2020-07-07

2020.06.26_Redtower of the Frozen Shore

Author's notes:
- This is a roleplaying story for Ultima Online Outlands, taking place in Avadon the world that emerged from the ruins of Sosaria after the great cataclysm that took place on this particular shard of the Gem of Immortality.
- This tale is all about love, valor and fortune, depicting Tyr Antilles adventures after his departure from Knight's Guild and before his arrival on PATH.
- I did my best to make a decent translation, but if you notice some odd expressions or words, please, try to pay no heed and enjoy the story.
- It can also be downloaded in PDF, eBook reader friendly format here:
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Redtower
of the Frozen Shore



2020.06.26
by Tyr Antilles


Tyr ran like it was the end of the world through knee-deep snow. The last dagger thrown by that norse trapper had stuck in his right shoulder and he hadn't had a moment's respite to pull it out. If he thought about it, he hadn't had a moment's respite from his adventure with Freya...


* * *

The previous morning, in the month of January 624 AC, Tyr Antilles had returned to the Outpost to report to the captain of the guard that he had completed his mission. With the money from him, he went straight to the magic shop in the north of the city to buy some more potions from the alchemist. He had just entered the store when he saw the most beautiful girl he had ever seen in his life. She was from the tribe of the people of the north, as the furry clothes showed her, her hair was so blond that it looked almost white and the bluest eyes Tyr had ever seen in his life, fitting perfectly with her face of incredible perfection.
In the magic shop of the Outpost, the girl was dealing with the alchemist trying to sell nightshade for the price of a coin, which was a small price, but he refuses to give her more than a coin for two pieces, although he could re-sell it with ease with three coins per piece.
— I worked for weeks to collect this nightshade and I need this money to buy goods for my tribe - the girl argued.
— I'm sorry, miss, but we have quite a few nightshade during this time of the year. This is the price I can offer you - said the trader knowing all too well that the girl could not afford to travel to Andaria to try her luck at another shop. 
Just as the girl was about to give in, Tyr approached the alchemist's counter and addressed her, bowing:
— Tyr Antilles is my name. I might be interested in buying this nightshade. Do you want to keep me company at Dante's tavern next door? The chef he hired from Andaria is a true master, which is rare for a small town as isolated as Outpost. Of course, it’s my treat - he added immediately, noticing her short hesitation.
She raised her stunning eyes up at him and the moment Tyr met her gaze he felt the earth shaking beneath his feet, completely enchanted. It was not possible for her to be so beautiful! She must have read something in his eyes too because she blushed, but she quickly got over the embarrassment and measured him from head to toe. A man of the right height, blue eyes, white skin, strong jaws with beautiful teeth but canines an idea longer than the rest and unusual long blue hair. More strange then beautiful, he had a certain grace and he exhaled a trustworthy aura.
— I accept honest adventurer. My goods are of good quality and you will not regret buying from me.
The sixth sense somehow warned him that at some point he might come to regret it, but Tyr was so enchanted by the girl that he completely ignored the presentiment.
They left the Outpost magic shop together, not before Tyr to notice a wave of anger running through the alchemist's face as they came out. He had lost a handsome profit because of this blue-haired adventurer he knew as a friend of the captain of the guard.
Master Dante's tavern was almost full by this time, and Tyr ordered full menus for both of them. He learns that her name is Freya, that she is twenty years old and she is the daughter of a norse hammerman from a tribe who lived in a Borg, that is, a fortified camp located somewhere in the frozen lands northwest of the Outpost. The tribe was known in the region as the leather-men tribe, because of the skins they fitted in their houses as furniture and with which they traded. She also had a brother named Kanyörn, an unusual name for a norseman. According to her, her brother was skilled at throwing knives and preparing traps.
In turn, Tyr recounted some of his adventures as a mercenary for the Outpost and some of his earlier years in which he had served the Prevalian Kingdom as a member of the Knights' Guild. As they talked, the tension between them grew, and Tyr found that she was almost as interested in him as he was in her. But he didn’t muster the courage to tell her anything more, for fear of frightening her and driving her away.
The meal was coming to an end and she brought up the business she wanted to close:
— About the nightshade. The price is one penny for each and I can't leave it cheaper than that.
— It's a deal! I'll buy the whole amount - he replied, though he knew it would cost him all the money he had earned in the last mission, plus most of his reserves. But that didn't matter. He could travel to Andaria.
Thirty minutes later they had left the tavern and closed the bargain, but Freya seemed in no hurry to leave. There was a moment of embarrassing silence that they had both broken at the same time:
— It is true that...
— I like you very much! - he rushy added, blushing in a way he had not done since his first adventures with girls.
It was her turn to blush, but she approached him and gave him the most timid, but also the most wonderful kiss Tyr had ever had in his life.
They spent the rest of the day in the city and the rest of the night at the modest Outpost Inn, but they felt magical the place and the time they spent together.




* * *

— Freya! Freya! Which room are you in? We have to go! Will you wake up already?
Tyr and Freya opened their eyes at the same time and looked at each other awakened by the shouts in the main hall of the inn.
— By the gates of Valhalla! - she exclaimed, jumping out of bed as if burned and starting to grope for her clothes.
— Oh no! - Tyr muttered as he began to do exactly the same thing. They are...?
— My brother and his companions. We planned to meet this morning to go home, after selling the goods. I can't believe what I did.
— Do you regret that ...?
— Yes! I totally regret it! My brother is going to kill you.
This was nothing new to Tyr. New was the feeling that he didn’t want to lose Freya for anything in the world.
— Maybe if we explain to him that my intentions are honorable... You are special to me...
— You don’t understand! I am engaged by the will of my father to Sigurd, the best fighter in the village. If my brother finds out that I gave myself to you for the first time instead of Sigurd...
Until Tyr could understand what "the first time" actually meant, the door of the small inn room slammed against the wall and a norse trapper with very light blond hair and somewhat familiar features glanced inside and froze motionless, his jaw open. However, the astonishment lasted only two seconds, after which his face twisted and drew an impressive bronze Viking sword from his belt.
— Can we just talk...? - Tyr tried timidly, but even as he spoke the words he realized it was for a lost cause, so his hands hurriedly searched for the katana handle. He barely had time to draw his sword from its scabbard before it started to desperately parry at Kanyörn's destructive blows.
Freya shouted at Kanyörn to stop, but he was in a real deadly frenzy and didn't seem to hear anything. Tyr was a very good swordsman and Kanyörn in his anger made mistakes twice, but Tyr could not kill Freya's brother. Two more massive norsemen entered the room and Tyr immediately began to lose ground, receiving an ugly bruise on his right cheek. He would die if he didn't invent something very quickly.
Unfortunately, he didn't have time to invent anything because he received a kick in the chest from one of Kanyörn's two comrades. The blow was so violent that Tyr was thrown through the window right into the pine tree behind the inn. He raised his arms as he fell to protect his face from the twigs that whipped him, but they also alleviated his fall and he collapsed into a pile of snow under the tree.
— By the gods, what a beating - he muttered, glad he hadn't let go of the sword.
— It's down! Kill him! - he heard the norsemen as they disappear from the broken window, hurrying down the stairs.
Without checking if he was whole, Tyr hurried with sword in hand to the stable, took his horse and ran towards the western gate, closely followed by four angry norsemen. The first three he had dueled with in the inn had been joined by the fourth who had cared for the horses at that time.
The pursuit carried him a long way to the mainland, his aggressors pushing him further and further north through the snow-covered forest. If he managed to survive until dusk, he could lose his track in the woods. His horse was terribly tired and the four pursuers were extremely close.
A dagger deftly thrown by Kanyörn stabbed him in the shoulder and Tyr fell off his horse, but continued to run through the woods trying to lose his footing on the rugged terrain. The layer of snow grew thicker and thicker as it advanced, while the forest seemed to thin out.
Gathering his strength, he ran faster as he heard a loud, deep horn sound from behind, making the forest resound. At the call of the horn, another norse riding a polar bear appeared in front of him. After a short chase, Tyr received a spear's tail in his head and his world plunged into darkness.

* * *

He awoke in a room dug into the rock with solid wooden latticework at the entrance. The knife in his shoulder was gone, but his shoulder and head ached terribly. He crawled to the entrance and found that he was locked in a kind of fortress full of norsemen. Those who passed his cell glared at him with ferocious looks. Tyr had no doubt about the fate that awaited him.
He spent two whole days in the cramped cell, during which time he received food and his shoulder stopped bleeding. On the third day, Freya also returned to the fortified village, but she didn’t even look at him throughout the day. In the middle of the night, however, she snuck up to his cell and carefully shouted his name with low voice. Their hands clasped through the latticed gate and big tears started to roll down her cheeks, but they didn’t manage to ruin her beauty in any way.
— Oh, Tyr, I'm so sorry. I was so stupid, so blinded by love...
— Don't! I don’t regret for a second that I met you, the gods are my witnesses.
— Guards! - a shout was heard from behind and two norsemen armed with battle hammers joined a third, a grumpy individual armed with a Viking sword.
— Sigurd! Show mercy and leave Tyr alive - Freya prayed. I will be your faithful wife and I will do your will without resistance for the rest of my life ...
— The mere fact that you pray me for this means that your heart will never be mine - Sigurd replied in a voice a little colder than the frozen walls of the fortified northern village. But don't worry, your body will be mine forever, as soon as this blue-haired bastard gets what he deserves. Take her away!
Freya was dragged out of the small latticed entrance and soon Tyr was brought to Høvdinghuset, the long house, in front of the great Earl, the ruler of the village.
Several northerners holding torches in hands were solemnly standing in two rows on both sides of a long room finished with a wooden throne adorned with deer antlers. On the throne sat an old but vigorous norse, with long gray hair.
To his right, an even older norse mage addressed those present thumping with a wooden staff in the stone slabs that paved the floor.
— We all now know the circumstances that led to the capture of this stranger from Outpost. I know you do think it would be right for the sentence to be handed down immediately, but the ways Odin lays before us to test us and help us prove our worth are always the right ones. Odin's will must be followed! From the throne of Valhalla, the all-seeing father appeared to me last night in a dream and told me that in order to prove justice and to acquire Freya, the noble Sigurd must prove his worth by competing with the blue-haired foreigner. They will compete not in a straight fight, but in a contest of bravery at the Stone Tower on the frozen shore! The Stone Tower has been for months now, the home of the terrible white Air Drake, the master of ice. The two warriors will be taken to the Stone Tower and will compete to slay the beast on a bravery contest, or will perish in the attempt. If Sigurd wins, the Stone Tower and the lands of the northern shore will become his fief, Freya will be given to him as wife or slave, as he wishes, as punishment for her infidelity and the blue-haired stranger will be handed over to him to make him a slave or kill him. Finally, if he will be the one to slay the beast, Sigurd will become the heir to the Deer Throne, when the great Earl will perish. If the blue-haired stranger kill the beast first, the Stone Tower and the lands of the northern realm will be his, Freya will be given to him as a wife or as a slave and he will be left alive if he swears allegiance to our Earl!
The old norse mage's staff resounded throughout the room, striking hard on the slab to the right of the Deer Throne, while a deep silence fell over the entire assembly. For almost a minute the Nordics kept a solemn silence, but from the expressions on their faces, Tyr understood that they did not expect such a decision.
The Great Earl rose from the Deer Throne and spoke in a loud, resounding voice:
— Sigurd's appointment to the Deer Throne as my successor seems right to me, because Sigurd is the most valiant and fearless norse warrior. I have no doubt that Sigurd will prove his bravery and fulfill the will of the mighty Odin in this attempt! Let the preparations begin!
The norsemen broke ranks and began preparations for a short journey. The Stone Tower was just north of their fortified settlement, housing the Air Drake that had given so much trouble and which no norseman had dared to attack until then.
Tyr was sent under guard to a room where a fir wood fire was burning and then his katana was brought to him plus a northern armor of reinforced leather. At some point he heard two of the norse guards talking about the old enmity between Sigurd and the old norse mage, the Great Earl's advisor.
"Hmm... The decisions of the divine Odin may not have been entirely Odin's!" - Tyr thought, assessing his chances.
The important thing for him at the time was to recover his forces as much as possible. Unfortunately he barely managed to eat a piece of grilled bear meat and to equip the armor given to him over a thick woolen garment, that he had been escorted in the yard where a procession of norsemen torchbearers had been formed. After a short march, the whole procession stopped at the northern edge of their fortified camp.
Several norse mages cast healing spells on everyone present to warm them. The dusk was starting to settle and it was frosty, although it was starting to snow. In the north, the silhouette of a dark tower surrounded by giant pieces of ice could be seen through the fog, painting a desolate landscape. Immediately behind the tower was the start of the cliff from which the roar of the ocean could be heard.
Tyr was the only one who had not received a healing spell. He clenched his jaws as he prepared to fight for his life.
Sigurd started to walk to the tower first, armed with his viking sword and Tyr was pushed to the front by his guards to inform him that he was now free to march to the tower as well.
He hadn't taken five steps, when he was hit in the back by a warm wind and he could feel his strength rising immediately. Turning around in surprise, he saw Freya on the outskirts of the village, finishing murmuring "In Mani". A few norsemen glared at her, but no one dared to admonish her so as not to diminish Sigurd’s honor, who had also received a healing spell, though he was not wounded. Feeling better, Tyr stepped up and walked close to Sigurd to the tower, which became bigger as they approached.
The air roared and ice crystals formed around them. Tyr and Sigurd jumped sideways in opposite directions to avoid the spell and looked up. Right at the top of the huge tower a snow-white Drake fluttered its wings as it cast a new spell and plunged upon them.
The spell shattered right next to Sigurd, bringing a terrible frost that splashed rime on his sword and equipment, but the norseman warrior didn’t give up and slammed his huge sword into Drake's shoulder.
The beast let out a roar and its tail twitched in Tyr's direction as it tried to bite Sigurd. Tyr performs a jump to avoid the kick and his katana crests the beast's tail. Sigurd's sword slashed the Drake's chest, but the blow of his wing sent the norseman flying several meters on the ice. However, he stood up dazed and retrieved the sword that had flown from his hand, watching Tyr savagely attack the monster from the back. Katana implanted several times in the Drake's back until a tail blow blew him up. He landed on his back near Sigurd, bleeding profusely. The older knife wound on his shoulder had opened and he had been hit quite hard in the chest.
— It's time for you to pay! - Sigurd shouted and struck the viking sword at Tyr's chest, but Tyr found the strength to dodge and the blow intended to kill him struck him in the leg.
The attack cost Sigurd his life. Taking advantage of the inattention of his two human opponents, the Drake jumped from behind and bit Sigurd by the neck, lifting him off the ground. Tyr realized he would have no other chance, so he rose abruptly, ignoring the wounds and struck with all his might at the beast's now exposed neck, holding the katana with both hands. The blow almost beheaded the Drake who dropped Sigurd's corpse from his jaws and collapsed to one side, writhing in agony. His red blood gushed from his neck wound like a geyser, staining the snow and the stones on the façade of the Stone Tower.
Tyr fell to his knees, leaning on his sword and felt that his gaze was beginning to fade. He tried to crawl, not very sure to where, but his strength was leaving his body by the minute.
"It was a good life!" he smiled to himself.
— "In Vas Mani" - he heard from behind the voice of the old norse mage and immediately a strong heat enveloped him, restoring his strength and partly stopping the bleeding of his wounds.
Several voices were heard around him, when suddenly he was embraced by Freya, enveloping him, warming him. It was a warmth that he wished would envelop him all his life.

* * *

He spent the next week in the fortified settlement of the northern people, this time as a guest, not as a prisoner. To these harsh people, the deeds of bravery mattered more than anything and the respect shown to the warrior who had killed the great Drake who had terrorized the village, was genuine.
Without anyone objecting, Tyr bend the knee and swore allegiance to the Great Earl, becoming a member of the tribe. Soon, enjoying the prestige he had gained, Tyr introduced himself to Freya's father to ask him for her hand. The man, a sturdy hammer-bearer in Earl's army, agreed after Freya convinced him that this was the only way she could be happy.
One week later, Freya was wed to Tyr Antilles in a solemn ceremony specific to Nordic culture. For these people, marriage was sacred and once married, norse women received equal rights with men in the eyes of the community, which is atypical for such a simple tribal society.
Immediately after the ceremony, all the women from the village started to prepare festive dishes, barrels of beer and cider were brought by men and many more preparations started. Towards evening the whole village gathered in Høvdinghuset, the true center of the village and the Great Earl marked the start of a great party that lasted for three days and three nights.
Hearing that Tyr is, among other things, a skilled worker in fine mechanics and watchmaking, Kanyörn offered them as a wedding gift a fully equipped workbench filled with all kinds of precision tools, thus showing his agreement with his sister's marriage and offering his friendship to Tyr. No one asked him from where he got the tinker workbench and Tyr was overjoyed to shake the hand of the blond norse trapper, who looked so much like his new wife.
When the time came, Tyr and Freya moved to their tower from the icy cliff, naming it the Redtower in memory of the red blood of the Air Drake who had been slain to earn this home.
Together with some Nordics skilled in construction, Tyr and Freya repaired the massive tower, equipping it with wooden floors and furnishing it with plain wood furniture. For heating they used multiple braziers and a forge that Tyr installed to work the metal.
In this way, the gloomy tower shrouded in ice, was transformed into a welcoming and warm home for a family of northerners, becoming known throughout the land as the Redtower of the Frozen Shore.

~~~ THE END ~~~







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