We'd chosen the right way. Erling and the bullyboys waited on the far side.
We all stood on our path again. The trees were sparse here, and we'd outclimbed the mist, so that the moon and stars gave a little light. Light came too from great clouds of moonglowa brighter new Milky Waya spiral of cold fire that stretched in every direction, from horizon to horizonsilver tinged with red and gold. There was a sound tooa brazen clanging like hammer blows on a metal sheet, far, far above.
"What kept you?" asked Helge, who stood awaiting us. I poked him to assure myself he was real, and he gave me a whack with his staff.
"The northern lights," said Erling, looking up at the sky. "Not common this far south. 'Tis no ordinary night."
"That it's not," said Helge.
"Which way now?" Erling asked. "Do we follow the path?"
"I expect so. I cannot tell. My Sight is gone, for you need it no more. But bring me with you nonetheless. I must be there for the kill."
"We'd scarce leave you here," said Erling. "Father, you take his hand. We'll see where our path takes us now."
"I know where it goes," said Steinulf. "Now I have some light, I know it like my hand. This path leads to the High Seat."
All the men murmured at that.
"The High Seat is a great cliff overhanging the Lysefjord," said Helge to me before I'd asked. " 'Tis a place of endings and ancient power, where no man goes by night except to make the direst sacrifices. 'Tis just such a spot as Eyvind would seek out."
"Come, men!" cried Erling. "You've been through three tests tonight, and played the man in each. Think you God will forget us now?"
I'll give them thisthey were men, those twenty-four, well worth their baubles and their breakfasts. They straightened their backs, lifted their heads, and set off in Erling's and Steinulf's tracks, the shifting silver light gleaming on their helms and spearheads. Helge and I followed, rushing to keep pace.
The track led yet upward, steeply for a time but then at a gentler angle. Our way was easier, and we felt a second strength.
"There he is!" Erling cried. I did not see Eyvind myself from where I was, but the bullyboys did, and our march became a run. Though we tried to stay with them, Helge stumbled often, and he and I fell back and back.
We knew they'd cornered him by the sound of shouting. I near carried Helge in my eagerness, avid and fearful at once, wondering how steel or prayers could be of use in a fight such as this.
We came suddenly to a precipice where the rock fell off sharply above the fjord. We had crossed the mountain. We turned right, for we were now north of our goal, and followed a pathway that had only empty night for a wall on our shield-side in many places. At last we came to a great, open platform of rock, bounded on our left by the featureless dark of open air. Erling and his bullyboys stood in a half-circle near the edge, and within that ring, raised high, I saw the white head of Eyvind Kellda.
I drew Helge near, and Eyvind laughed to see us.
"Is there not a word in your holy book about the blind leading the blind?" he shouted. "Indeed, that prophecy is fulfilled today in our sight!"
"This blind man saw well enough to track you," said I.
"Only when I leave a trail a blind man can follow," Eyvind answered. "Think you I sought to stop you? I was luring you on, dangling your hero-fancies before you, so you'd not turn back and miss my snare!"
"A glib answer from a cornered fox," said Erling. "Will you surrender now, Eyvind, or be slain on this spot?"
" 'Tis I who could demand your surrender, Erling Skjalgsson! But I am not merciful. I will cast you all down from here, and break your bodies on the rocks below!"
"Enough then!" Erling cried. "Cast at him, lads!"
And twenty-five spears, gleaming in the blue light, arched up and out toward Eyvind Kellda. Most hit their mark, for these were trained men, but all passed along as through air, and Eyvind stood unmarked while the spears sailed on and out of sight, to splash in the fjord below, too far away to hear.
Eyvind's brass laughter burst forth like a nest of sacrifice-fed rats from a burning temple. As we watched he grew taller in our sight, and he rose like the moon, floating up and out, to hang in midair beyond the precipice. His eyes flamed like red stars, and his face and body glowed like a part of the northern lights hanging curtain-wise behind him.
"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" he roared.
"You are a liar," said Erling Skjalgsson, stepping forward and drawing his sword. "I call you a liar before men, and I will prove it with steel.
" 'Tis a strange thing, when you think of it. We've seen you send great seemings to frighten us, but you've not used this power of which you boast to strike at your enemies. So I put you to the proofshow me that you are a warrior. Show yourself a grandson of Harald Finehair."
Eyvind made a noise like the hosts of Midian and stretched his hand toward Erling. "See then my power, son of Skjalg!" he roared.
And Erling flared and burned to ashes in a moment, before our eyes.
My heart fell in on itself.
"DO YOU KNOW WHO I AM?" came the shout again. "I am Eyvind Kellda, master of the dream you call this world! I am Eyvind Kellda, maker and breaker of Law! I am Eyvind Kellda, more than a hundred winters old, and I shall live as long again if I like! I am Eyvind Kellda, who has died and died again! I die for sport! I die for refreshment! I die to fool the gullible into thinking I am out of their hair! Life and death, good and evil, body and spiritthey are mine to command!
"I shall slay you now, Christian men! I shall slay you as I slew your lord, in a moment, all but the blind man! Him I leave to tell the story, that men may know my deeds! Pray to your god, Christians, for all the good it will dofor I send you now to your next life-rings, where you shall be reborn as beasts, every one of you, because you refused the light that I offered you!"
He threw his head back then, and I watched motionless, except for my trembling. I feared in my heart what cry he would make, or what song he would sing, next.
"Strange," said a quiet voice beside me.
I looked at Helge. Something changed as I heard his voice. A blessed doubt entered my mind.
Helge made the sign of the cross on his breast and elbowed me, and I thought to touch Ulf's crucifix. My holy doubt flowered within me.
Every head had turned to us. Beyond the cliff Eyvind's red eyes blazed, but he did nothing to stop Helge speaking. And wasn't that an odd thing?
"Strange," said Helge, "that you'd spare me of all this companyI who sets you at least account, and who cannot tell men how you looked or what wonders you made to appear."
Eyvind scowled and showed his teethlong and very white, sharp as if filed to a point. He gaped his mouth to cry again, but was stopped once more by Helge.
"Especially whenand I know you know this, EyvindI do not see you as these men do. I see you in your true shape, and a pitiable one it is. It comes to my mind that of all men you are most miserable, having entered Hell before your mortal life was done."
"LIES!" roared Eyvind, and his voice echoed back from the mountainsides across the fjord. "You tell lies, man of delusion, and draw these men further astray!"
"I see what is. There is such a thing as truth, Eyvind, whether you'll have it so or no. The world is not what you wish it to be; it exists and must be lived in on its own terms. We men are not what we wish to be; we must repent and be reborn, or carry our evil with us into the everlasting world. You learned the power of dreams, Eyvind. You learned how much can be done by frightening or flattering men, and snaring them in their fears and doubts. But 'tis finished now. 'Tis time for you to return to God the life He gave you, and account to Him for its waste."
" 'Tis done, is it?" cried Eyvind. "What think you of this?"
And before our eyes he was changed to a dragon, red and gold, flapping great green wings that filled the sky from north to south, and pouring smoke from his nostrils, rearing back his head to spout fire.
"Enough!" cried Helge. "In the name of the living God, Eyvind Kellda, drop these veils and show us your nakedness!"
And in a moment the dragon was gone, and where it had hovered we saw nothing.
Only on the very edge of the cliff there stood a withered old man, hairless and covered with scars, pouring blood from the wounds of twenty spears standing in his body. He shrieked and turned from us in shame, like a virgin caught undressed, and the weight of the spears overtipped him. He waved his arms in a pitiful attempt to keep his balance. By him we saw Erling Skjalgsson, unharmed. Erling reached his bare hand out and gave him a single push.
We heard his body strike on the rocks below, and heard the spears clatter as the whole bundle bounced and rolled. Then there was nothing but the sky-lights and the sky-song.
So died Eyvind Kellda, son of kings.
Title: | The Year of the Warrior |
Author: | Lars Walker |
ISBN: | 0-671-57861-8 |
Copyright: | © 2000 by Lars Walker |
Publisher: | Baen Books |