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    Goblins & Vikings in America: Episode 2
    Goblins & Vikings in America: Episode 2
    Goblins & Vikings in America: Episode 2
    Ebook76 pages59 minutes

    Goblins & Vikings in America: Episode 2

    By Norman Crane

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    About this ebook

    Five hundred years before Columbus, the Vikings discovered North America. That much is known. What they found there was not -- until now. GOBLINS & VIKINGS IN AMERICA is the epic saga of Dvalinn the Riverraider and his quest to find his son, Framarr. It is a quest that will take him and his ragtag companions (escaping the law, thralldom, and the impossibility of love) to the very edges of the known world, and beyond: to a land of exotic civilizations, ancient mystery, and unprecedented danger. To survive, they will have to work together. To succeed, they will have to create history...

    Episode 2: "The Red and the Green"
    Length: 16,600 words (~60 minutes)

    LanguageEnglish
    PublisherNorman Crane
    Release dateFeb 11, 2014
    ISBN9781311435118
    Goblins & Vikings in America: Episode 2
    Author

    Norman Crane

    I live in Canada. I write books. I'm a historian, a cinephile and a coffee drinker.

    Read more from Norman Crane

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      Book preview

      Goblins & Vikings in America - Norman Crane

      GOBLINS & VIKINGS

      IN AMERICA

      Published by Norman Crane at Smashwords

      Copyright 2014 Norman Crane

      Season 1

      Ep. 2

      The Red and the Green

      1

      Erlandr's boot slipped on the nearly vertical surface. His forearm scraped against rock.

      He looked up.

      Above him, Kaspar was climbing nimbly, increasing the distance between them with each movement, every seemingly effortless step—if a step is still what you called it when you were high enough for trees to be twigs and more or less pulling yourself up a sheer cliff face. It didn't feel like steps to Erlandr.

      Kaspar took a break and glanced down. Hurry up.

      It was a tease. As far as Erlandr could see, Kaspar had said it with a smile, but he spat nevertheless, swallowed the phlegm that remained stuck to his throat along with his pride, both of which tasted like dust, and curled his fingers around a protruding cliff edge, before grunting like a drunken farmhand as he hoisted himself up yet another body-length. Another one down, many left to go. He cursed the place where the increasingly steep hill—but certainly a hill, traversable by walking—had become this forsaken wall. It's not far, Kaspar had said when they'd come to it. It won't be a long climb. It's better to start now than to circle around, trying to find an easier ascent. If we summit by night we'll have to stay until morning. Stupidly, Erlandr had agreed. He'd climbed trees before, he reasoned, and climbing this couldn't be much different.

      It was different.

      And, above, Kaspar was floating upwards again, rubbing that salty difference into the scratches on Erlandr's arms. How much did the boy weigh that he could lift himself like that, like the wind lifting an empty cloth sack by filling it with the nothingness of itself...

      Erlandr found another grip, felt his muscles tauten. Another body-length disappeared. One thing was for sure: he wasn't an empty cloth sack. He felt the mass of every last one of his bones, organs and hairs. The ones on his arms were coated with sweat. The storm that had smashed them against this new land was gone and in its place the sun, unblinking and emblazoned on a cloudless blue sky, radiated a steady heat. What a beautiful day, Kaspar had said when they were still at the foot of the hill. Erlandr spat. He cursed Kaspar, too.

      Yet the worst part was neither the pain nor the effort. It was the losing. After the rains had ended and the fog had drifted away, returning visibility to their shipwrecked stretch of the shore, it was this hill—it looked to Erlandr like a great stone pillar rising out of a forested anthill fit for mammoths—that had become the obvious high ground. The shore stretched without end in both directions and the interior, Dvalinn had said, was deep. They needed to know their surroundings. They needed to understand where they were. But, most of all, they needed to find a source of freshwater.

      Granted, Dvalinn had also instructed them to take minimal risks and climb only as high as possible without putting themselves in danger. It was Kaspar who had decided that meant attaining the summit. However, it was also Kaspar who was well on his way to achieving it, and it was Erlandr who'd childishly accepted Kaspar's challenge: Whoever gets to the top first names the hill. They'd been neck-and-neck all the way to the wall.

      Kaspar wasn't to blame. He was a child and children could not bear the burden of responsibility. It was Erlandr who was a man, whom Dvalinn had put in charge, and it fell to him to refuse all childish things for the sake of their success and mutual survival. Dvalinn, Drudge and Agata were relying on him to set an example. Erlandr added himself to his target list of curses. His saliva shot from his lips and dropped gracefully before splashing against the ground far below.

      If nothing else, anger at himself was a reason to keep climbing, for there was no way he'd overtake Kaspar now. The game was lost. He put it out of his mind. There was also no turning back. If they were climbing, they needed to climb until they reached the top. Once they made it, that's when Erlandr would plan further. One step at a time, one body-length after another. Maybe it would even be worth the effort if they saw something from up there, something to journey towards or something to avoid.

      Lazy bones, Kaspar yelled.

      Erlandr shuddered. Although he'd told no one but Dvalinn about the little green man he'd seen, and although they'd agreed to consider it a hallucination, the explanation didn't sit well with him. He'd had hallucinations before, some purposeful and others not, and none of them had been as real as this one. He still remembered in vivid detail the figure's purple clothes—

      Climb!

      He wished Kaspar would keep quiet.

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