TRONDHEIM SAGEN: Earth Shattering Read online

  Contents

  About the Book

  Acknowledgements

  Maps

  Anatomy of Armour

  Chapter 1 The Titan

  Chapter 2 Tedious supplicants

  Chapter 3 Restricted Council

  Chapter 4 Towards destiny

  Chapter 5 The Citadel

  Chapter 6 The Kingdom of Kitan

  Chapter 7 Daughter of the North

  Chapter 8 Stories for infants

  Chapter 9 At the start

  Chapter 10 Unusual meetings

  Chapter 11 The green hills of Vyborg

  Chapter 12 The Dark Monastery

  Chapter 13 Dark-way horrors

  Chapter 14 Seventeen blades and a Nordic hammer

  Chapter 15 March to the south

  Chapter 16 Steel and glory

  Chapter 17 Alarming edict

  Chapter 18 Tendard and its pitfalls

  Chapter 19 Return to the south

  Chapter 20 Changing plans

  Chapter 21 The obligatory way

  Chapter 22 Tightrope over the abyss

  Chapter 23 Hunted

  Chapter 24 Zubrovka

  Chapter 25 Transfer of responsibility

  Chapter 26 Revealing flames

  Chapter 27 Horror from the Black Boughs

  Chapter 28 Kingdom of the North

  Chapter 29 Return home

  Chapter 30 The least suitable not to cause harm

  Chapter 31 The Bear, the Dragon and a Nordic goat

  Chapter 32 In the Nordic lands

  Chapter 33 Runic consultation

  Chapter 34 Riding ahead once again

  Chapter 35 Enemies at the gate

  Chapter 36 Still among the living

  Chapter 37 Strenuous defense

  Chapter 38 Nordic tide

  Short notes on the Author

  Also by Andreas Hennen

  About the Book

  The novel begins with the arrival at Titan, within the Citadel, of the four Lords of the cardinal realms (Holaf Erlingson, Lord of the North and of Trondheim, High Marshal also called the God-Slayer and Lord of the East, Grigor Seeker, First Banner of the West, Godwin Wellinton, called the Righteous, Lord of the South). They are there for the usual limited council meeting in the presence of the Emperor.

  The council was to have been to be a boring obligation to be fulfilled but it reveals the presence of unrest and an imminent threat to the Empire. However, the details and the identity of the plot and the plotters are unknown. Therefore the three Lords of the North, East and South decide to travel together seeking answers to the riddle.

  Acknowledgements

  It is my duty and pleasure to express my thanks to some of the most important people involved in the realization of the TRONDHEIM SAGEN.

  The first thanks go to my beloved wife Olga for her irreplaceable support. Her continual encouragement has been fundamental to the achievement of such a satisfactory result.

  I thank Louisa Merlin (and her brother Bob) for having lent their wisdom in making the long and complex translation, necessary to render the evocative style of writing that is peculiar to me, down to the smallest detail.

  A special thanks goes to Angelo Coletto, artist of excellence, to whom we owe the splendid illustrations of the characters accompanying the volume, for believing in the work and creating authentic pearls of rare beauty.

  Maps

  .

  Anatomy of Armour

  Chapter 1

  The Titan

  The first, as always, to reach the Citadel for these political events was Grigor Seeker, First Banner of the West, he did not miss any opportunity to make an elegant show of himself, his money and his beautiful thorough-bred horse, West, whose breeding had been supervised and planned by Grigor himself. Truth told it was a magnificent horse, slender and well proportioned, with a grey coat, flecked with blue. A long black mane flowed down its neck and its tail, of the same colour, covered its hoofs, dusty from the long journey. The horse was wonderful stallion, but too weak for battle, with slender bones and little strength, more suitable for cavalcades in extensive verdant parks. Rather like its master if all is considered.

  The rider, on arrival, dismounted with an athletic leap: he was not a giant but certainly not a dwarf, a distinguished cavalier of medium height with a proud and martial posture. His slender figure gleamed bright; a memorable sight. He was adorned with flexible armour made in the shape of a dragon's scales, assembled with alternating gold and silver flakes. The same precious materials were used to make up the body. The shoulder straps and the gorget, only they were all magnificently chiselled and beaten, to depict epic exploits of the Seeker family.

  The gold helmet left the face completely bare, showing his white beard, about four fingers long, but so well cared for that it looked like a fake. A face marked by years, not a few to tell the truth, as the length of the average life was about sixty or sixty-five years. His emerald green eyes had a deep magnetic gaze. On the helmet, just above the eyes, a golden band surrounded Grigor’s head. It was studded with red shiny rubies and semi-precious stones of all kinds. In the centre at the front was the spiked octagon, symbol of his family.

  Grigor was not really a warrior forged by a thousand battles. He owed his fame, position and titles to his ancestors, but especially to his grandfather, who earned the regency of the city of Abovemountain and with it the management of the gold mine of the same name. However the title of First Banner of the West and Liberator of the Citadel did not come by chance. Grigor, in fact, made up for his lack of physical strength and poor fighting ability with an innate talent for politics and a complete lack of scruples.

  The second to appear in the enormous military drill square was the Lord Titan of the East, High Marshal. He was a man who was not originally from the East, even though his name would suggest this to even the most uninformed of villagers. High had not decided his origins of his own accord. He was born there, as his father before him had moved East with his family, obeying a stupid and ill-considered order from the Emperor. The Emperor himself was apparently blind to the impossibility of endowing a man of the West with the title of Lord of the East. So High's father was honoured with this position, dissatisfying in a single blow all the Vassals of the East, who would have wanted one of their nobles to lead the Kingdom. The foolishness of such nomination offended the Lords of the North as well. They considered the warriors of the East valid and reliable, while the inhabitants of the lands to the West unworthy of titles and of dubious loyalty.

  High had not accepted that honour willingly, knowing well the poor reputation men of the West had with the peoples of the East, as well as their even lower reputation with their northern allies. People of the East were considered to be weak and accustomed to surrendering. The mystery surrounding the death of the previous Lord of the East was no help either. It coincided with the battle of the Eastern Break, fought many years ago. The late monarch had two sons who survived the war, but were arrested for reasons that were far from clear and later disappeared. Nobody understood the true origin of the appointment, including High.

  A very intelligent and valiant man, the new Lord of the East earned the respect of the families of his Vassals with his definitive, total victory over the barbarian tribe of the Ardilians. The war ended with High killing their living God, whose departure brought a breath of tranquillity as daily incursions into the outlying villages ceased.

  High was a good looking man, apart from a long scar going from his right eye in an irregular curve to his chin. The scar was a gift from the defeated living God. Despite this, the God-Slayer, as he was called by the Lords of the East, had an enviable physique. The way
he was dressed did not do justice to the full glory of his physical form, as it was covered with a very strong chain mail suit and heavy Nordic steel body armour bearing the motto ‘Providence protects us’, a gift from Holaf, Lord of Trondheim.

  A long cloak stretched from the back of the hammer-worked steel gorget. His cloak was black with red lining. On the right shoulder was large white sword with a right handed blood stained blade pointing downwards to simulate a cross. This was the emblem of the Marshal family. His shoulders were protected by sturdy, steel shoulder straps and half plate sleeves. They were all highly polished and edged with lacquer. Both shoulder straps showed the family symbol painted on the side.

  High had only his splendid sword with a golden pommel in the shape of a claw holding a skull. This was the only display permitted in addition to the symbols of his rank, tinkling and bold, ringing out festively at every step. The Lord of the East never appeared empty-handed and he brought with him a splendid gift for the Emperor.

  Grigor, shimmering bright, and totally arrogant, turned a disgusted gaze, if not worse, to High. High had a horse's bridle in one hand and hanging from the fingers of the other a leather bag. The emblem of his family was branded on the bag and it gave a clear tinkling of dinars or, less probably, iron balls.

  "Does this seem the correct way to present yourself?" exclaimed the irritated Grigor.

  "I beg your pardon?" the God-Slayer answered with a surprised look.

  "Are you a nobleman or a villager?" the glittering Grigor asked provocatively. "They pay their respects when they come before a Sovereign!"

  "You are right, Sire, but I have not heard yours either," the God-Slayer said.

  "You can see that the rough ways of the East have arrived!" said Grigor more than a little angry. "What will you do now? Will you drink, put your dirty feet on the table and spit on the ground in the presence of the Emperor?" he ended, going purple with rage.

  "Keep to your place, Sovereign! And do not dare to think that you have a higher rank than mine by birthright, blood or divine right. You, too, are bound to respect equals," replied the God-Slayer, not showing visible fury, but with an accelerated heart beat and his hands automatically moving to his sword.

  Grigor, not used to hearing swift replies to his barbs, grasped his sword’s solid gold pommel and hilt, removing it from the scabbard to a third of its length, and exclaimed:

  "Apologize, you arrogant oaf, greetings must be given first to the older monarch!"

  "Oh, that's what you want!" said High, provoked, before continuing: "Then I greet the ancient Sovereign!" And as he spoke, he grasped his sword, pulled it out to a third and asked with a firm voice, "Are you sure?"

  High felt justified in reacting to Grigor's poor judgement in threatening a duel against him, a man who had knocked down a living God with no aid and with precisely the sword he was carrying by his side. Such a man should not be insulted lightly.

  At that moment of palpable tension a deep and harsh voice rang out:

  "My greetings to you, Sire Grigor, and to you, Sire High!"

  It was the First Southern Standard, Godwin Wellinton, called by most the Righteous.

  "Come, come, my Sovereigns, lay down your arms and blades, there is no reason to fight among ourselves," Godwin continued in his characteristic flat, emotionless tone of voice.

  "Greetings to you, Godwin!" said Grigor, satisfied by such a small thing as being the first to be greeted. He turned to High and exclaimed, "Luckily someone still knows the code of honour!"

  Then Grigor returned to his steed, which in the meantime had rightly shown no interest in the clash between the two ‘bulls’ and was grazing quietly among the imperial flowerbeds around the drill square. Godwin still looked at the King of the West as he moved away, talking to himself out loud, shaking his head in disappointment. He smiled at the God-Slayer.

  "It didn't seem to me that the Emperor's drill square should be spoiled," commented the Righteous, dismounting from his heavy, noisy horse.

  The God-Slayer smiled and answered:

  "You are absolutely right!" Then he stopped to admire the black southern stallion, and continued: "Your steed is magnificent, but you have changed your horse, or am I mistaken?"

  "Thank you!" The Righteous answered, adding: "His name is Balter. He is a Durkana, a breed that is very resistant to heat and fatigue. My old horse was a grey steed. Unfortunately he perished during a clash with those disgusting Asari invaders."

  "I am sorry for your old friend," said the God-Slayer politely, and Godwin equally politely answered:

  "God wanted it so!"

  It was a typical response from Godwin, a man of such a deeply rooted faith that he set out at an early age to conquer the mountain of the Sepulchre of the Gods. He was victorious. At the age of seventeen he was in command of the Aureo castle. In reward for such a triumph, he was granted the honour of calling his men the Sacred Army by the highest ecclesiastical offices and was awarded the highest religious honours.

  He was not very tall, but certainly muscular. His powerful physique was enhanced by splendid and unusual white lacquered steel plate armour with all the borders finished in bright red. Each plate was finely decorated with dry-point engravings depicting complex floral motifs. Classic leaves of acanthus and oak intertwined with climbing plants along the entire body armour, the gorget and the helmet. A different motif adorned his right shin and knee cover, which were also finely engraved in gold with the prayers most dear to Godwin.

  The Righteous was a strong, dutiful man with a refined intelligence. These qualities did not stop him from being a formidable and aggressive warrior. The metal gloves of his armour were embellished with three steel crests on the back of the glove, projecting for about three fingers from the knuckles, with many sharp points. This strange and deadly detail was used by the Lord of the South to whip the enemy with his fists. It was a battle tactic that created the maximum damage with minimal effort.

  His splendid armour was rarely displayed, as Godwin usually covered it with a white linen tunic falling to his feet. The tunic was decorated with a closed black fist facing upwards on both the front and back, the symbol of his family. The tunic showed visible traces of old, washed blood. It had wide, white mantle, with a large red border, decorated with the inscription ‘It is God’s will!’ repeated several times to frame the black fist. This decoration was repeated on centre of each shoulder of the mantle.

  To complete this display of military and craftsman’s splendour, the South Lord carried a classic pot-shaped helmet with small holes for the eyes and squared ventilation holes. The decorated helmet was as white as the rest of the armour and had a large red stripe that started from the chin and ran around it to the nape of the neck. On the right and left there were horn-like ornaments in the shape of an ‘L’, with a row of beautiful eagle feathers on the outer side. It was magnificent helmet but uncomfortable to carry by hand because of the height of the decoration. For this reason it was placed in a bag tied to the saddle immediately after the gift for the Emperor had been taken out.

  He adjusted his sword, short axe and dagger at his belt and dusted off the enormous gold decoration proudly displayed around his neck. It was the Award Hero of the Gods, First Class, made up of a chain of gold plates showing all the religions of the Empire, but with the cross hanging in the centre majestically prominently on his chest.

  Godwin announced to the God-Slayer:

  "I'm ready!"

  "The Emperor is ready, he has sent for us," the other answered.

  The First Vassal of the South turned around and had to squint his dark brown eyes to see a small person approaching rapidly in the shadow of the High Tower.

  "What kind of food do you eat in the east to give you such good vision?" Godwin asked the God-Slayer.

  "A lot of fruit, beet soup and mutton, in abundance of course," he replied smilingly.

  "Behold, unveiled the mystery of your sight! In the south we have none of this, only fetid dry meat and stale brea
d. My lands are certainly not the most fertile," joked the Righteous.

  Grigor approached the pair, still jingling the beautiful bag in his hand, hoping to attract the attention and curiosity of the two warriors.

  "He seems to be the Emperor's firstborn," the Lord of the West asserted in a cold and detached manner.

  "I didn't know he had moved to court," Godwin commented, "last year the Emperor enjoyed the only Empress's company." He stopped for a moment to look at the young man who was drawing near and concluded: "His Imperial Highness did well to surround himself with his heirs, a large family makes life more interesting."

  "Does it make life more interesting?" Grigor repeated, "I still have two children under my roof, I hope they get married or leave soon!"

  "God has only granted me twenty-one," but Godwin's story was interrupted by both of his companions who exclaimed incredulously:

  "Twenty-one?"

  "Yes!" replied Godwin, in his flat voice, and after a small solemn pause began to recount: "I have twenty-one children and I keep them all under my roof with, wives and grandchildren. God has granted me a family, and I honourably protect it, in exchange the family loves me and makes me proud."

  "You are a good father, there is no doubt," commented the God-Slayer, abandoning the interesting discussion to pay attention to the young man who had come up to them.

  A handsome lad appeared before the three Sovereigns, dressed in splendid blue and gold brocade with very tight sleeves, with a wide puff of lace at his wrists. The blouse, so tight-fitting that breathing would be difficult, clashed brutally with the blue over-trousers covered with gold plates, which matched the gold shin-guards, also worked in bas-relief, showing two cherubs in a display of magnificent workmanship and all the goldsmith's skill. From the black leather strap at his waist hung a superbly crafted slender sword. But it was the buckle, also in gold, that attracted the attention of the three guests. In fact, all of them noticed the plump curly-haired head of a child and curled on the buckle in a beautifully decorated bas-relief. The young man approached to a distance of three meters, made a deep bow and said: