A Forgotten Soul: The Vegard Orlo Saga

by Daniel Sexton

  He finished buckling his leather armor and securing his steel pauldron. Gwerim, his magical scabbard, laid horizontally across his lower back with Blacktooth snug within. He topped it off with his rugged animal cloak and dipped his cracked Ember Fox mask over his pale face. If he was to die this night it would be as a demon. Not as a man.

  Fulvia stood as still and mighty as a tree at the bow of the ship. Her hair tossed by the choppy gusts of their guiding winds.

  “Do you have no gear to wear?” Vegard asked.

  The druids mind was elsewhere. Her eyes transfixed across the ever darkening ocean waters.

  “I have all the armor I might be needing.” She clutched her fist-sized emerald close to her ethereal form.

  Vegard shrugged. He knew very little outside of tavern speak of the druid folk. Perhaps she could thicken her skin to the density of bark, he thought. Or become as incorporeal as the winds themselves. Either way, or none at all, his duty was his own. Whatever magics this girl had at her disposal, he only hoped it was enough to fell the crew of Shaw’s warship. He would deal with the Red Paladin. Although, no plan had yet come to his mind.

  The next hours passed like a thawing block of ice. The pair stood as statues peering out into the night, awaiting some sign of the war vessel that lurked somewhere in the darkness. Fulvia had closed her eyes and spoke only in whispers to her glowing emerald. The language was nothing Vegard had ever heard before. A melodic tone that started to echoed itself as if sung by a chorus.

  The winds that moved them died away. The boat glided to a crawl, rocking back and forth as the momentum faded, and the meager waves of the open ocean took over.

  It was then that Vegard saw it—the war ship. The mighty ship crept slowly across the frigid waters of the Mior. It stood as tall as some buildings Vegard had seen. Several masts scraped the air with sails large enough to cover the entirety of the small craft Vegard and Fulvia were on. Sails that were empty to any help from the deathly quiet around them.

  Scrawled in shining gold writing across its stern was its name, the Righteous Spear. Its banner hung limply, yet still clearly depicted the symbol of the torch with six wings.

  “There it is…” Vegard said in hushed tones.

  Fulvia was still busy singing to her handheld item. Vegard looked from her back to the ship and began to see a thick fog that had just begun to manifest and fold itself across the ocean. Its tendrils latched to the waters and pulled themselves forward, blanketing their small craft and wrapping themselves around the superior carrack ship that served as prison to his companion. The fog looked like some great phantasmal sea monster swallowing the naval vessel whole.

  Mohin! You brilliant, creepy, old man! Vegard had yet to understand the Mrkyr Brodir’s reason for sending him to find the druid. His spirits rose as he realized the druid’s magic at work. In and out underneath the cover of fog. Mayhaps he need not face the paladin in open combat after all. Wera and him had had plenty of experience using stealth to their advantage. Overrunning superior numbers with the aid of surprise and swiftness.

  The knarr made its way silently to the stern of the Righteous Spear. If it wasn’t for the girth of the warship Vegard may have missed the thing entirely. Torches lighted on the deck of the mighty craft. Words of confusion spread from sailors aboard the ship.

  Nothing alarming, Vegard was thankful, but definitely a mix of wonder and fear at the unsuspecting cloud that had overcome them. Sailors were a superstitious bunch. This could also work in his favor, Vegard thought. A demon fox appearing in the dead of night, upon the open sea, weaving dark magic under the cover of a ghostly fog.

  Vegard could feel himself getting into character. He turned to Fulvia to see if she would follow but her chanting kept her busy.

  Oh well, he thought. Once he anchored their small craft to Spear he began to make his stealthy ascent.

  Vegard scaled the stern of the naval ship. His fingers forcing themselves into wedges, his feet propping themselves on ornate wooden carvings of shrouded women, wings replacing human arms. The mere ostentatious artwork attached to the ship probably weighed more than any ship Vegard had ever been on. The sides were reinforced and pulley systems to lift shields against missile fire.

  The Righteous Spear was prepared for all manner of war. Except for the covert type, it seemed.

  Vegard could see the illumination of torches on the raised platform of the stern. It was hard to make out the figures in the fog but their conversation was of the lower class variety. Probably soldiers or sailors. Not Asmundr.

  Good. I’m not yet ready to deal with that one. Vegard whipped his feet over the lip of the railing and spun his body to meet two men with momentum and fury. The men turned with the sound of scuffing boots. Vegard punched one hard in the throat and buckled his knee with a jab of his boot, then he pounced on the other before he was able to cry a warning to his mates.

  Vegard pinned the soldier to the ground, pressing his head viciously into the oak deck. There he gulped at the man’s soul. He drank fast, filling his tired and ice-cold bones with the warmth of this weak thing beneath him. The other man was scuffing away, holding his throat and making an annoyingly intrusive wheezing noise in a pathetic attempt to wake others.

  Vegard disregarded his now unconscious meal and stalked over to the other. His demon character was in full effect. His cracked mask smiled its shattered smile, his charred fingers danced like two excited spiders at the caught little fly before them.

  “Shh, now. Face death without your whimpering.” Vegard, the demon, mocked the wide-eyed prey crawling the deck. The man suddenly realized the crossbow at his waist and attempted to bring it to bear. Vegard stomped it to the ground and latched himself to his second victim.

  This one tasted weaker than the first. It was a sour and frail thing. Yet the curse of undeath was unfelt by him, now. Vegard snuffed the torches and procured one of the crossbows.

  He peered across the deck of the ship from his vantage point. There was someone shuffling about up top in the ships crow’s nest. A barely visible figure through the sheets of thick fog obscuring all.

  They are all so distracted by this unnatural weather. They don’t notice the beast amongst them. Vegard thought with a smile. Ropes were cast all about the mighty warship like a great web.

  The warlock shimmied himself across a set strung up to the main mast. He sprung off those and scaled the rope ladder up to the circular bowl of the crow’s nest.

  Whomever was inside had heard the ropes creak as the warlock climbed. “Who goes the…” Vegard fired a crossbow bolt at point blank range straight into the face of the young spotter. The force of the bolt whipped the man backwards, slamming his body against the railing on the other side and flipping over.

  “Shit!” Vegard yelped as he bound the crest of the crow’s nest and leapt forward to snag the young man by the trousers. The dead guard swayed some twenty feet above the deck in Vegard’s grasp like some macabre festival decoration.

  Vegard could see past the corpse to the many torches that still lighted and patrolled the deck below. If a body were to come crumpling down upon them at this time—it would be the end of his stealthy initiative.

  He summoned strength to his muscles and one-handedly pulled the body over the side, plopping it down in the crow’s nest. Vegard breathed a sigh of relief as he now had the ultimate vantage point on the Righteous Spear, and righteously so. He smirked.

  He loaded another bolt into his crossbow. The effectiveness of the portable weapon couldn’t be denied. And the warlock had absolutely nothing against adding an extra breathing hole to the godly paladin before that big bastard could bring his axe to bear.

  He looked about. There was a thrum of activity below. Although, from his presence or the mysterious fog afoot, he wasn’t sure. More than likely it was the weather. If they suspected an intruder amongst them the sounds of alarm would be obvious.

  Vegard heard a sound off in the distant ocean. A cr
ack of thunder. A storm? The idea didn’t bother the warlock. It would only add to the confusion. The sound thrummed once more. Quick and then gone. Not like any thunder Vegard had heard before. He needed to settle his heart, he thought. Stress was taking over.

  The mist shifted and swirled on unfelt winds. The warlock imagined Fulvia down in their small craft manipulating the haze to only cover the battleship itself. He wondered what other powers the mercurial girl had at her disposal. His thoughts lapsed as the pounding of heavy boots drummed below deck. The clack of metal smacking together. Someone was rushing up the stairs to the main deck.

  Vegard adjusted his eyes the best he could in the fog and pointed his crossbow directly at the door, he assumed, led below deck. He had no qualms with ending this man’s life from the shadows.

  From the story Hannah Bloodfist had told, this Asmundr was a broken and tainted man. A quick death would be a mercy.

  Time to reunite with your lost daughter, Jarl Asmundr, of the Ice Dragons.

  He steadied his shot.

  Through a hole in the door, set with bars, a small black bird poked its head out. A raven. Its head twitched back and forth before leaping out and bursting to flight. The creature flew awkwardly, dipping, and twirling, before regaining itself and darting straight up into the night air. Vegard watched it fly by.

  What in the name of the gods is going on… Vegard wondered before hearing the door below crash open with violent force.

  Asmundr the Havan, Red Paladin of the Church of Abaniel, stood like a golden god atop the main deck of the great ship. The distraction of the raven had moved Vegard’s aim off. He quickly realigned and aimed the tip of the crossbow bolt at the meager entrance of the King’s Helm the paladin wore.

  “Where is it!?” The paladin bellowed. His great-axe slamming with frustrated force into the cabin door, cleaving the thick wood easily in half. The man was so crazed it was hard for Vegard to find an opening worth risking.

  Asmundr was grabbing men by the chainmail and hoisting them up. “The bird! The damn bird!” He chucked the man easily backwards several feet. “The prisoner!” He wailed.

  “The…prisoner…?” Vegard’s face screwed upward. He looked around from his perch. A thought clearing in the confusion of his mind. He finally caught it in his sight. The raven. The bird dipped back down towards the deck of the ship in an uncharacteristic dive bomb as it screeched a piercing, blood turning screech.

  “There’s…no way…” Vegard mumbled as the raven, screaming towards the great Asmundr began to change in mid flight. It doubled and then tripled and then multiplied its mass till a massive, furry, muscled bear was barreling towards the group of awestruck soldiers below.

  “By the gods.”

  The bear crashed into the stunned group. Its girth tumbled twice over, crushing soldiers and splintering wood beneath her, before using its momentum to lunge at the paladin, slamming him hard into the cabin wall behind. Claws raked with unrelenting fury at the paladins chest and head. The man’s great-axe falling from his grip during the impact.

  Asmundr, for his credit, held the bear’s maw at bay with his thick armored hands. The jaws continued to snap but the Havan’s brute strength kept them neutered, for the moment.

  Vegard noticed some of the random soldiers shake the confusion from their collective heads and begin to press the bear, his companion, Wera, from behind.

  Vegard hefted his crossbow and fired a shot from the crow’s nest. The bolt found its mark between the shoulder blades of one, felling the man.

  Then, the warlock, the demon fox of Dawns Fero, standing on the lip of the nest, launched himself from his hiding place. His hands latched onto one of the many ropes swaying about and slid his way down to the deck below.

  Blacktooth was out and delivering death before his leather boots ever gave his presence away. Soldiers turned from one chaotic scene to the next. The hells of Mrkyamish had been delivered to this poor, stranded naval ship in the middle of the Mior Ocean.

  “Your red skirts will not save you now!” Vegard howled before springing towards the next group of men. He didn’t know how many he was facing. Ten? Twenty? It did not matter. His enhanced speed was too much for these blind sheep of a traitorous god.

  He parried blades like they were tall blades of grass. His blade sliced horizontally across one, spilling his innards on the deck, another was caught in the warlock’s spin and cut down with his brethren.

  The point of Blacktooth traveled its way through the linking chains of a one man’s armor. He coughed soundlessly as Vegard pulled him forward, driving the tip out through the back of the man. Vegard held his hand up and grasped the energy from the air.

  “You may have no more use of this…but I do.” Vegard let the man slide to the floor as more gathered around, wary to be the next to face this fox faced warrior.

  Vegard regarded those around him before unleashing a pulse of energy. The weak at heart burned where they stood. Their insides twisting with such pain as they have never experienced. The clattering and clamor of weapons falling to the deck could be heard all around the warlock. It was the sound of freedom…akin to when Wera and himself had let gold coins sprinkle from between their thieving fingers.

  He strutted calmly forward and finished off those that still resisted. He filled his coffers from those worthy enough to not have died already.

  He wiped the gore from his weapon on the limp cloth of one of his victims before raising its pointed tip towards the struggling Asmundr.

  The paladin’s eyes glared through the slit in his King’s Helm. His hands still busied themselves keeping the knife-like fangs of Wera from piercing his face.

  “Enough!” Asmundr yelled. A flash of light resounded from the once proud jarl. Wera was blasted backwards, tumbling, furred head over heavy ass before human hands twisted about the slick deck and she sprung nimbly next to Vegard, hunched and ready as the slender, and very naked, hver girl.

  Wera looked taken aback as she saw her companion next to her aboard the ship.

  “Long story.” Vegard shrugged, trying to avert his eyes. “Perhaps I will tell the tale later…when you are more fully clothed?”

  Wera grunted and returned her focus to the paladin who had bent down and grabbed his axe from the deck. Asmundr slammed the butt of his weapon upon the ground. And began to laugh gaily.

  “Oh, Abaniel! How you bless me! You have granted me a second chance. To redeem myself and capture both theses sinners plotted against you!”

  “Sinners?” Vegard scoffed.

  “Sinners!” Asmundr screamed. His voice loud enough to challenge the crashing waves of the deep ocean. More soldiers had gathered about the doorway from the deck below. Asmundr’s hands fanned out, holding the men at bay.

  “These godforsaken trash are mine!” His lips foamed at the sides. He let a prayer loose to the night air and slid his plated fingers across the razor’s edge of his great-axe. His fingers sparked where metal slid upon metal. The gesture leaving a glowing residue upon the axe’s edge pulsing like lighted from within.

  Asmundr twirled the blade around in his deft hands. The massive axe appearing as light as cloth beneath his shimmering gauntlets.

  Vegard noticed the axe’s edge graze the deck leaving a clean, cindering mark in its wake.

  And the man was upon them. The enchanted great-axe divided the two companions as it crested between them. The deck snapped beneath its might. The wood burned and crumpled in upon itself. That space falling to the torch lit room below.

  Vegard spun out of the way and brought his ebony blade, a black whirl, down upon the paladin’s neck. The axe deflected the attack with uncanny speed. A golden fist followed, crashing into Vegard’s head, shattering his fox mask, and wedging fragments of the wood into the warlock’s face. Vegard stumbled backwards, surging power to heal his facial wounds as quickly as they came. As his vision cleared he saw the man swing his axe for a decapitating blow.

  Wera str
uck from behind. A sword she had scooped up from a corpse slid ineffectually across the paladin’s thick plate armor. But it was enough to distract the warrior from his killing blow. He whirled on the girl, just to be grabbed by the bear and squeezed tightly in the animal’s powerful arms.

  Asmundr pummeled the bear’s skull with his fist. The strength of the former jarl could not be underestimated. Each blow staggering the great mass of Wera as she struggled to maintain her grip on the deadly opponent.

  A final head butt from the King’s Helm dislodged Wera from the paladin. She fell backwards and axe followed her meeting…nothing, as Wera shifted to raven and dodged the shining blade by her tail feathers.

  Vegard was impressed by Wera’s control over her powers. It seemed being enslaved didn’t suit the young hver very well. She shifted once more to human, wielding two swords she’d come upon.

  She prowled around the man, serving to flank him between her and Vegard.

  Asmundr peered back and forth between the two. His vibrant axe shifting from one hand to the next as he warily awaited from what front the next attack would come.

  Vegard took the reprieve to his advantage. The men that gathered about the doorway began to topple, one after another. The warlock used them as medicine. The more fodder they had the stronger he would become.

  Asmundr realized this too late. But realize, he did. The paladin’s eyes were the size of saucers as Vegard swooped in like a fully drawn arrow. A flurry of blows following the shadow he had become. The mighty golden statue was able to deflect some of the onslaught, but most found their mark. Blacktooth sliced at plate. Sparks illuminated the foggy atmosphere. Vegard ducked and spun. He jabbed and prodded for any weaknesses this immaculate amor had.

  The warlock’s mystically forged blade left battle scars in the armor, but pierced it none. Still, the speed of the attack was wearing the paladin down.

  Wera shifted on the outskirts with anticipation. She didn’t dare attempt an assault else accidentally strike her ally down. Vegard was too fast for the hver to perceive. The warlock appearing as a every shifting shadow around the glowing knight.