Twilight of the Gods by Scott Oden

Author:Scott Oden
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Publishing Group

15

Dawn came, sunless and raw, to the Horn.

Father Nikulas pulled his cloak tighter against the chill. The priest chewed his lip as he watched the six men Konraðr had detailed to him dig three graves in the rocky soil. Haakon’s body, along with the bodies of two sentries slain the night before, lay a short distance away, washed and anointed and wrapped in their cloaks, their heads covered by short lengths of linen. He considered the dead as the living hacked at the soil. Haakon they found in a ravine, as Konraðr predicted, along with a dead pagan; the other two they discovered after the chaos died down last night, on the eastern edge of the encampment. Both bore wounds from an axe or a blade, but one—the men of the burial detail had named him Egil—showed signs of having died from a significantly heavier blow.

“Our little bird had help,” Konraðr had muttered. More Geats, he was sure. But how many more? And what troubles would they stir up as this small army entered the territory of the Raven tribe? Nikulas looked up, his eyes raking the forested north bank of the Horn. In truth, the priest had not expected resistance so soon. Since crossing the River of the Geats at the southern end of Lake Vänern, under the brow of a gloomy and mist-wreathed mountain locals called the Troll’s Bonnet, Nikulas had felt ill at ease. Each step since, the sensation of scrutiny had grown. Something was watching them. Even here, in the company of God’s anointed warriors, the priest felt naked before the great Adversary.

An Adversary whose lair was yonder, across the river.

Father Nikulas steeled himself. Somewhere in that dank annex of Hell, defended by howling and godless savages, lay a barrow; under that barrow, still wrapped in the skeletal embrace of the dragon he had slain, lay the bones of holy Saint Teodor. The Saint’s hand yet clutched the hilt of his sword, whose blade had been baptized in the blood of our Savior. The crusaders’ presence here not only served the King, but it served God and the Church as well. If he had to kill every pagan between here and Heaven’s gates, Nikulas would see the bones of blessed Teodor enshrined in Lund. He would witness the Sword of Christ leading the King’s armies to victory. And he would rejoice as the Light of Christ poured into every corner and cranny of the North, to banish the taint of ancient heathenry once and for all …

“Father,” one of the soldiers of the burial detail said.

Nikulas blinked. He shook himself free of his reverie and looked down at the men who toiled before him. “What was that?”

“I said, is this deep enough, you think?”

Nikulas nodded. “It will do.” The men clambered from the knee-deep graves and set about arranging their slain comrades’ bodies. That finished, they stepped back and waited for Father Nikulas. The priest made the sign of the Cross. “Requiem æternam dona eis, Domine,” he began.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.