Witnessed by: Totanus Strict
Transcribed by: 4th Scribe, Arelis
If the sea were a grindstone, it couldn’t be more coarse or primitive. For six days we have been assaulted by the whims of the gods. A broken sail with no sun to navigate by, wounds seeping; irritated by the wash of salt. My helm and elken blanket are yet with me. The remaining objects we have aboard are meager: few weapons, a sack of butternuts and this roster of rotting fools with their injuries laying bare to the elements; loud reminders that we were not welcome.
We followed the will of our greatest explorer and we found a new land after many months of travel across land and sea. My skill was lent knowing that my greatest desire, the rule of my own land, would be found there. Upon reaching those far shores we found the land rich in life and the soil deep. Not nearly as sheer and rocky as the lands of the home we left behind. “It all seems so long ago,” I whisper to the merciless black wind, eyes fixed into the svart of night.
It all seems so long ago…
My legs lurch and pitch before me as screams and the sound of splitting wood echo into the distance. Uninjured, I cling to the side of the boat to steady myself and reach my hand overboard, trying to lash myself onto any poor soul. Cold seeps up through my toes, knees and it speaks to me of the entire ship being swallowed by the sea. A pall of blue-grey light reveals rocks like needles, and a beach growing ever closer – I will not die here.
A familiar scent on the wind greets me, but the sand beneath me is a small comfort as the body of Ned, wearing his strange silver circlet, washes up alongside me. He yet feels warm and has breath, it would be best to move inland and build a fire. Taking the axe from his body and lashing some leather straps together proves a useful way to drag the oaf. Not long after we begin, a cave appears along a rock wall, blocking the howling wind.
Leaving my odd brother behind, I find no driftwood along the rocks and decide to head into the cave in hopes of finding nature’s horde. No wood, but a stench greets me. My eyes flare as the feeling of something unnatural flows over my body. In the muted beams of moonlight I spy the body of a fellow much like myself. The body bloated and reeking, wearing a silver circlet – it must have been here for weeks. Perhaps someone who accompanied Ned on previous expeditions?
the feeling of something unnatural flows over my body.
Fruitless, I return quickly to the mouth of the cave to find Ned cool to the touch and his mirth lost to time. Softly my last words to him are delivered, “May the halls await you my friend.” Yet I cannot shake the unnatural force twisting me. Holding tightly to the axe there is nothing but to move away from the crashing waves and find something to create light.
Light! Just there, not on the horizon but higher in the darkness, through what may be a window. My steps quicken. Perhaps some of the men yet live and have set a camp. Then I see in this timid moonlight a tall stump ahead, and the stump moves, it shambles, it creeps ever closer. Axe in hand, my voice rivals that of the wind as I cry out, “Name yourself!”
“Worry not, I am no foe!” the cracked voice returns. Stepping closer, the figure is thin, hooded, wrapped in a blanket caked with sand. He moves past me, moving the direction of the shore, “I desire nothing more than to leave this land. You will aid me. Come.”
Stepping closer, the figure is thin, hooded, wrapped in a blanket caked with sand.
This wretch speaks as if he can give me commands? While his voice sounds familiar, like a cousin long lost, my life is my own. “Beggar, tell me of the light ahead and I will consider,” I say in annoyance.
“The only fire that burns here. The fire of the King, for only he resides there to rule over this vast empire of svart.”
“Only he? Then I must continue onward. I will take this land for my own.”
“Aye. No matter what I say, there will be no stopping you now,” says his inky silhouette. “Your path is set. Perhaps the next will be more helpful.”
Paying the fool no mind, my steps gain confidence and my stride takes me across the beach, onto wind-worn cliffs and rock, hewn stone stairs and finally, the large simple room filled with the amber glow. The firelight is so brilliant my vision distorts as I try to take in the earthen hall. Heart racing in anticipation, my voice cries out my challenge to the Svart-King, to take his throne after I take his head, as my eyes slowly adjust. Dark, man-shaped apparitions are scattered around the room, near the flames. Within the flames. I now recognize the familiar scent.
Dark, man-shaped apparitions are scattered around the room
A hoarse voice drips from across the homely arena, “You will not succeed. I have sacrificed too much for my story to be snuffed out by the likes of you. I welcome your challenge!”
Suddenly the fight is upon me with only my weapon to both attack and defend. The Svart-King hides behind his roundshield as he makes great swipes at me with his axe. We encircle each other, blows landing upon one another in the frenzy of the fight. I was able to hook his roundshield with the beard of my axe and set it flying, but in one sly movement I found myself up-ended and flat on my back with my enemies familiar eyes looking down upon my stunned state.
Dazed, the Svart-King crouched over and moved his shield-arm into my view, and an arm it was, for it had no hand attached. “I have sacrificed, and so shall you,” he shouted as his axe came down upon my wrist, making orphans of my fingers. The pain shot across my body, and in an act that didn’t seem like my own, my widowed hand, axe firmly in hand, obtained revenge as it buried the head of the axe deep into the Svart-King’s neck.
my widowed hand, axe firmly in hand, obtained revenge
The corpse of the king upon me, I clutch the stump of my wrist and try to regain my breath. Now that my hand is gone I will be useless, no longer able to work the sails, never to farm again or smith. But a relief washes over me, for I am now the king of this land.
My breath returns to me, I roll the body of the has-been off of me and look upon him with clear eyes for the first time.
My eyes.
My face.
The resemblance cannot be possible, but it must be.
Staggering to the throne, I move the once-flung shield aside to sit.
My mind reeling.
The corpses, all dressed as I am now.
My wrist burns.
The circlet in the cave.
I have sacrificed too much.
“Perhaps the next will be more helpful.”
The beggar’s blanket was elken.