The Forgotten Land (16 page)

“But
why did the Tuatha-Day-Dannan choose Ulfor as their destination?” asked Berag.

“It
matters not my friend,” replied Romeeros. “What matters is that they are here
and there is nothing to be done about it. You must prepare, for what approaches
will be devastating if you and your people are not ready.”

The
two men sat staring into the flickering warmth of the fire as it devoured a
fresh log.

“The
wind speaks an ill omen,” came a soft, deep voice.

Both
men started and turned. The doorway was blocked by the silhouette of a tall,
well built man.

Berag
ushered him in. “Come in Thormdall, it is a pleasure to have you here.”

The
warrior known as Thormdall ducked under the door and entered the dwelling.
Without hesitation, Thormdall turned to Romeeros who was still seated near
Berag’s sleeping wife and daughter. “Pray tell me rune singer, what is
happening? I have never felt a message in the wind like this.”

Romeeros
looked up at Thormdall, who struck an imposing figure. Even as a rune singer,
looked upon by most as the wisest, Berserkers always filled Romeeros with a
sick, spine chilling dread. He knew that Thormdall was not some young, witless
man pretending to be a warrior of Odin. He was a true Berserker, a man chosen
by Odin to do his bidding. He had never seen Thormdall in action, but he had
heard the stories. The man was almost untouchable on the field of battle. He
had only met Thormdall once when the warrior had been much younger, but even
then there had been something about him. He was calm and relaxed, regardless of
the circumstance or situation. As cold as ice. It was disconcerting to the rune
singer.

“What
is it rune singer?” asked Thormdall.

Romeeros
cleared his throat and told the newcomer the news he had given Berag.

“That
is interesting,” spoke Thormdall softly. He folded his arms in front of the
fire. The orange light dancing on his face revealed the pale white scar that
ran from his right eyebrow to his chin.

“What
makes you think they will come here?”

“Because
the Tuatha-Day-Dannan are here walking this land as we speak. But more
importantly, what they seek is also here.”

“You
misunderstand me. Why would the Tuatha-Day-Dannan come here? Why this particular
village? Vokthorp is only four days easy riding from here.”

“I
do not pretend to know the ways of the gods, Thormdall.

However,
they will be here come sunrise, of that I am sure.”

Berag
coughed softly. “So what is it Romeeros? What is this thing they carry?”

“At
this time it matters not—”

“I
believe I speak for Berag, myself and indeed the entire village when I say that
I beg to differ. With due respect Romeeros, I believe it matters. If we are to
come under attack because of this…this object, then we have a right to know
what it is.” Thormdall’s piercing eyes stared unblinking at the rune singer.

Romeeros
moved to the doorway. Glancing up into the night sky he listened as the rain
slashed through the grass outside and hissed into the crops only a stone’s
throw away. He let out a soft, deep breath. In the doorway of the next long
house along he could see the dark shape of a young woman hugging a cloak to her
as she peered in his direction, probably wondering what business a rune singer
would have with her chieftain.

Turning
from the doorway he shivered.

“It
is a crystal of power. Some say it was a gift from the gods. The truth is
nobody really knows where it came from. But what we do know is that it has two
qualities. Firstly, it can bend time so that movement from one time to another
is possible. It also has an influence-”

“Did
you say it could bend time?” asked Berag.

“Yes,
it is hard to explain, but it can move the person carrying it forward or back
in time, as well as those within his direct vicinity.”

“I
am beginning to like the sound of this rock less and less,” grunted Thormdall.

“As
I was saying,” continued Romeeros. “The crystal has an influence on others that
emanates from within the carrier and is greatly magnified by the crystal. For
instance, if the person carrying the crystal is an individual possessing great
anger, the people immediately around him will also not only become more easily
angered, but will begin to view the world and their surroundings in the same
way as the individual carrying the crystal.

“It
is an item that would help, let us say, in the ruling of a kingdom, for
instance, or a village. It will not make people do what the carrier wants those
individuals to do, but it will influence them so it is far easier for the
individual carrying the crystal to persuade them to do as he wishes. It has
great power and could have great political implications.”

Romeeros
raised his eyebrows. “And although it could be used for great good, in the
wrong hands it is also capable of great evil.

This
is why the Kadark seeks it. For if it was to fall into his possession, this
whole land will quickly slip under his influence and into darkness.”

Romeeros
watched the fire crackle and spit in protest at the damp log Berag lowered onto
it.

“It
is not a thing of nature,” Romeeros spoke softly. “It is not of this world and
should not stay here. When the Tuatha-Day-Dannan arrive on the morn bearing the
crystal, we must make plans to move it far from here.”

“Should
that not prove easy?” asked Thormdall. “After all did you not say that it could
move the carrier forward or back in time? If we moved it forward in time far
enough that all that remained of the Kadark were bleached bones, would it not
solve our problem?”

“It
would, but we need to move it into the future and hide it so that it will never
fall into anyone’s hands, for good or for ill. Either that or find a way to
destroy it.”

“Sounds
easy enough,” spoke Berag.

“If
only it were,” responded Romeeros. “In order to move the crystal forward or
back in time—”

“No,
I mean it would be easy to destroy it would it not?” asked Berag.

“I
do not even know if it can be destroyed Berag. But in order to move it, we need
to get to a…gateway, if you like, that will allow us to do this. There are many
of these gateways scattered throughout the world.”

“My
head is beginning to hurt, but I think I understand,” said Berag, rubbing his
eyes and yawning quietly.

Thormdall
nodded, but said nothing.

“Before
either of you ask, there is only one main gateway in the world, the several
hundred others are only minor gateways no longer in use. This main gateway,
often thought of as the first gateway ever created in this world, is far away
in another country to the south east. If we are to attempt to destroy or rid
ourselves of the crystal then it must be to this gateway that we travel. It can
only be reached on foot, hoof and longship. It will be a dangerous journey, but
one that must be taken if we are to ensure the safety of our people, and future
generations.”

“In
which country does this gateway reside?” Berag asked.

“I
do not know for sure, but from the stories and half truths I have heard, it is
in Badawark territory.”

“I
know little of these people,” spoke Thormdall, looking across at the rune
singer. He waited silently for Romeeros to explain, but Berag broke the
silence.

“The
Badawarks invaded Byzantium thirty-two summers ago now. Ferocious fighters,
they carry small round wooden shields covered in the skin of an animal they
call a camel. They fight with spears and scimitars-”

“Scimitars?”

Berag
waved his hand for silence. “Within two days they had fought endlessly into
Byzantium, thirteen villages lay gutted, animals either killed or set free.
Crops were burned, and food was stolen.

“The
 Badawarks  had  carried  out  border  raids
 many  times, sometimes up to fifty raids in one year. But this. This
was something that neither the king nor the Varangian Guard had ever seen
before. It was a consolidated, disciplined attack upon the kingdom. It was
obvious their destination was Byzantium and, ultimately, the throne.

“It
took three days of marching before we were on them. The king went forward with
his skirmishers. The guard was on all sides of the monarch within the
skirmisher formation. I was close to the outside of the Varangian square so I
saw a lot of the fighting. The Byzantium skirmishers are fine soldiers,
probably some of the best in the world. Aggressive and disciplined, a rare but
lethal combination. They fought hard but the Badawarks, no matter how many
fell, just kept coming. It was not long before they were through and fell
amongst the Varangian guard’s ranks.

“We
fought well and routed the Badawarks within the hour. But we lost a lot of men
that day.”

Berag
stared out into the night, it was raining heavily. His mind was full of the
piercing clash of steel on steel, orders shouted, swirling dust thrown up by
the jostling feet of men and horses in combat, the sickly, sweet stink of blood
as it dried upon skin, armour or earth. Above it all was the sound of screaming
men as pain filled their dying bodies, an agony that very often followed them
right up until the moment of their death…maybe even afterwards.

“We
lost a lot of men that day,” he said again. Blinking out of his reverie, Berag
turned to Thormdall. “So you see my friend, what I am saying is that this
crystal has to travel across dangerous territory, if it is indeed to Badawark
that it needs to go to reach this supposed gateway.

There
is no guarantee that whoever goes will make it at all.”

Romeeros
stood up. “That is something we will think about tomorrow. Berag, when the sun
reaches high noon, call a village meeting. I will be there. Then we may discuss
how we go about sending this crystal on its way.”

Nodding,
Berag watched the rune singer lift the hood of his cloak over his head and face
before disappearing into the dark night.

Thormdall
clasped a hand on the chieftain’s shoulder. “I shall see you at the meeting my
friend. Try to sleep.”

With
that Thormdall ducked under the doorway and was gone.

“Can
you not sleep?” It was the soft, sleepy voice of Helga as he stood warming his
hands before the fire.

“I
cannot,” he replied, turning to her and smiling.

“You’re
no longer young, my love, you must try to get some rest.”

“Thank
you for reminding me,” he chuckled sitting near her and pushing a hand through
her silver flecked hair.

“Are
you feeling well?” asked his wife, concern entering her voice.

“I
am well,” he lied, stroking her brow. “Now go back to sleep, my love, tomorrow
will be a busy day.”

“Why
so?” she asked closing her eyes and pulling the blanket tight around her.

“I
just have a feeling,” he replied. He closed his eyes against the piercing sound
of clashing steel and the screams of the dying as memories from another time
poured into his mind.

*
* * * *

Steve
rolled onto his side, shielding his eyes with his hands. As soft as the early
light was, his eyes were straining after having been in darkness for so long.
The rain had stopped, but the ground was still a quagmire. He could feel the
comforting weight of his rifle on his back and his chest webbing pressing
against his body. He brought the rifle around, clasped it in his hands and
flicked the safety off. When he had become accustomed to the light, he saw the
other soldiers were nearby.

Scott
was lying face down with his head resting on his arm. Steve could see he was
breathing. Matt was already up, he had his weapon slung and was kneeling over
Scott, his first aid pack open beside him.

He
was taking Scott’s blood pressure, before rolling the soldier onto his side and
checking for any obvious wounds or injuries. When none were found, Matt moved
onto the next soldier.

“I’m
all right,” Steve said when Matt arrived by his side. “Still gotta check ya,
mate,” Matt said.

Matt
relaxed once he had checked all the members of the patrol.

“What
the hell happened?” Matt asked.

“I’ve
got no bloody idea, mate, no bloody idea. I had a few mates back at school who
used to do acid, and the stories they used to tell about what they’d seen or
heard while they were stoned were unbelievable. I never did drugs, but Christ I
reckon what we went through back there would be something like being stoned.”

“You’re
not wrong, mate,” said Matt. “I lost my radio, I can’t find it anywhere.”

Will
had left the shelter and was kneeling on the other side of the circle of
standing stones, staring down the ACOG scope attached to his rifle. With the light
of the morning it was easy to see they were on a plateau with a steep hill
behind them, but lower ground was in front of their position. It was down into
this lower ground that Will was watching. Scott was now in a half sitting
position, squinting against the light. The stones themselves must have been
half the height of a man.