“Now tie the Vorpal Blade about me,” said Amaliji. “No, not you,” he said slapping away eager hands. “I would ask the Aarlund princess to tie my forefather’s blade to me.”
Elf servants shot her venomous looks of pure jealously.
Amaliji handed the sword to Margret.
She said: “The straps and belt indicate that this sword is to be worn on your back, King Amaliji.”
Amaliji nodded: “Then I will wear it on my back like my forefather before me,” he said.
Expertly, Margret tied the Vorpal blade snugly and properly to Amaliji’s back.
“My old sword,” commanded Amaliji to one of his servants.
Holding his old sword in both hands, he looked at Margret, and said quietly: “A gift, a gift of gratitude.”
Margret held the king’s sword in her hands and whispered: “Proudly will I wear this sword when we meet on the field of battle.”
Amaliji eyes shone with admiration at her words.
“Until that day,” he whispered.
***
At dinner, Farling and his friends were treated as guests of the highest honor. While Margret was a princess of Aarlund and was used to royal dinners and being served upon with the highest level of protocol, it was quite new for Farling, Grum, and Arastead. Even Mage was allowed at the table sitting on a reinforced chair.
The king and queen were gracious as were all the lords and ladies of the court. After the meal, when coffee was served, and everyone walked around, there was a line of elves wanting to be introduced to Farling and his friends. Some elves just wanted to touch them, others had quick questions. None had met someone from the realm of Midgard and were curious beyond belief. Many were most curious about Arastead and his cat, a wizard’s familiar.
Afterwards, when they were alone for a moment, Farling whispered: “I do not trust them. They still want to invade our realm. It just feels like all they are doing is making themselves feel superior to us so that they may feel somehow justified in destroying us.”
Margret nodded, then said: “Their hatred of our kind has not diminished in any way and now that word has spread that the Alfheim Gateway has been sealed, they seem almost more intent on finding a way to destroy us.”
“So, what do we do?” asked Grum. “We have no way of leaving. Mage can create portals to move us within Alfheim. And he did allude that he can move to our realm now, that he is one of the few who can. But he does not seem willing.”
“Not while the elves hold his wife and daughter hostage,” said Farling. “He will never accept our request to move us to Dennland or Aarlund, although it sounds like he may only access the portal runes in Dennland. Only if the elves ask him too, will he help us in that way.”
“Then why did he train us?” asked Arastead. “Why not keep us weak?”
Farling shrugged. Said: “He does nothing without the elf-king’s assent. For some reason, Amaliji wanted us trained. For what, I do not know.”
“If he lets us return,” began Arastead, “we could never say we were maltreated.” Everyone agreed with that thought.
Grum said: “It is as if he wants us to return as better fighters so that we will give him a stronger fight on the battlefield. So be it, I will hit elves here with my war hammer, I will hit elves back in Midgard as well. The more the merrier.”
“If we get our items of magic returned to us,” said Farling with a grim look. “No one has said we are getting them back.”
“Speaking of which, how did Mage get those items of magic that I and Princess Margret gave as gifts?” said Arastead.
“As much as I like Mage, we cannot trust him completely,” said Farling. “He would sacrifice us if it meant having his wife and daughter returned. We are not his kind. Having said that, I have no idea where he found those items, or how he got them. He is a very powerful wizard, that is all I know.”
“Some may even call him a mage,” joked Arastead.
“I do not get it,” said Grum. “He is called Mage, why call him a mage?”
Arastead sighed. “A mage is a very powerful and advanced wizard,” he said. “He wants to be referred to by his wizard level, not his real name. We do not know his real name. I do not want to even hazard a guess as to what an ogre’s name sounds like. It is like calling you blacksmith all the time.”
“But I am a blacksmith,” protested Grum.
“Of course you are,” said Arastead, “and it is good to see that your gloves and belt of strength and your special war hammer have not swelled your head and given you a complex.”
“A complex of what?” asked Grum.
“Never mind,” said Arastead while everyone chuckled.
“Speaking of which,” began Grum, “I wonder what I could make using my war hammer. Imagine this striking metal on an anvil. I am sure I would destroy the anvil.”
“At least drive it into the ground,” said Arastead.
“All this talking has made me hungry,” said Grum.
Everyone agreed as they went to find more food.
CHAPTER 29
The Vorpal Blade Tested
The next morning, Farling woke to the smell of coffee.
He noticed that the clothes laid out for him were his own from Dennland. As he put them on, and noticed that were clean and any flaws had been mended.
In the common room, everyone else was already up and had started breaking their fast.
“Where is Mage?” asked Farling. “I usually expect him to be here, letting us know what to expect for the day.”
“There was a just a note from him letting us know to eat everything we wanted to and to drink as much coffee as we would like,” said Grum, a big smile on his face.
“Maybe not too much coffee,” suggested Arastead, “as you know how it affects you.”
“Point well taken,” agreed Grum, as he switched to drinking water.
After everyone had eaten, there was a knock on the door. Expecting Mage, Grum opened the door only to be greeted by Sundaliji.
Grum bowed and invited him in. Everyone quickly stood and politely greeted him.
“I see you have all eaten and look presentable,” he said. “Well, as presentable as you can be in your old clothes.” He sniffed disdainfully. “Here are your weapons, you may need them today.”
Everyone strapped their weapons on, much relieved to have them returned. Margret even put King Amaliji’s sword, a gift to her, on her hip.
“You will now follow me,” said Sundaliji. They fell in-line behind him as they walked out of the room. Once out in the hall, a group of guards followed behind them, marching in order.
Everyone looked at each other but simply shrugged, no one having any idea where they were being taken and why it was Sundaliji and not Mage leading them.
They walked in silence as they were led outside and down a road. They walked past shops, stores, and pubs, all busy with people, who stopped whatever they were doing and stared at the group. Especially now that they were dressed in their clothing from home, they knew there was no mistaking them for other than a foreigner and not belonging to Alfheim.
Off in the distance, easily seen above the houses and business loomed a large building. Farling noticed they walked straight for it.
As they drew closer, he saw many elves streaming into the building, all excited. The building was many levels tall, and seemed to have endless stairs leading elves to wherever they needed to go. The building’s shape was like a stretched-out circle, an oval. Vines and leaves were carved exquisitely into the pillars and arches.
There was a main entrance with a large lineup of elves wanting to enter. All had to pass by guards who looked at the tickets everyone held aloft in their hands.
Sundaliji led them to a different entrance, smaller and less decorative. He knocked on the closed door.
The door quickly opened revealing Mage.
“Here are your charges, ogre,” said Sundaliji. “I hope you trained them well.”
Mage merely nodded whil
e Sundaliji and the elf guards left.
“Come in, come in,” said Mage opening the door wide, as they all walked easily under his arm. Inside it was dark, lit only by burning and sputtering torches.
Mage led them down some halls, and then into a large room where food and water were available.
Grum immediately helped himself while Arastead found some food for Peg.
“You should all eat and drink,” said Mage, “not just Grum and not just Arastead’s familiar.”
“What is this place?” asked Farling. “It smells of sweat and fear.”
Mage chuckled. “I think you mean it smells of excitement,” he said.
“No,” interjected Grum between bites of food, “Farling’s right, it stinks in here. It smells like lots of ogres if you ask me, ogres who have not washed in a fortnight.”
Mage smiled. “You are right, Grum, mostly. For this is what the elves call a stadium, and this is where my ogre brothers amuse the elves. They fight beasts, whatever the elves wish them to fight. The elves are a gambling type of people, so they enjoy betting on the outcome.”
“So, we are here to fight ogres?” asked Arastead.
“No,” replied Margret, touching the pearl in the circlet on her forehead. “We will be fighting a monster. I see us fighting a beast, almost ogre like, but much worse.”
“Do we win?” asked Grum. “What, I am always curious as to how far in the future Princess Margret can see. So, do we win?”
Margret just smiled sweetly and shook her head. “I cannot see that far into the future, Grum, concerning this event,” she said.
“Can I place a wager on this outcome?” Grum said as everyone looked at him oddly. “Come on, do not look that way at me. Mage trained us for this day. We fight well together. We have taken on many monsters in the old ogre village. What is another monster? If I hit it with my war hammer, the monster will feel it just like all the other ones did.”
Arastead sighed. Said: “I suppose Grum is right.”
Grum nodded his head vigorously while slapping Arastead on back, nearly knocking Peg off her perch. “Not so hard, my friend,” said Arastead. “We have fought monsters, much bigger ones than we ever faced back home.”
A loud horn sounded three times.
Mage said: “That is the call telling everyone to take their seats. It will begin in just a few more minutes.”
“Do we fight first?” asked Farling.
“No, the ogres will start the show,” said Mage
“May we watch?”
Mage thought about it for a moment. Said: “Come with me, I know where you can watch and not get in trouble.”
He led them down some dark halls, until they came upon an unused gate that led into the middle of the stadium. Thick bars and chains held the door fast, but there were spaces wide enough between the bars for everyone to watch.
Farling could see that practically all the seats were filled with spectators. He knew everyone here was waiting to watch and see how he and his friends did against the monster, as it would be an indication of how difficult or easy an attack on Midgard would be and if they had to rethink or adjust their battle strategy.
A loud horn sounded just once with a long note.
“It begins,” said Mage as he tensely grabbed a bar in the fence.
On one side, ogres began emerging from a large door in the wall. Bigger than Mage, these ogres wore armor and shields. They carried a variety of weapons: swords, spears, quarterstaffs, maces, battle axes, and war hammers. They did not seem to walk so much as lope, as if their legs were not quite long enough, and their arms too long. But Farling could see muscles bulging under the armor and knew these ogres could fight with blinding speed.
“You are not nervous, are you Mage?” asked Grum.
“No,” said Mage relaxing his grip on the bars. “I just get a little overexcited sometimes.”
“You trained these ogres,” said Margret, more of a statement than a question.
“Just as I trained you, but longer, as I have taught them since they were small.”
“What are they going to fight?” asked Farling.
“Now you will see,” said Mage.
At the other end of the stadium a large portcullis lifted, and the cry of a bird sounded from the darkness in the tunnel.
“What makes that call?” asked Grum. “It just sounded like an eagle. They would not have a large bird in there, would they?”
Before anyone answered, the beast emerged from the tunnel. It was easily four times as large as a horse, but instead of a horse’s head, it had the head of a golden eagle with large yellow eyes that took in everything, darting back and forth. As it emerged from the tunnel it unfurled its large wings which stretched almost the width of the stadium. Its forelegs were feathered but instead of hooves, it had razor-sharp eagle’s claws with talons the size of swords. The rest of its body was as a lion’s as its hind legs were covered in a tawny fur with lion paws and a lion tail.
“A hippogriff.” Grum was in awe. “I have only read about it in books.”
“So, you do read books,” said Arastead.
“Just ones with pictures,” replied Grum not taking his eyes off the hippogriff.
The ogres encircled the hippogriff with some banging their weapons against their shields creating a loud cacophony of sound.
The hippogriff twitched its head as if the sound confused it. Its head swiveled back and forth watching the ogres advance, its eyes blinking rapidly, odd guttural sounds issuing from its throat.
As the ogres raised their weapons and advanced, the hippogriff in one swift move raised itself up on its hind legs. It flexed its wings towards the ogres causing a sudden wind to lash their faces. Dust and sand in the ogres’ eyes made them blink and raise their shields to protect their eyes. In that moment, with the ogres distracted, the hippogriff struck. It flicked its wings backwards hurling itself against the ogres.
The hippogriff rushed through the ogres flicking its head left and right, its sharp beak slashing. Blood sprayed the ground as both ogre and hippogriff blood spilled. The hippogriff spun practically on the spot using its wings, then propelled itself again at the ogres, slashing at them with razor-sharp talons. Once through the line of ogres, the hippogriff spun round and stood facing the ogres, its chest heaving for breath.
Blood oozed from multiple wounds on the hippogriff. The ogres had not let it pass through their line unscathed. Several of the ogres had been injured so grievously they lay on the ground, unable to rise.
The audience had roared at each charge of the hippogriff and money changed hands furiously.
The hippogriff made a clicking sound lifting its head high and as it brought its face down, it squealed at the ogres and charged, its powerful hind legs driving it towards its foes.
The ogres held their positions and as the hippogriff rushed towards them, one ogre with a spear held it so that the spear’s end was held solidly in the ground and he raised the point at the last moment.
The hippogriff, unable to check its headlong speed, drove itself onto the spear.
It screamed in pain, its wings beating furiously pulling itself away from the ogres. The ogres pressed their advantage and began slashing at the beast. The hippogriff tried to defend itself, its beak streaking forth to attack. One ogre was rammed in the chest by the hippogriff’s head and for the brief moment the ogre lay on the ground the hippogriff’s talons ripped it to pieces.
But while the hippogriff was attacking the fallen ogre, other ogres cut wide gashes in the hippogriff’s sides. Soon the hippogriff was too weak to stand, and an ogre cut through the hippogriff’s neck causing a terrific amount of blood to spill on the ground.
The hippogriff gave one last cry and slumped to the ground, dead.
The audience cheered loudly as workers came out to drag the dead hippogriff and dead ogres away.
The surviving ogres held their weapons triumphantly above their heads while flowers rained down upon them.
“
It is time we leave,” said Mage. “It will take a while to clean the grounds and sweep away the flowers. In that time, let us return to our room where you will await your call.”
In what felt like hours but must have only been minutes, the horn blew. Everyone looked at Mage expectantly.
“Remember everything I have taught you,” he said.
Everyone nodded and with grim faces they walked out into the middle of the arena.
The crowd roared in excitement.
“Wave your arms,” said Margret. “Acknowledge the crowd, play to the crowd. We are here to make friends.”
“Even if those friends want to invade our lands?” asked Grum.
“If we cannot make friends, then let us put some fear into their hearts,” said Margret. “Let us put doubt in their minds.”
“I still wish I could have bet on some of these outcomes,” said Grum.
“With what coin?” asked Arastead. “You have no elf-coin, and I do not believe they take Dennland coin.”
“A shame,” agreed Grum.
The sound of the far gate opening silenced them.
“Let us put some distance between it and us,” said Farling as everyone began walking away from the gate, weapons raised.
The gate was not yet fully raised when massive green hands grabbed the bottom of the gate and shoved it violently up. The creature then flung itself forward swinging from the lowest rung on the gateway and as it hit the ground its hind legs dug into the earth flinging itself forward.
Grum cried: “What is that creature!”
“A troll, but one of the biggest I have ever seen,” said Margret, then her eyes went wide with recognition. “Grendel! It is Grendel! Quick, Arastead, as with Mage, freeze the ground beneath him!”
Arastead swung his quarterstaff pointing it at the ground as he whispered the spell. A long sheet of ice quickly formed in front of them.
The Prophecy of Asgard Page 21
