The Bahrwold Saga

By Ivan Straw

From the depths of Hell, Eric is brought back to life with a mission to save Bahrwold. The once proud nation slowly descends into chaos as an army of half-giants invade from the South. Closely followed by the gods, Eric must seek a powerful weapon that can stop the Black Legion and its bloodthirsty leader, Gunnar. _x000D_
With no memory of his past and little knowledge of the world he now walks in, Eric must battle beasts and demons as well as his own mind to obtain the fabled object and save his soul. _x000D_
There is little hope as the remaining Kingdoms of Bahrwold hide behind their stone walls. War is inevitable and the world of men are doomed to fail. Do they deserve to be saved? Can peace really be bought with bloodshed? These are the questions that Eric must answer along his journey._x000D_
In a war-torn world where gods influence the actions of mortals, and the leaders of men strive for power, hidden prophecies and betrayal are never too far away.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Brown Dog Books
• Release date: Jun 2, 2020
• ISBN: 9781839521539

Book preview

Straw

1

Wake up, Eric…you are not ready to go…

He opened his eyes as pain exploded throughout his body. He was alive: he had not thought it possible. Groans echoed either side of him; a wall of corpses could not stop the sounds.

Eric unbuckled his helmet to better recognise the surroundings. The armour he bore weighed him down heavily, and he would not be able to move with it on especially in his current condition. With the same bloodied hand, he felt for his chest plate and then the strap to his side. Once unhooked, he slowly managed to lift it off. Finally, he was able to breathe.

Eric lifted his head and saw the carnage around him. Bodies littered the fields for what seemed like miles. His head throbbed with every beat of his heart and his vision was blurred. As he touched the top of his head, he could feel the dried blood that had seeped from a deep wound.

The sun was setting, hiding away distant scenes of slaughter and death: the fields would surely be drowning in blood. Eric remembered nothing. He could not recall the day’s events or how he had fallen. There were no memories of the fighting or killing. No recollection of whom he had fought or where he had come from. The man lying next to him may have been comrade or foe: it made no difference. All he could recall was his name and yet, it did not worry him. The carnage from this battle would have been worth forgetting. The result of war was ghastly enough; he did not want to remember how such an event took place. But the pain, the pain did worry him. He had to find shelter before dark came; however, he was weak and could not move. Eric lay back down and closed his eyes.

Maybe I should die, it would release me from this.

Such thoughts made sense to him now.

Wake up, Eric. You shall not die today.

Eric snapped awake again: adrenalin shot through his body in anticipation of danger.

Who said that…?

There was no reply.

A man in the distance stood facing him with a fiery torch held aloft in his hand. The sun had finally set, unleashing the night behind him.

You are alive. The man’s voice entered Eric’s mind.

Are you in my head? There was no answer. What do you want with me? Still no reply. Kill me if you must! I am ready to die.

The figure walked towards him.

Oh no. There was a hint of laughter in the response. You will not die today. Take a look around you, Eric. You are in Hell, death will not release you here. Nevertheless, the gods must favour you. Not many have been as lucky as you.

What are you talking about? Who are you?

All will be revealed in time, but for now you must live. Such events have already been set in motion.

I don’t understand. Who are you? Why can’t I remember any of this?

The black figure slowly paced around Eric, his gaze hidden behind a hooded cloak. Like a predator eyeing its prey, he moved his head up and down to better understand the human before it. He dropped down to his hands and knees prowling like a beast before he finally lifted himself upright once again.

You puzzle me, mortal. Your end seems of no consequence to you. Perhaps fear has overcome you. Or perhaps you do not comprehend where you are. I am, to some, a reaper of souls. I collect the dead and then ready those souls for judgement. To others I am an angel and the last thing they see. But you, human, if that is what you are… Your very presence carries intrigue with me. Please, tell me, mortal, which god offers you favour?

Eric tried to lift himself to meet the words of this creature.

What death is this that death itself does not know who I am? Am I dead or not? If so, where are the Valkyries? Where is the great hall of heroes? Is this my punishment? Must I suffer the ramblings of an old man?

The reaper roared, his voice boomed across the void, the skies lit up in fury, and fire rained down as liquid. The hooded figure lurched over Eric’s battered corpse. He lifted him effortlessly with one hand and stared straight through into his soul. Eric looked back and saw the endless face of immortality. In there was everything of death; a black hole of nothingness.

I am not like you, mortal! The sound of his words felt demonic. My time is never-ending! The pitiful existence of your kind merely humours me. Your time in life is short and insignificant, yet you march unto each other, with your weapons, eager to kill. Thus behold, before you, the fields of slaughter! I could show you a thousand more like this. Corpses and bodies mutilated by the hands of men. The colours of your flags may differ, but death remains the same. No, Eric, son of no-man, there are no Valkyries, and there shall be none, none for you at least.

With that the skies fell quiet and the flames became nothing more than rain.

Why am I here? Eric replied after some time.

You are here to save Bahrwold. That is your purpose. That is why you were ripped from the jaws of death. I was sent to watch over your transition, and I can see it has been completed.

The reaper dropped Eric to a thud. He turned and faced the other way. Eric could hear him chuckle and, as he did so, his body began to tremble violently. His limbs then cracked and dislodged from their sockets. The crooked back arched and the creature slowly crumpled in two as his figure became that of another. He stood up, changed. Before Eric stood the form of a small girl.

Eric looked on and remained straight-faced by the transformation. The chuckles of the reaper turned to the laughter of a child. Oddly enough for Eric, this vision felt more haunting than the last, but he suspected this as a test of courage and, therefore, suppressed his growing fear.

I suppose this is not the end after all, Eric son of no-man. I shall grant you your body, but I cannot promise you life, nor can I grant you death. Such power is now beyond my control and there are forces at work beyond my grasp. You will leave here by foot, and thus be the first to escape these killing fields. Head north, I will make sure your path is clear. Once you reach your destination another will come to you. They will offer you advice on what you must do, and you would do well to listen. There is more to come, ready your mind for it. You may not remember your past. Perhaps you are not meant to, but you will create the future, for good or for evil: the key lies with you. Perhaps when all is finished, you will be rewarded with the end you seek.

What do you mean you cannot promise me life? I breathe now, do I not?

You know nothing, there is more to life than you could ever understand. You are now but a shell, a spirit, a wanderer in limbo between the living and the dead.

Eric paused to try and understand the consequences of his demise: what had he become? He could already feel his emotions draining away, fear was beginning to feel alien to him. So here it began, a life without death.

And how will I know when I have reached my destination? Who is it I will meet?

You will know. The one who I speak of will seek you out, that I can assure you. The girl before Eric smiled. It unnerved him. You are curious, Eric, that is good. I hope you remain so throughout the course of your journey. There are mysteries you must unravel, and I feel you do not fully appreciate the situation you find yourself in.

How can I? Eric retorted. I have just been told I’m dead!

Not dead…

Close enough! What you do not understand, reaper, is I should have died this day. Look at the bodies around us. No man deserves to walk away from this. I do not wish to walk away from this.

Perhaps you are right. But tell me, mortal, who are you to question the gods? For they have granted you this gift. They have granted you a chance to redeem yourself!

But at what cost? To become a shell of a human corpse? For even as we speak, I can feel my soul disappear. Emotions no longer come easy. Eric looked down at his battered body. What…am I?

The reaper laughed again which echoed across the fields. The image of the girl hopped from corpse to corpse as the stench of the dead became unbearable. She came up close to Eric and dropped to one knee to whisper in his ear.

There is something inside you, Eric. I can sense it, I can practically feel it. It wants to come out. You are no longer man. You are something else. Release your memories and your emotions. You will no longer need them. Accept destiny, accept fate…

Eric leaned forward to whisper back.

I alone choose my fate.

The reaper dropped back in hysterical laughter.

All men are bound by death! Its voice dropped to a low rumble: Eric could see fire in its eyes. That is a fate you cannot escape.

I will choose my own death, you cannot take that away!

Your choice is of no consequence! Death finds you! I will find you! Go now! I grow tiresome of this conversation. What the gods want with you is none of my concern. I will come to collect what is owed when your time is up. I will be watching, Eric, son of no-man!

The vision of the girl disappeared in an explosion of light. Eric lay back exhausted and thought about what was ahead of him, but the stench of death forced him to get up to his feet. Slowly, he sat up and looked down at his broken body. His injuries had already begun to heal, and with it another wave of pain exploded through his limbs and torso.

With life comes pain…I am alive, or so Eric thought.

Without wasting a second further, Eric began to walk through the corpses and out of hell. Rays of sunlight appeared to the east. I am alive, Eric thought to himself.

2

Father! Father! The young boy, Godric, called out amidst the chaos.

The flames had already taken most of the village and the screams were loud enough to make any man tremble. Black smoke engulfed the front barricades where the invaders had first stormed through. Nobody had seen them coming.

Godric held his father’s sword in one hand whilst he frantically searched amongst the butchered bodies. He felt scared and weak, a useless bystander before the carnage. Meanwhile, the invaders were getting closer.

Godric! a familiar voice called out.

Father!

The village smithy burst through a cloud of smoke to join his son. They met and hugged for a split second before his father grabbed Godric’s hand, disarming him of the sword; anger fell across his face.

What were you going to do with this?

I …I thought…

Foolish child! You would have been killed! Never mind that now, you need to get out of here.

At that moment Godric turned to face the far end of the village where the chaos had begun. They were now in sight. An armoured host appeared from the flames like a horde of demons breaking through the gates of Hell. They all bore the same black armour, metal plates overlapping each other, sharpened at the edges and marked with jagged runes and engravings. Their faces remained hidden behind a blackened face guard and helmet. Godric had not seen men like this before.

Villagers scrambled around in the filth climbing over one another in a bid for survival. A frail man stumbled and fell as the impending danger came upon him; an iron hand snatched at his neck. These invaders were giants, standing two feet higher than the average man. The villager looked like a child in the hands of his executioner, his neck ready to be snapped in twain. Even as more of them closed in on Godric and his father, Godric continued to watch the scene play out before him. From a scabbard on his back, the invader pulled out a colossal sword, already stained with the blood of its previous victim. Godric’s father pulled on his son’s shoulders, trying to break him away from the terror and danger.

Godric, we must go! he called out in desperation.

Even as they turned to escape, Godric continued to look over his shoulder. The screams of the other victims dulled his mind as time appeared to slow down around them. The blade broke through the villager’s chest as he was impaled upon the monstrous weapon. The trauma killed him instantly and the cracking of his ribs seemed audible above the screams. The warrior then threw the lifeless corpse into the mud as if it were nothing whilst his comrades continued the slaughter of the remaining villagers. Clouds gathered above the slaughter as the earth was plunged into darkness. The fire continued to eat away at the small village as the flames gained momentum and intensity. The world quickly descended into an inferno and the moment was forever seared into Godric’s mind: he would not forget it.

Darkness had come and the small band of villagers ventured across the moors. The village they left behind continued to burn. The sudden attack had caught them off guard and many of them had been cut down. This was no ordinary plunder or raid; the enemy’s one and only purpose was to kill.

Amongst the band of villagers was a smithy and his son, Godric. They took what weapons they could and fled with the rest of the survivors. Godric, barely a young man, held onto his father’s forging tools. They both remained silent.

To Halig Holm! came the cries from others who had fled the village, and on the horizon, barely visible across the blasted heath and distant hills, were the lights of Halig Holm: an old fortified town, its cathedral dominating the landscape by day. The walls would surely hold the invaders at bay.

More men, women and children had poured out of the village trying to escape the flames. Their one hope and salvation remained within the darkness. The screams of terror and grief still echoed behind them as more joined their ranks. Godric felt the hand of his father pulling him as they trudged through the mud. Soon the massacre behind them sounded more like a distant nightmare. The screams had dulled, and all that father and son could hear was the panting of those scrambling to safety.

Godric focussed on the mission at hand. They said that Halig Holm was a holy place where the gods would protect them; surely they would be safe there. An old man dressed in furs twisted his way through the crowd until he came to stand beside Godric’s father.

I’m glad you are safe, blacksmith! It was an old friend.

And I you! They shook hands and continued the journey with the others. For the first few moments they walked on without talking.

I caught them in the forest whilst out hunting, the old man broke the silence. Their numbers were vast, blacksmith, I’ve never seen anything like it. They were waiting for the sun to set before they started their attack…I couldn’t get back in time to warn the others. So many have died… He glanced behind at the destruction.

Do you know where they may have come from?

I’m afraid I don’t, I have never seen their kind before. But let me tell you this, they are not human. They resemble beasts or giants, standing much taller than us, and by the looks of it they were well armed, ready for a bigger fight, ready for war. Halig Holm won’t hold them, we have to keep venturing north to Jorvald. Even then I’m not sure that will hold them. I’m scared, blacksmith…

So, this is an invasion.

Perhaps more… The old man came closer to whisper. They say two other towns further south have been sacked, there’s been no word from them for weeks. What’s more, the Jarl’s guard of Midtyland have all been destroyed.

So, they’re practically walking into Bahrwold?

Aye, this attack, what we have seen so far, is their forward guard. There are more yet to come.

May the gods have mercy on us.

That’s just it, blacksmith, I don’t think the gods could stop these creatures.

They both fell silent. Godric looked behind: the flames of his home village were dying as the last remnants of buildings turned to ash. He tried to think of where these giants could have come from. Who were they and what did they want in Bahrwold? The image of the destruction they had left behind played through his mind like a nightmare he was unable to wake from. His father had told him stories of war and fighting, but nothing could compare to what he had witnessed. He had never felt fear or terror like that before. His emotions had left him paralysed and useless. He turned to his father, but before he could say anything, the familiar sound of panic rippled through the caravan of refugees. Cries from the back of the group made their way forward.

Godric’s senses rose to full alert as the image of giants filled his mind. They had been found!

The clanging sounds of blades were followed once again by screams. The crowd broke and people ran in all directions. Confusion reigned as death came from the night. Only glimpses of moonlight between broken cloud gave Godric sight of the enemy within their ranks. An arrow flashed past Godric’s head. His father threw him to the floor and pressed down upon him as terror engulfed the fleeing group of villagers.

Halig Holm is beyond us, we shall be cut down before we ever reach the gates…Godric, head to the forest!

No! What about you?

Don’t question me, boy! Go! I will lead them away. Once I’m out of their reach I shall come and meet you. Godric could hear the lie in his voice. Take these and hold onto them. He thrust the forging tools into Godric’s hands. They will serve you well, my son, keep them safe and they will do the same for you.

I won’t leave you!

Go! There’s no time! Without further hesitation the blacksmith threw his son onto his feet and pushed him out of the melee towards the forest. Godric turned for a split second and saw his father vanish into the night. He began to run, leaving the sound of death shrieking behind him.

3

Weeks seem to have passed since Eric’s encounter with the reaper. The barren lands around him had transformed into a great forest covering the light of day. He could no longer tell whether he was heading in the right direction; neither did he care.

Although he had not eaten for days, Eric could feel some unnatural strength and energy return to his limbs. It felt like a dark magic was keeping him alive. The reaper’s words rang through his consciousness; he struggled to feel like anything more than a walking corpse. He believed his soul was dead and he had spent all his time thinking about was which god wanted him to live like this. But something kept him going through the thick branches and endless trees.

As he delved deeper, he could barely see the path before him. Hiding beneath the thick canopy of green he hoped that the gods were unable to see him. Perhaps he could remain here, far away from civilisation. Hidden from the meddling hands of immortals. His thoughts suddenly vanished as up ahead he felt movement. Eric stopped to try and focus on its source. He cursed himself for not bringing a weapon with him: he was defenceless.

Slowly, he dropped to a crouch readying himself for the impending danger. The rustling sound grew louder and louder; it was coming. Then above him, as if the wind were blowing, the branches began to bend and twist. An old oak tree groaned as the earth below it began to rumble. Mud and dirt split apart, revealing the roots below. The trees loomed over Eric, cornering him into an enclosed space. The rumbling sound grew to an earthquake and more soil spat up as a hole appeared before him. And from it came a harrowing scream that launched a flurry of birds into the sky. A hand shot out from the hole, and then another. Eric remained still, bewildered by the event that was unfolding before him. The hands, bony and withered, felt around for the roots of the tree. Another piercing scream cried out as the earthquake rumbled on before Eric. The hands pulled on the oak tree and the body of an old woman, covered in mud, lifted itself out of the depths. The screams stopped as the shrivelled creature lay still before Eric; all else became still.

The creature started to wrangle in the mud as if it were searching for something, mumbling to itself as it did so. Eric slowly stood up and took a couple of steps forward to gaze upon it.

Who are you? he asked. Are you god, demon…or something else?

The frail woman ceased her mutterings and jolted movements and snapped her head up to Eric. A wry smile spread across her face as she slowly lifted herself onto her feet.

A fair face I do see, Eric, son of no man.

She came closer and stretched out a hand to his face. Clumsily, she felt around the contours of his face, scratching him as she did so.

It is not an easy thing to do…but it has been done; you are back amongst the living.

So…I am alive? Eric clenched onto hope.

No no no! Alive is not the word, young Eric, you are merely functioning. Your body has just been fooled into thinking it is so. The instructions given to me were to bring you back, and I have done just that.

And who was it that instructed you?

That is not important now. All that matters is that I have brought you back to the land of the living, so that you can complete your mission.

And where in the land of the living am I?

I have brought you to the Forests of Elswyth. And these trees border on the Kingdom of Bahrwold where the Great Jarl Wulfgar claims rule of the land.

The reaper mentioned Bahrwold also, but what is it that I must do, and who exactly are you?

The old woman took a step back and placed her hand on a nearby tree. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply.

I am Jord. I am the earth below you. I am the trees that surround you, the mountains that stretch up high and the waters around you.

Another god, Eric whispered.

She opened her eyes and stared directly at Eric.

I am the cycle of life and death, all nature derives from me, and I have brought you back from the depths of Hell to stop a great evil.

And what is the evil you speak of?

It is darkness, a disease that spreads across this land killing all before it: man, beast, nature. Many mortals have already witnessed this first-hand. So far, this evil has come in the form of an army, disciplined and organised; they have started to conquer the lands around Bahrwold. The Jarl has seen his best men cut down before the Black Legion. Town after town is destroyed and the inhabitants slaughtered, but this force is known to the gods. We have seen it coming for some time.

Who leads them?

They are led by the general, Gunnar. A wretched creature who now leads his horde into Bahrwold ready to conquer the world and then, in his arrogance, the gods themselves.

Why have I been chosen for this? If you are gods, and have the powers to bring me back from death, then why not end Gunnar and his Black Legion yourselves? Why not leave me in death where I was at peace?

The old woman cackled in reply.

You ask many questions, and it is true that the gods are powerful, but in the affairs of mortals we cannot meddle, not directly at least. The events that are to come will shape and mould the very existence of man’s future. Although our power stretches far, even we are bound by rules; therefore, we cannot end this ourselves.

Eric felt frustration boil up inside of him.

Then how do I defeat this Black Legion on my own?

I do not know, I cannot see the future. Eric clenched his fists as he struggled to contain his anger. Be calm, there will be a time to unleash your anger. Now listen to me: beyond the mountains in the north is the city of Jorvald. This, the last city of man, is the gateway to the icy wastelands that lay just beyond. It acts as a barrier, a shield to protect the power that lies dormant in the ice.

What is this power?

Its name is Jotun…Jotun the Destroyer. An ancient being, a scourge of the gods and the bringer of the end times. He was imprisoned in the ice for evermore. The Black Legion wish to unleash him and with it corrupt this earth. If they unlock Jotun from the ice, then mark my words, this world will die. This is what you were brought back for, to stop them from ever gaining such a power. You will know when you see them, the Legion are not born men as you once were. Instead, they are an abomination of both man and beast, like the giants of ancient times they dream of returning this land to the frost and ice they draw their energy from. Said to be the descendants of Jotun, their numbers grow with each passing day and I can sense their filthy magic plaguing this land.

If I am successful, what then? Will you free me of this existence and allow death to claim me, or will you return me to life?

That I cannot answer: death has already consumed most of your soul, but your mind is being kept alive. Once you have completed your mission, perhaps then you may obtain the answer you seek…

So the fates of this ice giant and me are intertwined, and the city of Jorvald is my destination. Tell me, Jord, how do I reach or find this city if the army of the Frost is already in Bahrwold?

The Lovar Tribes, old kings of the surrounding mountains, will help you once you pass the highlands; they will help you to unleash an ancient weapon. This weapon holds a power which can end the Legion and put a stop to Jotun. Without it, you will not be able to complete your mission. Search for it and learn to use its power. This is your purpose and the reason you have been brought to this realm. But be warned, the Legion have been forewarned of your coming; they hunt you now as I speak.

I must amuse you and the rest of the gods! A fool or plaything to use as you desire! The immensity of the task at hand both frustrated and angered Eric.