Foreword170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoqZvmp2kfG
“What will happen to the heroes, once there are no more monsters to slay, no battles to wage and no more grand deeds to accomplish?”
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I have no answer to this riddle yet, but it still may reveal itself in my own lifetime.
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I am no hero, no warrior and no grand leader, but my trade is closely tied to theirs, as I am a storyteller and what would I ever do without new tales of their bravery?
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The answer to this is simple: while a hero cannot kill a monster twice or fight something that does not exist, I may tell the same stories as many times as people want to hear them and make up new ones if they get tired eventually.
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Even though my fate may not seem as mysterious after all, the riddle still weighs on my mind for my own sake.
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I have told countless tales about the deeds of many great men, but truth be told I have met few of them and spoken to even fewer.
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While it would be a worthwhile endeavor to take down their own account of things, as stories are always exaggerated and what really happened will vary greatly from the common lore, it is not them I want to seek out, not yet. The heroes are still plenty and there will be a time to find them, but it is their foes that have dwindled in numbers and there are not many of the creatures left that once plagued these lands.
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Truth is, I have never seen a dragon myself and I never will, as the last one had been slain when I was still a child. The woodsmen claim there are some wyrm left in the deep of the endless forest and sea snakes still endanger ships on the grand oceans, but I will not go to look for those either.
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Neither will I venture outside the Wall of Shards to seek one of the trolls or orc behemoths that are supposed to live in the clouded mountains beyond.
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While I want to see them, I do not want them to be the last thing I ever see, and above the danger that comes with finding them, I do not want my travels to be fraught with the uncertainty that I may return unsuccessful.
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There is one creature, though, still living in the king's lands, which may be the most perilous of them all. The one they say may outlive the heroes yet. The one that is easy to find, as it does not hide and does not ever leave its domain. The one that has been challenged by the mightiest men and defeated every single one, yet it killed none of them.
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It is the one they call the Grendel, and it lives in the high valley of Brahe. It is the one I am going to see with my own eyes.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡoSUtor6cts
Brahe170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡYlsD9i0PBV
“A town is truly dead when the thieves have left.”170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6AxN2ctJuB
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Brahe is a city of two parts, one above and one below.
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First, there is the city of Great Brahe which is based in the foothills. It used to be famous for the quality of its weapons and armor, but also for jewelry and trinkets made by skilled craftsmen.
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At the time of my arrival, however, it greeted me with desolation, abandoned shops, and muddy streets.
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I found the only inn still in service. The innkeeper was thankful for my business and happy for the company. He liked to talk, and I liked to listen.
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He told me about how things used to be, the city full of blacksmiths and jewelers, bustling with traders and merchants and all sorts of folks involved in processing and distributing the steady stream of metals and precious stones that the miners of High Brahe would break out of the mountains.
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Yet ever since the Grendel had appeared, the forges and smelters remained silent, and people began to leave soon after the supply had stopped.
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He told me that there was but one goldsmith left. People bring him what little the mountains gave up willingly. They would come in spring to wash it from the creek flowing from the High Brahe Valley and leave after fall sets in.
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He said the mountains up there are still rich with ore and gems, but nobody dares to go further in because they fear Grendel who roams the valley beyond.
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“Nothing comes out of the valley now but broken men,” he said.
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He told me of the heroes in search of fame and rewards.
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“First came the foolish ones, in droves, almost making up for the ones that left. They were young and eager. The kind that jumps at every opportunity to prove themselves.”
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“Then came the valiant ones, the hardened men, the true heroes. Their quest would be heralded, and people cheered for them along their way. Even the King sent some of his finest men to deal with the Grendel, and he lost them all.”
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“Lost? So it is not true that the Grendel doesn’t kill?” I inquired.
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“Oh, they came back, but they did not return,” he said. “Grendel made them the same way he made this city. A shadow of themselves.
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“Now come only the desperate ones, and even their numbers dwindle as time goes on,” he said.
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I had more questions, but he had few more answers. He didn’t know what Grendel does to these men. They don’t say. None of them would ever talk about it. Nor did he know what Grendel is or what he looks like or where he came from.
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I only knew what the lore had to say on the matter. I told these stories myself many times. That he is a creature from the time of the ancients, cast out and buried under the mountain as punishment or the result of a battle so furious that it shattered the lands. He was imprisoned for ages, while the old gods vanished and men emerged, and now they found him, digging ever deeper for riches in their greed.
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I did not give much thought to these tales when I was still far away from this place. But now that I find myself here, so close to the very creature, the thought scares me that they could be true.
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I slept uneasily that night and had growing doubts about my plan. I had reasoned that I would be safe since Grendel did not kill his enemies and because I had no intention to attack him at all. But what if that was of no relevance? What if this creature was so vicious that it would break me just the same?
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The next morning the innkeeper told me that there is one tavern still in High Brahe that remains open. Gold washers frequent it for food and shelter, and so do the men who look for the Grendel. He says it is the last safe place before the valley.
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After much deliberation I decided I would go that far at least before I turn back.
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The Last Tavern170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWMpB9hKVbs
“The easy path is the most dangerous one.”
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The road up into the mountains to High Brahe was still well-preserved. A testimony to the craftsmen and the heavy loads it had to bear over many years. High Brahe itself, however, is not. The desolation has progressed further than in the Brahe below, with many buildings collapsed or demolished. I noticed the faint sound of little bells chiming in the wind as I approached.
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The so-called tavern was right on the edge of town, and it was quite obvious that it had not been built for that purpose. From the looks of it, it used to be a mill or something similar before.
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I assumed the owner must have relocated to the building furthest away from the valley for good reason.
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I entered into an open floor that was much too large for the few tables that occupied it.
The woman behind the counter was quite sharp. She took one look at me and asked me if I was lost, because I neither carried a weapon nor a gold pan, remarking at the same time that none of those would be of use to me anyway.
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She scoffed at me when I told her I am but a wanderer, like she knew it was a lie, but I felt too embarrassed to say what I had come for.
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In truth, she did not seem to care about my intentions. She told me there was no charge for a place to sleep, as long as I don’t bring my own food and drink.
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I was happy to oblige, and she served me stew from a small kettle over the fireplace and some wine.
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Her name was Brynne and after I confessed, over stew and wine, my true reason for coming here, she was quite happy to talk about anything I wanted to know.
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She told me that she used to be a sutler here in High Brahe, preparing and selling meat pasties to the miners. She stayed after the Grendel had appeared. First to wash gold from the creek with others. Then to take over the old mill and return to her former trade to provide for the gold panners.
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She established the rule about a place to sleep in exchange for buying her provisions, and the miners were glad they did not have to worry about their food and drinks after a hard day of work.
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I learned that most of the devastation of High Brahe was because she and other people used the buildings as easy sources of firewood.
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She was the one who had placed the bells all around the old town. They were intended as part of a system that would alert her to someone moving through the streets, but the mountain winds kept them ringing all the time.
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Nonetheless, over time, she still had learned to tell if someone was approaching by the subtle changes in their continuous chiming.
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She had never seen Grendel either, and I mused about if the creature existed at all, and the defeat of the heroes was nothing but the frustration from being unable to find it. That would make for a merry tale.
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Brynne told me off, not to joke about the matter. She said the Grendel was real and he was terrible and I was welcome to go and find out for myself.
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Before I could apologize, she motioned me to be quiet and listened intently. “Someone is coming from the valley,” she said.
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“Is it…?” I began, but she shushed me again.
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“It is not the Grendel! It is never the Grendel” She whispered. “The Grendel never leaves the valley.”
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A warrior had arrived the other day, she said, and he set out this morning. It had to be him.
I wondered about the term ‘warrior'. It was quite specific, and felt odd, but I didn’t say anything, and I got my answer just moments later when the door opened.
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The man who entered was so tall that he had to bow his head under the frame. His ginger hair was like a lion's mane, and he carried a sword on his back that was too heavy and long to be wielded in one hand.
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By his weapon and peculiar clothes, I recognized him as one of the Alboreer from the islands in the north. There are not many of them wandering the king's lands and there are not many stories about their ways and their deeds, but there was no doubt that they are mighty warriors indeed.
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He did not say a word or even look over as he found his way to a table in the far corner where he sat down.
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Both of us stared at him, but he would only look down at nothing and not move or say anything.
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Brynne broke the silence eventually. “This is what the Grendel does to all men, ever since the evil came out of the mountain,” she said. “You can go and see for yourself, or you could go and ask him, but I can tell you he will not speak again, and I doubt he will even hear your words.”
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She flinched when the man suddenly raised his voice and said, “I can hear your words just fine, woman, and I will speak as I please.”
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Brynne stared back at him in disbelief. She appeared to be distraught by him talking. “Who… Who are you?” she gasped.
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“I am no fool. That is who I am!” He replied and laughed, “I came here not to kill your monster, but to take a look at it, because the name it carries was familiar to me.”
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For some reason I felt betrayed by this revelation, as if the stranger had stolen my plan.
“I climbed a ridge today, to a place where I could look down into the valley and there I waited.” He continued. “I could see your Grendel roam about and once I got a bit closer my suspicions were confirmed.”
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“What are you talking about?” Brynne asked, beginning to sound more upset than bewildered now.
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“I don’t know the full extent of what it all entails,” The man continued,” but I can tell you two things. This is not the Grendel, it is a Grendel, because there lives a number of them in my homelands. He did not come out of these mountains. Someone must have gone to great lengths to bring him here.”
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The Clan of Gran-Durl170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ7jOEtWin7U
“A witch will die easy, but you cannot kill her.”170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡXMFmrVh5tv
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The name of the Alboreer was Brannoc from the clan of Tan-Orr, and once we sat down with him−Brynne needing a bit of persuasion--he told us a story over some wine and stew.
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“There are many clans in my homeland. Some rule over islands, some wander through the lands without a place to call home. Some form strong alliances and some wage endless war against each other.
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“The clan of Gran-Durl brought forth the mightiest warriors ever known in the north. Their strength and bravery were legendary. Their ancestry goes back to a legendary warrior known as Gran-Dor. It is said he never showed any fear, no matter what kind of danger or enemy he faced, and all of the clan's warriors would aspire to his example.
“Legend has it that one day an army came with ships from the south and made the mistake of picking the island of the Gran-Durl as a beachhead for the invasion of all of Alborea. The clan drove them single-handedly back into the sea with burning ships.”
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“It may well be the reason there is not much trade between our lands to this day.” he mused
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“They were revered and feared, and no clan would dare to make them enemies. There are many tales of their warriors that wandered the lands in search of a worthy challenge. To this day some of us honor this tradition in their memory.”
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“You speak as if they don’t exist anymore.”
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“Oh, they do still exist, but not as they once were. Because one fateful day, in their ever-ongoing quest to become greater warriors still, they turned to a witch and asked her to take away the last bit of fear that still resided in their minds.
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“The witch agreed to perform a ritual, at the time when the Gran-Durl held their great gathering every twelve years. All of their warriors would come together, and they all were betrayed that day.
Instead of taking away their fear, the witch took away their minds. The entire clan became like wild animals, unable to think or talk or recognize their own kin.”
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"There was nothing that could be done once the other clans discovered what had happened. They could not be reasoned with, and all attempts to reverse the curse failed. What had been taken could not be returned.
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“The Gran-Durl would not return to their homes or recognize them as such. Soon they began to live in the woods like beasts. They had forgotten how to fight and protect themselves and were helpless like children. Yet they were still strong and dangerous if approached. There was nothing that could be done for them but to leave them alone.
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“To this day they remain protected by an order of warriors from all remaining clans. They keep them safe and leave food for them. Nobody else is allowed on the island where these once mighty men live like animals in the forests now. Their existence has been shrouded in secrecy, ...until now it seems.”
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“I do not know how one of them ended up here, but I know he did not come by himself.”
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I asked him if he would allow me to add the tale to my repertoire and he said he did not care, that it was not a secret anymore and to make it known among storytellers would make people less likely to take it for truth.
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While I began writing it down, Brynne got up and said, “Make sure you don’t forget the part where men blame their misery on a woman. There are not enough stories of that kind already,” as she returned to the counter.
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“What are you saying, woman?” Brannoc asked, obviously annoyed.
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“Oh, don’t mind me. I have no doubt you are telling it exactly the way you heard it,” she replied.
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“It is the truth! I have seen them with my own eyes!”
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“I am not questioning what has happened. I am suspicious about how it happened.”
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“And how would you know better?”
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“Because I know men!” Brynne burst out and slammed her hand on the countertop. “A tribe of warriors at the height of their power? These are men who do not ask, they demand! They got this idea of becoming invincible by eradicating all fear into their minds and they sought out a witch and told her to do it, whether she wanted to or not.”
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“Then why did she not do as she was told? Why did she betray them and take away their minds?”
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“Why is it that a woman only needs to hear a tale like this once and can tell all the things that are wrong with it, but men will repeat it unquestioningly to the end of their lives?” Brynne said. “Has it ever occurred to you that she may have done exactly what she was told?” What are we without our fears? Nothing! Fear is what makes us cautious! Fear is what makes us cunning! Fear is what makes us think! What do you need a mind for if you don’t fear anything?
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“No Brannoc, I tell you the Gran-Durl doomed themselves and everyone is blaming it on a woman. That is the truth I see here. I would wager she told them it was a terrible idea, but they made her do it anyway.”
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Her words had been aimed at him, but they struck me deep as well. I tried to recall stories of evil queens and witches I knew and how I never questioned any of them.
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“Bah!” was the only thing Brannoc managed to reply after a long moment of silence.
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“What happened to the witch?” Brynne asked. “Does the story say?”
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“She vanished, never to be seen again!” He barked.
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“Of course she did. They tried to kill her, didn’t they?”
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For some reason that seemed to make Brannoc uneasy. He drew a ward into the air and murmured, “You cannot try to kill a witch.”
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I wondered what the meaning of it was, but I didn’t want to add to the tension by asking about it now. I decided to write the phrase down so I would remember it.
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Nothing more was spoken that night. I wrote my notes, Brynne tended to her stew and Brannoc sulked at his table.
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The Wretched Caves170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡWLaC8mvef0
“Sitting on gold will hurt you in the end.”
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The next morning, I woke up with a few beads of hardened resin on my head that must have dripped from the rafters in the night. It served to improve Brannoc’s mood when he saw me pull them out of my hair. “You must have slept in the spot I had been sleeping yesterday,” he said, and laughed at my predicament.
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Over breakfast I asked him about the path he had taken. He said to go east right after the edge of town and to stay in the hills and keep climbing until the trees clear and allow me a view into the valley, then from there to go as far towards the plain below as I would dare.
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Eventually, he leaned in and whispered, peeking over at Brynne behind the counter. Maybe he did not want her to think he could be scared or maybe he did not want to be called out again for something he said.
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“He is one of the Gran-Durl, that much is certain,” Brannoc said, “but there is something else. Something is not right. Evil magic is at play here. A curse of some kind. Even from a distance, I could feel it in my bones. If your heroes got any closer, they are all fools.”
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Then he turned to Brynne and said “Woman! You have been here before the Gran-durl came, haven’t you?”
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“I have, what of it?” Brynne asked.
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“Do you remember who named him? Who was it that first called him Grendel?”
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She thought about it for a moment and said: “I remember there was a rumor that someone would go to dig in the wretched caves once more. Then one day people came running, telling everyone to flee, because the Grendel had escaped from the caves.”
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“The wretched caves?” I asked, scribbling into my notes.
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“At the far side of the valley there is a large cavern in the face of the mountain that narrows into winding caves that lead deep into the bowels of Mount Brahe. I don’t know about these things, but the miners claimed that even the richest mines in the valley yield mere crumbs compared to the veins of ore and gems that have been seen there.”
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“Yet they would not dig there?”
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“They tried, time and again. The cavern and cave entrance have been picked clean. The promise of wealth has tempted many men to try and go further inside for many years, but they all came out again saying the same thing: ‘It is not worth it.’
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"They all talked about an awful sensation of dread and despair that grew the deeper they went…”
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“Whatever it was,” Brannoc interrupted her, “it was not the Gran-Durl!”
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“People saw him come out of the cave,” Brynne claimed.
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“I am sure you are telling the story exactly the way you heard it,'' He retorted. “If he came out of that cave, someone has sent him inside first. Someone who knew who he was, what he was, and where he came from. I would wager it was the one that called him the Grendel.”
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That was the end of it. Brynne did not reply and Brannoc began gathering his things.
He told us he had to leave for Alborea to inform his order about the matter.
Yet, before he set out he came to me and said, “If you really want to seek out the Gran-Durl in the valley, remember this: when you feel a cold shiver creeping up your spine, no matter if you see him or not, turn around and run the other way.”
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His grim advice made me question my intentions once more, but again I decided to go a bit further before I would turn back.
That same afternoon I ventured to the edge of town to take a look at the surroundings and the path he had described. That was as far as I would go on the first day.
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On the second day, I dared to walk all the way up the ridge, where the trees would clear. I looked down into the valley for a long time, but I did not make out any creatures or movement below. I began to wonder how much closer I would need to get, how far away it would still be safe, and how close Brannoc had been to recognize the Grenel as his kin.
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On the third day, I descended the ridge, towards the valley. As I walked through the forest in between, I noticed an eerie silence around me. The only things I heard were my own steps and occasionally the wind whistling in the treetops above. I tried to move as quietly as possible, making my way to the edge of the forest from where I could peek out into the valley.
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Just as I could see the light where the trees began to clear, I thought I heard something rustling further ahead to the east. I remembered Brannoc’s warning and felt a cold shiver as I stopped and listened, but there was no more sound.
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I cautiously crept forward, intently listening, when I suddenly stepped on a fallen branch. The crack echoed through the forest, and something in the bushes ahead stirred. A wave of dread hit me like an icy wind that made my blood freeze. I turned around and ran.
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All I know is I ran until I could not run any further, yet I did not stop. I kept walking, then crawling; anything to get me further away from the dread that lurked behind me.
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I remember stumbling around in the dark, but I don’t know how or when I got back.
The next thing I knew was coming to, on the floor of the tavern, with Brynne holding a cup of wine to my lips. She kept asking me to speak, to say anything, and when I finally said a few words, she told me I would be fine.
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I did not sleep well that night, nor any other night for some time. I would wake up from terrible nightmares, and when I was awake the mere thought of the valley gave me terrible frights about what lurked beyond. I would never set foot inside these woods or the valley ever again. I wanted to get away from this place as far as I could, but I was too scared to leave as well. Just thinking about going outside frightened me.
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Thus I spent some days in a corner of the tavern as far away from the door as possible.
Brynne tended to me as well as she was able to and kept encouraging me to speak.
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I cannot say how many a day I spent like this. At least longer than a fortnight, probably more than a month. The days grew ever darker now and Winter would come soon enough.
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Eventually something else began creeping into my mind apart from nightmares and visions I had. It was doubt. The uncertainty that it may not have been the Grendel I encountered. What if I had imagined it all and it was my own fear and cowardice that made me flee from a mere rustle in the woods?
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Brynne said it was a sign that I was healing, but it did not feel like that to me. Just one more thing to ponder about and make me feel lesser than I already did.
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One of these nights, a windstorm howled outside and rattled the tavern as if to find its way inside, as I suffered a terrible nightmare about the clan of Gran-Durl and the witch. She scooped up all their fear with both hands and stuffed it cackling into me, when suddenly there was a banging on the door that woke me.
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I was frozen in fear and could do nothing but stare and wait for Brynne to wake up herself. Before she opened the door, she looked over to me, silently shaking her head in a way to assure me it was not the Grendel who had come for me.
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Outside there stood a man, tall but gaunt to the point where he appeared to be on the verge of collapse. He was dressed in rags and tattered fur. Most of his face was hidden by a hood and a scraggly beard, but the clouded yellow tint of his eyes revealed that he had been consuming weevil poisons for some time.
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Brynne seemed to recognize him, yet she had an expression of disbelief on her face.
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In one hand the man held the end of a chain that had a large hook attached, and in the other a heavy iron blade with a jagged back. As he stepped foot inside, he raised up the hook and drove it deep into the wood of the doorframe with the hilt of his weapon. Whatever was on the other end of the chain remained outside in the dark, as he closed the door behind him.
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“Olund?” Brynne said, "is it really you?"
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I knew the name, but I had not heard it for many years and this was not the man it brought to mind. Then she asked: “...where is Valaria?”
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Only then I knew it was indeed the man I thought of.
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Olund and Valaria170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjTAJW4zCNY
“You shall not know me by who I was, but by who I have become.”170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ8ujJhgWXo2
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Olund was both a hero and a storyteller, and a legend among my trade. He wandered the lands and accomplished the deeds we others would only talk about. He was not only revered among us, but also well respected by other heroes. His sword was as sharp as his wit and he famously would say that he had only one story to tell: his own.
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That was until he met Valaria.
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Not much had ever been revealed about her past and it is unclear how much Olund himself knew, since he would give contradicting accounts and hinted at different origins. I always assumed he did so deliberately to keep her true past shrouded in mystery.
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What is known for certain is that she came from the people that live beyond the Wall of Shards, that much gave the tone of her skin away, and also that she was mortally wounded when Olund brought her back with him.
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Some speculate that she had been a slave who escaped from her homeland. Others say she was an unwanted heir, or a sacrifice, designated to be killed by her tribe, but the truth is that nobody knows anything for certain about the customs of these people.
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No one I knew had even seen a woman from these lands before. All we knew were accounts and stories about their fierce warriors and raiding parties and our heroes who would keep them at bay. They had been one of the reasons the wall had been built in the first place.
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Olund nursed her back to health and when he taught her our language, she picked it up quickly and flawlessly and spoke without any accent. But not only did she turn out to be quite smart, she was also brave and strong, rivaling men with courage and vigor.
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Eventually she would begin to train weapons with Olund and became an excellent fighter. In little time she would be a hero in her own right at Olund’s side.
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From then on, he had only one story to tell: The story of Olund and Valaria
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I had met them once, when he and Valaria came to a town I stayed at the time. I was still young, merely beginning my trade and I doubt he would remember me, but I made fond memories that day of sitting and listening to his tales with the other people.
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It must be said that it was due to Olund and his way of the tongue that folk would not think of Valaria as an enemy, despite her obvious appearance. To my knowledge, there had never been any open accusations of her being a spy or any other rumors of that sort.
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This would not change, even after she began surpassing Olund in feats of bravery and victories. She would never back down from a challenge and was known to spar and drink with the strongest of heroes all over the king's land.
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That was the time when people began talking behind Olund’s back, that now he only had one story to tell: The story of Valaria.
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Then one day they both disappeared, and many rumors could be heard about where they had gone, too many to believe a single one.
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The truth was they had vanished, and nobody knew what had happened to them.
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I could not believe this broken man was the same person I met that night so many years ago and this was the way he reappeared.
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He sat quietly at the counter now. Brynne put down a bowl of stew and a cup of wine for him, but he ignored both. She asked again: “Have you found Valaria?” but he remained silent and did not look up as she talked to him.
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I beckoned to her, and she came to my corner. I asked her about Olund, and she began to explain who he was, but I stopped her. I was curious about how she knew him.
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Olund was quietly crying at the counter now and Brynne whispered: "You see, Valaria was the first one to fight the Grendel. She failed and ran away. Olund was trying to find her, instead of going after the Grendel himself. That was probably what saved him."
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It did not look to me like he had been saved, but that was of no matter now. I told her that it didn't add up. They both had already been gone for years before the Grendel appeared. Who would have known to find them and ask them to come?
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"No, no," she said. "Nobody called them. They were here when the Grendel came out. They arrived only days bef…" then she went quiet. Her face hardened and she returned to the counter where she faced Olund.
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"I remember now," she said with trembling voice "When you came back that day. When you came to warn us and told everyone to run. It was you who called him Grendel then, wasn't it? You knew who he was! It was you who brought him here! Didn't you?"
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Olund remained quiet for a little while longer, staring at the counter, avoiding Brynne’s piercing gaze. Then he said: “Yes, I did.
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“It was me. I found out about the legend of the Grendel clan, and I knew about the wretched caves. The stories aligned. There was fear in these caves and these creatures knew no fear. I thought if I could bring one here it would break the curse. I thought…” He was still crying and wailing increasingly louder as he kept on speaking.
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“I set out to find the Grendel on my own. Valaria had nothing to do with it. I asked her not to come, but she did anyway. You can’t tell her no when she has made up her mind. But it was my plan! I would have been the one who broke the curse of the wretched caves. It was for me! People would have known my name again!” he blurted out in tears, then he fell quiet again.
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His trembling hand reached into his cloak and quickly put a black bead in his mouth that he cracked with his teeth. He sucked in the air with one quick gasp and then gave a deep sigh of relief.
Brynne looked at him with obvious contempt during the procedure and eventually, she said: “Have you found her, Olund? Have you found Valaria? Why did you come back here?”
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Now Olund looked her in the eyes for the first time. “I have found her alright. She was wandering aimlessly. Her mind gone, and like all the others she would not speak. I am not like others though. I know the way of the word. It took me a while, but I got it out of her. I now know the secret of the Grendel.”
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“She told you?” Brynne asked with disbelief.
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“The way of the word entails more than just the telling of stories,” he said “with skill, you can read people without talking. They will reveal to you if they enjoy your story, if they are bored or excited or scared. In turn, when I hear a tale, I know if they tell me the truth, or what they think is the truth, if they made it up, or if they experienced it themselves. There are more ways to speak than words alone.”
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He talked like a completely different person now that his mind had cleared. I knew it would not last long and he would soon fall back into brooding. Though still, I felt embarrassed, because my own skills were not nearly as honed as the ones he described.
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He was no fraud, not as storyteller nor as hero, and I was sorry for how he felt overshadowed by Valaria in such a way that he desperately wanted to prove himself once again.
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“I tried, Brynne. I tried so hard to bring her back from that place, but I failed. I cannot save her. There is nothing more I can do, so I came back here to atone. I came here to face the Grendel, because if I can't save her then I will at least avenge her.”
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“Don’t be foolish, Olund! You will end up like everyone else who tried! You will end up like her!”
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“No!” He cried in tears and slammed his fist on the counter as the drug was leaving his mind again. “No.” He looked behind him and whispered then. “I know his secret! I know how to kill the Grendel!”
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As if on cue, the chain outside the door rattled softly and Olund jerked around, startled by the sound. “Quiet!” he cried and burst into tears again. “Quiet! I told you to be quiet,” he wailed.
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Whatever was outside scratched across the wood and rattled the door as if to find a way to open it. Brynne reached for something under her counter and Olund cried once more "Go away, stay outside!" He tried to get up and hurry over, but stumbled over his own legs like a drunkard and he would just lay there crying and reaching out helplessly as the door slowly turned on its hinges.
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It was a child, a boy not older than twelve years by my guess. He was clad in rough fur, much like Olund, and he just stood there silently.
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Brynne stared at him as baffled as myself. Whatever she had reached for remained under her counter as she walked over the fallen Olund to see to the child. The chain was attached to an iron ring around the boy's neck and there was no sign of a latch or a lock to remove it.
"Who is he? What have you done? Olund?" She asked, but he would not say anything while he picked himself up from the floor.
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Brynne went to fetch some water, but Olund slapped the cup out of her hand "No!" He yelled "Nothing for him!" He began to sound more and more like a madman. Brynne slapped him as an answer to his assault, but he would not back away from between her and the boy.
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They remained face to face for a moment until Olund said: "Valaria was with child when I found her." He appeared to have a moment of clarity. "Do you think the Grendel will recognize his kin? I think he will." then his eyes clouded again.
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"Coming here was a mistake," he said then and frantically began trying to retrieve the hook from the doorframe "I need to leave."
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"Olund stop this!" Brynne pleaded "It is the middle of the night. At least wait until morning." but he ignored her.
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"This is not who you are!"
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"It is not," he replied in tears and yanked the hook out of the wood. "It is not who I was" he said, gathering the chain "It is who I am now," were his last words as he dragged the boy away into the darkness.
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“Valaria only has you! If you do this, she will have no one!” Brynne shouted into the night, but they did not come back.
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She did not say anything, but a quick glance at me made me realize I had done nothing but stare.
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The Secret of the Grendel170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡC9sVcKm14n
“For the dragon, we are the monsters.”170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ2Ga4rGaPhf
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The day came and then the night again, and neither Olund nor the boy had returned.170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡLxKy2Ws4J7
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When I woke up from another nightmare, Brynne was sitting there, brooding by the light of a candle.
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“What are you thinking?” I asked.
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“What I could have done differently,” she said.
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“I don’t think you could have changed anything,” I said, and she scoffed.
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“I… I wanted to do something, but…” I began but faltered. “No, that is not true, I was too scared to even think about what could be done. He was gone before I even realized I had done nothing.”
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“I am not blaming you,” she said.
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“I know, I am blaming myself.”
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“Don’t. None of it was your fault.”
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“I was overwhelmed with fear.”
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“You don’t need to…”
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“No, I mean on that day, in the woods. I was not just scared. I was overwhelmed by fear, and it was not my own. I only just came to accept that, and I know now what was in that place behind the undergrowth.”
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“What was it?”
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“It was the thing I fear the most.”
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“What do you fear the most?”
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I don’t know. I don’t want to know. It was something I could not comprehend. When I try to remember, all I see is a black void lurking behind the trees. What I know is If I had remained just a moment longer that day it would have crawled into my mind and stayed there forever.”
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“It was not the Grendel?”
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“I think it was him, but it also was not him.”
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“What are you saying?
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“Remember what Olund said? That there was fear in these caves, in the wretched caves.”
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“Yes?”
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“What if he was right? I mean, what if his plan worked, but not as he intended? If it truly is fear that haunted these caves, what if it attached itself to the Grendel? He would be unaffected due to his nature, though now he carries it with him around the valley and whoever comes close to him, whoever attacks him…”
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“He destroys them with fear.”
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“I don’t think he does it intentionally.”
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“You know what that means? Whatever Olund has in mind, it will not matter if the Grendel recognizes the boy or not. They are both doomed.”
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“Yes.”
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Brynne turned around finally to look at me. “If that is how you try to comfort people, your way of the word needs some honing.”
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“I am sorry.” I replied.
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“Don’t be,” she said. “It is good that you spoke your mind. You are recovering.”
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"Do you think it could be the fear Brannoc told us about? The fear that was taken from the Gran-Durl?"
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"What made you think that?”
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"My dreams …and what Brannoc said: ‘What had been taken could not be returned,' remember? So, according to him their fear was taken, not eliminated. It still exists in some form."
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"But how would it come to be here?"
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"I don't know, I just feel like it all has to be connected. Where else would it come from?"
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"You should sleep," Brynne said, "I am sure tomorr…" she went quiet and listened, then she whispered, "Someone is coming."
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"But not the Grendel?" I whispered back.
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"I don't know," was her answer.
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We both listened intently, but It took me too long to realize that the growing sense of dread came not from inside me, but from whatever approached the tavern and terror gripped me like the cold hand of death when I recognized it as the same presence that I had encountered in the woods.
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I was completely frozen and certain that I would not survive facing it again.
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Brynne hurried behind her counter for whatever she had hidden there, as the heavy footsteps approached and the only thing I managed to do was to crawl as deep into my corner as I could.
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Then it was there, right outside. It banged against the door, three times, then it stopped, and it moved on. We both waited with bated breath, but there was only silence.
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Brynne slowly approached the door. I wanted to tell her no, but I was still too scared to make a sound. She cautiously opened it a crack and peeked outside, stunned by what she saw.
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She swung the door open, and it was the boy, lying on the ground. The hook at the end of his chain had been rammed into the door, holding a piece of parchment in place.
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"He is alive," Brynne exclaimed and immediately began to yank on the hook to get it out of the wood. To my shame, I must confess I could not lift a finger to help, while she carried him inside and placed him on the floor.
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Only then she picked up the note to read it, and her face turned white. She gave me a look of disbelief, like I had done something wrong. Without a word, she dropped it into my lap, then went to prepare beddings for the boy.
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It said:
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"The Grendel is dead, and he took my mind or what little was left to take. Yet the drug can bring me back for a time as I conditioned my body to crave it to the point, I would take it without thinking.
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I conditioned the boy too, not for the drug, but to be my weapon against the Grendel. To exploit his secret.
Though the way of the word is powerful, it still was a long and arduous process. The amount of lies and half-truths, manipulations and mistreatment I had to subject him to over the course of his life was almost too overwhelming for me and for him.
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I told myself I was doing right, that he was the son of the Grendel, and he didn't deserve any better, but I grew to hate myself for it nonetheless. Yet I would not stop until I had created what I needed. For years I poisoned his mind. I took the unconditional love a child has for their mother and twisted it into something else. I fed him lies about her and the Grendel and how their lives are connected until I had I made it his only fear that the Grendel would die, because that was his secret. Fear was his secret. He would show you what you fear the most and this boy's fear was what killed him.
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But not before he took his revenge and showed me what I was scared of the most. The boy is my own son.
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I don’t have much time now, and I cannot bear to face him again. I will leave him with you. When he wakes up, tell him his mother is still alive.”
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That is where the note ended.
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"Do you think it is true what he showed him?" I said "That the boy was his son? Or was it just what he feared?"
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"It is true,” Brynne replied. "He had a mind to be manipulated. The child of a Grendel has no mind."
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"How do you know?" I asked.
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"You should sleep," she replied.
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"No, I mean, how…"
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She reached into her pocket and looked at me. "I said, SLEEP!"
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Then everything went dark.
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The Storyteller170Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡ6gjTWWJIsD
“There will always be monsters”
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When I woke up again Brynne was dressed in a doublet and boots, packing a small shoulder bag.
“You were right,” she said, without looking up. “It was the fear of the Gran-Durl and now Olund carries it, and he left the valley.”
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She looked the same, yet she appeared to be so much older now, it was like a veil had dropped before my eyes and I could really see her for the first time. She had the eyes of someone who had seen many more years than their appearance suggested.
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“Who are you?” I wanted to know.
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“It will surprise you to find out that witches are concerned with the consequences of their craft. I knew the fear would not flow the ethers forever once it was cast out. Eventually it would settle some place like dew on a leaf in the morning. Why here, I don’t know, but ever since I found it, I kept guard.”
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“You are a witch?” I asked.
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“No, that is just your word for us,” she said. “I must go after Olund and take care of the fear before he reaches the lands. That is why I need you to do something for me.”
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“What?”
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“I want you to take the boy to his mother,” she said and handed me a flask. “Drink this when he wakes up. It will numb your fear long enough to make it down the mountain. The Goldsmith in Great Brahe will be able to remove the chain. Beyond that, the fear that I will find you if you don’t do as told must suffice as your motivation.”
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She returned to the counter and pulled out a boiled leather pauldron and a sword to strap them onto her shoulder and to her belt. She scoffed at my puzzled gaze and said, “What did you expect? A pointy hat and a broomstick? Magic is powerful but it takes preparation and time. Steel is swift and reliable.”
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“How will I find the boy’s mother?” I asked.
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“I can’t Imagine a man dragging a boy by a chain will go unnoticed in the lands. Find their trail.” She slung the bag over her shoulder and put on a hooded cape, then she seemed to remember something.
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She reached into her pocket and threw something over to me. It was a crude little figure wound from birch twigs, and it had a wad of distinctive red hair on top with some resin beads inside.
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“Brannoc and you both ate from my stew, and it made you talk more than you would have otherwise. Brannoc may come to regret sharing his secrets and decide to correct his mistake. If you see him, crush it, bite off its head or throw it in a fire, but don’t waste it. It only works once, and he must be close.”
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I just stared at it, realizing there was one of those with my own hair in her bag, while she got ready and made her way to the door.
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“Wait!” I said then, before she left “You could have killed the Grendel?”
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“Any time,” she replied “But that was not what I was here for. As long as he didn’t leave the valley, he was not my concern.”
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“What was your concern then?”
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“You don’t know what harm this amount of fear can do roaming free in the lands neither do you want to” she said
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“What about all the heroes?”
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“What about them? They were warned. They knew what they came for. Just like the Gran-Durl! What I said was true. They knew exactly what they asked for. In fact, they had done it before, removing all fear from a man and they all lost their minds. It was their way of finding a new Gran-Dor who would lead their clan forward. But their shamans are simpletons. They could hardly manage a single warrior in a year, and they wanted more, so they first came asking and then begging and finally threatening until we gave them what they wanted. All of them at once. They didn’t care how many of them would fail the test as long as some of them would turn out to be able to hold on to their minds. I am sure every single one of them believed they would be the one and none of them was. Their hubris wiped them out and I have no pity for them, neither do I have any for your heroes.”
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“What will happen to Olund?” I asked.
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“He will not live, and the fear will not return to this place. Nobody will know that the Grendel is dead, unless you tell them. Do with this information what you will, but take the boy to his mother first!” She said and stepped out the door. Before she vanished into the dark, she turned around to say something I will never forget:
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“The Grendel may be scary to you ordinary people, but Olund… He had no magic and killed the Grendel with nothing but his words. That is scary to me.”
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Then she was gone.
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Shortly after it dawned outside, the boy stirred. Once he had woken up, I tried talking to him, explaining that I would try to find Valaria with him. I think he understood, but he did not say a word.
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He would not allow me to touch the chain and wound it around his body to carry it himself.
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So, I drank my potion, took him by the hand and we left on our journey.
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