Dark Age

by Mark Huckerby

  Past kings and queens of Norway gazed down disapprovingly at Alfie from the huge portraits lining the gallery walls. He tried not to look at them and focus instead on the regalia in the cabinets before him. It was a familiar collection, much like his own, back in the Keep – crowns, sceptres, orbs – except for the small golden anointing horn, used, he assumed, during coronations to pour sacred oil on the monarch’s head, much like the spoon used in his own crowning ceremony. It reminded him of Guthrum’s hunting horn, and he wondered with a shudder whether Queen Freya, sleeping upstairs, had any Viking blood in her. It might explain her frosty attitude.

  Then he saw it – a tall flag, faded with age, but bearing the image of Odin’s black birds: the Raven Banner. Alfie tried to prise open the glass case, but it was locked, of course. He pulled out the razor-sharp glass cutter that Brian had given him. He hoped that it would not set off the alarm. If it did, the plan was to blame the “intruder” Brian had said he’d seen, evacuate Alfie due to the “inadequate security” at the palace, and head home with the banner. Alfie placed the tip of the glass cutter against the display case.

  “You must be a history buff, Your Majesty.”

  Alfie stuffed the glass cutter back in his pocket and spun round to see a tall, severe-looking elderly lady in an old-fashioned tunic with long grey hair tied in a neat ponytail. She reminded him of someone, but he couldn’t think who.

  “I was just … um, that is … yes,” said Alfie.

  “If your Majesty wishes for a tour of the regalia, he need merely ask.”

  “Oh, you know, didn’t want to make a fuss. Thanks, though. Terrific. Sorry, who are you?”

  “I am the Lord Chamberlain.”

  Alfie burst out laughing. “Yes, that’s who you reminded me of! I mean, my Lord Chamberlain. Er, not being funny, but shouldn’t you be called the Lady Chamberlain?”

  “That wouldn’t really work,” the Norwegian Lord Chamberlain said, a hint of an amused smile playing on her lips.

  “No, I knew it didn’t sound right as soon as I said it. You two should really meet though. You’d get on like a house on fire.”

  She nodded politely and stared at him. Was she waiting for him to say something? Alfie thought he might as well try to salvage something from the situation.

  “I was just admiring your Raven Banner. Do you ever get it out to clean, or…”

  “Alas, Majesty, that is not the real banner of Odin,” replied the Norwegian Lord Chamberlain. “It is only a replica. The original is long since lost.”

  “Lost?”

  Alfie couldn’t believe it. Had he come all this way, made a fool out of himself and quite possibly permanently damaged international relations with Norway for nothing?

  “Yes. Centuries ago.”

  “OK, well, nice to meet you. Goodnight.”

  Alfie sloped away, but as he reached the gallery door, the old woman spoke again. “There is the legend, of course…”

  “Legend?” asked Alfie.

  “That the banner was hidden away somewhere in the North, near Geirangerfjord.”

  “Geiranger-what?”

  “Fjord,” she repeated. “It is what we call our large lakes that are fed from the sea. I am surprised that your staff did not brief you on this.”

  “It was all a bit last minute,” shrugged Alfie. “Does this banner legend say anything else?”

  The elderly lady thought for a moment. “There is an old poem. I will try to translate… ‘In northern lands, beyond Troll’s Path, where Geiranger meets the sea, and seven sisters dance for their suitor, that’s where in eternal sleep, Odin’s banner black shall be.’”

  “Wow, that’s, um… You couldn’t write it down for me, could you?” Alfie asked with a grin.

  As the lights of Oslo faded from view below them, Alfie couldn’t help feeling uneasy. This wasn’t like any normal Defender outing. This time he would not be able to rely on Wyvern to chart a course. Rather he would have to rely on his memory of the map LC had briefed him with, as they headed north and followed the fractured coastline – a thousand islands and inlets scattered like jigsaw pieces waiting to be assembled. Even if they found Geirangerfjord, he would need to be careful. As LC had said to him (at least five times):

  “Remember, Majesty, you are on foreign soil, so there is very little your command powers will work on here.”

  Kind of obvious, thought Alfie. Unless this fjord was stuffed with British trees, iron and stone, he would be relying on his sword and his horse to get him out of any trouble. After twenty minutes flying, Alfie noticed the white dots of snow-covered peaks far below them and a large three-pronged claw of inlets that looked familiar.

  “What do you think, Hayley?” said Alfie, directing his gaze downwards to give her a clearer view on her monitor back at the Keep.

  “Not that you care what I think,” she replied, “but yeah, that could be Geir-whatchamacallit-fjord.”

  “Somebody’s in a mood she weren’t invited,” quipped Brian to LC back in Oslo, loud enough for Hayley to hear.

  “Hey, Brian, why don’t you stuff your—”

  Alfie coughed loudly, drowning out what remained of Hayley’s outburst.

  “Thanks, team. Maybe the arguments can wait till I’m safely tucked up in bed again?” said Alfie. “I’ll find somewhere to land, see if we’re in the right place.”

  Moments later, the Defender was standing on a quiet mountain road looking at a sign and trying to decide whether or not it was a joke. It was a red warning triangle, at the centre of which was the silhouette of a dumpy humanoid creature that Alfie had already seen on T-shirts and posters in every tourist shop window on the drive through Oslo. A troll.

  “Um…”

  Below it was another road sign that read: TROLLSTIGEN.

  “That’s it!” said Hayley in his ear. “Trollstigen means Troll’s Path. The fjord should be right over the next hill.”

  The Defender summoned Wyvern and she carried him over the tall pine trees that lined the dark road, startling the biggest owl Alfie had ever seen in his life, and emerged over the calm, icy waters of Geirangerfjord. Even at night-time it was a spectacular sight. Moonlight shimmered off the huge lake, which snaked out of sight towards snow-peaked mountains. Immense wooded cliffs rose straight out of the water on both sides. Alfie thought it was the most beautiful place he had ever been. The problem was that it was also vast. Alfie had the mobile sortilegic meter strapped to his belt, but he would have to get close to the banner to pick up a signal. Wyvern buzzed past the trees down one side of the fjord. In his excitement at finding the right place, Alfie had forgotten that he would still be faced with the task of pinpointing a hidden relic the size of a flag. A couple of miles later and he still couldn’t see an end to the water.

  “This is impossible,” said Alfie. “It could be anywhere.”

  “What was it the poem said about seven sisters?” asked LC.

  “It’s just some stupid old poem,” said Alfie. “It probably doesn’t mean anything.”

  “And yet somebody chose those words for a reason; do not be so quick to dismiss them.”

  Alfie sighed. “Fine. It was, er … seven sisters dance for their suitor, that’s where in eternal sleep, Odin’s banner black shall be.”

  “Good. Now look for any sign of habitation, perhaps these sisters used to live there.”

  “Believe me,” said Alfie, “the only things living here are fish and maybe the odd mountain goat.”

  “You’re such a bunch of dummies,” said Hayley, cutting in from the Keep. “The seven sisters and their suitor aren’t people. They’re waterfalls.”

  “Waterfalls?” said LC. “Where did you find that, in the Archives?”

  “No, I have my own really-secret ancient source,” replied Hayley. “It’s called Google.”

  Alfie stifled a laugh and steered Wyvern out over the water. A minute later they had found it. Seven waterfalls – the “sisters” – dancing over the cliff face on one side of th
e fjord, while another – their lonely “suitor”, he supposed – watched from the other shore. There was just enough ground for him to land at the foot of the waterfalls, but looking around he couldn’t imagine where you might hide a flag. There was nowhere to bury it and there were no obvious hiding places in the bare crags above him. Nevertheless he took out the meter and started to scan for activity. Nothing. No hint of a vibration from the brass instrument in his hand.

  “Not a sausage,” he said. “Looks like the Raven Banner was just a story after all.”

  Disappointed, he turned back to the cliff and sat on a rock with his feet in the water. What a waste of time. The sun would be up in a couple of hours and he didn’t fancy trying to sneak back into the palace in broad daylight. He stood up, accidentally knocking the meter into the water.

  “Oops. Are these things waterproof?” he asked as he stooped to pick it up.

  Buzz. Alfie looked at the dripping meter as it buzzed eagerly. Alfie waded out until he was standing knee-deep in the fjord. “Whoa. I’ve got something here.”

  “What is it, sir?” asked LC.

  “Not sure yet. But it looks like I’ll be out of touch for a while. I’m going for a swim.”

  Alfie was not a strong swimmer. Along with football, rugby, cricket – OK, let’s just say sport in general – he’d just never been that good at it. By the end of one swimming gala at Harrow there was genuine debate among the spectators about whether the future king was attempting the butterfly stroke or simply drowning. But in his Defender armour it was another story. Aside from the rather handy fact that it allowed him to breathe underwater, the slightest kick of his legs propelled him through the water like a dolphin. In his hand, the meter was going crazy.

  Buzz. Buzz. BUUUUUUUUUZZ.

  Alfie pulled his sword halfway out of its hilt, sending a powerful glow all around him as he swam on into the murky depths of the fjord. He was just wondering whether you got dangerous eels in Norwegian waters when he saw a strange light coming from a jagged fissure in a vast underwater cliff. He arrowed towards it, the vibration of the meter growing stronger with every stroke. The fissure was just large enough to squeeze through.

  If he’d felt nervous being so deep underwater, then being underwater AND in a narrow tunnel was even worse. He had to force himself not to hold his breath, it was making him dizzy. Trust in the armour – it’s got you this far. The rough tunnel seemed to go on for ever, deeper and deeper, but still the meter rattled like a bell against his belt and the warm glow he had spotted was getting brighter and brighter, like daylight ahead. Suddenly the tunnel opened up into a pool and he found himself bobbing to the surface inside a cave.

  The glow wasn’t coming from daylight. Phosphorescent algae on the dripping walls reflected off piles and piles of gold. Coins, jewellery, caskets and crucifixes – the floor of the cave was awash with treasure. It rattled and slipped beneath Alfie’s feet like pebbles on a beach as he walked over it. He wondered who it all belonged to, or whether its owner had died long ago, leaving it here, forgotten. But he wasn’t here for gold; he couldn’t afford to get distracted. Ahead of him the clinking golden blanket came to an end, plunging the cave into darkness once more. Stalactites hung from the roof of the cave like jagged teeth in a giant monster’s mouth. As he walked on, a smell of decaying seaweed filled his nostrils.

  And then Alfie saw it, standing on a raised patch of rock on the far side of the cavern. It wasn’t much to look at – a tattered triangular piece of cloth depicting a crude image of a raven, worn tassels hanging off it, all attached to a simple wooden pole. Was this really the great Raven Banner? The sacred Norse relic so powerful it had to be hidden deep beneath a remote fjord? The buzzing meter on his belt said yes.

  As he edged through the darkness towards the banner, he felt the ground underfoot become soft and uneven. He hated to think how many dead fish had washed in here over the centuries; he just knew he didn’t want to end up falling into it all. The seaweed underfoot squeaked as he walked on it – air pockets being released, he figured. Squeak… squeak… snoooooore.

  Wait… SNORE?!?

  Alfie unsheathed his sword as quietly as he could. Light flooded the corner of the cave, confirming his worst fears. Seaweed, of course, doesn’t snore. But sleeping Viking draugar do. There must have been a thousand of the ugly, stinking, farting-in-their-sleep undead warriors, piled on top of each other like they’d dropped unconscious at the end of an epic party. Celebrating their latest treasure pillaging expedition, no doubt. Alfie didn’t know how many centuries this ghoulish sleepover had been going on and he didn’t want to know. He just wanted to grab the banner and get out of there before anyone’s alarm clock went off. He thought about summoning Wyvern and flying over them, but the roof was low in here and if he knocked a stalactite down it was sure to wake them.

  Dulling the light from his blade, Alfie tiptoed as best he could across the carpet of bodies, trying not to tread on any of the Vikings’ more tender parts. As luck would have it, this lot seemed to be seriously deep sleepers. Even after he had retrieved the Raven Banner and accidentally poked the end of it quite far up a snoozing draugar’s nostril, the Viking had merely grumbled in his sleep and swatted it away.

  Not hanging around long enough to even think about taking any other souvenirs from the treasure trove, the Defender dived into the entrance pool and made his way back through the tunnel with the flag. Breaking free of the cave, he kicked hard for the surface of the fjord.

  Alfie was just congratulating himself on another narrow escape and a mission accomplished when he was hit by the lake monster. He cartwheeled through the water, struggling to catch his breath, but the creature was already coming at him again. That can’t be real, he thought, gasping inside his suit. At least fifty feet long, with four enormous flippers and a long, snake-like neck, the monster opened its gargantuan jaws, wide enough to swallow him whole. The Defender summoned his shield and kicked away, turning what would have been a fatal strike into a glancing blow. Still, Alfie knew this was one fight he could not win, at least not underwater.

  SPURS!

  Wyvern spiralled out beneath him and, seeing the hulking shadow of the lake monster rising fast towards them, needed no prompting to head topside. They exploded from the lake and banked hard for the trees. If they could just clear the top of the cliffs… But the lake monster was right behind them, its long neck shooting up like a torpedo, its whole body clearing the surface. THHHWACK! The beast sideswiped them with its huge head, sending them smashing into the rocks. Wyvern disappeared with the impact, leaving Alfie hanging from the cliff face. Somehow Alfie still had the Raven Banner gripped in one hand. The lake monster splashed down into the shallows with a tremendous SMACK, then wasted no time in gliding back to the cliff and raising her neck towards him. If he hadn’t been about to die, Alfie would have marvelled at the prehistoric grace of the creature and the smoothness of her grey-green skin. His communications system crackled back into life. It was Brian.

  “You there, boss? We were about to dispatch the Navy to find you. How’s it going?”

  “BADLY!”

  He could hear their shocked gasps as his helmet-cam came back online giving them a close-up view of the incoming monster’s jaws! From the position in which he was dangling, Alfie was having trouble reaching his sword. He estimated he had about a second to do something before he was eaten.

  A skull-shuddering yell unlike any he had ever heard before came from above him. Tree trunks snapped like matchsticks as something huge and green leapt from the top of the cliff straight at the lake monster and punched it on top of its vast head. The lake monster howled like a kicked dog and retreated into the water, leaving its attacker to jump off into the shallows with a triumphant roar. By the time Alfie realized he was falling it was too late to call on his spurs, so instead he opted for landing flat on his face. His helmet communications crackled and went offline again.

  Shaking the stones from his armour, the Defender sat up to
see the huge troll that had scared off the lake monster stride out of the water. He assumed it was a troll, anyway. It certainly matched the picture on the sign he’d seen earlier, except this one had real green flesh and bulging muscles and warts and tussocks of wiry black hair. The troll, all ten feet of it, squared up to him. It was close enough for him to get a whiff of the drool falling like a black waterfall from its hideous mouth. Oof. And he thought dead Vikings smelled bad!

  Alfie was grateful for being saved from the lake monster, but he also wished that Norway would just hurry up and decide which mythological monster was going to kill him, because this was getting silly. Without thinking, the Defender reached out his ring finger towards a boulder and hurled it at the troll. Except that he didn’t, because the boulder stayed precisely where it was.

  “Oh right, foreign soil. That’s annoying,” he said to himself.

  The troll started to guffaw, burping between laughs like a helpless child. Alfie considered taking this chance to summon Wyvern back and fly away over the fjord, but he could see the dark shadow of the lake monster patrolling just under the surface.

  “Nice try, but you’re on my patch now, remember?” said the troll.

  For some reason Alfie had not been expecting the troll to speak. Probably because it didn’t look smart enough. “Who are you?” he asked.

  “I am Holgatroll. But you know me by another name…”

  The troll began to shrink, its skin turning from green to pink as it transformed from the ugly monster into a graceful young woman. Queen Freya. She was still wearing the same dress she’d had on at dinner, and the emerald necklace, which shone with a dazzling green light as she transformed back into her human form.

  “No. Way,” Alfie stammered.

  His head was spinning. Lake Monsters, and now trolls who were queens. His legs buckled and he had to steady himself on a boulder.

  “What?” asked the queen, enjoying his surprise. “Did you think you were the only one with unusual gifts?”

  Alfie removed his armour. The king and queen stood unmasked before each other on the shore. “No, but, a troll? I mean you did NOT smell good. No offence.”