The Prophecy of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  “Will Yggdrasil not try and fight me? Will it not refuse magic?”

  “Yggdrasil is used to magic flowing in many directions. Like the wind, magic flows where magic flows.”

  Margret took a deep breath. “It is just that I am so used to dealing with magic in one way.”

  “Magic does what you tell it, princess. You are already controlling it by pulling out only certain healing elements at certain levels of strength. You combine the elements by telling the magic how strong you want it. This time, you will be telling the magic to flow in a different direction. Use your circlet, it should help you with this as I am confident it has been used in the past to put magic back into Yggdrasil. Tap into the knowledge of the circlet, let it help you.”

  Margret nodded in agreement. She breathed deeply to center herself as Nas had trained her; the calm mind works best when channeling magic.

  She murmured the word “opposite” several times to ensure she did not add to Arastead’s injuries. Once her breathing evened, she began. The pearl in her circlet glowed, but this time it glowed a different color. Where before it glowed light red, this time it glowed almost green.

  Margret moved the palms of her hands over Arastead’s chest, her face serene as she performed her healing arts.

  Arastead’s cat, Peg, watched Margret, her eyes wide. Everyone else held their breath as they watched.

  After what felt like hours, but must have been only a few minutes, Margret opened her eyes.

  “I believe I have done it. Arastead, how do you feel?”

  He opened his eyes and took a few quick, deep breaths.

  “Princess, you have healed my lungs completely. My thanks, Your Highness.”

  Margret smiled then said: “I am just pleased it worked, as it did feel quite different. Opening Yggdrasil and essentially telling it to accept magic instead, was quite a unique experience. It was in some ways surprisingly easy.”

  “As I thought,” said Mage. “The circlet you wear helped as it has done this before.”

  “It must have,” agreed Margret nodding.

  Arastead stood, and walked around the room, breathing deeply the whole time.

  “You ought to be careful,” said Farling, “as you might make yourself dizzy by over breathing so much.”

  Arastead laughed. “As you suggest, Farling. But understand, it now feels so good to breath after days of difficulties. I have also found my appetite.”

  Grum smiled. “I may not have been able to help you heal you lungs, but I can help you with your appetite,” he said.

  “What are friends for,” said Arastead with a big smile.

  CHAPTER 32

  A Portal to Trondheim

  The next morning, Mage had everyone dress in their elf-clothes.

  “I suppose we are to meet the king,” said Grum. “I guess he would like to gloat to us that it was he that defeated Grendel.”

  “Perhaps,” said Arastead. “Let us not forget that he still wants to invade Midgard. I think this might be the next step towards achieving that goal.”

  “But the Alfheim Gateway is sealed,” said Grum. “It closed behind us.”

  “There are many gateways to many realms,” said Farling. “The elves just need to find another way.”

  “And they will,” said Margret.

  Farling smiled. “None of the grim faces, everyone,” he said. “The game is not yet over. The elves may feel they have an advantage, but I am sure King Cormac and King Frederick are busy preparing war plans. The elves will not find a realm asleep.”

  Mage walked in front of everyone, inspecting them closely. “Remember, even though he is not your king,” began Mage, “you will treat King Amaliji with all due respect.”

  Grum scoffed. Said: “Even though he wants to destroy my realm.”

  “Yes,” said Mage, “even though he wants to destroy your realm.”

  Grum muttered something unintelligible under his breath.

  Mage continued: “Your remaining weapons will be returned to you,” he said.

  “So, we will be fighting again?” asked Grum.

  “Yes,” said Mage.

  “Good,” said Grum. “I look forward to wearing my Gloves of Strength and wielding my war hammer.”

  ***

  Mage let them down halls they had never seen before.

  As before, all the halls were wondrously decorative with archways and columns that seem to sprout tree branches and leaves. Large stained-glass windows on one side of the hall let in multi-hued colored light.

  Farling looked at the images depicted in the stained glass. Like the images in the windows in the Paupers Temple, these windows depicted elf-heroes from bygone eras.

  “Tell me, Mage,” started Farling. “Do you know any of the stories related to the heroes depicted in the stained glass?”

  “We do not have time for stories,” said Mage.

  “Yeah,” said Grum, “it is not your bedtime.”

  “Ouch,” added Arastead making Farling chuckle.

  “Excuse my curiosity,” said Farling. “The stained-glass windows in the Paupers Temple in Trondheim held secrets. I am curious as to the stories here as it is always the history of the people that gives us clues as to their future.”

  A voice from the shadows intoned: “A wise observation.

  Everyone turned and upon seeing the elf-queen, all the boys and Mage bowed deeply while Margret curtsied.

  A small retinue of young girl elves followed Queen Amalaja, and when the queen stopped, they made sure the bottom of her dress was spread beautifully on the floor.

  Amalaja said: “A brave fight you fought against Grendel, king of trolls.”

  As one, everyone said: “Our thanks, Your Highness.”

  The elf-queen looked at Mage. “My congratulations to you, Mage, as you taught them well in such a short time,” she said.

  “You honor me, My Lady,” he answered with another bow.

  She asked: “In your realm, children of Midgard, you have colored glass such as this?”

  But when the queen had spoken, she had not looked at anyone as she only gazed at the stained glass.

  Everyone looked to Farling who answered: “We do, Your Highness. I notice the stained glass here in Alfheim though is much more colorful, complex, and lifelike. I almost feel as if the elves depicted in the glass could walk straight out of the landscapes and into this hall.”

  Amalaja smiled. Said: “Ages ago, we taught the people of Midgard how to create stained glass.”

  “I am sure you taught the people of Midgard many things, Your Highness,” said Farling.

  “Elf-lore runs deep. The knowledge we would gain from the faraway lands and realms we invaded on behalf of Odin we would bring back to Alfheim. Our libraries burst with knowledge from those lands. And yet, still, everything we brought back from those lands did not seem to satisfy Odin. His hunger was always unsatisfied as it seemed to burn like some unquenchable fire that would never extinguish. Music, arts, culture, we would bring everything back to Asgard to present to Odin, like some domesticated cat presenting a dead mouse to its master. And still Odin would send us out, the tip of their spear, to bring back to him whatever his heart desired. But Odin was never satisfied as his hunger was boundless. And so we shared our knowledge with the people of Midgard and with the dwarves of Nidavellir. For if Odin would not learn, then someone should. Midgard and Nidavellir gained from this knowledge as those realms became prosperous. And still Odin sent us to fetch some shiny bauble he fancied from some faraway realm.”

  Amalaja faced everyone as she said: “Odin may be gone, but beware the old gods, children of Midgard, for they lie for their own gain, and think nothing of sending others in their place. They are selfish and petty. And no matter what you may place on their platter, it will never satisfy them for their hunger is limitless.”

  Everyone was silent, eyes cast downward.

  “I shall not keep you longer,” said Amalaja. “You have my leave to go.”

&nbs
p; They followed Mage as he marched them down the hall.

  Farling glanced behind him. Amalaja stood as if rooted to the ground, her eyes gazing at the stained glass, her face full of sorrow as if reliving memories.

  ***

  “Welcome,” said King Amaliji.

  Farling and his friends all bowed, including Mage, while Margret curtsied.

  Farling quickly took in his surroundings. It was a small hall they had never been in before. Light from the sun streamed lazily through several large windows on the one side. No tables or chairs were in the hall.

  To the left of the king stood his key advisor, Sundaliji. The other person on the king’s right, Farling did not recognize. But he knew he did not like the look of him, as he had the appearance of Ogre Mage, but without any hint of kindness.

  Along the wall with no windows stood three elves, all dressed in dark leather with dark handkerchiefs covering their faces, except for their eyes. Small knives appeared to be their only weapons, and they also carried thin ropes and grappling hooks.

  Amaliji was dressed casually in what looked like hunting clothes. Across his back was the Vorpal Blade.

  Amaliji said: “We have not yet spoken of the tournament, children of Midgard. A fine display of your fighting abilities. You fought well as a team. That troll King Grendel had never faced such a group as yours, with your enchanted weapons and your skills. Ogre Mage taught you well. I was afraid you were going to defeat him, so I was pleased when you failed. It was a pleasure to use Vorpal Blade for the exact reason it was forged.”

  Mage said: “You wielded the blade with much skill, Your Highness.”

  Amaliji scoffed: “You sound almost surprised, Mage, you thought me old and slow?” he said.

  “Never, Your Highness. Any man, beast, creature, or monster will certainly go to meet their doom when they face you in battle.”

  “Your ingratiating tone is insipid. Your ogres on the other hand did not fare so well against the hippogriff. I thought they should have fared better, and less of them should have been killed. The tournament floor reeked of ogre blood. It was pathetic.”

  “Your Highness is too kind.”

  “You had better train your precious ogres better as they may not survive the next tournament battle.”

  Mage now just nodded slightly and said nothing.

  “Now, as you all know, the Alfheim Gateway has been sealed,” said Amaliji. “So, I will need to be more creative to find a way for my army to reach Midgard. As you can see, a portal rune has been drawn on the ground. Ogre Mage, while not very skilled at training his ogres to fight monsters, still does have some uses. One of them is the ability to create a portal rune that connects Alfheim to Midgard.”

  Farling exchanged glances with his friends, no one knowing what was to happen next.

  Amaliji continued: “I will be sending all of you back to Midgard, Trondheim to be exact. There is a portal rune within Trondheim that Ogre Mage has connected to this one. I understand each of you were wearing an amulet when Ogre Mage brought you here. That it is these amulets that will allow you passage from within the building that holds the portal rune to the city of Trondheim.”

  Amaliji motioned to the elf Farling did not recognize. This elf was covered in tattoos that reminded him of Nas. He gave one of the Trondheim thieves guild amulets back to everyone, then stood near the portal rune.

  “This is Branaliji, master of our necromancer guild,” said Amaliji. Branaliji flashed a chilling smile. “He will be responsible for transporting three of you and three of my hand-picked elves to Midgard.”

  Farling shook his head. Why only three?

  “There,” continued Amaliji, “you will kidnap the pregnant queen of Dennland and return her to Alfheim.”

  “Never!” blurted Grum. “We will do no such thing!”

  The point of a blade suddenly sprouted like a stem of some perverse flower from Grum’s chest as the front of his shirt turned red. Blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth as he sagged to the ground. Behind him was one of the dark elves, his eyes unmoving as he removed his blade and cleaned it before sheathing it.

  Farling leapt at the elf, his sword flashing in the sun’s rays. But he never touched the elf as he was suddenly repelled by an invisible force. Branaliji’s hands and fingers moved as he whispered a spell of protection between the elf and Farling.

  “What foul joke is this?” cried Farling. “Am I not allowed to revenge my friend?”

  “Your friend is not dead,” said Amaliji, “but he will die if you and your friends do not return in time with Queen Astrid.”

  Farling’s breath came in deep pants, his anger was so acute. He glanced at Arastead and Margret, their weapons drawn, faces stoic. Peg the cat’s fur stood on end, her back arched fiercely.

  “Never!” hissed Farling through clenched teeth.

  “Yes, we will do it,” said Margret suddenly as she sheathed her weapons.

  Farling’s jaw dropped as he sputtered incoherently.

  Margret locked eyes with Farling. Said: “Farling, we will do it, as Grum is one of your dearest friends. The elves will not harm Queen Astrid. We must save Grum’s life. He is one of the heroes chosen by Freya. His thread is not meant to be cut by the Norns at this point in the Tapestry.” The pearl in her circlet glowed ominously.

  Farling’s eyes narrowed and his mouth snapped shut. He stared for a moment at the pearl in Freya’s circlet.

  “Fine,’ he began, “but Grum had better be alive when we return as we will need to heal him.”

  “He will be alive,” said Mage. “But you had best make haste.”

  Farling glared at Mage. “You play both sides of the fence well, Ogre,” he said.

  Mage’s face was expressionless as he said: “Just return with the queen, and all will be well.”

  Then Amaliji added: “And as an extra treat, if all goes well, I will return you all to Midgard.”

  “But without the queen,” growled Farling.

  “Of course,” said Amaliji.

  Farling retorted: “A bitter bargain.”

  Amaliji tipped his head. Said: “But a bargain to which you must consent.”

  As an answer, Farling walked to the middle of the portal rune. Margret and Arastead followed and stood with him. The three dark elves mutely walked onto the portal rune but just inside its design.

  Amaliji warned: “And do not try and converse with my elves. They had their tongues removed at a young age. And do not hurt or kill them. For every dead or missing elf, one of you will die.”

  Farling spat: “I would rather have my tongue ripped out than to talk with your thugs.”

  Mage interjected: “Make haste,” he urged. “It is night in Trondheim, so use the darkness to your advantage.”

  Farling just scoffed and said nothing.

  Margret said: “We need scarves, like the elves wear if we are to return to Midgard. I would not have others recognizing us easily.”

  Mage pulled several scarves from his belt as if he had been expecting this request and handed them out.

  Quickly they covered their faces so that only their eyes could be seen.

  Branaliji muttered incantations under his breath as his tattoos glowed ominously. The portal rune began to glow brighter by the moment.

  Farling whispered to Margret: “I trust you have a plan.”

  “As much of a plan as is possible,” she replied.

  And as Branaliji finished his spell and the group was enveloped in light, Farling had noticed out of the corner of one eye that Arastead had watched the necromancer in rapt attention and had mouthed wordlessly along with him.

  CHAPTER 33

  The Kidnapping of Queen Astrid

  The library in the Trondheim thieves guild swam into view. Farling took a moment to steady himself.

  As Mage had said, night was upon Trondheim and darkness enveloped all to the point that no one could see. And it must have been at that point of day where the thieves guild and Trondheim were both i
n darkness.

  Arastead lightly spoke a spell and the end of his quarterstaff glowed brightly enough that everyone could now see plainly.

  The elves stood rigid, their weapons drawn.

  Margret faced the elves and said: “I do not plan on having anyone hurt or killed on this adventure, so you had better put away your weapons.”

  The elves did nothing.

  “Fine,” continued Margret, “but when we return to Alfheim, for every injured person of Midgard, you will pay equally.”

  The elves look unmoved by the threat.

  Margret pointed. Said: “Follow me, I can see just enough into the future, that I can tell where anyone on guard tonight is, so we will be able to avoid them.”

  Farling whispered: “It is the front door that worries me most. It is always guarded.”

  “Leave that to me,” said Margret as they all quickly made their way out of the library. “Or rather, it will be left to our wizard.”

  Arastead nodded.

  They padded noiselessly along the empty hallways. A few times, Margret motioned for the group to halt or to take a different direction as she had sensed they would have crossed paths with a thief who would have raised the alarm.

  Then, the main entrance came into view.

  The group held their breaths as Arastead walked a bit ahead. He pulled a small amount of powder from one of his pouches and placed it in the palm of one hand. He murmured an incantation then blew the powder towards the front door.

  Farling whispered: “Are we close enough for Arastead’s spell to work?”

  Margret nodded. “Have some confidence in your friend,” she replied.

  And after several agonizing moments, Farling noticed that the guards began to wobble. After a few seconds, the two guards and the clerk were snoring on the ground.

  “Well done,” congratulated Farling to Arastead as they ran silently to the guild’s main entrance. “I had every confidence in you.”

  Arastead grinned ruefully.

  At the entrance, Farling touched it with his amulet, and the door materialized. Everyone hurried through.