The Prophecy of Asgard

by James Malcolm Elrick

  In the next room, lit by a single candle, Margret put a finger to her mouth, indicating silence. She motioned for everyone to stay where they were. She parted the curtains leading to the antique store, which was the false front for the thieves guild of Trondheim.

  The sound of a body falling to the ground could easily be heard. In a few moments, Margret parted the curtains, motioning everyone to come through.

  On the ground lay the shopkeeper, asleep.

  “What spell was that?” asked Farling.

  “He was already a bit tipsy from drink. I merely used my magic to increase the amount of wine in his system, causing him to pass out.”

  “I am impressed,” admitted Farling.

  “Just be impressed when we return with Queen Astrid,” said Margret.

  They ran outside, making their way towards the castle at an almost reckless speed.

  “This is madness,” muttered Arastead. “We have been given an impossible task.”

  “Only if we fail,” said Margret. The pearl in her circlet glowed brightly. “Hurry, for we only have a small window before the bakers awake to begin preparing today’s breads.”

  “Which way into the castle?” asked Farling.

  “Through the kitchen,” said Margret, “as no one is yet awake but will be soon.”

  “But there is still a guard on the outer gate we need to get by,” said Farling.

  “I leave that to Arastead.”

  Trondheim was surprisingly quiet this time of early morning. Frost was in the air and the cold bit at their lungs.

  Margret motioned for everyone to stop. She looked at Arastead as she pointed to the one guard at a small gate that was near the kitchen. He nodded in reply.

  “This spell is a bit different,” he said. “We will simply walk past the guard.”

  “How do you plan on us doing that?” asked Farling.

  “He will believe you are King’s Secretary Phillius.”

  “How is that possible?”

  “It is a spell of concealment.”

  “What about everyone else? What of the elves?”

  “He will see us all as simply kitchen workers decked out in our usual stained aprons.”

  “Are you sure this will work?”

  “If it does not, we will know immediately.”

  “Fine, let us try as time is running out.”

  Arastead pulled out powder from a different pouch. He sprinkled some of the powder on top of everyone’s heads as he murmured the words to the concealment spell. The elves did not look amused.

  Arastead nodded, satisfied, then said: “Done, now let us be off.”

  Farling led the group as Phillius would have done. Farling’s heart beat in his chest so loudly he was afraid it could be heard by everyone.

  As soon as the guard had seen the group approach, he had snapped to attention, his short spear at ready. He craned his neck to get a better look at the group, and then Farling noticed the guard visibly relax as if he had recognized them.

  As Farling came within speaking range, the guard snapped to attention. Farling almost sighed in relief.

  “Master Phillius,” said the guard.

  “It is good to see you awake and not derelict in your duties,” said Farling, trying his best to imitate what he knew of Phillius.

  The guard allowed a small smile.

  Farling added: “I will see that extra rations are added to your allowance for the next week.”

  The guard now smiled a little more, nodding his head in acknowledgement.

  They quickly passed by the guard and made their way through the kitchen.

  “How long does this spell last?” asked Farling.

  “I do not know,” admitted Arastead. “I have never tried it before. I only read the spell in one of Mage’s many books.”

  “The book said nothing of how long the spell lasts?”

  “Not that I noticed.”

  “Well, best if we avoid any guards then, just in case.”

  As in the hallways of the thieves guild, Margret led them down the halls of the castle and up its many staircases. At times, she motioned them to stop, as they waited for a clueless guard to pass.

  After a few minutes, they stood around the corner at the end of the hallway leading to the queen’s bedroom.

  “One last guard,” said Margret in a light whisper.

  “I have enough powder for him and the queen,” said Arastead in equally low tones. “He is, however, too far away.”

  Arastead walked around the corner and approached the guard. He motioned at the burning torches and murmured a spell. All the torches dimmed and soon went dark.

  The guard cried aloud at this change of events and unsheathed his weapon.

  Arastead was now close enough and as he held the sleeping powder in one hand, three bodies rushed past him.

  “Hey!” he cried.

  The three elves made quick work of the guard who was defenseless in the dark. Somehow, the elves could see well enough in the dark to kill him.

  As the guard’s body slumped to the ground, dead, Arastead lit all the torches with another spell.

  Margret and Farling rushed at the elves, weapons drawn.

  But before their blades crossed, the queen’s door flew open.

  Framed in the doorway was Queen Astrid, a long sword held tightly in both hands.

  Astrid screamed: “Back, thieves in the night, else you feel the cut of my blade!”

  By now, Arastead had arrived at the door and blew the sleeping powder past everyone towards the queen. He whispered the accompanying spell as Margret and Farling rushed into the room, catching the queen before she fell to the ground.

  Behind them in the hall could easily be heard the sound of other guards, roused by all the noise, rushing towards the queen’s room.

  Margret commanded: “Lock the door!” One of the elves did as told.

  “Now what?” asked Farling. “Is there a hidden passageway in this room?”

  “Arastead,” said Margret, “if you will.”

  “This is becoming a bit of a habit,” he joked under his breath.

  The sound of armored fists pounding on the locked door snapped everyone’s heads towards the door.

  Farling hissed: “Whatever you plan on doing, Arastead, I suggest you do it quickly.”

  “Do not rush me,” began Arastead, “as a portal rune is delicate work.”

  Arastead pulled out a piece of chalk and began to draw a large portal rune.

  The door began to bow inwards.

  “I think the guards will soon break the door,” said Farling.

  “I have worked under more stressful situations,” said Arastead as he continued to draw the portal rune.

  The hinges of the door began to protest loudly as it sounded like more and more guards were now trying to force open the door. The sounds of their voices carried easily into the room.

  “We do not have much time,” said Farling as he drew his sword.

  “I am almost done,” replied Arastead, his voice terse. “Just a few more moments.”

  “Moments we may have, but not minutes,” said Farling as the door was now beginning to splinter under the heavy blows of many axes.

  Arastead stood up and walked outside of the portal rune. He scanned it for any errors.

  The axes had stopped as the guards now had a sizeable hole in the door. An arm reached through and a hand fumbled for the lock.

  One of the elves threw a small dagger and pierced the hand effectively nailing it to the door. The guard cried aloud in pain but could not remove his hand.

  “That bought us a few more moments,” said Farling. “Are you done admiring your work?”

  “This should work,” said Arastead. “Quick, everyone into the middle.”

  Farling helped Margret carry the pregnant queen into the middle of the portal rune. Arastead murmured the spell, activating it.

  By now, the guard had been able to reach his other hand through the hole and remove th
e elf’s blade. His good hand fumbled with the lock and the door swung inwards as the guards rushed into the room, weapons drawn, all screaming, ready for battle.

  But the guards were brought up short as the portal rune flashed brightly. All they saw were six people and the queen before they all disappeared.

  ***

  The library in the Trondheim thieves guild swam into view. Farling took a moment to steady himself and made sure he did not drop the queen.

  They were all standing in the middle of the portal rune that had brought them from Alfheim to Trondheim the first time.

  “Now what?” asked Farling.

  Arastead answered: “Now I mark this portal rune with a rune that alerts Mage we are ready.”

  “Are we ready?” asked Farling as he looked searchingly at Margret, hoping she had a plan.

  And in a confident voice, she replied: “We are. Lie the queen on the ground. She will be more comfortable that way.”

  Farling now stared at the elves as they waited for Mage to activate the portal rune.

  In a threatening voice, Farling said: “You did not have to kill that guard. For that, I will make you pay.”

  The elves merely chuckled and made mocking gestures with their hands.

  “If I ever find out what you are saying with your hands, you will be in even more trouble,” replied Farling.

  The lines of the portal rune began to glow.

  Margret yelled: “Everyone into the portal rune, now!”

  But before everyone disappeared back to Alfheim, Farling watched in surprise as thieves rushed out from behind the library’s book stacks and jumped into the middle of the portal rune, hacking and slashing at the three elves.

  And, as the light of the portal rune brightened like the sun, Farling then saw Sihr jump into the portal, a wide smile on his face.

  ***

  The unadorned hall in Alfheim swam into view.

  As fast as he could, Farling unsheathed his sword and leapt at King Amaliji, risking everything on one deadly cut.

  Amaliji’s cat-like reflexes saved his life as he narrowly avoided Farling’s deadly cut. Instead of striking flesh, Farling’s blade only cut clothes which threw him off balance.

  Amaliji’s right fist lashed out striking Farling squarely in the chest, and as Farling was not expecting it, the force of the blow knocked him back several paces, where he dropped to one knee.

  Into the opening leapt Margret, her short blades whirling furiously at Amaliji as the pearl in her circlet burned red in color.

  Farling risked a glance at everyone else.

  The Trondheim thieves had killed the three unsuspecting elves. Now the thieves were fighting Ogre Mage and the elf-necromancer.

  Sihr had immediately gone to Grum and Farling could see he was already bringing Grum back from the brink of death.

  Mage was easily handling the thieves, while the elf-necromancer was not faring as well, but was still yet undefeated.

  Queen Astrid lay on the ground in the middle of the portal rune where Arastead stood watch, his quarterstaff ready to strike, a spell on his lips.

  Farling then noticed Margret cut and slash at Amaliji, just barely missing all his blows, as the pearl in the circlet gave her the foreknowledge of where to move.

  But Margret’s dagger thrusts did cut Amaliji, none deeply, but in a few moments, he was bleeding from a score of small wounds.

  “Farling!” cried Sihr.

  Farling hurried over as both he and Sihr dragged a motionless Grum into the center of the portal rune, lying him beside the queen.

  “Now!” yelled Margret. She forced Amaliji back several steps, then she leapt to within the portal rune.

  The Trondheim thieves had been waiting for that signal as they too leapt into the portal rune.

  A furious Amaliji roared: “She will never be safe!”

  Margret roared back just as loudly: “You will never harm her or her child!”

  “We will find the child!” screamed Amaliji hysterically, his face contorted in rage, as blood oozed from his many cuts.

  Margret looked to Arastead. “Now!” she cried.

  Light enveloped the portal rune as Arastead began the activation spell. But instead of the light becoming brighter to the point of being as the sun, it began to dim.

  Farling saw why: both Mage and the elf-necromancer were furiously trying to stop portal rune.

  Margret too had noticed and threw daggers at Mage and the elf-necromancer.

  “Again!” cried Margret.

  But somehow, unnoticed, Amaliji had grabbed Queen Astrid.

  As the queen’s body shifted, the movement caught Margret’s eye and she cried: “Stop him!”

  From nowhere, a war hammer crashed down on Amaliji’s arm.

  He screamed in pain as fell away from the portal rune.

  “You will not harm her!” cried Grum, raising his war hammer.

  Then his voice softened. “And now, my friend,” he said to Arastead, “let us go home for I miss our forge.”

  And Arastead, comforted by the sight of his friend, gritted his teeth and with visible effort, completed the portal rune spell.

  ***

  The room swam into view. Farling took a moment to steady himself, but as he looked around, he could see nothing as the room dark with just the faintest of light.

  “Arastead,” he began, “where in Midgard did you bring us? This is not the Trondheim thieves guild.”

  “Somewhere Mage would not expect,” answered Arastead as he opened a door, flooding the room with light.

  Everyone shielded their eyes as Arastead said: “We are in the Pitcairn thieves guild.”

  And sure enough, as they walked out of the room, they were warmly greeted though in amazement by Melgund and the other Pitcairn thieves.

  Arastead explained to Farling: “The portal rune in Trondheim was covered with that thick rug as soon as we left, rendering it useless. I could sense this portal rune was still within range, and so brought us all here. Speaking of which, we should render this portal inert as well.”

  And in a few minutes, a thick rug covered the portal rune.

  Grum’s knees suddenly gave way: “I think I still need some help.”

  “Of course,” said Margret as she and Sihr helped Grum sit down on a nearby bench.

  Farling laid Queen Astrid safely down on the ground. Thieves quickly found pillows and blankets to keep her comfortable.

  “Well, well, well,” said Pressan cleaning his glasses, “I suspect you have some stories to tell.”

  “Pressan,” said Farling, not hiding a look of surprise on his face. “What are you still doing here?”

  Pressan chuckled as he put his glasses back on. Said: “It is good to see you as well, blacksmith.”

  Farling sighed, then said: “Forgive my manners, Pressan, we have had a very exciting time of late.”

  Pressan glanced at Queen Astrid still asleep on the ground.

  “I can only imagine,” said Pressan. “The last we saw of you, you and everyone were thrown through the Alfheim portal. And now you have escaped. But, Odin’s beard, what was Queen Astrid doing in Alfheim?”

  Grum weakly said from where he sat: “It is a long story. I think some food and coffee would go a long way in loosening my tongue.”

  “This could get messy,” said Arastead with a wink and a smile.

  CHAPTER 34

  The Story of the Sorceress

  That night, when Queen Astrid was awake, a small crowd gathered around her to talk.

  Pressan started by asking Farling and his friends: “I am most curious; what happened after you four were thrown through the Alfheim Gateway?”

  “It was quite the adventure,” began Farling as he described everything that had happened. And as Farling told the story, Grum, Arastead, and Margret added details, fleshing out the story. Both the queen’s and Pressan’s eyes widen in surprise many times.

  When they were finished, everyone was stunned.

  An
d then Sihr told his story of his adventures of finding a golden apple for Freya.

  And when he finished, everyone not stunned by the Alfheim story were stunned by Sihr’s.

  Astrid was first to break the silence: “But why do the elves think the Sorceress, my daughter, is important to them?” she asked.

  Margret nodded and said: “The Sorceress is a very powerful witch, able to combine the magic of the Midgard Serpent and Yggdrasil. A wizard such as Arastead can only draw magic from the Midgard Serpent, which is chaos. I can only draw magic from Yggdrasil, which is order. A Sorceress can draw magic from both and can combine them in wonderful ways—and terrible ways.”

  Astrid shook her head in disbelief. “You have not answered my question,” she said. “Why would the elves want my child?”

  Margret said: “The elves believe in a prophecy that a Sorceress will lead the elf armies to victory over all the other Norse realms.”

  “So that is why they kidnapped me,” Astrid said flatly, her face expressionless.

  Pressan stopped cleaning his glasses and put them on. “Margret, explain to me again: Why did the elf-king save you from Grendel?” he asked.

  “Of course,” began Margret. “Destroying Grendel in front of the elves was reward enough. Watching Grendel destroy trained Midgardians, who were all using weapons of magic, that was simply the icing on the cake. And no, not out of kindness did he save us. He also had plans for us, so he did not want us killed, at least not yet.”

  She then described how they were forced to kidnap Queen Astrid as Grum’s life was at stake. “I must apologize again, Queen Astrid, for all the trouble we have caused you. In order to save you, we had to pretend to go along with the elf king’s plan. I knew we had to deceive him, and that we would double-cross him when he least expected it.”

  Farling grunted. “Margret, you need to still explain to me how you double-crossed the elves.”

  “I can explain,” said Margret. “And you were wise to trust me, Farling. I knew I had to reach out to Sihr using Freya’s circlet as soon as we arrived in Trondheim.”

  Sihr nodded. “Now it is my turn,” he said. “Yes, I was in a light sleep when Margret’s voice woke me. I realized upon waking that she was not there, and then she told me what to do. So, I quickly made my way to the Trondheim thieves guild, convinced the thief left in charge there of what was happening by showing him the sleeping guards at the main gate and the passed-out shopkeeper. As per Margret’s orders, we then waited in the book stacks near the portal rune in the library, waited for your return with the queen, then leapt into the portal rune at the last possible moment. Margret told me of Grum’s near-death state, and so I rushed to his side as quickly as possible and healed him.”