Tour To Midgard: The Forgotten Land by McArdle Keith

Author:McArdle, Keith [McArdle, Keith]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Phalanx Press
Published: 2015-12-06T05:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 13

The soldiers set off early the next morning. The horizon to the east glowed deep orange and bright pink as the sun made its presence known. After arguing with her father, Heleena had left that morning with Will. Foothark knew she was in safe hands, but he hated that his little girl was growing up so fast. Marie kept reminding him that she was not growing up, she had grown up. But to Foothark she would always be his little girl.

Tharkol had gone ahead of the men. The soldiers had their chest webbing strapped on, assault helmets fastened and weapons at the action condition. They had a bullet in the chamber and the safety catches on. They also carried handmade rucksacks given them by members of the village with their warm weather gear and food inside. The soldiers had cleaned and oiled their weapons the night before, water bottles were filled and ammunition tallied. Nothing had been left to chance. The old clothes the villagers had supplied them were also stored in their rucksacks for later use.

“Fuckin’ cold,” commented Scott as they entered the forest, snow crunching under their feet.

“Yeah it is a bit,” replied Matt.

A bird took to flight, soared above the forest and disappeared from sight. Steve knew this would be a dangerous mission, but it was also an opportunity to win the hearts and minds of those villagers who did not trust them. If they returned with their chieftain unhurt then perhaps those few would finally come to trust them. Thormdall had told them it was not distrust; it was that the people still regarded them as gods. Steve was not convinced.

Distrust was a dangerous thing. In a situation where a foreign military force was occupying a town or city, the humble medic was its most potent weapon. The Australian and British defence forces in particular knew how to utilise this fact to their advantage. They had done so with great success on countless occasions.

Steve was not undertaking this mission to please the villagers, he was doing it to try to win trust. In this dangerous world of long ago, it would be nothing for one of those who mistrusted them to cut their throats while they slept. He was sure this would not happen, but Steve wanted to rectify the situation before it became a probability.

He could see Tharkol in the distance with his back to them. Steve could see that they were approaching the clearing where the battle had taken place yesterday. As they approached the valley, the Norseman turned.

“The gods have taken no mercy,” he said.

The soldiers surveyed the scene. None of the wounded warriors laid out the day before had survived. One had managed to crawl about twenty metres or so, but had died from the extreme cold. The others had been buried almost to their chests in snow. The large pile of corpses in the centre of the valley was tinged white. Tharkol moved down into the valley and took up the weapons of each of the men who had been left at the mercy of the gods.

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