The Crimson sea by Christian Wratten (story books for 5 year olds TXT) 📕

Introduction

The natural rays of light reached out like fingers clasping the scene. the tranquill breeze wavered in the crisp nip of the morning air .

Wings flapped and men sang with their hoarse voices.The calm see brushing shyly against the hull of the ship.Their were three in all, each ornamentally decorated. golden flowers blooming under the stare of the sun.The men shouted and wailed the placid atmosphere dissapearing as the sun ascended higher into the sky.

 

To the east lies their destination.Across the crimson sea and leagues ahead of the forest of embla.few braved the wailing winds and violent waves of the sea of calder.Even fewer survived the dankness and blackness of its depths .instilling fear into those who hear its name.Yet hear its name they must.And ride its waves they shall.

 

The birds continued to flap. the wind continued to howl.All continued except the ship.the oarsmen were silent their were no hoarse voices,only the clouds.Their were no cries from the foremen,only the rain.Their was nothing,only the storm.

Eye of the gods

 Bellowing, filled the upper deck shrill cries of worry rolled across the fortyard from both bowmen and oarsmen alike.

Worry and thunder.

Lines of an extravagent blue descended from the sky, on either side of the center ship.

obliterating the now collapsing sail the blood of those who fell adding to the redness of the crimson waves, the crimson sea.

There was a reason few sailed here,if not for the treacherouse storms,for The countless holmes that have appeared across the sea of calder.

Their epic boats laden with projectile cannons twice their range and tenfold their damage.

But firepower was not everything.For every crewmen the Jarls have Four more,for every cannon they had fifteen bowmen,with flames to douse their arrows.

The ship had three columns, a center row of fire troughs their flickering flames brilliant in the darkness,with an encasing row of arrow chests their ends tipped with fecies,as to cause severe infection on contact.

 

Rain heaved onto deck, the sailes ragged anf full with untamed wind.The boat was steering of course and both others were now occupying the ocean floor.And so it was,that einar the one who fights alone was alone material weapons doing nothing more than conduct the vibrant tears of thor.

The hardened men did not weep for their loss nor will they for they are wiyh the father odin now riding on his eternal dreki, not theirs.

The rain lightened slightly and the countless rackings of thunder quietened, heaving turned to pattering and extravegant blue to a hollow white.

Hours passed and so did the mortaly wounded, along with the storm.

They avoided the eye of the gods and survived its toils,helped sick ones recover, ended the suffering of  those who would not, the cost was great a large mass in fact.

As was the number of enemy ships surrounding them.

 

A fleet no less dawnwed across the far reaches of the crimson sea.The waves misleadingly calm after the torture that just embowled them.

The bowmen on the fortyard stood next to the troughs,the salty wind pulling at their hair and peppering their faces with uplift from the sea.Crimson uplift.Other man of various calibers scurried above deck proccupied by one thing,or another.

 

A foreign ship approached from the westside of the helmsmen."FULL WIND.Heavy right,Catch the uplift."

the dreki was busy will the constant noise from the foremen.The thralls (slaves) working hurriedly as to avoid abuse.

But it was no time for abuse, the slaves knew it and the vikings knew it to.

 

Further still,the ship approached, its sailes adorned with the image of some crown, foreign to those in the dreki.They were busy too."Ready the cannons". countless naval convoys also creapt closer along the horizon,there masts flying the same colors as the ship before them.

 

Bang.The sound of cannon fire eradicating what peacfull silence remained.The gulls perched upon the long tall reaches of the sail ropes penetrating the clouds as they flapped upwards to kingdoms unknown.

The spheric balls of ebony missed their mark, their contact with the water sending waves into uncontrolled ruptures.

They rolled further along the crimson waves, and the outland ships crawled towards them,along with the inevitable end.

The raid

 Tall towers of a lustrious white erected into the sky, the trees waved and shivered with the wailing wind.Thick black smoke clouds polluting the rural air capturing the image.

 

This is the kirkland.A holy and sanctified place its pure soils almost as important as the gods who made it,And yet here it was. Its towers burning,its occupents routed, its soils desecrated.

   

Herleif blew his warhorn the triumphant sound of yet another victory. Tonight they would drink norse meads, sing, dance and enjoy the compny of women under the stars,as all things of importance are beared for the stars to see. Tonight,not now.

Now their was the matter of what petty survivers remain ther holy place ruined. Along with the false piety of their gods.

Their very pride extinguished and soon, them too.

 

Two men charged towards Herleif, their chainmail clinking and steps unfaultering as they established their resolve.But Herleif had already established his. The more brittle of the two charged forfeiting strength for speed as he sidestepped and swung his shortsword in an arc whilst thrusting his dagger at the vikings head, The movement was fast and clumsy the rusted surface deflected easily as the two one minuite dorment axes swung from Herleifs side and to action.Herleif hit the bone of the forearm with his leather hilt,and pulled the man forward swiping his right leg as he did so, sending the short warrior to the floor and finishing him with a swift slice to the stomach,His lifeforce draining out, if his life source were the entrails now pouring from the wound.

The seconds man confidence evaporated along with beads of sweat adorned upon his skin,his brow wet with perspiration and hist breath ragged with the stench of death.He was younger Herleif noted, his aubern strand floating as deftly as a bird behind him,hopefully he would prove more of a challenge.The warrior thrusted forward with his longsword and followed through with a pommel bash, his grunts of effort made him sound weak.

Herleif let out a war cry his voice making him sound strong.

They continued to trade blows until Herleifs axe nipped harshly at the warriors throat blood leaping profusely from the wound as he fell.

 Their were several cries of approval and one last cry from the dying knight.

Herleifs next cry was thick with the boast of victory, his arms veins and muscles bulging,along with the countless war scars upon his face the beard obscuring the view of his mouth and sometimes his words.

 

Many fell,and many more were captured the men passed women round like disposable instruments and slit the throats of those who did not beg for mercy,and some of those who did.

Approaching the main tent,Herleif could hear their deep voices from here,"The boats come andwe do nothing we are norse warriors not the feeble milkdrinkers that you would have us be". With that ugnar stormed from the war council a few sympathizers trailing as sheep behind him.Ugnar spat at his feet.His followers sneered.And Herleif broke, his fist thrusting forward sending ugnar and his now bloody spit trailing and howling as the wind does.A few sympathizers backed away,others bared up snarling becoming more wolfish than sheeplike.But they were just wolves and he was the alpha.

The first man swung at the same time as the second.Herleif ducked,the two men dislocating eachothers jaw on contact and Herleif grabbed the first mans elbow and shoulder and snapped upwards and finished him with a swift knee to the head.

The second man was still holding his jaw."ill give him something to hold "Herleif thought dryly and smiled,and then did just that. His leg crunching upwards on the mans groin he screamed a shrill broken screech and fell, weeping as a newborn does in the arms of its mother.It was Herleifs turn to spit the opque liquid landing at the mans feet.

 

"HERLEIF, show some respect, wailed havardr. You talk of respect and yet you dihonour us all ugnar is right and you are wrong,Herleif barked i hit him for spitting at me but i would sooner hit you for what you have done.

 

With that Herleif padded off his heavy steps leaving tracks in the snow.

And for a moment there was peace.For a moment their was just the trees and stars.For a moment it was just him.

For a moment.Then he heard the shouts...

 

The council

some Voices bellowed and shouted. some men lay silent with discontempt.All were worried the pained look of defeat and nervousness apparent to all but eachother.

 

The council had began at noon, the orange sun projecting beams of gold across the crimson sea and into the trees of the kirkland. Bullgraaf had spoken first is voice deep and solemn the moustach of his upper lip unkempt and uneven, "The new day has dawned and war is our ONLY option"He shreeked his voice breaking under determination.Others agreed including ugnar who then spoke out for himself,"the boats come and we do nothing we are norse warriors not the feeble milkdrinkers that you think us to be" his voice was thick with hatred and disgust and with that he left spitting at the young and brash Herleifs feet,causing a somewhat small commotion.

 

Others left the tent after that, their fearsome helmets and boiled leathers reflecting what little light reached through the canopy.A large group of men flocked after Herleif, Ugnar among them. His rough skinned hands red with blood as be cradled the damaged cartilage of his nose.

 

The council resumed their meeting shortly after,The hardened norse warriors disgruntled as they agreed to unwelcome terms. "We must regroup our fleet may yet succeed have faith that the father odin will