The Hordes of Hel by Justin Arment
The Hordes of Hel by Justin Arment
In a time, long past and in a land not too dissimilar to our own the wind howled its desolate tune as the sun dueled the clouds for dominance over the skies. The drone of flies echoed through the valley, feasting on the mounds of corpses, all butchered beyond recognition. The sun finally wrestled its way through the firmament, sending its warm rays down upon the grey battlefield and onto a man clad in shining gold armor. He was Gunnar Orinson, Warmaster of the Northern kingdom. He, along with a contingent of twenty elite Northmen warriors had been sent through the Fjall passage along their southern border to hunt a small group of Draugr, demons from Hel with charred, cracked flesh, razor sharp teeth and claws. To their utter horror Gunnar and his men realized the entire Draugr army had razed the entire Southern border to cinders.
Despite being hopelessly outnumbered, Gunnar and his companions fought their way back to the Fjall pass hoping to prevent these demonic creatures from destroying more of their homeland. For thirty days and thirty nights, the twenty Northmen battled bravely against tens of thousands of Draugr, slowly being cut down by their foes. Now Gunnar was all that remained, alone and unable to warn the rest of the kingdom.
The Warmaster sat upon a large boulder with his horned helmet by his side, waiting for the next wave of Skuggi to arrive at his position. The cawing of the dozens of carrion birds was almost overwhelming as they feasted on the corpses of the fallen. Suddenly there was a caw that sounded different than the others, causing the massive man to turn and come face to face with a raven.
“Shoo Bird,” Gunnar said wearily “my lungs still hold breath. The time to feast upon my flesh is not now.”
The bird stared with unblinking, beady eyes with its head cocked to one side.
“Leave me!” the Northman said with a swat of his hand “Can a man not have his last moments in peace?”
“If that is what you wish,” the raven replied “then I will leave you at once. But I do not believe that is your sincere desire.”
Gunnar stared at the small black bird. He had heard ravens speak basic words before but never anything so sophisticated.
“You are unnatural Bird,” Gunnar said, “tell me your origin.”
“I am known by many names,” the bird replied, “but my master had named me Hugin, for I represent memory.”
“So, you are Odin’s pet then?”
“Indeed. My perch is the right shoulder of the Allfather.”
“Tell me then Hugin, what is the purpose of your visit? The hordes of Hel are almost upon this position. My time on this mortal plane is almost passed, I am of little use to our Lord at this time.”
“That is quite the contrary. The Allfather knows that you will join him in Valhalla after this day, which is why he sent me. I am here to deliver both a message to your son and king while also granting you one reward before you perish.”
Gunnar stood from his seat, his hulking frame casting a shadow upon Hugin’s perch. Thoughts swirled in his head. The bird had confirmed that he would die soon but also this could be his way to warn his son of the oncoming onslaught.
“Hugin,” Gunnar said “here is the message I wish for you to deliver to my king: tell him of the Draugr that are coming to raze his kingdom. Tell him to prepare our people for war.”
“Consider it done Warmaster,” Hugin replied with a ruffle of his feathers.
“Wait! There is more!”
“Oh? Speak now Warmaster for our time here grows near to a close.”
The wind rushed through the pass causing Gunnar’s war braids to fly about freely. He felt cold and tired, his weeks of near-constant fighting causing his stalwart body to be wracked with fatigue. Most importantly he wrestled with the idea that he would never see his son, his only child, ever again. Tears slipped down his long beard as the pain of missing his son’s later life hurt more than any blade or claw could cause.
“Bird,” Gunnar said softly “tell my son that I love him. Tell him that from the moment he was born, I knew he was destined for greatness. As for my reward I ask, nay I demand that Odin protect him and keep him from harm!”
“I will do as promised,” Hugin said spreading his wings “Farewell Gunnar Orinson, until we meet again in Valhalla!”
With that the bird shot off into the sky, disappearing from sight. Quickly the skies began to darken, and the ground started to tremble. A foul stench began to waft across the field signaling the approach of the horde. Gunnar grabbed his horned helmet and grasped his great battle axe in his right hand. The time of his last stand was upon him.
Gunnar stood atop a large boulder as he watched the horrific writhing mass of Draugr sweep across the valley like an unbridled wave. He felt his palms begin to dampen as fear slid stealthily into his heart.
“Allfather,” Gunnar prayed as the horde raced towards his position “I leave my son’s protection in your hands. Guide him and his kin. Do not let my sacrifice be in vain!”
With that Gunnar leapt from his perch and collided with the vanguard of the Draugr, rending the first two creatures to in half with a single sweep of his mighty axe. The horde unleashed a horrific screech which would bring fear to even the most stalwart of warriors. Yet Gunnar stood defiant, fighting with every ounce of strength left in his body. Suddenly the writhing mass halted their assault, leaving Gunnar streaked with gore and panting heavily. The army parted revealing a behemoth of a Draugr, clad in the skin of Gunnar’s fallen brothers.
“Fleshling,” the Beast hissed “your kind are persistent, an admirable trait. Lay down your axe and I swear on my master’s heart your death will be quick.”
“While my lung holds breath and my arms still swing,” Gunnar snarled “I will never yield to you, abomination!”
The Beast grinned, its fangs dripping with venom.
“Good,” it growled “I will enjoy feasting on your bones!”
With that the creature lunged at Gunnar, its claws biting into his flesh. Gunnar tried to defend himself but was too exhausted and was beaten back by the ferocity of the assault. He was pinned, unable to move by the monstrosity before him. Gunnar closed his eyes and waited for death to finally take him. Suddenly a golden bolt of light slammed into the ground, throwing the Draugr aside like they were made of paper.
“Gunnar Orinson!” the disembodied voice of Odin thundered “I will uphold my promise to you. You will be the instrument I will use to protect your son!”
Gunnar felt his strength enter his body once more. His axe began to glow and spark with magical energy. He grew in height and stature as the power of the gods flowed through his veins. He stood to his feet once more, his eyes crackled with bolts of energy as Gunnar grinned at his now terrified foes.
“Come then!” the Warmaster thundered, twirling his mighty axe “Have at thee!”
With that he threw himself headfirst into the horde of Hel.
& & &
“My King!” a soldier shouted, “We found him!”
“Out of my way!” King Hogni yelled, pushing past his honor guard.
Weeks had passed since Hugin delivered the message of imminent danger had been delivered to King Hogni who now arrived at Fjall Pass with the full might of the armies of the Northern kingdom. For the last several days all they had seen were mountains of slaughtered Draugr, a telltale sign that a great battle had been fought, yet there had been no sign of his father.
As King Hogni pushed his way through the thrall of soldiers, he could see the sunlight glinting off the golden armor of his Warmaster. As he finally entered the open field, he saw him standing at the mouth of the pass, surrounded by corpses of the damned. His left hand still grasped his shattered axe and, in his right, the severed head of the Beast.
“Prepare a pyre!” King Hogni ordered “The day has been saved! Hail the Allfather Odin and Gunnar Orinson, Lord of the Pass!”
On this day there was great feasting and celebration for the victory over the enemy.
* * * * TH END * * * *
Copyright Justin Arment 2024
