Sagan om Isfolket

Detta är början på det jag hade tänkt skulle bli min engelska fantasyroman.

Den är från strax innan Svärdsspel, så jag har iofs blivit bättre på att skriva svenska sedan dess också, men jag postar det här för att illustrera hur mycket sämre grepp man har om ett andraspråk, även om man har pluggat det väldigt mycket
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THE UNWILLING



To the south the black peaks of the border mountains rose like fangs towards the dark autumn sky. To the north the icy waters of the Grymsea beat relentlessly against the barren shores of his country. Where he stood looking out from the windows of his blackstone fortress’s highest tower, he felt utterly alone. This was not what he wanted. He had been bred into, fooled into, this position. He was the reluctant, the unwilling. How did this come to be? That was the question he asked himself continuously. Why was he here?
Dark Lord, his father would call him that because that was what he was made into. The Dark Lord of the North, feared by thousands and thousands of people. A tale which all southerners told their children to teach them obedience. “Obey us or the Dark Lord of the North will come and take you!”
He had no interest in their ugly children, their pathetic towns or their dirty soil. All he wanted was peace of mind and that was forever to be denied to him. Condemned! Cursed! And there was no way whatsoever out of it.
“My master”, cried the dark spirit floating in the air behind him.
He turned towards it, bored with its presence, wishing it would pass on to its next existence. “Yes?”
“Strangers have stalked past the guards and entered the heartland through one of the least known passes of the border mountains”, said the spirit.
He drew his hand through his dark, long hair. There was no need to conceal his face under that terrible black suit of magical armor in the presence of the spirit. It knew the truth of the Dark Lord of the North and it did not care. Its soul was bound in service to the holder of the position for a thousand years and nothing would change it. He didn’t knew its exact age but at least four hundred years remained of its millenium long service. “What strangers?”
“Nine intruders. Six human males, three human females and a gnome male.”
“Known adventurers?” he asked, thinking ferociously about whom would be that incredibly stupid or incredibly brave as to enter the Dark Land. You did not enter the dark land. That was a rule everyone abided. Why would anyone want to enter his desolate land. They could never hope to get away with any of the wealth. The heartland was too well guarded. He knew that. They must know that too. How dared they defy him?
“Their identities are not known at this point”, reported the spirit tonelessly. “The war masters wish to speak to you on the matter.”
“They do, do they?” he said slowly. “Oh, well. I’ll talk to the war masters. Tell them to meet me in the throne room in an hour.”
The spirit nodded to indicate is everlasting obedience, which he had no doubt of, and disappeared. “Bloody spook”, he whispered, hating every moment of his own existence.


***

Alesia stared back to the south, to the high peaks of the border mountains. She did not know the name of the range. None of them know. It was long forgotten. Now the mountains were only the border mountains of the Dark Land. You did never go north of them. Never. At least not if you valued your own life. They had to be mad. All of them. However, the choice was not her.
She turned towards her eight companions, who were breaking camp. She could here the gnome, Drachan, complained loudly of the newcomers and their inability to work quickly. She loathed the gnome. He was smelly and troublesome and was always complaining. She had never seen him smile. There was nothing she could do. As long as she was honorbound to her year of service, she was stuck with the gnome.
She raised her hands in a futile gesture. Some of her companions turned towards her. She pointed to the mountains. "The border mountains!" she cried. "We are north of the border mountains, in the heartland of the most dangerous place to be in all of Relvo! Don't you know what this means?"
Alesia saw the face of Harvard, her bearded master, scowl. He did not approve of her anguish. For a short moment, she was embarrassed, but no, she had to say this. "Do you what horrors lie within these walls?"
Belvor laughed. She loathed Belvor as well. He was a stupid, reckless youngster who knew nothing, but thought he knew everything. He was never useful and the only people he treated with respect was Harvard, the gnome and Travor, his role model. He did not even respect Christine. He did not even respect the most skillful swordswoman on the whole continent.
"No", said Travor bravely.
Alesia laughed desperately, knowing that her complaint did not make the situation better. "Then you go first!"
"Alright!" said Harvard, raising a hand to quiet them all down.
Alesia quieted instantly and listened. He was her master. She obeyed him at any cost, even at the cost of her own life. Such was the promise. She was honorbound to it.
The others went silent as well.
The gnome spat on the ground. Alesia found him horribly revolting, with his big pot helmet and scarce, pointy beard and those big, turbid eyes.
"Why do we have to put up with these rookies anyway?" the gnome said to Harvard. "We have no use of them. A smaller group could move quicker and strike before the Dark Lord notices. This bunch will bring us trouble."
Harvard looked at him admonishingly. "We have been trough this before, Drachan. You know why."
The gnome mumbled something that did not sound very nice.
Ancabar An Saikvar, the large and stunningly handsome man who was the fourth of the old-timers, laughed. His strange haircut, with a large cylinder of hair projecting out from his forehead, never seized to amaze Alesia. She had tried speaking to him, but he seemed to be infinitely shallow, a man without cares in the world. She could not shake the feeling that Ancabar was on vacation. They said that he was the captain of the city guard in the city of Carnuster, to the southwest, in the city states. She didn't believe it. What would a guard captain do on the other side of the world?
Ancabar touched his hair gently, correcting some fault that none of the others could see. He smiled and Harvard looked at him. "Oh, come on", the guard captain spoke, " give them your speech, Harvard, so we can get on with it. I love to see the rotten city this week."
From the outskirts of the remains of their camp, Christine Demonte spoke softly. "That would indeed be a accomplishment. If we can make it through the hills of the heartland in two weeks, it will be good enough for me."
Her voice was always soft, yet none ever failed to hear what she said.
Alesia admired the woman greatly. She had it all. She was older than thirty, but had the most well trained and muscular body Alesia had ever seen on a woman. It was well known that none could match her skill with the keen, thin blade of the traditional long sword. She was dressed in a rigid leather armor, that protected her while still letting her move freely. It looked awfully expensive, but Alesia knew Christine could afford anything that caught her fancy. Christine's husband was the wealthy jarl of Piatra, on of the 17 rulers of the city states in the south.
Also, Christine had something she did not want, but that Alesia would have liked more than anything else. Something Christine could not, and perhaps would not, freely give away. She had the love of Harvard. Alesia had only heard rumors and did not feel that she knew any of them well enough to ask them. She had only heard the legend, everybody had heard the legend.
When Christine and Harvard were young, they met and became adventurers. Somewhere along the path, Drachan and Ancabar joined them. They were powerful and successful and went from quest to quest, acting out the stuff of legend. Early on, they fell in love and their story seemed complete. Until one day, when the jarl of Piatra, one Vortano Demonte, came along and stole away Christine's heart. Her love for Harvard was dead, but his love would never end. They were still friends and after that day they went through five times as many legends and tales of heroic adventure. But, nevertheless, Christine stayed faithful to her husband, the jarl, and Harvard could only cry himself to sleep in his loneliness. It was ten years since the marriage. Ten years in which Harvard had yearned for his friend Christine's love. Twenty years in which she had denied it to him, as she would until the day one of them died.
That much Alesia had learnt - Christine would never betray anyone, least of all her husband, which she loved ferociously. Harvard would never get her. Everyone knew, maybe even Harvard. It changed nothing.
Harvard straightened his back. He had a small helmet on the top of his white, wild hair. His face had a white beard that looked unnaturally thick. He could have been a definition of a bearded man. Alesia wondered for herself if the rest of his body was covered by the same thick white hair. He looked like he was sixty years old, but had the strength and vigor of a twenty year old. Rumour would have him at thirty-five, perhaps even younger. He did not look his age.
"We are in the heartland, in the Dark Land", Harvard said ominously. "This is perhaps the most dangerous quest anyone have ever attempted. You all know what we have come for, but I still want to ask everyone why he or she is here" - suddenly he looked at Alesia, as if he doubted her determination and bravery and all she could do was to stare right back - "and why he or she wants to do what we are doing. If I find anyone who is not correctly motivated, then I am sure that the hidden path of the Night knights could bring that person back to the safety of the south."
"To go alone across the badlands?" Belvor inquired loudly. "A person would have to be really crazy in the brain to do that!"
Drachan stared at him evilly and Belvor smiled sheepishly.
"Ancabar", Harvard said suddenly. "Why are you here and why will you do your utmost for our cause?"
Ancabar took out a small pin and started to clean his annoyingly white teeth. He smiled charmingly at Harvard. "Because that is the way I do things. You know that, bearded man, don't you?"
Harvard nodded, for a moment lost in memory. "Aye, guard captain. I know that."
He shook his head and turned towards Christine. "Answer the same question, my friend."
Christine gave him a short smile. "I have sworn to do this and do this I will."
Harvard acknowledged his belief in her words. Alesia expected him to turn to Drachan, but instead he fixed his eyes on Naona. The black robed girl moved her hood down. Her hair, black as a raven, and her green eyes should have made her beautiful, but there was only uneasiness for the spectator. Alesia feared Naona and did not know why Harvard had let the witch come along. She used magic, or at least said she did. Nothing good could come from magic. Alesia knew that for a fact. Why didn't Harvard?
There was no joy in the icy smile she gave Harvard. "Why am I here, Harvard Staalgyk? I am here to avenge the death of my parents. I know you will not follow me to the Dark Tower itself, but whatever we do here will damage the Dark Lord and that is why I will do my utmost for it."
Something was touched within Harvard. "You will have your revenge", he answered. "Perhaps not this year or the next, but I promise you will have it."
Alesia looked perplexedly at him and could see that Christine and Drachan did likewise. Harvard did not notice and went on to Haron. The barechested man acknowledged his attention with a short nod.
"Tell us, warrior monk", Harvard bid. "Tell us why you are here."
Muscles flexed as the monk tightened himself with resolve. "I am here to avenge the wrongs against my abbey and to take back that which has been stolen from us."
Belvor laughed uncertainly and then smiled at the monk. "No, that's not it. You are here because you have taken a vow of boredom!"
Ancabar and Travor giggled. Belvor laughed wildly and turned towards his young friend Travor. "You heard that, Travor? Vow of boredom! Is that not something?"
Travor agreed. The monk paid them no notice. Harvard acknowledged his belief in the monk's words and turned towards Belvor with a scowl. "You, you jester, so why are you here and why can we trust you?"
Belvor shrugged. "How can you trust anyone? You know that the baron sent me, Travor and Naona to accompany you. There is nothing you can do about it, old man."
Travor indicated displeasure at Belvor's words and Belvor went silent. Then everyone went silent, looking uncertainly at each other.
"I am sorry", he said finally. "I am here because the baron told me, as are they." He indicated Travor and Naona.
"And yet", said Harvard, "she does not even mention it when I ask her."
He did not wait for a reply. "Travor?"
Travor took a step forward and looked as if he was about to give Harvard a military salute. It did not come.
"You are not like him, Travor", said Harvard, half seriously, half jokingly. "Why could the baron not send two like you?"
There was no fault in Travor's confidence. "Because there is only one of me, sir."
Harvard laughed. Alesia could see Christine whisper something to him and he laughed again. She wondered what the swordswoman could have said?
Suddenly, Harvard pointed to the heartland surrounding them. "This is a vicious place. I must be able to trust you all. Belvor, I am displeased with you. Travor, do not call me sir. I am not happy to bring rookies, excuse me for saying it bluntly, but out here we can not afford dishonesty. I am not happy to bring rookies here and I do it unwillingly. I will look out for you and, by all gods, I will bring you back alive, but I want you to stay back and let us veterans take care of the rough parts. OK with you?"
Travor and Belvor nodded. Naona did show no sign of even hearing the words. When Harvard turned his attention towards her, Alesia was embarrassed. She was not one of them, she did not deserve the term Rookie. She decided to tell him. "I am not like them! I know how to get around in the wilderness! I am a warrior. I have killed!"
Harvard smiled fatherly at her. "Of course you have."
She hated him for a moment. Why did he have to treat her like that? Why couldn't he see the warrior woman she was? Why could he not turn his heart from the woman fighter who did not fancy him to the one who did? She knew she looked good with her blonde hair and blue eyes. So why wasn't he interested?
She lowered her head. "I will tell you why I am here. I will tell you all! I am Harvard's. I am honorbound to come with him wherever he goes. I am bound to…" She turned towards her master but hesitated. The words did certainly not come out right. "I am bound to protect you."
He smiled fatherly again. "Of course you are. For a year. I can not get rid of you." Seeing her look, he added: "Even if I wanted. Which I do not, of course."
Belvor whispered something to Travor, who giggled but pushed Belvor away. "Watch your mouth", he mimed to his joking friend.
Alesia despised them. Yes, it was true that her honor bound her to do whatever Harvard told her to, including sexual favors, should he so demand. He never did, of course. That would have been too easy. The rumour that the order hunted down anyone who mistreated an honorbound person meant nothing. Harvard would never do anything to anyone without their consent. And anyway, the order would have a hard time hunting a man like Harvard down.
Harvard turned to the gnome. Drachan was only two-thirds the length of the shortest person in the party, the black robed Naona, but he packed double the weight. Drachan smiled to his friend. The broad grin showed that several teeth were missing. Even though the gnome was standing on the other side from her, she could remember his smell. That stench could never be forgotten. She wondered if the gnome had ever seen a bath, let alone used one.
"Ha", the gnome said. "I go where you go. You go where I go. That is the way it is, Harvard Staalgyk. You know it! I did not come out of the Evertemple to let you down here."
Harvard nodded. "I know that, old friend."
"A wonderful bunch", laughed Ancabar. "Four rookies." Alesia looked angrily at him, but he failed to notice. "And four of the best adventurers in the land. And a monk of the abbey. What could possibly go wrong? Do we go?"
Harvard looked away at the mountains in the south. "Yes", he said slowly, sucking on the word, "yes, we go."
They broke camp.

****CHAPTER******

They camped again. Travor did his part of the chores. He found wood for the fire, volunteered for guard duty and was in all ways the good boy.
They had not come very far during the day. They moved slowly, carefully. He understood that. Capture in the Dark Land was not something he cared for. At this rate, though, it would take a long time to get to the tower. He sighed. There was no alternative. They had to get to the tower. His knighthood depended on it.
He looked up to the stars. They were familiar. The Dark Land was not that far from home.
Home, he thought to himself. How he longed to once again lay eyes on the fair spires of Taga, the city of his birth. Taga was the third greatest city in Apina, a small country in the north, separated from the Dark Land by the endless plains they had just crossed, the plains of the Istrati, the nomad tribes. They were his traditional enemies and Taga was colored by the long struggle against the nomadic raiders. The baron of Taga, his employer and liege lord by heritage, hated the Istrati more than he hated the Dark Lord. Yet the Istrati had but looked at Harvard and then let them through. Crossing the plains had not been a problem, they were in the middle of the problem now.
"Hey!" someone said behind him.
He turned to face Belvor. They were friends since birth. Both were twenty-two years old and their fathers were both wealthy middle class men who hoped that their sons would make knighthood. Now they were promised that knighthood. All they had to do was go with Harvard to the Dark Land and return with the Heirloom. They would be more than knights if they managed that. They would be herores.
"What?" Travor replied, not caring to show his irritation. He was tired and lost in thought and, he admitted to himself, quite fed up with Belvor's constant jokes. They had always amused him, but being stuck with a joker all through a long journey had proved too much. Still, Belvor saw him as his leader and would be heartbroken if Travor was angry with him.
(Något hyss)
"You haven't changed", said Travor admiringly. He could not help but admire that prank. Normally, Belvor was not that innoventive.
Belvor smiled, trying to feign humility. Travor laughed, the prank and his friend a relief in this tense situation.
"So tell me", Belvor whispered suddenly, "which one of the females would you like to bed most?"
Travor contemplated the issue. It was a hard question. Belvor used to ask that kind of questions. The normal story was that handsome Travor, longer than the average, stronger than the average, with his charm and looks would get some really nice girl and fool around with her, only to leave her on the next morning, something that was highly admired among the men of Apina. Belvor, meanwhile, sometimes got lucky with that girl's uglier friend, something that was enough for Belvor. Perhaps he hoped that Travor would nail Christine and then he could have Alesia?
Travor shrugged. "You are blind if you don't know my answer to that question."
Belvor got anxious. "Alesia! I knew it! Well, she seems to be a good lay!"
Travor hushed him. "Careful, they are not from Apina. They have other standards. Expressing your sexual desire openly can be considered an insult."
Belvor laughed. "I know that. Imaging telling them how I performed oral sex on you. Remember?"
Travor blushed. "We were very drunk."
Belvor laughed again. "And I didn't care very much for it, either. But in Apina it is alright to try your sexual limits. Not very much so elsewhere."
Travor nodded. "Aye, that is so. Do not mention that to the southerners. Particularly not to Harvard and Christine."
Belvor seemed shocked at the suggestion that he would do something like that. "I would never do that. You know me, don't you. Always serious." He made a very serious face and nodded to underline his statement.
Travor laughed. Belvor just brought out the laugh in him. That was why he liked his friend after all.
There was a short silence. Belvor broke it. He nudged Travor, smiling. "So how are you going to get Alisia on her back, then?"
Travor looked around to make sure that noone heard them. A conflict about sexuality was not on his need list for the moment. Then he looked at Belvor in amazement. "Sometimes it just isn't a mask. You are truly blind. Sometimes."
Belvor looked confused. "Uhh…what do you mean?"
Travor lowered his voice. "It is Christine, stupid."
Belvor looked over his shoulder to where the adventuress was discussing something with the monk. Then he looked back at his friend. "Christine? But she is old!"
Travor shook his head. "If I was born ten years to old to savour her womanhood when she was twenty, it matters little. I am glad that I was born in the same century."
Belvor looked surprised. Travor felt that this was important, that perhaps Belvor would understand something about the meaning of life if he understood this fact.
"If she was standing next to young, sweet Alesia", he continued, "and Christine was fifty years old, it wouldn't make any difference. Look at her."
Belvor looked at the adventuress.
"I know what you are thinking", said Travor, "she has a nice body, good looks but is a weenie bit on the old side. I'd say ten years older than us."
Belvor didn't see where Travor's reasoning was heading. "Yeah?"
"Look deeper, you oaf", said Travor. "Look at her womanhood, at her strength, at her skill, at her self confidence or, for that matter, at her legend. She is perfect. The perfect woman. And we get to spend time with her. You should be grateful, but you cannot appreciate it as I can, because you do not know enough about women."
Belvor had no reply. That was rare. For a short while, Travor just sat staring at Christine Demonte, living legend, premier swordswoman of the entire continent of Relvo. Then she looked back. He blushed and turned away his gaze, but somehow he felt her smiling at him. His heart jumped. He turned to Belvor, but Belvor just looked at him as if he was foaming at the mouth.
"What?" said Travor irritated.
Belvor let go of his strange look and laughed. "It is as I have always said. You are crazy."
(HYSSET UPPTÄCKS)


"I have a question before we all tuck in", said Naona suddenly.
Everyone turned towards her. She was not the one to speak often and certainly not when everyone was held up by it.
"Yes?" said Harvard.
Naona bit her lip, as if to gather strength and courage to speak. Travor realized that when the girl showed signs of uncertainty, the strange uneasiness she normally radiated disappeared and she was almost cute. He looked at Belvor to see if he had a similar experience but Belvor did not notice.
"I wonder if everyone here knows enough of the dangers of the heartland", said Naona bravely.
"He has told you a thousand times!" the gnome complained. Everyone ignored him.
"Could you tell us again?" asked Naona.
Harvard smiled. "Of course I will tell you. Come here. Sit by the fire."
Everyone sat in a small circle around the dying fire. Belvor grabbed a few sticks to put in the fire, but Drachan stopped him with a harsh gesture. "Leave the fire be, stupid!"
Belvor put away the sticks, with a wounded look on his face. Travor knew the look was faked. Belvor was just angry with the gnome.
Harvard cleared his throat. "I will tell you of the dangers we face in this phase of our journey. We are in the heartland, the least guarded and most uncivilized of all the regions of the Dark Land. This land is left over and the Dark Lord cares little for it."
"Who lives here?" asked Alesia. "Hordlings?"
"Yes", said Harvard slowly. "Hordlings. They are about the same as any other hordlings."
Travor knew about Hordlings. They were a pest all over Relvo. Apina had been largely spared from the hordling problem. There were a few tribes in the south of Apina, in the wild lands of the Mezki woods. He had fought hordlings one time there. They died easily and were smaller than men. Their appearance varied enormously. Some had fangs and horns while others had pointy ears or multiple noses. The only thing hordlings had in common with each other was that all of them were horribly ugly. The danger lay in their numbers. There were always a lot of hordlings and they reproduced at an enormous rate. Their females fought as ferociously as their males. There was a legend that hordlings could be magically created, but Travor did not give that legend much credit. Hordlings were like rats, a pest, nothing more. For some reason they made up the bulk of the Dark Lord's army. Hordlings and renegade men who had fled the outside world to swear allegiance to the Dark One. There were also other creatures, some that defied imagination.
"Anything else?" Ancabar said cheerfully.
Harvard seemed to search his mind. "Flying beasts. I told you before. If you see one, tell immediately. We must hide then. They have amazing eyesight and are the eyes and ears of the Dark Lord."
"Interesting", smiled Ancabar. "What else?"
Harvard shrugged. "I don't know. Anything is possible. Stay on guard. Any abomination, any monster you have ever heard of or imagined can be found in the Dark Land. This is an awful place. Stay alert!"
The conversation died. Travor could see Naona and Alesia imagining horrible things out there in the dark. He did not blame them. His imagination was working as well.
After having said their goodnights, the adventurers went to sleep.
Travor had the first watch. Even though they had a low position, where the line of sight was not very far, they had put out the fire. They could not afford to be detected at a distance. The hills around them were small and barren. They had put their camp in a sparse shrubbery, to give some extra protection from being spotted. Travor did not recognize the flora, but he made sure that he didn't eat any berries from the shrubbery or got stung by its thorns.
The moon disappeared into the clouds. Travor shivered. The night was cold this far north. Winter was coming and he hoped that they would have left the Dark Land by then. Winter here came early and was very severe, cut off from the warming south wind by the high mountains as the Dark Land were.
Travor thought of Christine. She knew about the jarl of Piatra, her husband, and how she denied Harvard her love - everyone knew that tragic story - so how could he ever hope to win her affection? Even if the jarl was not there, he would have Harvard to compete against. He shrugged. It did not matter very much. Somehow it reassured him just to have her nearby, to use her as a model with which to match every other woman. In that way, he would never find a woman good enough for him, so he could stay a bachelor for ever. He had nothing against that idea, nothing at all.
Something moved on the closest hill, twenty or twenty five meters from Travor's position. As the moon was behind the clouds, it was very dark. He could not make out what it was, but something was certainly moving. Then he realized that there were movement on another of the small hills as well. He made sure his sword was secure in its sheath and crawled quickly to where Harvard was sleeping. The bearded man woke before Travor reached him. He looked at Travor, smelled the air (that perplexed Travor, he was quite sure that Harvard could not smell danger - or could he?) and whispered so quietly that Travor barely heard him: "Wake the others."
Harvard took his axe in one hand and crawled away from his blanket to wake Ancabar, while Travor woke Haron. Harvard proceeded to wake Naona and Alesia which left Travor the opportunity to crawl up to Christine Demonte's sleeping body. When he was within a meter of her, her eyes opened and he could see her hand move towards her dagger below the blanket. He thought of something good to say, but lost the words as he stared into her hazel eyes. The hostility in the eyes disappeared and changed into a wondering look which changed into awareness as she, too, somehow realized the danger.
"Hordlings", she sneered.
He had no reply. How could she know?
The others were awake and everyone was armed when the first hordling stepped into sight. He did not have a weapon at all and was particularly large for a hordling. His head was horned and he had two big fangs in the corners of his mouth. He was bald and his eyes were large and stared at the party.
"Shaman", whispered Drachan. "Kill him before he uses petty hordling magic on us!"
Harvard shook his head. "No, he is going to speak."
They could all feel the movement around them. They were surrounded. Out there in the darkness were more than fifty hordlings.