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the town seeped with vestiges of magic, long left in the very stone of its walls and the older structures. Tiny pieces of it wafted through the air at times, breaking free from the confines of Hedmark’s foundations. Mercifully, the magical tendrils were just that, unused energies from the aurae and enchanted weapons of those who had fought for the territory from days long gone. They didn’t carry memories or emotions of their owners or those who passed through the ancient town.

There must have been a lot of magical energy expended in those days for such power to be embedded in the stones,thought Tyler as the party walked through the massive gates. Many mages were apparently involved in the war for this region.

Right after the well-defended entrance, the party found they could see the town proper. A mere fifty feet of clear area separated the wall from the structures of the settlement which itself was located in a vast, though lowered, area. As Tyler looked between the high walls and the top of the buildings, he noticed that not one of the roofs of buildings near the wall towered over it. He nudged Tyndur and pointed out that fact.

“Hedmark started as a military stronghold, though the jarl then made allowances for a civilian presence in the future. But there is an ancient rule that the tops of any building inside the trelleborg must not be seen from the outside,” answered the einherjar.

“Prevents ranging by heavy mágganon, as the Greeks call it. Basically, stone-throwing machines. A primitive heavy weapon, but still serves its purpose,” casually remarked Kobu.

“Mágganon? Oh, I take you mean what we called mangonels,” said Tyler. “I assume you have knowledge of other siege equipment?”

“Of course, sire. War characterized my homeland for so long that knowledge of such machinery had become a necessity for warriors. We incorporated weapons and tactics from other realms, hoping to gain any advantage we could get in those countless battles and sieges. My mercenary experience was also an eye-opener, especially with what the Imperii Romani had, but—as expected—they zealously guarded the secret of such weapons. But not to the extent that one with a mathematical bent couldn’t figure out the mechanics of those set upon their walls.”

“I assume that’s you?” said the mage. The group had started walking down a smooth inclined road.

“Oh, no, sire. Several of my men. Imperii Romanii cities on their frontier were constantly under threat from those coming from what they called the Terra Barbara – half of the island continent they called home. I lost a lot of my men in that job.”

“What people did you fight in that kingdom?” Tyler asked, intensely curious.

“Different tribes, even armies from unknown cities. Oddly, there was one battle where we fought warriors who looked like those from Skaney. That fight cost us. Excellent opponents. Imagine a tribe of Tyndurs, and you’d get the idea,” grinned Kobu. “I believe they’re called the Heruli.”

“I am afraid I haven’t heard of them,” answered the mage.

“Nor have I,” added Habrok.

“It’s a myth. There’s only one Tyndur,” emphasized the einherjar.

“And that’s a good thing too,” remarked Habrok, to the laughter of everyone in the group. The mage saw Aage’s shoulder shaking with mirth.

Well, at least that broke the ice and showed him we’re not a sphincter-challenged bunch.

The mage considered the ramparts of the defensive fortification to be curiously constructed. The outer face of the eight-foot wall was made of stone blocks, two feet deep. But resting against the stone was packed earth, held in place by thick logs bound together by iron chains. Further stability was provided by large wooden buttresses. Stone stairs led to the top, again paved with the material.

Men were busy adding wooden grilles with sharp protrusions to the front of the wall. Others were likewise engaged in other preparations; iron vats were being placed at regular intervals, spears and arrows being brought up. A second line of defense, a fence of logs with stakes in front, was also hastily being constructed in the open field between the wall and the nearest town buildings. The mage could see a few catapults being set up as their ammunition was piled up beside the heavy weapons.

“What are those iron vats?” Tyler asked Habrok.

“Fire vats, sire. For archers and their flame arrows, and a source of illumination at night,” explained Habrok.

“Well, the jarl seems to know what he’s doing, even though I heard Jarl Geir is young for the position. The arrangement of those lines of sharpened stakes outside the wall was perfect,” observed Tyndur.

“The defenses could use some more improvements though,” added Kobu. “They will not be fighting against men, but an immense tide of dead flesh and bones. When faced with a mass of water approaching your harbor, it would help if one had more breakers to lessen the force of the tide when it reached the shore.”

“I understand what you mean. I hope you get the chance to put what you said into action,” said Tyndur.

“They seem to have more than enough arrows. I’m happy with that. But I still need a mace,” observed Habrok.

“I’ll find you one, Habrok,” offered the einherjar. “One with a long handle. Standard maces won’t be of help here. Those bastards will just have the opportunity to bite your hands. Long-dead rotting mouths with yellowed, diseased teeth. Quite unhealthy. A fact which reminds me – we’d better check our gauntlets. And a neck guard. I hate the idea of one of those things chomping down on my throat.’

The mage heard the discussion among the companions but kept on looking over the town. Tyler found the settlement a mix of the old and new. Ancient but well-kept wooden longhouses and residences provided a quaint contrast to the newer stone buildings. One could see trees along the road and in the neighborhoods. Small parks were a frequent sight and most had wells. Along the road, numerous business establishments ranged from inns to shops selling jewelry. It would have been a pleasant

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