Serpent's Strike (The Chronicles of Adalmearc Book 2), page 1
SERPENT’S STRIKE
©2024 D.E. OLESEN
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CONTENTS
Also by DE Olesen
Middanhal
Preface
1. City of Circles
2. City of Daggers
3. Taverns and Palaces
4. In Salt and Wine
5. City of Lies
6. A Clash of Colours
7. The Last Calm
8. City of Divines
9. Secrets in the Night
10. Movements in Shadow and Light
11. A Lordly Gift
12. City Under Siege
13. Days of the Raven
14. Subterfuge
15. Sacred
16. The Fruits of Treachery
17. The Small Leak
18. The Unbidden Guest
19. Relief
20. Tread Lightly
21. From Foe to Friend
22. The Seat of Power
23. The Will That Moves
24. The Dead of Night
25. Niðing
26. Knights and Jarls
27. Sharpen the Sword
28. A Masterful Play
29. Wolf and Lion
30. The Velvet Glove
31. The Greater Foe
32. The Right Dagger
33. From Friend to Foe
34. The Spoils of Peace
35. Atheling
Thank you for reading Serpent’s Strike
The Nobility and People of Adalrik
The Nobility and People of Hæthiod
ALSO BY DE OLESEN
The Chronicles of Adalmearc
Eagle’s Flight
Serpent’s Strike
Raven’s Cry
Check out the entire series here! (Tap or scan)
Firebrand
The Novice
The Firetouched
The Acolyte
The Spellslinger
Check out the entire series here! (Tap or scan)
MIDDANHAL
PREFACE
In the year one thousand and ninety-seven, calamity struck the realms. In Adalrik, the aged king Sighelm died, necessitating a lord protector to rule until his grandson and heir, Prince Sigmund, would come of age. In its wisdom, the Adalthing chose Sir Reynold, the impartial lord marshal of the Order.
Yet, at this time, an old enemy reared its head as the outlanders began an invasion of Hæthiod, numbering in the tens of thousands. Sir Reynold led available Order forces out of Adalrik to assist the beleaguered vassal kingdom, thereby weakening Adalrik itself.
Seizing this opportunity, the infamous Jarl Isenhart of Isarn, aided by his treacherous brother Sir Athelstan, took control of Middanhal, taking many noble hostages. They failed to conquer the Citadel, however, bravely defended by its garrison under Captain Theobald.
With civil war now inevitable, the forces of Isarn assembled for an assault on southern Adalrik, including Jarl Valerian of Vale, their main opposition.
As for the few remaining Order forces, they suffered an ambush at Lake Myr but held together under their courageous captain, Sir Richard of Alwood, and his first lieutenant, Adalbrand of House Arnling. Along with Jarl Theodoric of Theodstan, who rode out to warn them of Jarl Isenhart's betrayal, they began an arduous journey across the Weolcan mountains to reach the jarldom of Theodstan and reinforcements.
Meanwhile, even as disastrous news from Adalrik reached them, the main Order army reached Hæthiod to begin their campaign to repel the outlander invasion.
Thus write I, Quill, the king's scribe
Second Chronicle of Adalmearc
The year is one thousand and ninety-seven
The events unfold in the realm of Hæthiod
1
CITY OF CIRCLES
TOTHMOR
After working together with the King's Quill and Jarl Theodoric to get Sir Reynold elected lord protector at the Adalthing, Godfrey swiftly journeyed southeast. At this point, the outlanders had yet to breach the Langstan and invade Hæthiod, and the prince drew breath back in Middanhal; as Godfrey travelled through the lands, all seemed peaceful in the realms of Adalmearc.
Leaving Middanhal, he crossed the hills south of the capital and followed the Kingsroad through the province of Ingmond before reaching Hæthiod. A journey of several days came afterwards until he finally had Tothmor, capital of the heathlands, in sight. Although a lengthy trip, only about a week after summer solstice and the aforementioned Adalthing had passed as Godfrey approached the main city of Hæthiod.
Tothmor was built leaning against a lone mountain, rising up on the heath. The name for the mountain had lent its name to the city built against its southern side, resembling a tooth jagging up on the otherwise flat moor. Some with more wit than affection for the city had once said that the last part of the name had a different meaning originally, however, and it actually meant dead tooth.
On a cloudy, bleak day, such a name might seem apt. Entering through the gate and paying the toll, Godfrey was treated to the sight of a city built mostly in brown clay bricks. Similar earth tones were worn by the commoners that dwelled there as Godfrey looked beyond the city gate and planted his staff in the ground, walking forward. There were not many decorations, little marble or gilded metal to be found; Hæthiod was not a rich country. The only exception was the uncommon number of temples in Tothmor. While other cities of Adalmearc typically had one major temple dedicated to one god and smaller shrines elsewhere or attached to the main temple, Tothmor had no less than six separate temples, all of which trained novices and acolytes to be initiated into their respective priesthoods. In a stark contrast to the rest of the city, these temples were richly adorned, and they might almost rival the royal palace.
Tothmor was a city of circles; it had begun with merely a single half-circle closest to the mountain and thus in an elevated, easily defended position. As the city grew, another semi-circular wall had been added further down the mountainside, starting from the east, running in a curve southwards, and then connecting with the mountain on the west side. Then another circle and another, arriving at the current number of five districts with the lowest semicircle being on the same level as the surrounding heath. Each time a new district was added, the poorest were relegated to live there, slowly pushed downhill by the more affluent residents taking over the old districts. A man’s worth, wealth, or status could be judged quite accurately simply by the district in which he lived.
Each of the old city walls was still in use; no longer an outer line of fortifications, they served instead to separate the districts. Their gates lay directly opposite each other, with one short main road running from lowest to highest; thus, standing at the lowest, one had a view up the hill of all the next four gates. Moving up the street, Godfrey passed through the fifth district, which was much like Lowtown in Middanhal, occupied by the poor, the serving class, and those who had cause to hide from the city guard in the overpopulated district. Passing through the next gate, the guards gave him a lazy glance as he entered the fourth district, which still had its share of filth and overcrowded atmosphere; here, there were craftsmen, vendors, and peddlers of all kinds. There was no marketplace as such in Tothmor, so the stalls and shops were simply scattered across the entire district.
Going beyond the boundary of this fourth circle and entering the third, change was more noticeable. Fewer houses were built from clay bricks, and not all people lived clumped together in large blocks of buildings but might have their own detached house. The wealthier merchants and the poorer nobility had their dwellings here, as did the many temples. This was reflected by the numerous robes in various colours belonging to the priests and priestesses. Reaching this area, Godfrey turned away from the main road and walked east into the disorganised morass of small streets.
While there were other houses displaying certain affluence, the temples outshone them all, aided by the fact that they were funded by their respective priesthoods in the other realms of Adalmearc. While the three temples for the goddesses lay west of the gate, Godfrey went in the other direction. He passed by the temple for Hamaring, guarded by its warrior monks with their great war hammers. Next, the temple for Egnil, whose guardians stood with shields and flails by their side, and finally, he reached the largest of the temples, whose sword-wielding sentinels revealed it to be consecrated to Rihimil, lord of the lesser divines.
Godfrey moved with a few other people into the dark, cool interior of the building; however, while they came to seek out the altar and give offerings, Godfrey continued deeper into the temple until he was stopped by an acolyte.
“I am Brother Nikodemos,” the initiate introduced himself. “May I enquire as to your presence?”
“I am here to see your high priest,” Godfrey explained. “I bring a message from Middanhal, from the Archon,” he said, using the southern term for the Highfather. The acolyte asked no further questions and led Godfrey to the local high priest for Rihimil in Tothmor.
Nikodemos brought Godfrey into a small, private shrine only for use by the priests of the temple. Inside knelt the high priest in prayer before a statue of a knight in black armour. Like all priests of his faith, he wore black robes with a silver dragon as its emblem. The hem of the robe was decorated in with a pattern of stars stitched in silver thread that revealed his status within the priesthood, and around his neck hung a heavy necklace with a large pendant. The acolyte, whose low status was indicated by his simple black robe without patterns or emblems, left quietly.
Although the noise of entering had made it clear that somebody else was in the shrine, the high priest remained kneeling in prayer while his lips moved wordlessly. Godfrey waited a short while, resting his walking staff against the wall. “You have convinced me of your piety. Now please stand so I may address you,” he said.
The priest rose and sent the newly arrived traveller a scowl. “You dare speak to me in such a manner? I could have the guards flog you.”
“First, you should read the message I bring,” Godfrey replied with a sly smile. He extended a folded piece of paper to the priest, who snatched it from his hands. Looking at the seal, he strained his eyes to examine it in the dim torchlight inside the shrine.
“This came from the Archon himself? From the Basilika?”
“None less,” Godfrey confirmed.
The high priest broke the seal, and his eyes skimmed over the text. “I thought this was an answer to my pleas,” complained the black-robed man. “Does the Holy One not realise my position as court seer is threatened?”
“I am sure you have made it abundantly clear to him,” Godfrey said dryly.
“He was initiated to sacred Rihimil as well before taking the mantle of Archon,” continued the high priest. “But all he writes is that he cannot intercede! Why not?”
“That is a question for him, not me,” Godfrey said dismissively. “Now, the letter mentions you are to provide me with coin.”
“You know its contents?” asked the priest surprised.
“I know a great deal, Brother Dominic,” Godfrey said with a smile bordering mockery. “The silver, please.”
“Wait here,” Dominic said curtly and quickly left. When he returned, he handed a small bag of coins to Godfrey.
“My thanks,” Godfrey said and inclined his head, his smile still insincere. Without being dismissed or words of parting, he turned and left the premises.
Shortly after, the same acolyte who had guided Godfrey to the high priest of Rihimil left the temple and entered the streets of the third circle. He remained in the back alleys, however, and his black robe kept him nearly invisible to other people. A voice reached him, trembling with age and withered fury. “Bow, you fools, before it is too late,” the voice spoke. “How long will you worship these false gods in their temples of gold while your children starve?”
Walking past, Nikodemos could see the speaker; it was a madman, by all appearance, attracting little attention. The acolyte shuddered at hearing such words of blasphemy, pulling the hood of his robe up to cover his ears. Soon after, he reached another of the eastern-lying temples and made his way inside through a back entrance, unseen. Finally, Nikodemos reached a small study and waited until somebody entered. The new person in the room wore a robe with the same patterned hem as all high priests did; the colour was bright yellow, however, and a black bull was its emblem.
“You!” exclaimed the high priest of Egnil as he spotted the black-robed acolyte. “You bring news?”
“I do, Reverend One,” the acolyte said with a small bow. “A messenger from the Archon arrived just now and spoke with my master.”
“And? Will he be given any assurances?”
“No, Reverend One,” Nikodemos answered whilst shaking his head. “From what I could hear, the Holy One had no interest in interfering.”
“Good, good,” mumbled the high priest. “Our plans can proceed.” The black-robed acolyte remained in the room while the yellow-robed priest seemed to forget his presence. “You may go,” he finally told Nikodemos. The blackrobe gave a small bow and retreated out of the room. The high priest of Egnil waited until his spy had left before he walked to the door and called for his servant. “Tell Brother Gregory to come to my chamber,” he informed his attendant.
The latter disappeared and quickly returned with another man; his yellow robe with the black bull upon its chest proclaimed him an ordained priest of Egnil. “You asked for me, Reverend One?” said Gregory.
“The court seer has received his reply from Middanhal. The Archon has not granted him any favours.”
“What was he hoping to achieve, do you think? It is not the Archon’s decision to determine the position of court seer,” Gregory pondered.
The high priest shrugged. “Some kind of decree supporting his position, perhaps? Even though the court seer is appointed at the discretion of our local monarch, a word from the Archon in Middanhal would weigh heavily. Or perhaps the Holy One could simply forbid the rest of us from accepting the position.”
“In that case, we are fortunate that the Holy One is not interested in involving himself,” Gregory claimed.
“Yes. Our plans continue. Prepare yourself,” the high priest declared.
Outside the door stood the high priest’s personal servant, listening. When footsteps announced that the men inside the room were leaving, the servant hastened away. He left the temple for Egnil entirely and walked towards the central part of the third district until he reached the first of the three temples for the male divinities; a statue of a man in bearskin was atop its entrance, holding a great hammer in both hands, which proclaimed it dedicated to Hamaring. The servant went inside, unseen until he spotted one of the priests in their white robes.
“I have to return shortly, or my master will know I am gone,” the servant whispered to the priest. “Tell your high priest that the court seer is not receiving any support from Middanhal and that the geolrobes are continuing their plans.”
The white-robed priest with a black bear as its insignia nodded to the servant and moved to an inner courtyard in the small temple complex. Here, guards and lay brothers were training with their large war hammers under the supervision of the high priest of Hamaring in Hæthiod; while the white robe was rather concealing, it could not entirely hide that the high priest had forearms suggesting his own ability to swing the two-handed hammers if need be.
“Reverend One,” the priest said and gained his superior’s attention. “The blackrobes have heard from the Basilika. The Archon will not interfere on behalf of the court seer.”
“And the geolrobes?” asked the high priest, using the archaic term for the yellow-clad servants of Egnil.
“Their plans continue,” answered the lesser priest.
“As will ours,” came a smile from the highest placed servant of Hamaring in Hæthiod, turning his attention once more to the men sparring in front of him.
