Warrior Heroes, page 1
CONTENTS
INTRODUCTION ~ The Hall of Heroes
CHAPTER 1
~ Thralls
CHAPTER 2
~ Viking Longhouses
CHAPTER 3
~ Viking Crime and Punishment
CHAPTER 4
~ Viking Gods and Goddesses
CHAPTER 5
~ Viking Weapons
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
~ Viking Longships
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
~ Raiders and Berserkers
CHAPTER 10
The Hall of Heroes is a museum all about warriors throughout history. It’s full of swords, bows and arrows, helmets, boats, armour, shields, spears, axes and just about anything else that a warrior might need. But this isn’t just another museum full of old stuff in glass cases – it’s also haunted by the ghosts of the warriors whose belongings are there. Our great grandfather, Professor Blade, set up the museum and when he died he started haunting the place too. He felt guilty about the trapped ghost warriors and vowed he would not rest in peace until all the other ghosts were laid to rest first. And that’s where Arthur and I come in…
On the night of the Professor’s funeral Arthur and I broke into the museum – we knew it was wrong but we just couldn’t help ourselves. And that’s when we discovered something very weird. When we are touched by one of the ghost warriors we get transported to the time and place where the ghost lived and died. And we can’t get back until we’ve fixed whatever it is that keeps the ghost from resting in peace. So we go from one mission to the next, recovering lost swords, avenging deaths, saving loved ones or doing whatever else the ghost warrior needs us to do.
Fortunately while the Professor was alive I wrote down everything he ever told us about these warriors in a book I call Warrior Heroes – so luckily we do have some idea of what we’re getting into each time – even if Arthur does still call me ‘Finn the geek’. But we need more than a book to survive each adventure because wherever we go we’re surrounded by war and battle and the fiercest fighters who ever lived, as you’re about to find out!
CHAPTER 1
Arthur shivered, wondering where the cruel screeching was coming from. His cold bones ached. His face was wet and his nostrils were full of the smells of leaves and mud. He didn’t want to wake up but as soon as you think that, you always do.
Find Blood Hunter!
He rolled over onto his back and opened his eyes, slowly letting in the thin dawn light. A spider crawled out of his hair and down his cheek. The birds kept screeching.
“Finn!” he croaked. Looking around he saw trees in all directions. I must be in a forest somewhere, he thought. He scanned the trees for any sign of his younger brother. Nothing.
Arthur had no idea where he was. He concentrated hard and an image of an old man looking down at him very seriously flashed before his eyes. His name danced around the edges of Arthur’s memory. “Good luck,” he said “and be brave.” Then another man stepped into view, huge and bearded, wearing a helmet. Arthur’s memories rushed into focus: Professor Blade; the Hall of Heroes; the Viking; Find Blood Hunter!
Somewhere nearby a stick snapped. Arthur leapt up into a crouch and turned to face the sound, praying that he would see Finn. A boy was peering out curiously from behind a tree. Not Finn. The boy took a startled step back and dropped the wood he was carrying.
“OK,” said Arthur, holding both hands up cautiously. “It’s OK.”
The boy didn’t move, just stared at Arthur with ice-blue eyes. Arthur stared back. It was a girl, he realised. Her blonde hair was cut short like a boy’s and around her neck she wore a thick metal band. Her clothes were brown, worn and rough but her face was definitely that of a girl. She didn’t speak but just stared unblinking at Arthur.
Arthur gave her his best reassuring smile but this did not have the desired effect. She turned and ran and in seconds she had disappeared into the trees.
Arthur frowned and brushed some small leaves off his face. He stood up, stretched and thought for a while about what to do next. He still hadn’t a clue where he was or where Finn was, and with no better ideas he soon began to walk in the direction that the girl had run.
He had taken barely three steps when he heard a hiss and a thud. An arrow quivered in the ground at Arthur’s feet. He jumped back and another arrow hissed into the earth to his right. He leapt behind a tree and waited for the attackers to show themselves. Soon enough the girl emerged from the trees. She was being pushed along by a huge, red-faced boy. Another boy followed with an arrow notched ready in his bow.
“You there!” shouted the boy with the bow. “My name is Brand Hallvardson and this forest belongs to my father.”
“Get out from behind that tree, coward!” yelled red-face.
“I have no weapons and I mean you no harm,” Arthur called back.
“Don’t talk, I said show yourself!” The boy was shouting so loud that his voice was cracking.
Slowly Arthur stepped out from behind the tree. Brand Hallvardson looked straight along his arrow at him.
“Thorfinna here says you were sleeping in the forest,” said Brand, nodding at the girl. “Who are you?”
“I’m nobody really,” Arthur replied. “Well… my name’s Arthur. But I’m just passing through. I didn’t know this was your father’s land.”
“Where are you from?” Brand asked, eyeing Arthur’s clothes suspiciously.
Always a difficult question. “A long way from here,” said Arthur.
“If that’s your best answer then you’re coming with us,” said Brand. “My father could use another thrall to work the fields. Thorfinna, stay back. Olaf, go and get him.”
The red-faced boy leered and walked forward until he was standing right in front of Arthur.
“I’m going to enjoy this, thrall.” He clenched his fists and pulled his arm back to punch Arthur in the stomach. Just as Olaf swung his fist towards him, Arthur stepped back and Olaf staggered forward with the force of the punch.
“Stay where you are!” Brand yelled, his bow still drawn. But now Olaf was in between them, blocking Brand’s shot. Arthur dropped his shoulder and crunched it into Olaf ’s chest, driving him back towards the landowner’s son.
Brand leapt to the side and Arthur spun Olaf around to block the shot again. Olaf screamed in pain and stumbled backwards clutching at the arrow that was now lodged in his arm, spilling blood onto the forest floor. Brand was notching up a second arrow. Arthur gave Olaf a final shove in the stomach. He flew back into the other boy and they both crashed to the floor.
The bow was knocked from Brand’s grasp and Arthur dived for it. Olaf knelt on the ground, moaning and clutching at his wound. But Brand was on his feet in a moment, a knife grasped in one hand and a stick in the other. Arthur held the bow in both hands like a sword and the two circled warily, their eyes locked together, each one waiting for the other to move first. Brand’s eyes flickered slightly as he glanced over Arthur’s shoulder for a split-second. An old trick, thought Arthur, and not one he was about to fall for.
And then Arthur felt an explosion of pain in the back of his head. The world tipped over as his head erupted into tiny points of light and his legs gave way from beneath him. He was unconscious before he hit the ground.
THRALLS
Vikings called their slaves thralls. Slavery was big business for the Vikings. They captured thralls in battle, kidnapped them on raids, or created them by condemning criminals to slavery. Most families had at least one thrall. Some had as many as thirty. In fact the Vikings traded in thralls more than anything else.
SO WHAT DOES IT MEAN TO BE A VIKING THRALL?
THE GOOD
•Your master is expected to look after you if you are unwell.
•Your master is allowed to free you if he wants to.
•It’s possible to buy your freedom if you can pay your master the sum he would get if he sold you.
THE BAD
•You’ll get the worst, most backbreaking jobs going.
•You won’t get paid.
•You won’t have much time to try and make any money on the side, and that’s your only hope of buying your freedom.
•To mark you as a thrall you are fitted with a metal collar that is welded on. If you escape, everyone will know you are a thrall.
•If you escape and get caught, you’ll be killed instantly.
•Your master is allowed to kill you whenever he feels like it without being punished.
On balance, not a great life, and it’s almost impossible to escape.
CHAPTER 2
A short distance away, Finn woke to hear Arthur calling out.
Finn hated the first few minutes in a new time. He was always separated from Arthur. They had agreed many times that when they woke up somewhere new they would stay hidden from anyone else until they found each other. Yet somehow Arthur always managed to cause a whole heap of trouble before Finn found him.
Sure enough the shouts and thuds of a fight reached Finn’s ears. Quelling a mixture of anger and panic he pulled himself up from where he was lying and he ran uphill through the trees towards the noise. As he reached the top of the sloping ground he caught sight of the boys below him. He saw a red-faced boy lying on the forest floor, clutching at an arrow in his arm while Arthur and another boy were circling each other close by. Just as he began to creep forward, Finn saw an old man holding a long walking staff appear behind Arthur. Before Finn could shout a warning the man’
Finn froze, one hand over his mouth, torn between his natural caution and the desperate urge to help his brother. The old man calmly walked over to look at the injured boy’s arm.
Finn’s caution won through – he would be no use to Arthur if he were caught too, he reasoned. As quietly as he could, he stepped behind a tree and crouched down out of sight as the old man and the boy prepared to carry Arthur away.
A few moments later the old man picked Arthur up, threw him across his shoulder and began to walk. The boys followed, arguing about something that Finn couldn’t quite make out. Finn stepped out from behind the tree and then froze. A girl about his own age had appeared with the group and just as Finn broke cover she turned and looked straight at him. She had blue eyes and wore a metal collar. A thrall, thought Finn, remembering what he had written in Warrior Heroes.
Furious with himself for being spotted, Finn was turning to run when the girl put a finger to her lips and reached out a hand towards him, as if telling him to stop.
“Thorfinna!” someone barked.
The girl dropped her hand and turned quickly to follow the rest of her group through the trees.
Finn was now completely unsure how to proceed. Arthur had been knocked out and carried off and one of Arthur’s captors, albeit a thrall, had spotted Finn watching. If he stayed where he was he might lose Arthur. If he followed then the thrall might alert the others. He rubbed his eyes and looked up at the sky. When he looked back to the trees the thrall, Arthur and his captors had disappeared.
That made Finn’s mind up. He couldn’t do nothing. As quietly as possible he jogged through the trees after Arthur and in a few minutes he came to a stop at the edge of the forest. Finn quickly hid himself behind a tree and looking ahead he saw the group walking towards a long, hump-backed building surrounded by fields and a few small huts. A Viking longhouse, Finn thought, as once again the thrall turned and looked straight at him. Again she put a finger to her lips, and this time she smiled.
The old man carried Arthur into one of the huts and then re-emerged, shutting and bolting the door. Finn turned and walked back deeper into the forest. Now that he knew where they were keeping Arthur he felt a little better. All he needed to do was wait until nightfall and then let Arthur out of the building. And the thrall appeared to be on his side, which was a very welcome bit of luck.
Finn found a tall pine tree, climbed high up into its branches, and made himself as comfortable as he could. It would be a long wait, and he allowed his mind to wander back to The Hall of Heroes…
* * *
Finn and Arthur had been telling the Professor all about their last adventure when the air in the room seemed to shift, as if trying to flatten itself against the walls.
“Boys, he’s coming!” The Professor looked at the door of his study. Finn felt the familiar nervous knot in his stomach. Where would they be sent this time?
The sound of slow, heavy footsteps thudded along the corridor outside, growing louder as somebody approached the study.
The lamp on the Professor’s desk flickered and went out. Complete darkness surrounded them. The door handle shook. The door hissed open and closed again. The boys didn’t dare breathe. A moment’s silence, and then someone growled in a voice that seemed too deep to be human. “Find Blood Hunter!”
Silence again. Still the boys did not dare breathe. The scrape of a match broke the spell and suddenly the darkness was gone as the match and then a candle flared into light.
What they saw made each boy catch his breath all over again. Standing before them was a giant of a man. A thick mane of reddish yellow hair escaped from beneath a simple metal helmet. His long, red beard was forked and braided. His eyes were fierce and blue. One of his arms was hidden by a round, painted wooden shield at least a metre across and in his other hand he held a battle axe. A Viking!
“They came in the night,” the warrior growled. “They killed us and they took Blood Hunter. My sword. My father’s sword and his before him.”
The Professor cleared his throat. “My dear chap,” he began. “Do you mean to say that the loss of your sword is the reason you cannot rest? These boys will find your sword but…”
“Yes!” the huge man thundered, and his eyes flashed. “They must find it. I have waited more than a thousand years. The honour of my ancestors depends on it.”
“But you will have to tell us a little more about what happened,” the Professor resumed. “Who took it? Where did they steal it from?”
“The cowards came in the night,” he repeated. The man’s voice was little more than an anguished whisper now. “They came to the farm and they killed us all. I woke too late to defend my family. I do not know who they were. But their weapons were like ours. They were not from over the sea.”
“Then you were raided by your own kind?” the Professor asked.
“My kind? My kind?” the Viking boomed. “They were thieves in the night and we were warriors. They have no honour. I am Hallvard Forkbeard. Blood Hunter should be in my hand, or in my son’s hand had he lived.”
The Professor turned to address the boys. “Hallvard’s spirit will only be laid to rest when his sword is returned to him or to his son. Find the sword and he will find peace. But remember, the Vikings valued two things above all else. Bravery and honour. Show strength, show courage, but if you do anything behind someone’s back and get caught they will be merciless. Good luck,” he concluded. “And be brave.” Finn looked at Arthur fearfully. Even Arthur looked nervous this time.
The Professor looked at the Viking and beckoned. The boys both shrank back into the shadows as the warrior stepped forward and placed a large hand on each of their heads. Mist filled the room and swirled around the boys as the candle flickered out and plunged them into darkness once more.
* * *
In the forest the light was beginning to fade. At least I won’t have to sit here much longer, Finn thought as he shifted uncomfortably in the tree. The branch he was sitting on creaked. He shifted again and with a sudden snap the branch gave way, sending him crashing to the ground with a gasped curse as the birds of the forest shrieked. Somebody giggled. Shaking his head, Finn stood up, and found himself face to face with the thrall.
“Where did you come from?” he blurted, stumbling backwards slightly in surprise.
“Me? I came along the path. Where did you come from?” The girl looked up at the tree and laughed again.
“You haven’t said anything about me have you?” Finn asked quickly.
She shook her head. “I’m Thorfinna. And you are?”
“Er, my name’s Finn. Why have your friends taken my brother away?”
The girl scowled. “My friends?” she said, fingering the metal band around her neck. “They are not my friends. And I’m not going to help them put these collars on anyone else.”
“Well… thanks,” said Finn. “But why are you here?”
“Haven’t you been listening? I don’t want you and your brother to become thralls like me. And if that means helping you both to escape – then so be it,” Thorfinna replied.
This was turning out very well indeed, thought Finn.
“Do you know what they’re going to do with him? I was planning to go and let him out of the hut after dark. Will there be anyone guarding him or anything?”
“I really do want to help you,” said Thorfinna, ignoring Finn’s question, “but there is one thing I have to ask in return.”
Oh dear, thought Finn, if something seems too good to be true…
“What’s that then?” he asked warily.
“Take me with you,” said the girl.
Finn thought for a moment. This was a bad idea for so many reasons. He’d be stealing a thrall from the Vikings. They’d have to go on the run and never come back. They couldn’t hang around and find Blood Hunter. And even if they did find Blood Hunter, he and Arthur would then wake up in the 21st century and Thorfinna would be left on her own to be caught and killed as an escaped thrall.
Thorfinna studied Finn’s face carefully. “Or would you prefer I go back and tell my masters about the second strange boy who’s running around in the woods?” she said slyly.
