A Forgotten Soul: The Vegard Orlo Saga

by Daniel Sexton

  Perhaps a mage? There was a crackling somewhere in the darkness, like several bones snapping, and then another BOOOOM, louder again, more pronounced, closer. A very very powerful mage…? He doubted it as the thought came. Pure denial. At this point he wished it was a mage. Any human of any kind would suffice.

  The hopes of a powerful human adversary were dashed in moments. A stones throw away he saw the cause of the tremors.

  A giant…

  A leg, the size of a thick redfir tree, stepped out from the deep dark of the forest. Even in the dense fog Vegard could make out the enormous creature. Like one of the trees come to life. One leg was followed by another. Massive arms dangled low by a husky gray frame. The thing was clothed in a large leather kilt that appeared to be made up of multiple pack animals sewn together, bones and all. A fabric so large Vegard could have used it as a tent to house him and several of his size comfortably.

  Comfortably despite the tart and musky stank that resonated and stained the piece. The giant was taller than he’d seen in the past. Men had tales, of course, of giants ‘as tall as towers, they be!’ The warlock would scoff at these wive’s tales. Drunken peasants and fortune tellers looking to get a free drink with a wild story.

  But here was one such as the tales. Could have snagged him from his cell back in Dunesmir, if it wished.

  Agaeti… Vegard huffed. Agaeti of grave misfortune!

  He should have known the Rimewood would be riddled with these monsters. Giants were born of another realm, much like the gods. Hrimmtun, their realm was called. A realm woven within the mortal realm of Vlero and only tangibly connected when visibility was low and a sheet of fog linger about. The weather creating a portal to the world of the giants.

  The fog came as I cooked. This thing must have smelled it from its plane. How utterly stupid of me.

  The giant loomed forth. Its mountainous form crushing bushes like insects, its shambling arms pushing mid-sized trees over with barely an effort, sending them crashing down to the misty forest floor. Everything around it like a toy.

  Vegard watched the creature intently—as if he had a choice. He was like a mouse watching a predator play within his den. His feeble sword was still held out in front of him as if the short piece of iron would be of any use here. Nothing more than a sliver, he assumed, compared to the mass of the giant making its way to his campsite.

  The giant stalked to where Vegard’s goat lie. It whipped its head around, paranoid, looking…searching. It knew something had felled this horned beast. That whatever it was wouldn’t abandon its meal so readily.

  “Fer Un Lik’ner Fun Ar!” The giant wailed. It spoke as if from two throats through ground up rocks. It wailed again…or laughed. Sounded to Vegard like the laughter of a deep cavern. If rocks tumbling down a hill could sound mirthful.

  The giant scooped up the dead bander goat, barely a handful, and shoved it into its droopy, bearded face. The bones crushed easily beneath the flat teeth of the giant. It swallowed it, practically whole, still surveying its surroundings.

  “Yurv Verin Tusk Fool’Rn Her!” It bellowed then looked to retch a little in its mouth. It spit pieces of bloody phlegm to the forest floor.

  Vegard’s face screwed up as he watched the giant apparently choking on the goat the warlock had killed. Not a fan of my cooking, eh? He would’ve sighed if he dared to let a prolonged breath out.

  The giant hunched over and stalked around the snotty pile of chewed, partially digested goo on the floor. He studied it…then lifted his horse-sized foot and smashed it flat. The ground rippled with the force. Vegard almost tumbling from his cover. The forest floor around him rolling like an ocean.

  Simultaneously, as the ground rolled, little creatures began to pop up, as if hidden just underneath. They sprouted all around the giant. About half Vegard’s size, dark green, and covered in filth. Their noses and ears were long and their limbs barely thicker than twigs.

  These were goblins. A score of them, if not more. Vegard had never seen where they had come from. Now he knew. They were summoned by giants come to thieve his dinner, spit it out, and stomp on it. Why not? He lamented. His night couldn’t possibly get much worse. Vegard shrugged, figuring he would just roll with the absurd blows that were coming his way. Gods, berserkers, giants, and goblins. All the while my soul floats by my face chiming and ringing like some simple child. Yes. Why not?

  “Tif Lur Fa Hen Ver’Su A Tu!” The giant commanded of the goblins. He waved across the forest. The goblins, shivering and squeaky, nodded their flapping heads and fanned out across the forest. For what, Vegard had no clue. Were they looking specifically for him? Or just an opportunity to raze a village to the ground?

  It was time for Vegard to depart. Sleep was destined for another time. A few of the goblins were crawling around on all fours, sniffing around his general direction. He figured he had lingered long enough. The giant was taking a group with him towards the south and west.

  Vegard crept backwards into the deep woods as a group of goblins came his way. The fog obscuring his movements, making him appear but an afterthought in the eyes of any creature watching. Unless goblins can see through fog! Knowing my luck…

  One sniffed closer. Its head darted up, its bulbous black eyes stupidly looking out into the Rimewood Forest. A clicking noise came from its throat like two hollow sticks being struck together. Some of the others chimed in. Others scurried about, uneffected.

  The goblin shimmied forward, almost upon the warlock and his hiding place. They were practically close enough to shake hands.

  The creature’s eyes brightened with recognition. It turned to scream but Vegard was the faster. He snatched the creature up by its throat and pulled him in, the snapping movements of a predator in the dark. Vegard had never taken from a monster before. It looked human enough, he supposed, as his eyes began to drink from his victim. The energy warmed him like any other, although it tasted weak, like a watered down wine.

  The goblin convulsed in his grasp but was too feeble to pull away. Vegard drank, deeper, and deeper. Pulling all the creature’s soul into his empty vessel. He was so enamored by the pathetic nature of these little creatures that he hadn’t noticed another creeping up beside him. The thing clicked its guttural noise and pounced at the warlock.

  Vegard dropped the one he was holding and swung his sword at the next. The blade easily cleaved halfway through its abdomen.

  More clicking followed. One after another. Each goblin contacting the other like parameter guards or watch towers in a town.

  That is what they are for! It dawned on the warlock. The giant had sent these minions of his about as scouts.

  The clicking resounded all around him, near and far. Two more were upon him as he turned. Vegard pruned the legs off of one and held the other with his warlock stare. He could see nothing of the goblins past. No emotions to tap into, to pull from. And why would he? The thing had just been born. Vegard siphoned what he could as he stalked forward then ended it with his blade through the creature’s heart. Still, the clicking continued, louder and closer than before, as if he was trapped in a beehive.

  Vegard felled another. His blade cutting through these grunts like through tall weeds. And yet, the clicking persisted until it was followed by a familiar BOOM!

  “RET’IR FER YEN!” The giant’s voice rose in the distance. The clicking continued like a lighted pathway to where the giant’s voice was coming from. The goblins were leading him to a place of interest. To him.

  Shit. Vegard exploded forward across the wooded mountain terrain. His feet briskly carried him east and more east. All pretense of stealth left him, wanting now to create as much distance between himself and the giant and those bastard goblins as possible. The clicking followed on his heels.

  For lanky, thin skinned creatures, they were quite fast. The goblins galloped along on all fours chasing down their prey like a pack of dogs.

  They echoed their noises into the night air. The ch
attering flowed down the chain eventually leading to the giant. As long as the goblins knew where Vegard was then the giant would know too. The tremors from the giant’s footsteps were becoming more severe. With each great step the monster took he covered more than twenty of Vegard’s own strides.

  This isn’t working! Need to find another path. Vegard sliced at another goblin that came close. The thing hissed away just to be replaced by another fast on Vegard’s heels.

  His brain raced to capture an idea of his surroundings. It had been so long since he had had freedom let alone an inclination to decide where his next footstep would take him.

  “I’l Ter Yef Burg, Wefin’Hor!” The giant was closer. His gravelly, baritone voice resounding deep in Vegard’s chest cavity.

  Have to keep moving for… Vegard’s thoughts and feet skidded to a halt. His boots dangling precariously over a sudden drop ahead of him. A ravine with a depth he couldn’t quite fathom. It was a sudden drop with the other side reaching some fifty feet away. Vegard’s eyes fluttered, his mind a flicker of images and names, places, and maps. “Dunesmir is west…traveling east for…” He thought of the miles.

  Vegard instinctively ducked as a goblin jumped forth. He twisted his body and sent the creature ass over head to the ledge, clicking and screaming into the abyss. “this must be…Whiterock River! White Rock canyon!” His sword dashed the face of another adversary that came at him.

  Vegard burst his speed with the little power he had drained from the goblin. He headed north along the edge of the canyon. If my luck be true…and it sure to the hells has not…but if the gods want to stop being raving goat asses, then there should still be a bridge somewhere up ahead.

  He moved with the speed of a wolf for a few breathes. The energy fading faster than it took to take. The cold entered his body like an ice bath as the last of the little green monster’s energy left him. Yet, it was worth it. As the fog drifted over the cliff like a phantasmal waterfall, Vegard could make out a bridge just ahead. He was but a few feet away when his feet became tangled in the grasp of one of the goblins. He tumbled forward, slamming his face into the hard ground, then rolling over several times.

  Vegard pushed himself up, blood leaked from his face. “Wonderful.” He spit. The goblin in question lay in a heap next to him, broken but still moving. “You must be the champion of this particular bunch, hmm?” He used the goblin’s face to push himself to his feet. The little broken thing moaned, but could do little else.

  As the warlock lurched himself to standing he noticed he was surrounded by five or more of the clicking little bests. He readied himself. “So you really want to do this?” He smiled. A smile which faded promptly as the straggler of the group burst from the trees and skidded to a halt by the cliff. The giant had caught up. The gray, colossal monster tilted its head to the side and grinned a menacing grin at Vegard.

  “Yol’Fen Urr.” It purred.

  Vegard’s soul chimed next to him. “Yeah. You don’t have to tell me twice.” He ripped through the goblin guard and toward the bridge. The stomping footsteps of the giant in pursuit shook the ground causing Vegard to almost constantly lose his footing. He caught himself several times with hand and sword before pushing forth again. Yelps and squeals were heard behind him as the giant excitedly crushed his goblin spotters in a mad dash to catch his little human prize.

  The bridge approached. A shambling structure with a pair of wooden posts on either side, wood planks, and thick hempen rope. Just a few more steps! He pivoted at the last footfall, snagged a supporting post and swing out onto the bridge. The giant’s hand dug into the earth behind him, ripping rock and dirt with ease, but missing the warlock by inches. Vegard bounded forward a few more steps before turning to regard his purser.

  The giant stood tall, leering at Vegard. He was trapped on the cliffside. His mass was too much for the shambling wood and rope bridge. Vegard barked out a laugh. It was a sound in equal measures ego and relief.

  “Yol’Fen Urr.” The giant repeated in a deep growl.

  “Not this day, you fat, ugly beast!” Vegard laughed again. He thought of peppering the giant with a few arrows, just for good measure, but realized his quiver was empty, and the bow had snapped at some point. He shrugged, tossing the mangled weapon to the invisible depths below. “Not the worst of my day, to be honest.”

  He half turned to leave the other-worldy beast when he felt the bridge shake violently underneath him. Vegard turned to see the giant edging its way onto bridge after him. It had to turn itself sideways to shimmy onto the weak planks and thin wooden railing.

  “What are you doing, idiot! You’ll kill us both!” Vegard screamed as the bridge rocked and he dove to wrap himself around the railing.

  “Yol…!” It shimmied a few more feet. Planks creaked and snapped beneath it. “YOL…’FEN!” It shimmied again a few more feet. Its left leg planted on the cliffside while the other extended out further and further, testing the waters in a most mindless fashion. The bridge swung to the left, then back to the right. Vegard wrapped himself around the guide rails like a scared child clinging to his mother.

  “Stop, you idiot!” He shouted to no avail. The bridge was not made for such weight. This giant must’ve weigh as much as a hill and here it was stretching itself out onto this feeble human rope bridge. Vegard’s eyes were closed tight. He thought he had gone upside down at one point. Yet, still the giant pushed further.

  “YOL’FEN…” It bellowed.

  “Yes, yes! Yul Fer Blah!” Vegard brandished his sword and cleaved through one of the hemp handrails—and his world spun.

  The world became a vortex of snaps and pops. The bridge twisted rapidly, barely suspended over the deep ravine. Wooden boards flung themselves out into open space. The remaining rope flexed and wailed under new pressure. Vegard had lost his sword to the abyss as he clung with his meager life, white-knuckled, on the bridge.

  A quick glance spotted him the giant tumbling freely down the cliffside. Its mammoth hands reaching out to the nothing around it. The creature dove along side the fog before completely, and unnaturally, disappearing into it.

  Vegard dangled there for a moment. He watched the fog intently, as if the giant was going to spring once again from its mysterious depths. But nothing came. Nothing but the sound of the river rushing below.

  With that done, he swung his feet up to the lopsided bridge and began his weary and slow cross to the other side. Tired, bloody, and weaponless.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  The Dark Forest

  Vegard trudged his way out of the steep, cold Rimewood forest and the western continent proper of Yessriel. He stuck close to a stream that calmed his anxious mind. The waters drifted slowly by the warlock’s tattered boots. His arms hung limply by his side. He was almost relieved that he had lost the extra weight of sword and bow. Damn the protection they gave. He was tired and only mildly sure that the days of travel were leading him to where he ventured to go.

  Vegard eventually stopped at the top of a sheer cliff as a canyon of great trees opened up before him. Down in the canyon below lay a sprawling ocean of green. Trees that grew so high they could have hid entire cities beneath their peaks. The canyon floor was utterly invisible to Vegard as he peered down into what he knew to be the Dark Forest and the realm of the Mrkyr Brodir.

  It has been so long. Vegard thought. The Dark Forest had not changed in the least. It still stood, tucked away in Yessriel-Villr, as if a living entity all its own.

  He knew no men that lived within its thick wooded province. No jarl, or king, or noble, or knight would venture into this realm and attempt to claim it for themselves. It was untamable. A living, breathing artifact.

  None except the Mrkyr Brodir lived within its rolling depths. A people as dark and mysterious as the land itself. Possibly creatures different from man or elf or dwarf entirely. It was definitely whispered about in more than one tavern Vegard had been in, that perhaps the forest birthed a new race of its
own. Children of the Dark.

  Vegard took a deep breath and began his descent down the steep canyon wall. Any lingering rationality may have turned him away from these enigmatic lands.

  His weary body ached with each and every descending step. His soul floated down with ease by his side. Vegard couldn’t help but feel jealous. “Must be nice, little one…” He grunted, another step made. “Just wait till you are back in me. I’ll make sure to take this journey again. Just in spite!”

  Once he had passed the canopy of trees and lowered himself into the Dark Forest proper, the whole above world blinked away, as if perpetual night had taken over. The thick tree branches and dark, fragrant pines became his new sky, the leaves his new clouds.

  Everywhere the warlock looked was dim yet for an eerie purplish hue that permeated, as if magical torches were set throughout. Unlike the woods of practically any other world, the Dark Forest had a lived-in quality to it. This was not the ‘wild’, it was someone’s home. As if he had walked into the hall of a great and ominous tribe.

  The Mrkyr lived with the forest. They weren’t like to tear the trees down to build great structures. They were more akin to the elves in this make. Not that the two peoples had much in common beyond that, or any love for one another, to be true. The dark brotherhood stayed to themselves because they were shunned by all other societies. The elves kept to themselves for quite the opposite reason.

  But the elves were one worry Vegard did not have to contend with. They secluded themselves on the distant southern continent of Lesnifar. It was rare indeed to find any of their kind wandering amongst the towns of man.

  No, Vegard only had to worry about the continent of Yessriel-Villr, and the Dark Forest, and the mystical and shadowy figures of the Mrkyr Brodir. Still quite the handful of worries for Vegard’s taste. But he had little choice in the matter.

  Perhaps I am not as free as I thought. One way or the other, I seem to be making steps only for the will of someone more powerful than myself. He drudged forward. But living the rest of my life as some undead wright doesn’t sit well with me, either.