Nikíta

By Dawn Mckelvey

A long time ago, the Spear-Danes and their kings were a mighty people. All have heard of their power and their glory. All have heard of the famous Scyld Scefing, who destroyed his enemies and their drinking halls. Although he was an orphan, he rose to the rank of king and his people showered him with gifts. Scyld was a great king. The Gods knew the people had suffered without a leader, so they sent a gift from the heavens.

A babe called Beow.

That particular boy was famed throughout the northern lands and he behaved well in his youth. He handed out gifts and earned the friendship and favour of many menfolk that he would have to call upon later for battle. In any northern kingdom, actions like those were a sure path to greatness and power.

Scyld died in the prime of his life and ordered his men to cast his body out to sea. They did as he wished and placed his body in his boat and filled it with more treasure, swords and armour than anyone had ever seen before. His body had been set upon the sea, just like he had been set upon the sea of life in his youth. From the mast of the ship, a golden flag flapped in the breeze that carried away the boat. The king Scyld and his treasure sailed into the unknown and his people mourned deeply.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Partridge Publishing Africa
• Release date: Mar 1, 2016
• ISBN: 9781482861273

Dawn Mckelvey

Dawn Mckelvey, born on April 16, 1995, began writing at the age of ten. When my classmates were instructed to produce creative writing in the form of a single paragraph, I would hand in two to three pages worth. I completed my first novel at the age of fourteen. Seven years later, I still try to perfect both imagination and writing skill. As a child, my friends dreamed of being doctors or lawyers, but all I ever wanted to be was an accomplished author. In our digital world today, it is so important that there are still writings being done and published in paperback. Writing is my passion; sharing it with others to change their lives, my mission.

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Copyright © 2016 by Dawn McKelvey.

ISBN:      eBook         978-1-4828-6127-3

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be used or reproduced by any means, graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or by any information storage retrieval system without the written permission of the author except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

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Contents

Introduction

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Introduction

A LONG TIME AGO, THE SPEAR-DANES AND their kings were a mighty people. All have heard of their power and their glory. All have heard of the famous Scyld Scefing, who destroyed his enemies and their drinking halls. Although he was an orphan, he rose to the rank of king and his people showered him with gifts. Scyld was a great king. The Gods knew the people had suffered without a leader, so they sent a gift from the heavens.

A babe called Beow.

That particular boy was famed throughout the northern lands and he behaved well in his youth. He handed out gifts and earned the friendship and favour of many menfolk that he would have to call upon later for battle. In any northern kingdom, actions like those were a sure path to greatness and power.

Scyld died in the prime of his life and ordered his men to cast his body out to sea. They did as he wished and placed his body in his boat and filled it with more treasure, swords and armour than anyone had ever seen before. His body had been set upon the sea, just like he had been set upon the sea of life in his youth. From the mast of the ship, a golden flag flapped in the breeze that carried away the boat. The king Scyld and his treasure sailed into the unknown and his people mourned deeply.

A man named Beowulf became the ruler of the Spear-Danes and was beloved by all. He had an heir by the name of Halfdane, whose wisdom was known to guide and protect the people. The heir had three sons named Heorgar, Hrothgar and Halga as well as a daughter who married a King named Onela and became queen of the Swedes. Hrothgar grew into such a great warrior that men were eager to fight alongside him. Hrothgar’s army grew large. Therefore, he decided to build an enormous hall and make it the largest anyone had ever seen. It was from there that he would rule and give everything he could to his people, save for land and his men’s lives. He hired workers from all over the world and soon his noble and immense hall was completed.

This he named Heorot.

Once he entered it, he promised his people gifts and treasures. However, he could not have known that outside the great walls of Heorot waited death and destruction. He could not have predicted that the day was coming, when hatred and murder would return to tear men apart. A malicious demon stalked on the outside, and it could hardly stand the sounds of singing and music that came from Heorot. The oblivious Spear-Danes sang about the origin of the world and the glory of the Gods who made them, and everything they saw. The people lived in harmony until this hideous demon began his evil work.

He went by the name of Grendel.

Grendel lived in the swamps nearby. The one who created him banished him to live among the monsters of Cain’s family. Cain was driven from the company of man when his killed his brother Abel. From the infamous, Cain sprung a race of giants and elves and evil spirits. They fought against all that was good, even though they had no chance of winning.

During the night, this demon named Grendel went to the hall to watch the men who had been drinking. He came to them in their sleep, completely oblivious to the sorrow and pain he would cause them. Full to the brim of wrath, he grabbed thirty of the men and took them back to his lair. When dawn broke and the men woke from their slumber, they saw what Grendel had done. They were absolutely beside themselves with grief. Even Hrothgar sat paralyzed in his throne. He was overwhelmed by the damage Grendel had caused. However, they were not given the opportunity to grieve long as Grendel returned the next night to claim more victims. The men fled the hall for safety, running to escape Grendel’s attack. Hrothgar suffered for twelve years because of Grendel’s attacks. The whole of the North heard of the demon’s rage and the murders he carried out on Hrothgar’s people. Grendel would not stop, not even for large amounts of money and no man would negotiate with the fowl demon. The old and the young alike were terrified as Grendel hunted them at night in the misty swamps where he lived. He never stopped his lonely war. When night fell, because he was the ruler of Heorot, Hrothgar was heartbroken. All of the king’s advisors offered advice on how to beast deal with the demon. They even went so far as to make offerings to their Pagan Gods and asked devils to come to their aid. That was how desperate the people had become. They were known as heathens and they did not know they could turn to the All Father. The others pitied the man who turned to hell for help and prayed he be blessed to turn to the All Father after death. Not even the wisest men could offer any real help to Hrothgar, who suffered unimaginable sorrow. He knew his people struggled to endure the horrors of the night.

Chapter One

S O THEN I CHALLENGE YOU, OH mighty Beowulf! A drunken Breca cried in amusement, overflowing cup of mead in hand, I challenge the greatest Geat hero our generation has known to a swimming match!

Beowulf looked at his drunken childhood friend with a great grin on his face. The thanes who followed him were laughing as well, chanting his name to the four walls of their mead hall. He had defeated giants; dragons even and there sat Breca the Mighty, coaxing him into a swimming match.

The fool! He thought to himself. Drunken men did not know the difference between common sense and that, which is frivolous. His thanes, as well as his cousin, Wiglaf and his faithful companion, Hondshew were chanting his name and demanding he accept Breca’s challenge. He knew he could not refuse when there were so many witnesses. He did not want to seem, as though he were a coward to the bravest men he knew. The men began to get rowdy and there were disagreeable names thrown at him. He threw his hands in the air in a mock surrender and laughed at those who called him shank and coward. He looked to the muscled man.

Breca had grown into a big bastard. The weight of him must have been twice as much as Beowulf himself. He was not displeasing to the eye as well. He gathered the women must have fallen over their feet for the tall hero before them. His flaxen mane fell to his shoulders in a waterfall of gold. His eyes could very well have been sapphires placed on his face by the All Father. Alternatively, he could have possibly have been a replica of the new Roman God, Jesus Christ. Whether Breca was Gods borne or not, was beyond the famed Geat hero. However, he could not deny the men their entertainment so he got to his feet and spread out his arms in merriment.

I accept your challenge, Breca the Mighty. He bellowed, We shall swim for five days clad in armour and bring our swords as well in the fear of sea monsters that might attack. I would hate to be the reason of my oldest friend’s death. We start in the morn tomorrow, but the rest of this night we drink!

There were pleased shouts all about him. He did not know whether he had made the right decision or not. He was simply pleased with himself and how he would no longer look like a coward in front of his thanes. He had one of the maidens fill his cup for the fourth time that night and began to sing. His voice was not the best, especially when he was beyond himself, but the men that surrounded him were even more so.

At the break of dawn, his men were recovering from their throbbing heads. He was to swim against Breca the Mighty for five days without rest. They sang about mermaids the night before and he prayed to all the Gods he would not encounter one. He was clad in both steal and leather armour. He had hoped it would not slow him down as he swam. The metal was heavy on land; he knew it would be heavier in water. The fear of death had never possessed him. He did not worry for drowning nor did he care for the thanes who mocked him as Breca approached the shore. His childhood friend’s grin was broad as he studied the smaller man clad in armour. Their different bands of men filled the two ships that would carry them to the swimmer’s location. Once the two ships were out to sea, Beowulf and Breca dived into the waves. Already Breca was in front of him but Beowulf refused to give up only at the beginning of their swimming match. The armour weighed the two men down as he predicted it would, but both strived to stay at the surface. The sea was calm as they paddled along with their arms, kicking fiercely with their legs. The grey clouds hovered above them like looming eyes watching from the heavens. He had prayed to the All Father the night before to gain his favour. He was unsure of whether the Gods, or any god, would act in his favour. The seas might have been calmed for his opponent.

His arms were already tiring from fighting against the current. The daughters of Aegir must have admired the handsomeness of Breca and not him. The muscled man in front of him appeared effortless and strong. As though the currents did not bother him at all. He had hoped the sea God’s wife; Ran would take pity on him and encourage the young hero forward. He had also hoped the deities would not cast their net upon him or his opponent and drag them down to their underwater