Free Gateway to Nifleheim by Unknown Page A

The rest of the knights each sat in their chosen place. As Claradon recited the prayer, a page turned a handled wheel beside one of the plinths, which caused the plinth to rotate. Carvings on the plinth’s surface depicted images or symbols evoked by each line of the prayer.
    “Look unto the north and behold the Bifrost and beyond—ancient Asgard, shining and bright, though hard and cold as the stone, the ice, and the sea,” said Claradon.
    “To the north lies Asgard,” said the men in unison.
    “Now look unto the east and behold thy brothers, thy sons, and thy comrades.”
    “Now look unto the west and behold thy sisters, thy wives, thy mothers, and thy daughters.”
    “Around us are our kinsmen, always,” said the men.
    “Now think not again of them until we march on the homeward road.”
    “Not until the homeward road,” said the men.
    “Now look unto the south and behold thy father, and thy father's father, and all thy line afore thee, back unto the beginning.”
    “Unto the beginning,” said the men.
    “Now look forward and behold thy fate. Before thee lay the paths to victory and glory, and the paths to defeat and disgrace. Intersecting these paths are the road to tomorrow, the road to Valhalla, and the road to darkness.”
    “Beware the dark road,” said the men.
    “Now look above thee and behold the all-father. He beckons us forth to meet our fate. He tells us that the path we choose is of our own making.”
    “Our path is our own,” said the men.
    “Now my brothers, vow thy path.”
    “To victory and tomorrow if we can, to victory and Valhalla if we must,” said the men. “This we vow.”
    “We will bring Lord Eotrus home, or take vengeance on his slayers if he has fallen,” said Claradon. “This we vow.”
    “This we vow,” said the men.
    “Rise now my brothers,” said Claradon, “and go to thy fate with Odin's blessing.”
    The men arose and stood silently for several moments. Sir Gabriel left his seat and quickly walked down to the dais, his squire and sergeant following. He turned and faced the men. “I’ve some gear to distribute to you before you leave,” he said loud enough for all to hear. “Everyone wait here.”
    “What’s this?” said Ob.
    Gabriel walked around the central dais, and entered the northernmost section of the hall. He and his men passed the statue of Odin, turned, and disappeared from view.
    “That is an odd thing,” said Ob. “Gabe is up to something. I didn’t even think he had a key for that door. By rights, he shouldn’t. A weapons master has got no business back there, no business at all, but there he goes, all la dee da and casual, as if he had been in there a hundred times, and them two with him. I’ll have words with Artol about this, I will.”
    “What is back there?” said Theta.
    “The ossuary.”
    “What’s that—some kind of outhouse?” said Dolan.
    “It’s the House crypts,” said Theta.
    “The place of the dead,” said Ob. “What gear does he have stowed back there? Old great-grandpap Eotrus’s rusty sword? Makes no sense.”
    “No sense at all,” said Dolan.
     
    Claradon was puzzled when he saw Sir Gabriel, Artol, and Paldor enter the ossuary. He thought that only his father, Jude, Ob, Brother Donnelin, and he were permitted entry, except during burials. Only the five of them knew that there were secret ways through the ossuary’s warren of deep tunnels. Ways that led under the wall, to emerge well into the northern hills—an escape route, should the family ever need it. That use aside, he hated the place, but when his attention was drawn to it, he found it hard to turn away. Its very look frightened him—it had since he was a little boy.
    Bleached bones were affixed to the door frame, the wall, and the door itself, and countless more were piled in great heaps on either side of the entry. Claradon knew that the bones were merely symbolic—they were not the bones of men, for such a display would be barbaric.