Fugitive From Hel
Evil Has A Name
" Now you be quiet Kjøtt, or I will kill you, and leave your rotting carcass for the wolves ! " he whispered to his horse as he removed a thick rope from the saddle.
Serkr walked back down the road and found two strong trees, with nice thick trunks at their bases, that were directly across from one another. He tied the rope to the tree closest to the side he had left his horse, and then crossed the road letting out rope as he went. He then wrapped the other end of the rope around the tree directly across from the first, but did not tie the end. Serkr allowed the rope to sit on the road for a moment, and then with a mighty pull he jerked the rope tight raising it about four feet off of the ground.
" Yes ! That should do quite nicely ! " he convinced himself.
Serkr allowed the rope to drop back down onto the road and then sat down behind the tree and waited. He did not have very long to wait. Shortly after the sun had set behind the far hills Serkr heard the unmistakable sound of a horse's hooves coming down the road towards the town of Horten.
Serkr quickly rose up onto his knees and grabbed hold of the end of the rope.
" This will be as easy as taking bread from an old hag ! " he told himself with an evil laugh.
When the rider approached he kept himself hidden until the last possible moment. Then, just as the horse came upon his position, Serkr pulled as hard as he could on the rope. As the rope became tight it snapped up into the legs of the horse tripping up the animal, and spilling the rider hard onto the road.
As the horse righted itself , it quickly galloped away leaving the rider alone. Serkr pulled out his knife and hurriedly came out from behind the tree. He ran over to the badly injured man, who was moaning, and wasted no time plunging his knife into the body of the helpless man again and again. At first the thrown rider flailed his arms out desperately trying to fend off Serkr's knife, but soon he began to spit up blood, and a moment later he became still.
Serkr, however, had gone into a killing frenzy ! Over and over he plunged his large seax knife into the dead man's chest and stomach. By the time the intense thrill of killing the man had left him there was little left but a head and legs.
When he stopped shaking, and gained control of himself, Serkr grabbed the man's arms and began to pull the corpse off of the road and into the woods. As he reached the edge of the road he suddenly realized how badly he had mutilated the man's body. With a sickening sucking sound the body separated at the abdomen leaving the lower torso on the road. The sudden release of the extra weight made the upper body of the corpse go flying over Serkr's head and knocked him backwards into the woods. The upper torso, which Serkr still had a hold of landed behind him with the dead man's head landing very near his own.
Serkr looked the corpse in its dead eyes and asked very seriously.
" Why, my good man, have you gone all to pieces ? " he inquired before breaking down into a hysterical laughter.
After dumping the upper torso deep in the woods Serkr came back and went through the money pouch worn by the lower torso. There he found three brass pennies, and a silver coin.
" Not bad for a night's work ! " he whispered happily to himself.
Serkr dragged the lower torso by the legs into the woods and flung it into a patch of thick bushes. As the torso flew through the air the man's bowels flew out in all directions.
" You animals are going to eat heartily tonight ! Fresh meat for all !! " he yelled into the trees.
Serkr heard his own stomach begin to rumble with hunger. As he walked back to Kjøtt he rubbed his belly in a feeble attempt to relieve the emptiness he felt there.
" I hope the townspeople are as hospitable as that gentleman rider was ! " he told himself with an evil grin on his face.
Serkr untied Kjøtt and led it back through the woods to the road before mounting his horse. As he slapped the reins against the horse, and kicked it in the belly to make it gallop, Serkr began to whistle. With his murderous side hidden back deep within the darkest recesses of his soul he was now happy. But even he knew on some level that this temporary euphoria would not last.
As Serkr approached the town of Horten he noticed one small farm house off by itself. He smiled when he saw the smoke rising out of the little dwelling.
" I wonder why they built their house so far away from the town ? " he asked himself.
He then added.
" From way out here no one would ever hear them scream ! "
Serkr walked his horse up near the house, jumped off near a row of trees, and tied Kjøtt to the nearest one. Dark clouds had moved in blocking out the moon, and it appeared that it might rain at any moment. By midnight it would not do to be out in the elements.
" It is a good thing I found a nice warm place like this ! " he told himself happily.
Serkr knocked on the door twice, and then waited. He heard footsteps coming from a distance, and then the creaking of floorboards, before the door cautiously opened halfway. Slowly a man's face appeared from around the edge of the door.
Serkr immediately went into an act of kindness and humbleness.
" I am sorry to bother you my friend, but I have been traveling a long distance, and I am in need of your hospitality for the night. " he told the man in a pleasant tone.
As the man peered around the corner of the door he looked Serkr up and down, but at first said nothing.
Serkr gave the man a concerned frown before continuing.
" All I require is a bite to eat, and a warm place by the fire to sleep. I assure you that I will be of little bother to you. " he added in his nicest voice.
The man finally nodded and opened the door the rest of the way.
" I am Valdemar, and the woman tending to the pot on the fire is my wife Gylla. We welcome you to our house stranger. Come in and rest for a while. " he said to the traveler as he motioned for him to come in.
" My name is Serkr, and you my friend are most kind. " he replied with a nod of appreciation.
Serkr was treated to a fine meal, and several refreshing horns of ale, before being given a blanket and a pillow to bed down with by the fire. Serkr, however, had no intention of sleeping. For the night was young, and he had much to do.
When Serkr heard Valdemar begin to snore, he felt the evil urge to kill well up inside of him. Slowly, and quietly, he crawled from the fire to the couple's bed. Serkr stayed on his knees while he pulled his still bloodied knife out of his belt. He grinned as he grabbed hold of Valdemar's head, pulling it back to expose his neck. And when he thrust the knife into the man's throat, ripping out his windpipe, Serkr could not help but give out a little quiet giggle.
Valdemar struggled for only a moment before he became still. It was long enough, however, to awaken Gylla. At first she looked upon the horrid scene in shocked disbelief. When she finally realized that what she was seeing was not a dream she began to scream.
Serkr quickly covered her mouth, and pushed the knife, that still dripped her husband's blood, up against her throat.
" Unless you want to die like your husband I would strongly suggest that you be quiet ! " he told her in no uncertain terms.
Serkr removed his hand from her mouth and waited to see if she would scream again. Gylla did not scream, but she could not hold back the whimpering sounds of her grief. Realizing that for the most part Gylla seemed to be cooperating he took his knife and cut away her bed clothes. Serkr ran his hands over her ample breasts with his free hand, and then with a wicked grin pushed Valdemar's body off of the bed with his legs. As Serkr mounted his terrified host he realized that he had been correct. From where Valdemar and Gylla had built their farmhouse no one could hear a scream !
- End Part 1
- Next : Chapter 2 : The Road To Holmestrand
- Glenn Bergen, ( Ravensheart ), © Copyright, 2016.