Empress Aurora Trilogy Quest For the Kingdom Parts I, II, and III Revised With Index (Quest For the Kingdom Set) by L. M. Roth Page A
Authors: L. M. Roth
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Felix.
Felix bit his lip and offered a comment.
“Well,” he
said. “Well, well.”
Dag told them
of the long summer days when the sun seemed a fiery ball suspended right over
their heads. Then days were long, with only a few hours of night. This was a
season of joy and dancing. The villagers played many games and celebrated the
feast day of the Bear. One man would carry a bear’s head before his face and
don a pelt. Several men would chase him with spears. The hunt was always
successful, and the “dead” bear was carried back to the village where small
children skipped in a procession before it, strewing wildflowers in its path.
“But do not
think that we are a land of peace at all times. We have our foes and our feuds.
We slay those who make war with us. We do not back down. My kin war with the
tribe of Asbjorn. They stole part of our lands long ago and we were forced to
move north. I am sworn to kill at first sight any son of their tribe.”
Felix froze in
mid-grin and merely stared at Dag. Marcus felt it best to change the subject.
So they spoke of general matters and made plans for the rest of the journey.
Dag could lead
them through the heart of the forest which covered many miles. They would soon
come to a trading post where a small ship came to the river by way of an inland
rivulet which flowed out to a harbor that emptied out to the Sea. From there they
could sail to the land they spoke of. He had never been there, but he had heard
of it from the men who came to the trading post.
Here they
bought furs and animal skins from the men of Trekur Lende, in exchange for the
metal pots and pans and shiny knives that the Trekur Lenders could not make for
themselves. Yah, he had heard of this Gaudereaux, a land flowing with the vines
of grapes and other fruits. He would get them there safely, trust Dag!
One night
after Marcus had fallen into a fitful sleep, he was awakened by a peculiar
noise. Like a hum it was, and the northern sky was lit by strange colors that
shifted and glowed in the frigid blackness; now green tinged with blue, now
violet flowing into red, then turning to orange melting into yellow and
changing back to green. Their hues were reflected on the snow-covered ground
and the ice-laden tree branches, turning the landscape into a vista out of some
fantasy world. Never had Marcus beheld such a spectacle, and he woke Felix so
that he also might experience the eerie vision.
As they rubbed
the sleep from their eyes, they became aware of Dag standing with his back
turned to them, his legs akimbo, his hands on his hips with his gaze turned
upward. Silently they approached him, and Marcus gently tugged on the sleeve of
their huge guide.
“Dag,” he
found himself whispering as if afraid to break the spell of the light show.
“What is this?”
Dag turned to
them. He did not lower his voice.
“Have no
fear,” he assured them in his usual booming tones. “These are the Lights of
Rainbow Hue.”
“But, what are
they?” Felix asked.
“They are the
souls of men who died. They come back to guide us.”
Marcus stared
at Dag for several moments.
“Why do they
do that?” he finally ventured, as Felix smothered a snicker.
“They did what
was not right,” he explained as he glared at Felix. Felix immediately pulled a
sober face. Dag was mollified.
“When they
lived, they did not give aid to those in need,” Dag continued. “In our land, we
share our homes with those who trek in the wild, to bring them in from the cold
and the snow. We give them food and share the warmth of our fires. Those men
did not, and those they shut out froze to death in a great storm when the wind
hurled ice on the trees, and threw snow on the ground.
“This made
Bjorrne rage in the sky. He growled and stomped his feet, and the men shook
with fear at his wrath. He killed them, and took them up with him to his lair.
There, they do not rest, but when the snow flies and the wind howls, they must
show the way for those
Felix bit his lip and offered a comment.
“Well,” he
said. “Well, well.”
Dag told them
of the long summer days when the sun seemed a fiery ball suspended right over
their heads. Then days were long, with only a few hours of night. This was a
season of joy and dancing. The villagers played many games and celebrated the
feast day of the Bear. One man would carry a bear’s head before his face and
don a pelt. Several men would chase him with spears. The hunt was always
successful, and the “dead” bear was carried back to the village where small
children skipped in a procession before it, strewing wildflowers in its path.
“But do not
think that we are a land of peace at all times. We have our foes and our feuds.
We slay those who make war with us. We do not back down. My kin war with the
tribe of Asbjorn. They stole part of our lands long ago and we were forced to
move north. I am sworn to kill at first sight any son of their tribe.”
Felix froze in
mid-grin and merely stared at Dag. Marcus felt it best to change the subject.
So they spoke of general matters and made plans for the rest of the journey.
Dag could lead
them through the heart of the forest which covered many miles. They would soon
come to a trading post where a small ship came to the river by way of an inland
rivulet which flowed out to a harbor that emptied out to the Sea. From there they
could sail to the land they spoke of. He had never been there, but he had heard
of it from the men who came to the trading post.
Here they
bought furs and animal skins from the men of Trekur Lende, in exchange for the
metal pots and pans and shiny knives that the Trekur Lenders could not make for
themselves. Yah, he had heard of this Gaudereaux, a land flowing with the vines
of grapes and other fruits. He would get them there safely, trust Dag!
One night
after Marcus had fallen into a fitful sleep, he was awakened by a peculiar
noise. Like a hum it was, and the northern sky was lit by strange colors that
shifted and glowed in the frigid blackness; now green tinged with blue, now
violet flowing into red, then turning to orange melting into yellow and
changing back to green. Their hues were reflected on the snow-covered ground
and the ice-laden tree branches, turning the landscape into a vista out of some
fantasy world. Never had Marcus beheld such a spectacle, and he woke Felix so
that he also might experience the eerie vision.
As they rubbed
the sleep from their eyes, they became aware of Dag standing with his back
turned to them, his legs akimbo, his hands on his hips with his gaze turned
upward. Silently they approached him, and Marcus gently tugged on the sleeve of
their huge guide.
“Dag,” he
found himself whispering as if afraid to break the spell of the light show.
“What is this?”
Dag turned to
them. He did not lower his voice.
“Have no
fear,” he assured them in his usual booming tones. “These are the Lights of
Rainbow Hue.”
“But, what are
they?” Felix asked.
“They are the
souls of men who died. They come back to guide us.”
Marcus stared
at Dag for several moments.
“Why do they
do that?” he finally ventured, as Felix smothered a snicker.
“They did what
was not right,” he explained as he glared at Felix. Felix immediately pulled a
sober face. Dag was mollified.
“When they
lived, they did not give aid to those in need,” Dag continued. “In our land, we
share our homes with those who trek in the wild, to bring them in from the cold
and the snow. We give them food and share the warmth of our fires. Those men
did not, and those they shut out froze to death in a great storm when the wind
hurled ice on the trees, and threw snow on the ground.
“This made
Bjorrne rage in the sky. He growled and stomped his feet, and the men shook
with fear at his wrath. He killed them, and took them up with him to his lair.
There, they do not rest, but when the snow flies and the wind howls, they must
show the way for those
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