Harduk The Slayer and the Father-In-Law of Doom

Harduk shoved the blanket aside and sat up. Nissa lay at his side, still snoring gently. Judging by the sun, the boat was still on course. Nearmis Oddbottom was sitting beside the rudder.

Harduk blinked, shook his head, and reached for a water-skin. He was in no hurry to leave the blankets. He had arrived on that island wearing only a loincloth. Now he was not even sure where that had gone.

When he looked again, the wizard was still there.

"Well," he said. "What are you doing here?"

"You destroy my ruins, kidnap and despoil my daughter, and you have to ask?"

Harduk was silent for the space of several breaths. He was very much aware of Nissa; her presence was probably the only reason the wizard hadn't destroyed him already.

"You and Duke Decantar," he said, and took another swig of water. "I spoke with your daughter last night, after we'd had our fun. I'm not your enemy, wizard. I'm the instrument of Nissa's curse. She made me to disrupt your work, so that she could have a normal life." He paused, yawning wide enough to crack his jaws. "Also, as of the middle of last night, I'm your son-in-law."

"WHAT?"

Harduk shrugged. He'd killed wizards before, but he was finding this exchange far more satisfying. "I'm the captain of this ship. I conducted the ceremony, and she summoned... beings... to witness it. She's a married woman, now - of her own free will - and no longer your concern."

The wizard's face was a frozen mask. "Harduk the Slayer, I will kill you."

Harduk shrugged. "You'll have your chance," he said. "After the wedding, Nissa tried to lift her curse... but she failed. Until she does, I'm still drawn to your ruins. So you keep building them, and I'll keep stumbling into them, and we'll see who survives." He paused, then added: "Does that sound like a hobby that could keep you entertained, old man?"

Nearmis Oddbottom's expression was purest fury for a moment longer. Then it cracked, and he chuckled. "Yes," he said, "I suppose it might. I'll need to add more death-traps, of course."

"Of course," agreed Harduk. No true son of Distractia could be intimidated by death-traps, even if Distractia had never existed save as the imagined source of a young sorceress' dreams of escape. "Just leave in the treasures, so I have some reason to explore."

"Oh, never fear," said the wizard. "There'll be treasure aplenty, for the man bold enough to seek it."

"Until that day, wizard." Harduk smiled.

"Until I kill you, son-in-law."

Here ends this tale of Harduk the Slayer.

Harduk The Slayer and the Backstory of Doom

"When you said you could make another Frostblight," Harduk asked, "What did you mean?"

Nissa shifted on the wooden bench, but met his eyes directly. "Well," she said, "I'm not so skilled as my father, but I can manage an enchanted blade."

Harduk frowned. "It would not be the blade of my people."

"No, I could make it-" Nissa snapped her mouth shut, then said: "...identical." After a moment she added: "Or, if you wished, I could make something different: Firestorm, say, the twin and opposite of Frostblight."

Harduk studied her as the boat rose and fell in the waves. The sails drove them on, and his hand was steady on the rudder. He would rescue Nissa, and he would marry her - if for no other reason, then because he had sworn to do so, and no man of Distractia would make himself an oathbreaker. But there were deeper mysteries here, he was sure. Frostblight was only the beginning, the first emerging leaf of the snow-vines that covered acres of land beneath the winter ice. "You seem very familiar with my sword... and myself."

Nissa looked away. After a moment, Harduk realized that she was blushing.

"Very well," she said. "You deserve to know. I could make you another Frostblight, because I was the one who made the original Frostblight."

"Nonsense," said Harduk, suddenly uneasy. "The shamans..."

"No." Nissa shook her head, and met his eyes again. "It wasn't the shamans. It was just me. I created Frostblight, and Distractia, and in a strange way even you."

"What?" said Harduk. "Why?"

"To rescue me," said Nissa. "I needed someone strong enough to take me from my father, someone who wouldn't be afraid to marry a wizard's daughter. A chieftain's son, the last survivor of his tribe, a man bred to strength and courage."

"So, then." Harduk fell silent. "Distractia..."

"The wastes of burning ice are just as you remember," Nissa said softly, "but no people ever dwelt there. The clansmen who raised you came by their skills honestly, but they shared no blood with you. The blade you carried as the last remnant of your slaughtered people is only a bare few hours older than you are." She stopped, drew a deep breath, and released it. "So... will you still be my husband? Forget your vow. I would not hold you to a promise made without full knowledge, and I do not want a husband... well, a husband that leaves in search of adventure or travel, that I could stand; but not a husband who wished me ill."

There was a long silence as Harduk considered his next words. His homeland and his heritage might be a lie, but his feelings were as strong and certain as ever. He wanted to be sure there was no possible misunderstanding. At last, satisfied, he said: "Forget my vow? Wish you ill? Do you jest, girl?" He let his grin show, broad and unrestrained. "If what you say is true, I should thank you. So... this marriage... how do we go about it?"

Nissa smiled. "There's a ceremony, of course. And then, well..." Her smile grew wider. "Then we consummate things."

Harduk the Slayer and the Hidden Boat of Doom

"If we hurry, we can still make it," Nissa said, following something that might charitably be described as a trail down the back of the island. "I stashed a boat when we arrived here. It's a small thing, built for exploration and emergencies, but it's well-supplied and--"

She stumbled over an upthrust root, and Harduk caught her shoulder before she could tumble over the cliff. "I hate that," she said, testing her ankle before they continued. "I hate these places. I want to live in a nice house in a big city, where the roads are even and other people provide us with art and culture and entertainment."

"You're the daughter of a wizard," observed Harduk. "Why don't you?"

"Because," Nissa replied, "I'm the daughter of a wizard who has seven-hundred-year-old ideas about propriety. Unmarried women do not live on their own."

"Ridiculous," said Harduk. "In my land..."

He stopped and tilted his head, listening. There were voices behind them. "They're coming," he said, and scooped Nissa up. His strength was such that even carrying her, he could double their pace.

The voices of their pursuers had fallen far behind by the time they reached the boat. Nissa loosed the mooring lines while Harduk raised the sails and shoved them out from the tiny fissure where the boat had hidden. He glanced back once, as the winds caught the sails, and eyes honed to the savage plains of Distractia picked out a single robed figure among the armed men. Lifting an arm, he waved cheerily in the wizard's direction.

Harduk the Slayer and the Prison Cell of Doom

Harduk woke to find himself manacled to a wall. This wasn't the first time he'd awakened so, and probably wouldn't be the last; though usually he had fewer bruises and more of a hangover. The familiar weight of Frostblight was missing from his back; he noticed that before he felt the weight of the chains or smelled the cold dampness of the stone.

Nearmis Oddbottom was standing in front of him. "Do you know who sent you after me? If you tell me now, it will save us both a great deal of time and trouble."

Harduk raised his head until he could look the wizard in the eye. "You're mad," he said. "Nobody sent me. I drifted here after my boat sank."

"No." The wizard's denial was absolute. "One of my projects, even two or three, I could accept as coincidence. But you... every time you set foot outside a city, you stumble into some of my ruins. Someone has set you to trouble me, and I will discover them."

Harduk sagged in his chains. The wizard had clearly been breathing too much of the black lotus. There was no arguing with him. "Do your worst," he suggested.

"Later," said Nearmis Oddbottom. "I have builders to supervise. But once they rest..." He studied Harduk a moment longer, then turned and left. He took the single torch with him, leaving his prisoner in darkness.

Harduk waited until he could no longer hear the wizard's footsteps; then he waited longer. When he was certain he was alone, he tugged against his bonds. The manacles were heavy iron, and set firmly into the stone wall at his back. No amount of tugging would loosen them. Resigned to waiting, he settled back against the wall.

He had been there only a short time before a new voice reached his ears, this one husky but unmistakably female. "Harduk?"

"I am here," he called.

Sound and light reached him, drew closer: footsteps, and a lamp. Blinking, Harduk beheld a woman in a simple dress of gray silk. She was nearly his own height, well-formed and pretty despite an unfortunately prominent nose. Her study of him was as immediate and intense as his study of her.

After a moment she nodded. "I'm called Nissa," she said. "I need you to rescue me."

Harduk turned his head, confirming that he was still manacled to the stone wall.

"If you swear to take me with you, I'll set you free," she said.

"I swear it," Harduk said immediately.

"And you must promise to marry me."

Harduk choked and began to cough.

The woman hurried forward, pressed a hand against his mouth. "If I am betrothed, my father can no longer claim authority over me. I can go my own way, live my own life."

Harduk got his breathing under control. After a moment, he nodded. She removed her hand, and he said: "Yes."

She nodded again, sharply, and the chains fell away.

Harduk shook himself, rolled his shoulders, clenched and unclenched his fists. "I must find Frostblight."

"No time," she said. "We must find a boat."

"It is the sword of my people," Harduk insisted.

"I'll make you another."

Harduk looked at her sharply.

"We must go," she said, grasping his hand and pulling him out of the cell.

The wizard's voice rolled down the stone hallway, clear despite the echoes: "What, already? Guards! Find him. I don't care how many of you he kills, I want him back in his cell."

Harduk nodded. Having Frostblight would be a great help. Searching for Frostblight could quickly lead to capture. She was right; the blade was not worth his freedom. Following the lady's lead, he turned and fled into the darkness.

Harduk The Slayer and the Explanation of Doom

Though not so powerfully built as Harduk, the master was every bit as tall and his stride was every bit as long. By the time Harduk caught him, he had entered a large building that had the look of a temple. There was only the single doorway, its high arch carved with figures angelic and demonic, and the Distractian stepped warily through it.

Harduk expected it to be dark inside, but the far left corner of the building had collapsed inward... or rather, had been built to look as if it had collapsed inward. Harduk ground his teeth at the thought. The man he sought was only a few paces beyond the doorway, inspecting a ring of carved birds around one of the columns that supported the arched ceiling high above. "You there," called Harduk. "Are you the one responsible for this place?"

"Of course I am," said the robed man, turning to face him. He had white hair and a neatly trimmed white beard, which hung beneath a prominent nose. "Nearmis Oddbottom. And you are Harduk the slayer, mercenary and adventurer. You're early; we haven't even finished building these ruins, yet."

Harduk slowed his steps. "These ruins?" he echoed.

The master nodded. "These won't be the first of my ruins that you've destroyed, after all."

Harduk came to a stop, still several paces too far away to run the man through. "I've been to other ruins of yours?" he asked, thinking back over all the strange places his life had taken him.

"Ohhhh, yes." Nearmis Oddbottom pursed his lips. "I first noticed you in the City of the Dome. You were being chased by Duke Decantar... after a particularly lascivious night with his formerly-virginal twin daughters, I later learned... and you sought shelter in the ruins."

"...With the blood-hungry bat-men," Harduk said, remembering.

"Just so. You and the duke contrived to drop one of the great bridges into the course of the underground stream, which flooded the ruins and collapsed the dome."

Harduk nodded slowly, considering. The City of the Dome had been an ancient ruin, well outside the borders of civilized Learnandia. There had been treasure there, and danger; the remains of an entire ancient civilization, albeit one whose race had long since degenerated into primal savagery in the darkness. And if that had been one of Oddbottom's projects, then what of... "The great citadel in the sand, where I came following the pirate-woman Kandra? Where I fought the forgotten god who meant to take her for a sacrifice, and watched the city sink forever beneath the sands with its death?"

"Mine." Master Oddbottom studied Harduk calmly.

"And the black temple in the swamps of Nitere, guarded by those man-eating frogs?"

"Mine."

"The jeweled caverns beneath mount Killemal, whose stony guardians only moved when touched with light?"

"Mine."

"The towering spire in the foothills of the Vanidy Plateau, where mysterious lights tried to lure me to my death and the constant whispers of unseen voices drove my sanity to the breaking point?"

"Mine."

"The worshippers of the great spider-serpent in the sewers of Whiitvash, who took only the babies of bankers and highborn nobles for their sacrifices?"

The master hesitated, but shook his head. "That one belonged to the mage Kelinna -- their high priestess. She had some ideas about how a society should properly be run." After a moment, he added: "And if I recall your escape, you cut her in half, set the halves on fire, and fed them to the spider-serpent."

Harduk nodded slowly. "More or less. I salted them first. It seemed like the thing to do."

There was a momentary pause, then Nearmis Oddbottom pursed his lips. "I can see where it might," he admitted. "Be that as it may, the rest of the ruins you have visited were mine."

Harduk felt himself begin to relax. If these were true ruins, to be filled with monsters, traps, and treasure, then what did it matter that this man had built them? They were still ripe for the plundering. Still... "Why?" he asked. "Why do you build these places?"

Nearmis Oddbottom snorted dismissively. "I'm a seven-hundred-year-old wizard, boy. Have you any idea how hard it is to find a hobby that still entertains after even half a century? Should I take up knitting, instead?"

Harduk chuckled. "I must surrender my complaints," he said. "It seems the world would be less interesting without these projects of yours. Fetch me a boat, and I'll be gone from your island."

"No," said the wizard.

"No?"

Nearmis Oddbottom was scowling. "I've lost a good two centuries of work in the last nine years, all of it because of you. You're a menace. You must be stopped."

He lifted one robed arm, but Harduk had the reflexes of a hunting cat. He was already springing forward, hand reaching up for Frostblight's hilt. Too late, he saw that Oddbottom had moved his other hand to one of the birds on the column. The floor opened beneath him, and he tumbled into darkness.

Harduk The Slayer and the Ruins of Doom

The platform indeed held a ruined city... but in addition to empty and half-collapsed stone buildings, it held a swarming multitude of workmen. For a moment, Harduk thought that they must have come to loot the ruins -- he had known some treasure-hunters who used crews like this, though never one so large -- but it could not be so. Everything they were doing was entirely wrong.

Here, a group of men were using a wooden frame and a complicated system of ropes and pulleys to haul a stone entablature into place atop a series of columns. There, a stonecutter was chipping one corner off a rectangular stone block. And here, a sculptor was putting the finishing touches on a series of disturbing bas-reliefs atop a doorway. To one side there were piles of cut and quarried stone, neatly stacked against their eventual use, and beyond them a small city of tents that would house the workmen when they rested. These men were not looting; they were *building*.

A pair of men stood not ten paces away, consulting over a piece of parchment. From his place just below the top of the water stair, Harduk's wilderness-keen ears could pick out bits of their argument. It seemed to center on the proper position of a certain building in relation to a central boulevard. They spoke in the tongue of hard-working Pithya, which was known for its extensive public works projects.

Harduk considered for a moment longer, then rose and approached them. None of the workers were armed. Though less soft than most city people, they were laborers and artisans; he could see no warriors among them. He had never yet found a ruin in the wilderness that was safe, but he supposed there must be a first time for everything.

"...Can't let it block the Royal Way," the shorter man was saying. "Just keep the footprint small. Make it taller, instead. If the master asks, we'll tell him it's a grain vault."

"Guess we'll have to," agreed the taller man, who was stick-thin and wore the sleeveless robe of a Pithyan scholar. "Maybe we can leave off one wall, scatter some rubble..."

His words trailed away as he caught sight of Harduk. His companion turned with him, and Harduk observed broad shoulders above a broad gut. He wore a simple tunic and leggings, which were tucked into plain boots: the sort of man who had once been a laborer, and now led teams of them. "Listen, fellow," he said evenly. "I know it's hot out, and the work is hard; but keep your pants on, or I'll have to dock your pay. The Ma--"

Harduk frowned at him, an expression that conveyed a very strong impression of a gathering storm. "What transpires here, fellows?"

The two men exchanged a quick glance. "We're constructing a set of ruins on this island," said the taller scholar. "Very picturesque, don't you think?"

"You're not one of mine, are you?" put in the work-leader. "With the sword, I thought... but never mind. What brings you here, warrior?"

Harduk stopped, close enough to converse with them but not close enough to threaten. "A serpent grew scared during last night's storm," he said, "and clung to my ship for comfort. The ship did not survive. I did, and washed up here."

"A castaway?" asked the scholar, surprise evident on his face.

"You'll be wanting for food and drink, then," said the work-leader.

Harduk waved such considerations away. "Later," he said. "Just now, I would learn more of your purpose here. You are building these ruins?"

"Just so," said the scholar. He looked around with pride. "Aren't they lovely?"

"The world," Harduk said, "is full of ruins. Why add more?" In truth, he'd spent a good deal of his own life reducing various parts of the world to ruin, usually for pay, but sometimes for fun. This, however, was different. These ruins were meant to look ancient, though they were newly built. The very idea offended his sensibilities. If he couldn't trust ancient ruins to be the last remnants of vanished civilizations, how could he trust them to be full of fabulous treasures and incalculable dangers? Half his life had been spent pursuing such things, by accident or apurpose. Constructions such as this could ruin everything.

The work-leader shrugged. "Because we're being paid."

"If you want to know what they're for," said the scholar, "you'll have to ask the master."

"And where," Harduk asked, "is your master?"

The scholar glanced at the work-leader, but the work-leader just shrugged. "As it happens, he's right there."

Harduk turned and beheld a man in dark robes, inspecting a statue from which one of the artisans had just removed one extended wing. Even at a distance, there was a certain magnetic vitality about the man. Unlike the scholar, his robes had full sleeves and his belt appeared to be woven silver.

He glanced at them, then turned and strode away.

Harduk started after him.

"Don't kill him," called the work leader. "He's the only one who can call back our boat!"

Harduk nodded, but it was acknowledgment -- not agreement. By the cold wastes of Distractia, he would have answers from this man... and put an end to the making of these false ruins.

Harduk The Slayer And The Hidden Stair Of Doom

Two hours later, Harduk stood at the edge of the stream. His belly was full, and his thirst was assuaged. What meat he hadn't eaten immediately, he had stuffed into a crude bag fashioned from the boar's hide.

Though occupied by one last task, Harduk remained wary. He listened to bird calls and slight movements in the trees. He looked back over his shoulder, at the fallen tree where he had made his meal, then across the stream to the trees on the far side. Upstream, the water was cold and clear, the flat stretch where he stood fed by a small waterfall made up of short, regular steps. Downstream, the water was warmer and faintly golden, though the current carried that away quickly enough.

Turning his head, Harduk looked again at the waterfalls. That series of steps seemed very regular -- almost too regular. As if...

Yanking his loincloth back into place, he followed the stream to the base of the falls. He was not imagining things. Either someone had cut steps into the streambed, or the water was following the course of some ancient stairway. He considered, but only for a moment: strange as they were, the steps were both a sign of civilization, and a path to higher ground. Mounting the stairs, he began to climb.

Tucked away in its narrow cleft, the water stair hid the rest of the island from him, but also kept him out of sight. Harduk considered that a fair trade. The way was slippery and irregular, worn by the steady passage of water, but Harduk's steps were swift and sure.

The ascent seemed to take hours, and indeed it was hours later that he began to hear voices over the constant trickle of running water. He slowed. Voices should mean people, but in his experience that wasn't always the case. Ahead, he could see a break in the steps: perhaps it was only another landing, but it seemed he had finally reached the top of this mountain. Harduk mounted the remaining steps as swiftly and silently as a tiger. Crouching just below the top, Harduk carefully raised his head above the edge.

He had half-expected to find himself looking at the city whose inhabitants had built these ancient stairs. And that was so, after a fashion. But...

"By the Grim King," he breathed. "What deviltry is this?"

Harduk The Slayer and the Forest of Doom

An hour later, Harduk crouched in the brush beside a massive tree. A stone's throw away, a wild boar drank at the edge of a narrow stream. Here was water, and proper food; not like the tribbil-fruit he had found earlier. Though considered a delicacy in the nighted city of Ordur, tribbil-fruit was neither large nor filling, and Harduk's belly cried out for something more solid. Could he but catch it, the boar would do nicely.

Drawing his great blade, Harduk considered the tree beside him. Then, with a single blow, he hewed through the trunk. No narrow sapling, this; it was one of the elders of this jungle, grown tall and strong with the passage of centuries. It was no match for the keen edge of Harduk’s blade, however, for Harduk carried Frostblight, the Sword of Chiefs, which was said to hold the battle-rage and bloodlust of all Distractia.

The great tree shivered with the blow, and the boar started. Then the tree creaked and began to fall, and the boar froze in panic at the growing roar of collapsing greenery. Harduk nodded in satisfaction as the ancient trunk dropped squarely onto his prey. The thunder of its impact shook the forest, silencing bird and beast alike for as far as the ear could hear.

The boar, he thought, was now as flat as the wrapping-breads in the marketplaces of the distant city of Schaterdore, where his people sometimes went to trade, when they weren't trying to attack, burn, and loot the place. He needed only to remove the tree and prepare a fire, and he would have his meal.

Harduk The Slayer and the Beach of Doom

It occurs to me that I haven't been inflicting enough of my fiction on you recently, and I must fix that. Allow me to present Harduk the Slayer. I'd love to protest that I have no idea what I was thinking when I wrote this, but that would be a lie: I was thinking, "Hey, I haven't written a completely over-the-top caricature of a barbarian fantasy adventurer lately!"

Harduk coughed and raised his head. His hand went reflexively to the great sword strapped across his back, but he did not draw the blade. The cries of strange birds and animals reached his ears over the steady pounding of the surf, and the sun was warm on the bronze skin of his massive shoulders. He was lying belly-down on the sand of a beach. Beside him lay the broken timber that had carried him through the night, after the storm-crazed serpent had destroyed his ship.

Though his thirst and hunger were great, he paused to offer a prayer to the Grim King Krak'not, who was chief among the gods of Distractia. The prayer offered Harduk's thanks for the storm and the serpent. He made no mention of the wreckage that had saved him; Krak'not sent only danger and ruin, and to thank the Grim King for salvation was to invite further disasters.

With his prayer complete, Harduk spat out a couple of splinters. When his arms had grown weary during the night, he had clung to the wood with his teeth. Then he strode across the beach and into the jungle, ignoring the burning of the sand against his bare feet with the fatalistic stoicism of a true Distractian. The sounds of birds and animals fell silent as he entered the darkness beneath the trees, and Harduk paused for a moment to let his eyes adjust.

There was food here, and with so much growth there must be water as well. He would find those things first, and then he would climb until he could see more of this place where he had washed up. He cleared his throat, then reached into his mouth and extracted another splinter. Though he had arrived with only his ragged loincloth and the tremendous sword on his back, Harduk had no fear for his chances in this strange place. His icy desert homeland of Distractia was far more harsh, and Krak'not had gifted him with singular strength and stamina. Many men had learned this, to their dismay; and many women, to their delight.

With a decisive grunt, he started into the jungle.

To be continued...