Viking Tales Part.2

The world was spinning. Harkamus' world was a great black void filled with swirling lights and brilliant flashes. Suddenly he was surrounded in a bright white explosion of light, and then darkness rushed in around him. He awoke suddenly, bathed in a cold sweat. He couldn't see anything but heard crickets and felt a cool breeze on his skin; from these signs he knew he was outside somewhere. His sight slowly returned to him, and that's when he knew he was far from home. He was lying with his back pressed against an impossibly high stonewall. All around him was a grass courtyard that was over run with weeds and menacing looking vegetation. To his left was a foul smelling pond filled with green noxious looking water. But the site before him startled him back to reality.

The structure in front of him was like nothing he had ever seen before. It was obviously a house of some kind, but the sheer size of it dwarfed any structure he had ever seen. The stone structure stood at least five stories high and stretched both to his left and right as far as he could see in the dim light. As his senses came to him, he could discern much more detail of his surroundings. The architecture of the building was completely foreign to him. Each level of the building had railed walkways that seemed to encompass the whole house. The structure was obviously very old, but despite its age it was obviously well maintained. The only light he could see came from the topmost level of the house, from a single window.

Harkamus slowly pulled himself from the ground. He was bruised and battered from head to toe as if he had fallen from a great height. Content that nothing was permanently damaged the mighty Viking slowly circled the massive structure. He came to what was obviously the front of the house. Large columns lined a raised marble entranceway. A pair of ornately carved doors was set into the front wall between the columns. Small pine trees were placed sporadically around the area in a vain attempt at landscaping the bleak building. He couldn't help but feel weighed down by the despair this house put out. The evil from the building was oppressive. Seeing no other choices, Harkamus approached the doors.

The doors were huge. They easily topped eight feet in height, and each were over five feet wide. The doors were wood, and intricately carved with the relief of the face of an ancient withered man. After closer inspection Harkamus' spirits soared. The visage on the door was Odin's. Odin, the all father lord of the Norse gods. This was truly a sign. But the longer he stared at the relief the uneasier he became. Even this had some how became warped by the evil of the house. His face seemed weak, almost impotent, as if the house itself mocked this great and glorious god. Anger racked Harkamus. Hate like nothing he had felt before permeated his being. Grabbing the door handles in his massive hands, Harkamus jerked the doors open and entered the house.

The beauty of the entrance foyer immediately struck him. Two long curving staircases led up to a balconied area in front of him. Two giant archways led off into the distance, probably to rooms farther into the house. The floor was a polished marble, the reflected torchlight danced eerily on the walls. The walls were adorned with multi colored tapestries and statues of exquisite design that were strategically placed about the room. Silence permeated the house. Slowly he stepped inside and shut the doors as gently as possible.

As soon as the doors were shut something came shambling into the light from out of one of the archways. In all of his life Harkamus had never witnessed such a pathetic site. The creature was only about four feet tall and was emaciatingly thin. Its hunched shoulders, pointed ears, and green tinted skin immediately gave it away as a goblin. The creature had obviously had a rough life. Its green skin was flaky and dry. Large lesions covered its warty body, and it walked with a sever limp. As it drew near his stomach churned when the stench hit him. One of its eyes had been violently torn from his head and there was a large gash starting from his chin and ending at his forehead. The scar went straight up its face and his skull seemed about ready to split apart like a ripe peach.

Harkamus had no love lost for goblins. As a boy he frequented the goblin hunting parties that the elders always went on. But before he was fully grown, all of the goblins in the region had been exterminated. He knew them to be vicious, vile little creatures that often ate their own kind when hungry. But despite this he knew they could be cunning. There was no way Harkamus could have been convinced that this creature was any threat to him. It could barely stand on its own, and seemed to be on the verge of falling at all times. The goblin stopped just short of the giant man

"Who you?"

Small strings of viscous yellow bile dripped from the creature's mouth as it spoke, its raspy voice barely audible above a whisper. Harkamus simply stared in disgust.

"Me Goblin." It gurgled.

"I am Harkamus, leader of Clan Slegga of Studject. And I know what you are creature" Harkamus boomed. His voiced reverberated off of the walls and slowly drifted off into distant rooms.

"Shhhhh" Goblin whimpered. Cowering almost to the floor, the creature didn?t stand until the noise had stopped.

"Wake the master you will, then you pay. My name Goblin not is goblin. Why you here? You thief? You here to take masters gold?" goblin whispered.

Just then the tiny monster started whining. The high-pitched noise pierced Harkamus? head like a knife. Goblin ran to the archway and huddled in the corner moaning and rocking back and forth. Harkamus approached it cautiously.

"What's wrong?"

Goblin simply continued to moan and rock.

"Is the one who did this to you here? I can help you if you help me. I am looking for a boy. He is bald and tattooed, about this tall." Harkamus made a gesture with his flat palm, placing it about chin height to himself. Goblin stopped for one second then simply continued to rock and murmur.

"Snap out of it you wretched beast, I need answers". Harkamus grabbed the goblin by both shoulders and shook it angrily.

"He does not have any answers for you that I do not will him to give." Boomed a deep voice. Harkamus spun, still in a crouch. In the shadows of the archway behind him a figure stepped out. The man was of average height and build. He was dressed in a manor that Harkamus had never seen. He wore jet-black pants and a white frilled dress shirt, both neat and pressed. On his back was an ankle length black cloak that seemed to move of its on volition. His hair was also black, and slicked back against his head tightly. But his skin was what sent shivers of ice up the Vikings spine. His skin was the color of a corpse. He had an almost ghostly white pallor, and the veins in his face shown quite clearly. His eyes were an ice blue and seemed to drag Harkamus into their depths.

The lord of the manor glided gracefully toward the entranced Viking, more floating than walking. He stopped mere inches from his face, never losing eye contact.

"Harkamus is it?" he intoned. "It seems my home is being over run with guest as of late."

Harkamus heard none of it. He was lost in a sea of blue. His eyes were so soft and comforting. He walked through the landscape of this mans eyes. He would have been perfectly content to spend the rest of his living days simply standing there, staring. The man in black made a quick gesture with his hand, as if to excuse the two creatures in front of him.

"Goblin, take our new friend here up to the guest quarters with the others. Ill be up to speak with him when I am done with my research." The last word he seemed to pause on, as if he relished the sound of it. Without another word, he simply vanished in a puff of smoke. Goblin climbed slowly to his feet, took the vacant staring Harkamus by the hand, and let him up the curving staircase.

Harkamus vaguely recalled being led through the house. They passed long hallways full of old oil paintings, through bedrooms with ornate tapestries and furniture. Down long twisting corridors. The farther away he drew from the blue eyes, the more he recovered his wits. As they exited what seemed to be the side door out of one of the bedrooms, he was blasted by a cold wind in the face, further awaking his senses. They seemed to be on an outside balcony that stretched around the house. From there Goblin led him up a flight of stone steps and then another. From here Harkamus guessed they were almost to the uppermost portion of the house. Just as his full senses were returning to him, they reached their destination.

They entered what seemed to be a small storage room on the top of the highest roof. The only light in the entire room came from a single candle sitting on a small wooden table in the center of the room. Every corner of the room was completely shadowed. Seated on the floor with his back propped up against one of the legs on the table was an old bearded man. The man wore some kind of animal skin clothing, very similar to Harkamus? own garb. His long white beard and shaggy white hair lay haphazardly down his chest. The man was missing his left arm at the shoulder; the wound had not been properly cared for and was festering. He looked thin, under fed, and his eyes were sunken and vacant.

Goblin led Harkamus into the room then turned and left. He shut a large wooden door and threw the latch from the outside. As soon as the bolt slammed home, the haze over Harkamus' mind lifted fully. The large Viking did a complete circle, making sure no one was coming out of the shadows after him.

"Hello warrior" the old man murmured. "You wouldn?t happen to have any mead on you, would you?"

Harkamus approached the old man and towered above him. There was something vaguely familiar about the old man. It was obvious to Harkamus that this shell of a man was once a Viking just like himself.

"Sorry elder, I do not."

"Anything? Surely you have some mead, wine, or food? Please I beg of you" the old man grabbed Harkamus? leg with his one good arm, tugging on his pant leg as if he were a child asking a parent for a toy. Jerking his leg away in disgust, Harkamus stepped back away from the groveling old Viking.

"Ignore him, he is crazy" The voice came from the shadows to his left. Soft and delicate, it was obviously the voice of a woman. Stepping from the shadows of the room was an absolute vision. Long flaming red hair cascaded down her shoulders coming to rest on her delicate yet muscular shoulders. The woman was tall and lean, yet handsomely muscled. The swelling curve of her bosom threatened to burst from the leather jerkin that covered her from shoulder to midriff. Her lean muscular stomach was exposed, and led down to skintight deerskin pants. From the definition of her body and the way she held herself, Harkamus knew immediately that she was a competent warrior. The exposed flesh and blatant sexuality were obviously meant to distract men in combat. And it worked.

"Eyes up here big fella" she purred.

Never one to be embarrassed, Harkamus let his gaze linger a moment longer than proper, then lifted his gaze to meet hers. She was stunning. In another time and place he might have thought about forcing himself on her. But there were more pressing matters at the moment, not to mention that might be easier said than done. Harkamus underestimated no one, especially women.

"Who are you?" he intoned. "And why am I here?"

The woman stepped, cat like, closer to him. Sizing him up from head to toe. Her demeanor casual, but tensed. She seemed ready to spring to safety at even the slightest movement.

"If I knew why you were here I would tell you, but I don't." she paused for a moment then extended her hand toward him.

"My name is Kazi Wren, and it looks like we are in this mess together."

To be continued...