Bedlam Unleashed, page 27
As we trekked out and all started to make wagers, Gunthar muttered to me, “You know the Christian way of thinking is the host of the Wild Hunt is not led by Odin once the festival starts, but Satan.”
“The Devil you say?” Kendrick mocked him.
Not amused by the wizard, Gunthar said, “The dogs Odin used are really the un-baptized souls of dead babies.”
I eyed Gunthar and wondered why he was so cryptic. “These English mean us some harm?”
Gunthar shrugged and looked to the churning sky. “There are grim things aplenty in this fest, my friends. I fear no Englishman, but on a plain in the night, who knows what they would try?”
“It is going to storm,” one of the Englishmen said who was set to race Bedlam across the plain. The sky was dark above, mostly due to the quickly descending eve yet storm clouds hid the stars and moon. Afar off, a low rumble heralded the coming maelstrom.
Squatting on his hams like a wild dog, Bedlam laughed, “Will a few drops of water taint my victory? May as well surrender now, for you soon look to pee down your leg!”
Thunder rolled and lightning struck in the distance. The Englishman against Bedlam jumped a little, but the berserker laughed. His crazed eyes seemed to glow in the afterlight of the crackling bolt.
Kendrick murmured to me, “I fear Erik may enjoy this too much.”
Indeed, Erik stood and threw his arms to heaven. “Thor greets me as his son and worshiper! Damn your English eyes! May the fingers of the thunder god smite you all!”
As the men stood in ranks, prepared to run in different directions from the Hunt origin point of a dead tree, the man I recognized as the bartender told of the Hunt. “The territory is marked off and the length seen to as we rode in, as you can attest. There are many obstacles and even a few gamers out there to try and slow down the players. It is all in good fun.”
Kendrick whispered, “Does Erik comprehend fun?”
I raised an eyebrow. “He knows exactly what amusement it. However, his definition is rather broad.”
The bartender raised his arm and gave out a great shout. This indicated that the Hunt was to begin. Erik turned not to the open field but to the man nearest him. He seized his shoulder and kicked a boot between his legs. Erik ran off, swearing, laughing and yelling into the stormy night.
Several Englishmen approached Gunthar and our band and cursed Erik for his behavior. “That was bloody unfair!”
“What did you expect from a barbarian?” I quipped. “Good taste?”
I looked off as Erik faded into the night. I saw bolts of lightning crack and strike the ground far ahead of him. It was all a great jest.
That was the last thing I recall before a great pain ripped through my skull. Darkness enveloped me, and I fell to the grass. As the world faded, I heard Gunthar laugh.
Salty water splashed upon my face as the world came back to me. The face of Gunthar, smiling, greeted me in the dull morning light. With all of my fury, I tried to leap forward, but heavy ropes tied me to the mast of the Norse drakkar. The vessel heaved over the waves as the ship headed out into the channel.
“Say goodbye to your friends,” Gunthar taunted me and pointed to the shore.
Blinking hard, I saw that Kendrick was laying spread eagle on the beach, staked down by his limbs. The waves washed over him and surely, he was doomed.
Suddenly, the giant form of Erik Bedlam burst from the bushes near the edge of the beach. The hulking man raged loud, and pointed in our direction.
Gunthar folded his massive arms and sighed. “The judgment of God will fall on Kendrick. If God wants him, the sea will embrace him. If not…”
Erik stopped by the water and grabbed the wizard under his armpits. Roughly, and causing some pain, the monster Norseman yanked Kendrick free. Hardly missing a beat, Erik ran for the water, towards us.
I spat, “Since when does the will of any god concern you? Why did you ambush us on the Hunt?”
Briefly, Gunthar glanced at me, but remained focused on Bedlam. “You see, things have indeed changed since you last knew me, Alanis. We seek the unity of Norway and one King in Olaf. Our old ways are passing. Our old ways are no more. In the past, would I have really cared if another child was birthed by a fellow Norseman, even unto my own sister?”
His words came out steady as Bedlam jumped into the water. The berserker took heavy strides, lifting his legs high to overcome the waves in the shallows. Quickly up to his waist, the giant sprawled and threw his great arms out as he began to swim. Erik swam awkwardly, taking long strokes and fighting each wave. He swore between gasps and gulping water. The men rowing on the long ship cheered his tenacity, but laughed at his insanity.
“Why not just kill me then?” I said, watching Bedlam thrust himself through the waters.
“That wouldn’t do,” Gunthar explained. “You see, my sister was a weak woman and took her own life. Some strange sickness women get after the birth of a child. It is no matter, though. That is her weakness. That is what the old ways of Odin would say, eh?”
Kendrick stood on the shore and grew smaller in my eyes. His arms were raised, gaze turned up towards the sky, and he seemed to be chanting. I could not make out his words over the crashing of the sea against the side of the boat. His robe flapped in the sea breeze as did his long beard squirm and twist in its bushiness. He looked like an old gibbering hermit at shores edge. Erik still pursued us, but the sea grew larger all the time.
Turning my attention back to Gunthar, I said, “What are you saying? Why do you care for my life so much to haul me back there? Kill me then.”
“You see, I would expect you take proper responsibility, Alanis,” Gunthar informed me. “It is really all in what you believe.”
“The All-Father curse you!” I raged. “Why are you so righteous?”
Gunthar smiled. “Oh, I believe in God the father, maker of Heaven and Earth. And of all things visible and invisible…”
My eyes locked on him and then darted back to Bedlam. I understood the meaning of Gunthar’s conviction and why he followed Olaf.
Gunthar continued. “And one Lord Jesus Christ, the only begotten son of God. Begotten of his father before all worlds.”
“Damn you!” I shouted and looked at Bedlam. The giant still persisted, heaving on through the heavy surf.
“God of god, light of light,” Gunthar said steadily. “Very God of Very God. Begotten, not made. Being of one substance with the Father by whom all things were made. Who for us men and for our salvation came down from Heaven and was incarnate by the Holy Ghost of the Virgin Mary and was made man.”
I strained against my bonds to no avail. The distance between Bedlam, the shore and our boat grew greater. Bedlam seemed to slow in his motions, and I pleaded in my mind for the giant to go back before it was too late.
“And was crucified also for us under Pontius Pilate. He suffered and was buried. On the third day he rose again, according to the scriptures.” Gunthar looked at me and smiled broadly. “And ascended into heaven, and sits on the right hand of the Father. And he shall come again with glory to judge both the quick and the dead, whose Kingdom shall have no end.”
I called out for Erik to go back, but it was no use. The animal spirit that drove him on made the brute swim ever faster. His strokes bore no rhythm though, and if he progressed, it was a small measure. The choppy dark channel waters slapped against him, fighting him as he fought against it.
Gunthar’s words never ceased and, heart pounding in my chest, I breathed harder with his words continuing to fill my ears. “And I believe in the Holy Ghost, the Lord and giver of Life; Who proceedth from the Father and the Son, whom with the Father and the Son is worshiped and glorified. Who spake by the prophets.”
Erik’s motions started to slow, and his form grew smaller in my eyes. The shore was almost a memory, and my heart fell.
“And I believe in one holy catholic and apostolic church. I acknowledge one baptism for the remission of sins.”
Bellowing my name but once, Bedlam took one leap from the water, and suddenly, went under the surface. He came up for a second, massive arms floundering and hammering the water, before starting to slide beneath the roiling dark sea again. One immense dripping hand reached out towards the heavens, first in an outstretched palm as if to take handshake, then in splayed quivering fingers as if in panic and the knowing nearness of the watery death dragging him down.
Then the ebon waves consumed him.
“And I look for the resurrection of the dead…”
Erik Bedlam never broke the surface of the water.
“…and the life of the world to come.” Gunthar, grinning broadly, waited until the cheering of the men stopped before he looked at me, and said, “Amen.”
* * *
THE END?
Bedlam Is Dead
Lean close, my children, and cock thy ear, for I tell you a story of deviltry and fear
About a Norse beast man so strong and stout, it took three countries to rouse him out.
* * *
A giant Viking, Erik Bedlam, was he, with a gruesome cracked skull from a battle he’d seen,
Tis said he saw demons and other frights, imagine your greatest nightmare and it was in his sight.
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They say he gnawed on the innards of Brodir of Mann, in the great bloody battle in Ireland
And sailed the North Sea amidst a boat of the dead, conversing with demons that sailed bout his head.
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The foul Viking smote wing and scale from ancient dragons, whilst drowning his rotted brain in whisky-steeped flagons.
Draining all the Scottish brew he did, whilst complaining of taloned red faeries pulling at his lids.
* * *
After leaving the Scots in bloody shards, he came to trouble our English lords.
He killed all the women in Bridlington, Tis true, then ate their children before it was through.
* * *
The foul brute killed his own, a devilish blood-thirsty Norse vixen, pray tell
Whilst summoning an ebon shambling monstrosity from the very pits of Hell
* * *
And in the poor coastal Dunwich, as our doomed brethren did flee,
The cursed Norseman called forth a foul brood from the sea.
* * *
At dawn’s twilight, when the city was no more,
Erik Bedlam did laugh wicked, promising to destroy England from shore to shore
* * *
But in Ipswich, where his mates took ready to leave, Praise the Lord!
An English she-devil took his heart and briefly mellowed his sword
* * *
And whilst our fellows charged him and took him to game
Other barbaric fellows stole his companions and brought him to shame
* * *
The giant Norseman fled to the cold channel waters where a rescue could not be found
And that same sea that had embraced him did enshrine him to drown
* * *
So lean close, my dear children, and feel secure in your bed
And rejoice for the ages, bloody Bedlam is dead.
Peter Welmerink Ackowledgements
I would like to thank all those involved with bringing BEDLAM to life: Shrews, Zimmer, Lee, Bohmer, Sandridge, Freeman and Holtrop. You all rock. And thanks to my family who has been on this epic Viking journey relating to Erik and Alanis for a very long time. You rock too!.
About the Authors
Peter Welmerink (pwelmerink.wordpress.com) writes action-adventure tales, thrown into different genres: Fantasy, Horror, SciFi, etc. At their heart, the stories are about Humankind facing some sort of hurtle, and trying to overcome it. BEDLAM UNLEASHED is his first collaborative work with stellar author, Steven L. Shrewsbury. TRANSPORT is his first solo novel series, also through Seventh Star Press. He’s written, and is continuing to write, high-octane adventure stories and books related to areas close to home and afar. He is married with a small barbarian horde of three boys.
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Award-winning author Steven L. Shrewsbury lives, works and writes in rural Central Illinois. Over 365 of his short stories have been published in print or digital media since the late 80s. His novels include WITHIN, PHILISTINE, OVERKILL, HELL BILLY, BLOOD & STEEL, THRALL, STRONGER THAN DEATH, HAWG, TORMENTOR and GODFORSAKEN.
He has collaborated with other writers, like Brian Keene with KING OF THE BASTARDS, which won the 2016 Imadjinn Award for Best Fantasy Novel, Peter Welmerink in BEDLAM UNLEASHED, Nate Southard in BAD MAGICK, Maurice Broaddus in the forthcoming BLACK SON RISING and Eric S. Brown in an untitled project.
He continues to search for brightness in this world, no matter where it chooses to hide.
Sword and Sorcery from Award-winning author Steven L. Shrewsbury!
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Softcover: 978-1-941706-85-5
eBook: 978-1-941706-79-4
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Deliverance will come... But that is another story. What makes a legend but the stories told about him? Interviewing Gorias La Gaul, the biggest legend of them all, is a dream come true for young scribe Jessica. Where other girls her age would swoon beneath the steely gaze of the warrior, Jessica only has eyes for his mouth, and the tales that come from it...when he takes a break from cursing or drinking. Unfortunately for Jessica, Gorias doesn’t really have time to babysit. She’s found him in the midst of an annual pilgrimage of sorts, and though he agrees to let her come along, it’s not without a warning: You may not like what you see and hear. Just don’t come crying afterward. Whether viewing past visions with magical gemstones or jumping into the fray alongside the barbarian, Jessica’s about to get firsthand accounts she won’t soon forget...and discover legends are far from reality, and just as far from being pretty. You wouldn’t expect a youth of love and friendship from the greatest killer to walk the Earth, would you? These are tales of some of Gorias’ earliest days, back before he’d found his swords, to a time when a dragon needed killing. Tales back before his heart had hardened. Maybe. For most men, the future is not certain and the past is prologue. For a legend like Gorias La Gaul, even the past is up for debate. One thing is for certain about these tales. They will be bloody. Such is always the way for a man... Born of Swords...
A Post-Apocalyptic Military Thriller With Zombies from Peter Welmerink!
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Softcover ISBN: 978-1-941706-03-9
eBook ISBN: 978-1-941706-02-2
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The HURON, a 72-ton heavy transport vehicle and an army of four; tracked, racked and ready to roll, to serve and protect the walled metropolis of Grand Rapids—both her living and her undead. Captain Jacob Billet and his crew patrol the byways, ready for trouble. William Lettner, the North Shore Coalition High Commissioner, has enemies from the mainland to the lakeshore and needs to be covertly transported home after his helicopter is shot down en route to Grand Rapids. He has no love for a city that give unliving civilians the right to survive. Lettner’s venomous outbursts assaults Billet and his crew along every mile travelled as they are assigned to safely bring him through the treacherous landscape outside the city back to his hometown. The HURON and her crew will have to face domesticated zombies and the feral undead; marauders holding strategic chokepoints hostage; barricaded villages fighting for survival, and a group of geneticists who've lost control of one of their monstrous experiments if they want to complete their mission. The crew will need to stay strong and trust one another in order to finish the mission and bring their “precious” cargo home, even knowing, all the while, the terrible deeds Lettner has done. Travelling through West Michigan was never so dangerous. Transport is the first book of the Transport series!
Sword and Sorcery From Award-winning Author Stephen Zimmer!
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Softcover ISBN: 978-1-941706-21-3
eBook ISBN: 978-1-941706-23-7
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Rayden Valkyrie. She walks alone, serving no king, emperor, or master. Forged in the fires of tragedy, she has no place she truly calls home. A deadly warrior wielding both blade and axe, Rayden is the bane of the wicked and corrupt. To many others, she is the most loyal and dedicated of friends, an ally who is unyielding in the most dangerous of circumstances. The people of the far southern lands she has just aided claim that she has the heart of a lion. For Rayden, a long journey to the lands of the far northern tribes who adopted her as a child beckons, with an ocean lying in between. Her path will lead her once more into the center of a maelstrom, one involving a rising empire that is said to be making use of the darkest kinds of sorcery to grow its power. Making new friends and discoveries amid tremendous peril, Rayden makes her way to the north. Monstrous beasts, supernatural powers, and the bloody specter of war have been a part of her world for a long time and this journey will be no different. Rayden chooses the battles that she will fight, whether she takes up the cause of one individual or an entire people. Both friends and enemies alike will swiftly learn that the people of the far southern lands spoke truly. Rayden Valkyrie has the heart of a lion. Heart of a Lion is Book One of the Dark Sun Dawn Trilogy.
From Bram Stoker Award-winner Michael Knost!
