pens with attendant byres, as well as a number of smaller buildings and open-faced structures, which Mershad guessed were either workshops, or buildings for storage.
Other hall-shaped buildings, which also had covered smoke-holes in their rooftops, identified likely dwellings. They were of various lengths, but even the largest of them was much lesser in stature and appearance than the main hall.
Telltale furrows marked the location of thoroughly plowed fields, obviously put in use for the current growing season. The unbroken surfaces of other fields announced that they had been left fallow, or perhaps were to be used for grazing. The various fields spread out far from the large homestead.
A few minor structures, of the square, open-faced type, were scattered within the sprawling expanses of fields. A few of the fields were encompassed with a perimeter of low, wattle-and-daub fencing, while others were left entirely open.
Einar guided the group sharply downward, towards the open ground on the nearest side of the main cluster of edifices. The wolfish steeds landed surprisingly gently upon the ground, and Mershad silently rejoiced at the first feelings of solid ground underneath.
Einar immediately freed the protective straps that held the rider tight to the saddle, prompting the other three to do likewise. Mershad fumbled for a moment with the buckles of his own straps, but in a few seconds the hide lengths fell loosely to the sides of the Fenraren.
Kent winced and moaned as he slowly got down out of his saddle. Mershad could not blame him for the display of discomfort, as his own body was riddled with a pervasive aching and stiffness. He clenched his teeth tightly as he eased himself carefully down to the ground, his lower back crying out for relief.
It was a little disorienting to suddenly feel the ground directly beneath his feet, a strange period of adjustment that he was only beginning to get used to following extensive periods aloft upon the sky steeds. The bobbing and shifting of flight, some movements subtle, and others not quite so gentle, depending upon the level of turbulence, were a constant when airborne. To suddenly go from an environment of wobbles and sways to one of rigid solidity was admittedly jarring to Mershad’s senses.
Derek bore whatever soreness he harbored with no outward change of expression, though Mershad fathomed that it was no less comfortable for him.
A few men rushed up to the travelers as they stood waiting upon the ground.
“Hail, Einar, welcome back to our lands!” a rather stout man with reddish blond hair greeted amiably.
“Hail, Onund! It is good to be back in King Hakon’s stead. These are guests of high honor, expected by the king, and will remain with me. Please see to it that our steeds are well-fed and given shelter,” Einar instructed him firmly.
Onund gestured to the men standing around him. They hurried to the sides of the Fenraren, taking up their tethers and leading the fatigued, hungry creatures off in the direction of what looked to be a byre.
Einar glanced towards Onund, and continued, “I wish we could request to be well-fed in your home, as that good wife of yours knows few equals in the preparation of food.”
Onund grinned, and patted the rounded paunch of his belly. “I always carry the proof of her skills with me.”
The two men laughed together, and Mershad could not help but grin at the self-deprecation.
“Einar!” shouted a resonant voice, coming from the right.
A tall, broad-shouldered man of modest build approached them. He possessed sparkling blue eyes, and his bright, blond tresses hung down loosely, to rest just below the tops of his shoulders. A well-groomed beard ornamented his angular face, and though he radiated confidence and strength, he had a very kindly look about him.
He wore a deep blue tunic, richly brocaded in gold threads that looked striking set against the darker blue, woolen fabric. He wore a bright red cloak over the tunic, adding to the vivid contrasts, and lushness, of color.
The glint of silver and gold came from several circular arm bands and an assortment of rings gracing his fingers. He carried a sword sheathed at his left side, the pommel of which was gilt in silver, as was the band around the mouth of his scabbard.
Mershad knew at once that this was a man of high standing, as his fine trappings allowed for nothing less.
“Svein!” Einar responded in genuine elation at the blond man’s approach, striding forward immediately and embracing the other tightly.
“Einar, you rascal! These eyes do not see you often enough, now that you ply the waters to the far north,” Svein greeted warmly, and Mershad could see the sincere affinity that the two men held for each other.
“The path of trade leads far,” Einar replied. “Perhaps too far, though.”
The smile faded, as a serious mien crossed Einar’s face and took hold.
“What concern burdens you?” asked Svein, growing solemn at the change in Einar’s mood.
“There is much to tell, Svein. More than I can begin to say here. These men should be brought before King Hakon now, and I feel that they should be protected by Midragard,” Einar replied firmly.
“Indeed, you have brought unusual guests,” Svein commented, as his eyes settled upon them, taking in the sight of Einar’s foreign companions. His eyes narrowed in scrutiny as he gazed upon Mershad and Derek. “Of the Sunlands, yes? Then they are very far indeed from their homelands.”
“No, I do not think they are of the Sunlands, and their tale may be hard to believe,” Einar responded. “But I have reason to believe that they speak truthfully, as do many others.”
“Then my curiosity is awakened,” Svein remarked. He turned to face the newcomers squarely, and took a couple steps towards them. He gave them an affable smile. “My name is Svein, a loyal retainer in service to good King Hakon, King of all Midragard.”
The three exiles proceeded to introduce themselves in turn, but there was no further delay, as Svein quickly heeded Einar’s advice. He led them into the midst of the complex of buildings, striding directly towards the large, prominent hall at the center.
On closer inspection, Mershad saw that most of the edifices were stave built or wood-framed, with wattle-and-daub panels, while a few were horizontal. All were wholly fashioned of timber, and roofed in thatch.
Children giggled and looked upon the newcomers with wide, curious eyes, though they kept to a respectful distance. A cat of considerable size, long legged and coated in black and white fur, paused to momentarily regard the party, before traipsing around the side of a nearby building.
Mershad soon gained a much better view of the animal forms looming above the apex of the main hall’s sharp-sloped roof. The crossing extensions at the gable end were fashioned by elaborate carving into vivid representations of two fierce wolves. Their dark, snarling visages radiated pride and ferocity, outlined starkly against the smooth, aqua sky.
The broad doors underneath the gables were open, and a couple of spear-armed warriors stood attentively to each side of the entrance. The warriors made no effort to impede the newcomers, as Svein led them directly into the large structure.
While the outside of the hall was not overly elaborate, the inside of the structure was stunning to behold. Towering circular posts of wood ran down each side of the hall, intricately carved with the highest levels of craftsmanship. The intertwining patterns snaking up the thick posts were comprised of a variety of geometric designs and representations of animals, both familiar and fantastical. The floor underneath their feet was hard-packed earth, provided with a layering of fresh rushes spread copiously over its surface.
An elongated hearth ran through the center of the hall, and a number of men and women were standing close to the warmth of the robust fire blazing within it. There were also a few lit oil lamps placed about the hall, bolstering the light coming from the hearth’s flames. The interior of the hall was filled with flickering shadows from the multiple sources of firelight.
Overall, the ambience was dim, as there were no side windows open to allow the sun’s light to enter. Only the entrance let some of the day’s light spill inside the great hall.
There was one opening in the middle of the roof, with a timber covering set just above it to keep out the rain. The billowing smoke from the fires could exit through it, but it did not rid the hall entirely of excess smoke. A haze lingered among the rafters, and the air inside was thicker, with a smoky scent.
At the far end of the hall was a raised platform, with a great wooden settle resting upon it, the back and arms of which were ornamented richly with exquisite carvings. Two short wooden pillars, which looked to Mershad’s eye to be freestanding, flanked the elaborate settle.
Seated upon the settle was an older man with a long white beard, who was engaged in conversation with a couple of fierce-looking men standing to his left, at the base of the low platform. To each side of the platform, set just in back of it, were a pair of closed doors. Judging by the full size of the hall, and estimating the interior space that they were now standing within, Mershad guessed that the doors opened into some manner of chambers or spaces beyond.
Though clearly advanced in years, the man upon the platform was still very erect in his posture, showing that age had not yet sapped him of a proud bearing. He was broad of frame, though the ready access to food and drink that a king enjoyed had evidently added a little padded girth to his body.
He was dressed in a manner similar to most of the others, with a long cloak over a tunic, the former being of a blue-green color, and the latter being of red with silvery brocade. The cloak was richly lined with fur. A blue-green headband, also embroidered in silver thread, held his snowy locks in place. His weathered hands, resting on the edges of the ornate wooden settle, showed the glint of gold and silver rings upon his long fingers.
Sprawled out on the ground before the platform was a great black wolf, with luminous golden eyes. The huge wolf raised its head as Einar and the others entered, and at the first sight of the creature, Mershad’s breath caught in his throat. Its penetrating gaze and triangular ears focused upon them as the newcomers approached.
There were a few large dogs loitering around the hall, though they kept to the shadows around the sides. Their ears also perked up, as their eyes riveted upon the incoming party.
Svein and Einar quietly led the three foreigners down the length of the hall, striding along the right side of the hearth. It did not take very long at all for the three exiles to attract the full attention of those around them. All conversations gradually ceased, as the Midragardans in the hall took account of the entrants.
Svein and Einar guided Mershad and his companions up to the right side of the platform, where they deferentially waited quietly as the older man on the throne finished up his conversation with the two strong-looking men. He had not yet taken notice of the newcomers, or at least had not indicated that he had. It would not have been entirely surprising to Mershad if he had remained engrossed in the conversation, as there seemed to be an open, flowing atmosphere within the hall.
“We will ride to my two easternmost estates, as there is some business there that I personally need to see to, and then we shall proceed onward to the Great Gathering,” the old man said to the two men in a low, steady voice. He had an authoritative cadence, slow and purposeful, as if he was the kind of man who gave careful thought to each word loosed from his mouth. “You may tell Thorolf that I will speak to him at length before then, about taking ward of his son on one of my estates, perhaps one of those two eastern ones. Tell him not to worry himself over the matter, as he has long done well by me, and I will certainly do well by him. There is much to attend to with the market town coming to full life, and Thorolf must see to it now that a good year begins. Spring is here and trade will be flourishing again. The trading fleets are well-poised to the north as we speak.”
“According to your will,” one of the men responded, a particularly fierce-looking individual who bore more than one substantial scar upon his craggy, well-weathered face.
The king then dismissed the pair.
With a low bow, the man and his companion took their leaves, turned, and started off down the hall with long, balanced strides. They paused in momentary surprise when they glanced over at the three guests accompanying Einar and Svein, but quickly continued onward.
By then, the old man on the platform had taken full notice of the new arrivals. His eyes appeared to sparkle with a merry light for a moment, as he regarded Einar. A slight smile was evident, even behind his thick beard.
“You have certainly come a good distance, Einar. It is still amazing how far one can go upon a sky steed. Is that brother of yours well? You and Sigurd are reflections of your father Olaf,” the old man stated in a tone both kindly and familiar. The informality gave light to a personal, amiable relationship existing between the old man, Einar, his brother, and their father, something that gave some comfort to Mershad in the strange environs. “I hope that trade to the north goes richly. It is now time for all the convoys to go north, to bring back the abundance of Kiruva, and even farther abroad. What I would not give to gain some youth back to make such a voyage on river and sea, though memory looks upon hard journeys much more fondly than when one is undertaking them.”
Einar looked downcast as he raised his eyes to the old man. His timbre matched his expression. “My king, I wish I could be the bearer of better tidings, but I bring you dire words. We were attacked suddenly, at Eirik’s settlement in the north, just east of the Five Realms.
“Those that struck us were from Avanor, and they attacked in great strength from sea and sky. I had to rescue the three that I bring before you today. You were expecting them and others of their group to come by sea, but desperation drove us to take the skies. The others of their number likely fell into the grasp of Avanor’s warriors. We know nothing of their fate.
“Their importance is great, though I do not understand it fully… I am also fearful for my brother, as I do not know what has happened to him.”
It was as if a dark shadow passed across the face of the old king. His eyes moved purposely from Einar to the three young men with him. Though they were dressed in the garb of Midragardans, his eyes scrutinized them assiduously, and Mershad knew that the king could not fail to miss their foreign nature.
“They understand our language, and can speak it,” Einar then interjected in a low voice, as the king quietly studied them.
“Then welcome to my hall,” the king stated, taking the news in stride. If anything, the king seemed to relax slightly when Einar announced the lack of a language barrier. “I am King Hakon, and the three of you will be my personal guests here in Midragard. By what names are you each called?”
Mershad and the others each gave their names in a polite manner, the introductions accompanied by low bows. They waited silently and respectfully for the king to respond once they had done so.
“I know that all of you must be very tired after your long journey, but please endure with me a few moments more,” the king said, with the trace of apology to his words. He looked to Einar with an expression of grave concern. “Tell me what you have learned of them, and I would hear their story from their own lips as well.”
Einar proceeded to explain everything that he knew about Mershad and his companions, and all three of the guests were given several opportunities to speak, as they described their harrowing stay within Ave. The king listened intently as the incredible story was told, not commenting or reacting in any way until they had all finished.
“The All-Father has a purpose for them. I am afraid only the ones that are learned in the ancient knowledge would have the wisdom to know what must be done,” King Hakon said to Einar. “I know little myself, but I do know of the things that have been foretold for our world. It is enough to know that you were indeed wise to bring them here without delay, though I am much relieved that you passed through the skies safely. It was a dangerous passage that you undertook, if Avanor’s eyes are searching for them.
“Know that they will be accorded all privileges as my guests, and know that they are placed under my firm protection. They must be taken to the province moot, to the Great Gathering, for Heimdall will be joining us there. I am certain that he will know more of what to do.”
The King then looked steadfastly at the three newcomers. “As you are my guests, you shall be fed, clothed, and well-protected. All of your needs and comforts will be provided for out of my dominion. I do not know you as of yet, but I freely offer my friendship, and ask only that you do nothing that would make us think ill of you.”
His kindly tone took on an edge at the latter words, showing that although he had a generous, kindly demeanor, there was a very serious, resolute nature within the king. Mershad was not about to underestimate the old king, as he knew that a weak, dottering old man could never have been accepted as king by the tough, stalwart people of Midragard. Only a fool would risk underestimating the figure upon the settle, and there was no doubt in Mershad’s mind that King Hakon was an extraordinary individual, a man to be respected and obeyed.
“They will be under my eye as well, my king,” added Svein, nodding respectfully from where he stood at Mershad’s side.
“I will remain to help here, if you need,” Einar then added.
The older man smiled with sudden mirth, his tone softening once again. “I may need all of you after the mead flows, to help me make it back to my bed for the night! Among all of us, we should still be able to keep one eye out on behalf of our new guests, but I insist that the mead flows in rivers this very evening. While it is late this day, and though I do not wish to burden the good women of my homestead, I must call for a feast on behalf of Einar and my new guests.”
Mershad could see the mood brightening immediately as the throng in the hall took in the king’s words, though he wondered how Einar felt regarding the announcement of a feast. He knew that the Midragardan was heavily burdened by thoughts of his brother’s uncertain fate.
Evidently, the king had the same concern. The king had paused, as his gaze took in Einar. Mershad was struck by the subtle shift in the king that then occurred, bringing a decidedly compassionate air to his demeanor and words.
“This world is filled with sorrows enough,” the king stated. “And I know that your heart is heavy, Einar. Mine is not light either, but we must not forget to celebrate and embrace the good in this life… and seeing you again in my hall is indeed a good thing, one that is worthy of rejoicing over. I wish to welcome you, and to welcome three new friends of Midragard, to my home and hearth.”
Einar seemed to be very moved by the king’s words, as he lowered his eyes and gave a slight bow. The expression on his face could only have been motivated by genuine affection, and a feeling of gratitude, towards the king.
“And there is more good fortune for us all, in that Aun’s recent elk hunt was not the only hunt that met with success,” the king added, in a louder voice, looking to the others assembled within the hall. “Grettir landed a monster of a boar on his own recent foray into the woods, which will be served this very night!”
“Not such a difficult task for Grettir, my king, as I hear that the beast died from fright after looking upon Grettir’s face!” jested one of the other Midragardans.
Svein, Einar, and several others in the hall laughed heartily, as many cheered the king’s pronouncement. Seeing the spirited reactions, Mershad strongly suspected that Midragardans were the type who readily embraced any occasion as justification for a prodigious feast. The surge of levity throughout the hall admittedly felt wonderful, after having endured all the hardship and uncertainty that had flooded the past few days.
“Have you tasted the life water of our people? That which we call mead?” asked Svein, grinning, looking back at the three guests who were now formally in his stead.
All three shook their heads to the negative, though Kent displayed a spark of highly piqued interest at Svein’s words.
“Then we will remedy that shortcoming this very night! You must not wait any longer to imbibe the nectar of Midragard!” Svein replied with great enthusiasm, much to Kent’s apparent satisfaction. Mershad almost chuckled at the anticipatory look that spread across Kent’s face. “And it is an opportune time for you, as the waters of the rivers and sea have been generous, and the hunting rich. In addition to this news of a great boar being brought down by Grettir, the largest salmon in years will grace our table, and even a great elk bull that was just brought down by Aun shall be roasted to honor our new guests.”
“You will make us very hungry with more talk such as that,” the king remarked, with a warm smile. He looked again towards the newcomers. “Welcome to Midragard, and to my great hall. I look forward to speaking with each of you more in times to come.”
The king glanced over towards Svein. “Svein, please see our honored guests to their new quarters. I know that they must be tired. They have been patient in coming here immediately, without protest, after their hard journey.”
Einar, Svein, and the others bowed to the king once again. Svein guided them back out of the hall, and before they were outside, Mershad could already hear the king taking up the next matter of business, with one of the other parties that had been standing inside the hall.
Once they were in the open air again, the group strode across the grounds and made their way into the midst of the surrounding timber structures. The grounds were alive with activity, crisscrossed by bond-servants, retainers, women, and children alike.
The distinctive clank of hammers upon metal emitted from one structure set a little apart from the other buildings. A stream of dark smoke wafted upward from the opening in its roof. Mershad listened to the steady pounding of iron upon iron, though he could not see the blacksmith, as the front entrance to the workshop was obscured from view.
They continued onward, heading towards one of the smaller rectangular structures provided with a roof vent. Svein opened the door leading into it, standing aside and gesturing for the others to enter.
The interior was revealed to be a relatively cramped space, with little more than a central hearth dug into the middle of a primary front room with raised earthen sides. An additional small room was set adjacent, separated by a timber partition from the main chamber.
“It is fortunate that the visitors from the tribal lands were just here, as we already have enough stored within these quarters to accommodate the three of you,” Svein said. “Einar will be staying in different quarters. There are enough pallets in the back room for the three of you to sleep on, and enough coverings to keep you warm.”
As far as Mershad was concerned, it was a luxurious accommodation, offering the greatest degree of privacy that he and the others had enjoyed since coming into the new lands.
Svein looked around the room, and commented. “I will have an extra supply of wood brought in for the fire. Relax, and adjust yourselves for the moment. I will return to summon you for the evening feast.”
“And I will rejoin you then as well,” Einar said, as he began to turn to leave.
“Thank you… for everything,” Mershad interjected, addressing gratitude to both Svein and Einar. The latter stopped before he had exited through the door, and rotated to face them.
“You are welcome,” Einar replied, with deep sincerity in his gaze.
“Yes, thank you so much for what you have done for us, Einar,” Kent added, entirely serious in his expression and tone.
“We would be in a lot of trouble without all of you,” Derek stated, looking to the two Midragardans, before settling fully on Einar. His voice lowered. “And you have given much of yourself to see us here, Einar. I understand that… and I thank you.”
Einar made no verbal reply to Derek, but instead gave him a slow bow of his head, as an understanding passed between the two men. As both were warriors, Mershad knew that they related to each other on a unique level.
“We could not in good conscience offer you anything less,” Svein replied, with a nod of his head.
The two Midragardans then begged leave, proceeding out of the small hall-house. Kent walked to the edge of one of the raised earthen sides and plopped down heavily, his right hand clasping his left forearm, as he wrapped his arms just below his tucked-in knees. Derek strolled over to the opening that led into the smaller chamber, and peered inside. Walking in, he reappeared a moment later, with a pallet in his clutches.
He dragged it up on the side that Kent was sitting upon, kneeled down, and then situated himself, so that he was lying on his back upon the mattress. He loosed a long, extended sigh.
“Feels so good just to lie down for a second,” he commented, his voice echoing fatigue.
“Not a bad idea, Derek,” Mershad replied.
“It will take them awhile to ready a feast. We have some time, if you all want to get a little shut-eye. Speaking for myself, I sure do,” Derek said. “Not too much to look at in here anyway.”
“A nap sounds very, very good,” Kent agreed, pushing himself up to his feet, and getting his own pallet from the small storage room. He returned to the chamber, and came back with a woolen blanket and a couple of furs.
“I’ll take this side, so we have some more space,” Mershad said, claiming the other raised earthen platform for his own bedding space. He felt more comfortable with that arrangement anyway, as Derek and Kent knew each other so well, and he preferred being more solitary.
After a couple of trips, he had a woolen blanket, fur, and a down-stuffed mattress set up on the opposite side from Derek and Kent. He lay down upon the mattress gingerly, but found it to be surprisingly comfortable. Then again, a lot of things would have felt very comfortable at that moment, after having endured sitting in the saddle of a sky steed for so many hours.
Kent’s light snores a few minutes later were the first indications that the weary travelers had begun to succumb to the welcome invitations of sleep. It was not much longer before all three of the otherworlders were deep in slumber. Mershad drifted off smoothly, descending down into the fathoms of a dreamless repose.
Svein found them all fast asleep when he returned a few hours later, to summon them for the feast called by the king. Mershad woke up groggily, though immensely glad for the hours of precious, continuous rest. By that time, his stomach had built up quite an appetite, and he was more than ready to go to a feast.
First, though, he would attend to prayers, the undertaking of which had gone haphazardly over the past few days of travel. It was important to him to reestablish his routine as much as possible, knowing that under the circumstances it would be very easy to forget about his obligations. Following prayers, though, food would be the very next thing occupying his thoughts.
*