Chapter Twelve
Wynnfrith and Halldora
Wynnfrith and Halldora sat in a dark, windowless room in a remote house in Alfhich. Apghilis, Feeblerod, and several soldiers stomped in.
“Bring her,” Apghilis ordered, and two of his men dragged Halldora away. Apghilis stared down at Wynnfrith with contempt, then left with the other soldiers. Wynnfrith was left alone with Feeblerod.
Feeblerod smiled, a thin lipped, closed mouth grin. His long crooked nose swayed back and forth as he eyed Wynnfrith up and down.
“We will become very close friends,” he said in a low, husky whisper. He moved his obese body with gyrations in a slow dance around Wynnfrith.
Wynnfrith moved up to her knees, ready to fight him if she had to. Feeblerod held out his hands in defense, possibly to grab her.
“Careful,” he said, “careful,” as his bald head glistened with sweat. The room was made of wooden planks, like almost every structure in Alfhich. But this room had no windows, no candles or lamps, or furniture. And, with the darkness of night, all Wynnfrith could see was the unnatural glow of Feeblerod’s face as he circled her.
In the next room, she could hear Apghilis and Halldora loudly exchanging angry words. If he killed her, Wynnfrith thought, there would be no stopping this monster.
His fat hands, with thick stubby fingers, clawed the air as though he were readying to clutch her.
“You must realize,” he said to her in a low voice, “I can make your life very easy, or I can make your life very difficult. Apghilis is our leader, but he entrusts everything to me. I run everything. I will rebuild all of Wealdland when this war is done. All humans will thank me for their lives. And you will thank me for the great pleasure I will give you as you scream in ecstasy.”
Wynnfrith wanted to burst into tears, but another part of her wanted to rip his fat head off.
Feeblerod circled closer and closer. He seemed to want to get behind her, but Wynnfrith kept him and his ugly hands in front of her, where she could fight him.
Then, the door burst open, and light from the hallway filled the room. Apghilis had his soldiers throw Halldora in with Wynnfrith.
“We have no time for amusements,” Apghilis said to Feeblerod. They left the women alone, the door slamming and locking.
Halldora was taken from Wynnfrith by Apghilis and brought to an adjacent room, a small bedroom. Four of his armed guards crowded in behind him. The large men towered over Halldora.
“Where are Kellabald and the Mattear Gram?” Apghilis demanded.
“I do not know,” Halldora said defiantly.
“But you know where he is taking it.”
“As do you.”
“He is taking the symbol of our nation to our great enemy, Healfdene of Reia,” Apghilis said with disgust.
“Haergill felt he was the only one worthy to unite all humans against the garond army. It was his dying request to Kellabald. And, knowing Kellabald, he will accomplish what he sets out to do,” Halldora said with strength.
“Where will he meet Healfdene?” Apghilis dangerously breathed.
“I do not know,” Halldora said.
“How much money did he have,” Apghilis demanded.
“You know we have none,” Halldora said.
“Where is he!” Apghilis angrily shouted.
“I do not know!” Halldora shouted back.
Apghilis raised his fist.
“Once again you raise your hand to strike your queen. But, you do not demand my hand in marriage this time?”
“You do not have your mother to protect you,” Apghilis venomously said.
“You will find that the daughter of Nanmund of Fjindel will laugh at your blows,” Halldora said referring to herself with fire in her eyes.
“Draw your swords,” Apghilis ordered his men.
“You order,” Halldora quickly said, “valiant soldiers of the Northern Kingdom of Man, who have sworn oaths of protection to the crown, and family of the crown, to draw their swords, against their sacred vows, against their queen?” Halldora softly directed the last to the armed men.
Two of the soldiers drew their swords, but two did not, their eyes averted in shame. Apghilis huffed with loathing.
“No matter,” he said. “We know you have no money for a boat, so he must cross the river by the bridge. We can easily get to the other side of the Holmwy River first, and meet him as he steps onto the western shore. Take her back to Feeblerod.”
Then Apghilis said to the two soldiers who did not draw their swords, “You may find employment elsewhere, perhaps among the filth of Alfhich.”
It was then that Apghilis retuned Halldora to the room where Feeblerod was about to attack Wynnfrith.
Halldora and Wynnfrith were left alone in the dark. Halldora could sense Wynnfrith’s terror, and she held her friend until she stopped shivering.
“We must get away from here,” Halldora said with an angry resolve.
Beyond the door were the hurried and muffled voices of men planning and departing.
Then, after a long quiet, Feeblerod entered. “How are you, my dears,” he said with false sympathy.
“Hungry,” Halldora dismissively said. “We’ve had nothing to eat all day. You might find us better company if we were fed.”
“And perhaps more compliant” Feeblerod said with a crooked smile crawling up one side of his face. His egg shaped head nodded from side to side, then he turned and quickly left.
“He is the key to this prison,” Halldora ominously said. “Listen,” she said to Wynnfrith holding her face in her hands. “You must pretend to accept his affections so we can overpower him.”
“I do not think he has affections in mind,” Wynnfrith said with a pale face, “but something more awful.”
“In any case,” Halldora said, trying to steel Wynnfrith, “we must get out of here, and we will only do it if we are smarter and stronger than our jailer.”
Wynnfrith bravely nodded.
Halldora rose and began looking around their improvised prison. It was clearly an empty storage room. It had a low ceiling, no windows and only the one door. Halldora pushed on the walls. The wooden planks creaked and complained.
“Help me,” Halldora said to Wynnfrith, “there may be a weak spot because of the earthquake.”
Wynnfrith rose and the two of them pushed at the walls carefully, looking for places where the wooden structure was stressed.
“Here!” Wynnfrith hissed. Halldora joined her, and the two of them pushed against the wall. It swayed and creaked loudly. Some of the supporting beams on the outside had come loose.
Halldora eagerly pulled at a plank that slightly pulled loose. Wynnfrith got her hands into the crack as well, and they both pried it out with a loud crack. They froze and stared at each other, but there was no sound from the door.
“I don’t think there’s a guard outside,” Halldora said. “Maybe we can get through this wall before Feeblerod gets back.” Beyond the missing plank in the wall they could see the wooden houses and ramps of Alfhich and freedom.
They quickly pulled at another plank, as the whole room creaked with the effort. The second wood plank came loose with less noise.
But, then the heavy footsteps of Feeblerod could be heard as he approached. Halldora handed a plank to Wynnfrith. They both held the pieces of wood like clubs and knew what they had to do.
The door unlocked and Feeblerod entered with a bundle wrapped in a blanket. He was messily eating a piece of cured pork, the grease running down his several chins.
“Here my friend,” Wynnfrith seductively said, as Halldora positioned herself behind him.
But, Feeblerod instantly noticed the hole in the wall, and dropped the bundle.
“Well, I see the mice have been at the walls,” he said reaching for his sword.
But, before he could get it out, Halldora hit him as hard as she could with her plank. Wynnfrith followed Halldora and cracked him on the head as well.
Feeblerod let out a girlie
grunt, spread his arms and used his weight to knock both women to the floor. He tried to draw his sword again, but Halldora jumped up, grabbed his arm and began to turn him. Wynnfrith saw what she was doing, leapt up, and helped.
His own enormous weight kept him from regaining his footing, or drawing his sword as Halldora and Wynnfrith spun the obese wretch.
“Into the wall,” Halldora cried to Wynnfrith and they guided the great, fat villain into one of the wooden walls of the room. He crashed into it with a resounding thud, and the whole room shook with the impact.
Halldora and Wynnfrith waited like warriors.
“Next time,” Halldora panted, “into the crack.”
“Don’t let him draw his sword,” Wynnfrith breathed.
Feeblerod was trying to do just that, as he struggled to his knees. Halldora grabbed his arm, but Feeblerod was able to punch Halldora. She fell to the floor. Feeblerod pulled back to hit her again, but Wynnfrith leapt on him and dug her fingers into his left eye.
With a high pitched scream, Feeblerod threw Wynnfrith off, and stood. Halldora jumped up and began to spin him again.
But Feeblerod fought her, trying once again to draw his sword. Wynnfrith got a hold of him, and they spun him again, his folds of fat gyrating with the speed.
“Now!” Halldora cried, and they both slammed him into the hole they had made by prying the two, loose planks out of the wall.
All three of them went crashing through the wooden wall, as planks exploded out onto the streets of Alfhich.
Down, the three of them fell, past the wooden walkways, onto a mud soaked street with a tremendous splash.
Halldora pulled Wynnfrith to her feet. Feeblerod was face down in the water, but began to sputter to life. Several startled soldiers who were loitering outside the house rushed down the wooden walkways to the muddy street.
Halldora saw one of the soldiers who refused to draw his sword on her.
“Defend your queen!” She cried.
The soldier stumbled then quickly drew his sword.
“Touch not our queen!” He cried to the other soldiers. His companion joined him, and a melee began amongst the soldiers who were descending to the muddy street below.
Halldora pulled Wynnfrith away from the mud, but Feeblerod grabbed a hold of Wynnfrith’s frock. Halldora kicked him in the face, and he let go with a bloody moan.
They rushed up into the town that was jammed with people. A crowd was beginning to gather to watch the soldiers fight. Halldora quickly hid her hair and face, as the two women concealed themselves amongst the meandering throng.
They tried to make for the bridge over the Holmwy River. But, fifty soldiers, who allowed no passage at all to the angry mob, blocked the bridge.
Halldora pulled Wynnfrith through the town, as an alarm went up. Soldiers were running through every street, stopping every citizen. There was no way out of Alfhich.
“Under there,” Wynnfrith whispered to Halldora, and the two women carefully climbed under a house raised on stilts. They were able to hide themselves completely among the rats and other insects swarming under the house.
They huddled together, and fell into a restless sleep in each other’s arms, as the search went on the rest of that cloudy, black night.
In the morning, Halldora woke to Wynnfrith gently shaking her.
“Wake,” Wynnfrith whispered with alarm. Halldora roused herself to find the tide was rising with the morning sun. They would have to get out from under the house or drown.
They carefully crept along the timbers and climbed out from under the house. But, they need not have been so careful as Alfhich had become choked with refugees from the Madrun Hills who had streamed into the town all night. And, more were arriving by the moment. They caught pieces of conversations, of an Archer and an elf who won a battle, then their hearts were glad, but also of a larger garond army on the way, then they shared in the crowd’s quiet, growing, pervasive fear.
The bridge over the Holmwy was completely barricaded by Feeblerod’s soldiers who would let no one pass. Every boat in the harbor had left for the opposite shore. Soldiers were stationed on the edges of the town and few were allowed to leave. Alfhich was bursting at the seams.
Halldora and Wynnfrith moved anonymously in the burgeoning crowd, until Halldora came face to face with the soldier who had saved them. He was stunned and motionless. A large gash along his face was bandaged.
“Your highness, I’ve found you,” he said in hushed tones. “Follow me quickly.”
Wynnfrith and Halldora shared a look. “We have no way of escaping Alfhich,” Wynnfrith said.
“And we need allies,” Halldora agreed. “But what if he leads us back to Feeblerod?”
“He has already risked his life,” Wynnfrith reasoned, “Do we have any other recourse?”
Halldora grimly nodded, and they followed the soldier to a small house jammed into a clutter of wooden houses on stilts.
Inside the small house was crowded with as many people as it could hold, soldiers and citizens, families and children.
As they entered, the soldier reverently said, “Our Queen.”
Everyone in the house solemnly stood. Halldora was overcome.
“Please sit,” she said. Food was brought, and a humble meal was shared, with many in the house recalling fond times in Ethgeow under Haergill’s rule.
“I am Gerdsun, my Queen,” the soldier humbly introduced himself. “I served under your husband, the king, in many campaigns. His nobility and graciousness were always an inspiration to me and many others.”
“I thank you, Gerdsun,” Halldora gently said. “You truly are noble and brave.”
“Why did you leave the kingdom?” An elderly woman nearby asked.
“Haergill felt the garond army was too strong, and the Northern Kingdom too weak,” Halldora plainly said. “He also knew that his life was being deliberately targeted.”
“By Apghilis and his scum!” A sad faced man burst out, then apologized.
“Truly,” Halldora continued. “Haergill the king did not want any more of the kingdom to die on his account. He felt it best to live simply as a common man. And, I supported him, and I came to love and respect our ordinary life. For a time we were happy. But, I know now we left our responsibilities, and maybe that was selfish of us.”
The room was quiet with understanding and affection.
“What is your command now, my Queen?” Gerdsun humbly asked.
“We must join my friend’s husband in his quest. He may be stranded on the Holmwy Bridge, or he may have crossed. In any case we must find him and aid him,” Halldora quietly said with an understanding look to Wynnfrith whose eyes were filled with gratitude.
“It’s best to wait for nightfall, then,” Gerdsun said. “I and those with us will storm the bridge and safely see you across.” His eyes were filled with fire.
The rest of the day was spent resting, eating and readying for the struggle to come as night fell.
Before the sun set, the house emptied, with Wynnfrith and Halldora encircled by at least a hundred citizens and soldiers of the Northern Kingdom. They pushed their way slowly through the crowded wooden streets of Alfhich.
The allies of the Northern Kingdom grew in numbers and were beginning to get boisterous. As the great mass of people shouldered their way towards the great bridge over the Holmwy River, the henchmen of Apghilis recognized many in the crowd and began to shout commands to retreat. Wynnfrith could see Feeblerod on the bridge, behind the soldiers, bawling commands like a fat emperor.
The crowd pressed closer to the soldiers.
“Back! Back!” The soldiers of Apghilis cried.
“Traitors!” Gerdsun bellowed and the crowd aggressively pushed forward.
“Hold them back!” Feeblerod shrieked from his place of safety.
The Holmwy Bridge beyond was deserted and no lights were lit in the dusk. It looked as if the soldiers had cleared everyone off the bridge in the search for Kellabald.
&
nbsp; “For the Kingdom of Man!” Halldora cried as she pulled down her hood, revealing her flame red hair in the glow of the sunset.
A great cry went up as swords were drawn on all sides. Soldiers all around had little room to strike as the crush of people pushed this way and that.
“Back! Back!” Feeblerod screamed, and he and his soldiers retreated to the bridge with the great mass of people behind them.
Halldora and Wynnfrith pushed forward with Gerdsun in front of them acting as a wedge, cutting his way this way and that through Apghilis’ soldiers.
“Get the Queen through,” Gerdsun bellowed to his fellow rebel soldiers, and swords danced furiously all around Halldora and Wynnfrith.
Gerdsun grabbed Halldora by the arm and pulled her through the back of the traitor soldier’s line. Halldora clutched Wynnfrith by the arm and pulled her through as well.
“Run! Run!” Gerdsun yelled as a sword struck him through the body.
Halldora was momentarily stunned, but then turned and pulled Wynnfrith down the wooden bridge towards the first pier.
Behind them they could hear the great clash and screams of battle. All was black and the water below was a deadly, drowning, dark black.
“He’s behind us!” Wynnfrith cried to Halldora, who turned to see the fat, bouncing mass of Feeblerod, with sword drawn, huffing after them.
They made for the second pier as the wind began to angrily whisper. Feeblerod, for all his obesity, was gaining on them.
The sun was just touching the horizon as they reached the third pier. Both women were out of breath, but they ran on, with Feeblerod’s dangerous, murderous puffing close on their backs.
The fourth and center pier was a maze of houses and warehouse, and the women were soon lost.
Wide eyed and filled with horror, they slowly turned corners and ran down alleys to try to find the way to the fifth pier.
They heard Feeblerod creaking down a ramp and held as still as they could.
“There you are,” he heavily breathed with destruction in his voice.
Halldora and Wynnfrith ran.
But, they turned a corner and found themselves in the wide open center of the fourth pier. The way across was clearly in view, but Feeblerod stepped from behind a stack of crates and blocked the way.
“We must fight him!” Halldora cried to Wynnfrith.
“How can we?” Wynnfrith said, out of breath and filled with despair.
Feeblerod danced close with his long, feminine blade making curling swipes in the last rays of the setting sun.
Halldora pushed Wynnfrith and hoped to draw Feeblerod away, but she immediately saw that all he wanted was Wynnfrith.
Halldora turned and running leapt on Feeblerod’s back. He shrugged her off.
Halldora landed with a heavy thud. On her back she saw Feeblerod raise his sword and drive it viciously at her. She rolled at the last second, and it strongly pinned her dress to the wooden planks of the pier. Feeblerod struggled for a moment to pull his sword free, but when he saw how it disabled Halldora he smiled and turned to Wynnfrith.
Wynnfrith was tired and had no more fight left in her as Feeblerod stood over her with a cruel smile spreading over his face.
Wynnfrith tried to stand and hit him, but he easily knocked her down hard.
I will fight him to the end, she thought. But then the farsight began.
“No! No, not now!” She screamed, for when the visions came, she was paralyzed and helpless.
Feeblerod heartlessly laughed and kneeled down to cover her with his fatness. He began to pull at his trousers.
Wynnfrith felt the farsight come over her and her body stiffened.
Get up, she said to herself. Stop the vision and get up.
“Don’t you touch her!” Halldora screamed, with tears flowing down her face in anger and disgust, as she pulled at the sword pinning her dress to the pier.
But Wynnfrith was deep in the farsight. She rose in the vision, high up into the sky. She could see the bridge and the river.
It was as if she were a seagull flying high above the land. She could see the stand of trees that must be Bittel. She could see all the Eastern Meadowland.
And then she traveled south to Harvestley, and there she saw something she could hardly believe. A great army of garonds, more than any could ever imagine, hundreds of thousands.
And they were all dancing and celebrating. A great feast for their dreaded leader was being prepared. And then she almost vomited, for she knew they were going to roast alive and eat several hundred humans.
And then, she saw her son.
Wynnfrith almost came out of the vision with the shock of seeing Arnwylf. She struggled with Feeblerod who was trying to tear her clothes off.
In the vision he was moving amongst the garonds, but then someone else was there.
It was He.
The Evil One.
He was a beautiful young man, with sandy blonde hair. And then Wynnfrith smiled for she knew what to do.
In her mind she called to him.
Look at me! Look! Here! I see you, great and terrible one! You are not so powerful!
I see you.
Then Wynnfrith could feel in her mind as he took notice. His anger and evil was overwhelming, like an immense, growing black cloud, death and sorrow multiplied into the infinite.
And he was furious that she would dare to taunt him.
Wynnfrith saw him make only the slightest of gestures, and a blinding bolt of power leapt from his hand.
She flew with the lightning bolt over the skies of Wealdland. The lightning bolt was headed right for Alfhich, right for the fourth pier. He was going to kill her.
At the last moment, with all the strength left her, Wynnfrith pushed up on Feeblerod and rolled out from under him as the lightning bolt struck.
Feeblerod convulsed as the bolt hit him. His fat body bucked with spasms as it cooked. He rose slightly off the wooden planks of the pier as the fat began to melt off his disgusting body. A silent scream froze on his face as he burned and burned. His fat hands blackened and charred with the white hot fire.
Feeblerod sizzled and smelled of burning meat.
Then the consumed carcass fell to the floor with a crispy thud, and broke into scorched black, flaky chunks, and seared black bones.
Wynnfrith ran to Halldora and helped her pull out the sword that held her pinned to the wooden platform.
“We must flee,” Halldora said, looking at the fire quickly spreading over the pier.
They ran for the span, which led to the fifth pier and the far shore, but it collapsed into the river in flames.
They ran back to the span, which led back to the eastern side. They could see many people, some still fighting on the other side of a wall of flame. They were caught on the fourth pier as it burned with a ravenous fury, and encircled by fire all around.
“No,” Halldora said. She clutched Wynnfrith’s arm and walked towards the wall of flames.
“I will not be denied!” Halldora screamed at the flames.
As she stepped forward, with her words, a wind began, a wind that resembled the shape of the mother of the queen, and the shape cleared the flames for Halldora and Wynnfrith to walk through.
On the other side, all had ceased struggle to stare in wonder.
A soldier kneeled, then another. Then all the citizens of the Northern Kingdom slowly knelt.
“Your Queen,” the gravely wounded Gerdsun said.
“We had best all get quickly off this bridge,” Halldora said. And, a rapid, but orderly evacuation of the bridge commenced with all staring in wonder at their queen who commanded the very claws of flame.
On the shore, they watched as the bridge burned from end to end and fell into the river.
“There’s no crossing here now,” Gerdsun said by Halldora’s side.
Gerdsun fell from his wounds.
“You will not die, brave soldier,” Halldora said. “I command it.”
Gerdsun smiled as
his deadly wounds were quickly seen to.
“How can we cross this river, now?” Halldora said in despair.
“Tyny,” Wynnfrith said. “We must go north to Tyny. There is a bridge there.”
So, they left with all who would follow, to begin the journey north. And follow they did. All the residents of Alfhich, refugees from Madrun and all the Wealdland began the trek north along the eastern shores of the Holmwy River to Tyny.
They walked all through the night.
At midnight, word was sent to Halldora.
Halldora and Wynnfrith approached the litter bearing Gerdsun.
“I am so sorry I cannot follow your command, my queen,” Gerdsun weakly said.
“Then go to be with Haergill and stand with honor among the heroes of the Northern Kingdom of Man in the halls of Oann,” Halldora said holding his hand.
Gerdsun tried to kiss Halldora’s hand in respect, but his life left him. And, he died with a smile of honor on his face.
A bier was made and the hero Gerdsun was cremated and sent to his ancestors with righteousness.
Out of courtesy, all travel was halted for the night.
The next morning the great and growing migration north continued. The journey took all day, and as night was falling Halldora and Wynnfrith arrived at the small village of Tyny to find it already overflowing with humans. The surrounding camps numbered in the thousands.
The men of Reia held the bridge. They would let no man cross over to the Western Meadowlands and the green hills beyond the Flume of Rith.
As night began to fall, Halldora and Wynnfrith were granted dinner at the camp of Haerreth, the son of Healfdene, the king of Reia.
Haerreth was a young man in his late twenties, blonde haired, ginger bearded, and full of fire. The banquet was set outside, with tables and chairs and many courses of food arraigned around a large bonfire. He was surrounded by his war generals dressed in splendid armor, and his younger sister sat at his right hand.
“So there is a grand army of garonds in the south,” Haerreth said with a smile. “Good! Let us be at them and wipe them from our lands!” He bit a huge chunk of mutton and smiled with a full mouth.
“You do not understand,” Halldora respectfully said. “This is about more than armies and battle. Powers beyond our comprehension are at work here.”
“All I need to comprehend,” Haerreth pleasantly said, “is that garonds die when I chop their heads off.” The council of men at the dinner heartily laughed at the joke.
“We need to see your father,” Wynnfrith suddenly said.
“And why is this?” Haerreth suspiciously said.
“My husband,” Wynnfrith, suddenly shy, said, “carries the Mattear Gram for Healfdene, your father, to carry into battle.”
“Grand,” Haerreth bellowed. “Where is your husband? Where is the famous sword?” All looked around as if expecting to see him jump out of the growing darkness.
“He is on the other side of the Holmwy,” Wynnfrith said. “We hope.”
“You hope,” Haerreth said with gentle skepticism. “Well, if he is in the Western Meadowlands, he will meet my father quickly. I can assure you of that.”
“There were men after him,” Halldora said. “Apghilis.”
“Ap- !” Haerreth spat out the chunk of mutton he had bitten off. “If that great snake is in the Western Meadowlands, I want his neck in my hands immediately!”
All was quiet as the elaborate bonfire burned for the outdoor banquet.
“So,” Haerreth said with a charming smile, “what are these great powers you speak of?”
Overhead, the great terror in the sky stopped all conversation, as the all the humans gathered at Tyny looked up at the night sky with fear.
“Great and evil plans are in motion,” Halldora grimly said, as the Wanderer, the second, smaller moon, moved at a rapid, frighteningly unnatural pace across the night sky.
“Yes,” Wynnfrith said to Haerreth. “I have seen his face, the Lord of Lightning. This is his doing, and he means to kill all life on earth with this.”
“We must stop him,” said Halldora. “We must find Kellabald and make sure he delivers the Mattear Gram. I think Haergill foresaw something, and had a way to stop this.”
Haerreth and all the men of Reia were speechless.