Richard L Cederberg
Just before 1470 a religious split occurred between two of the foremost Northern Viking tribes, the Rognvald’s, who accepted Christianity, and the Baaldurs, who chose to practice the antediluvian blood witchcrafts. For years violent wars ensued, taking thousands of lives on both sides. After the Rognvalds had endured enough bloodshed, the chosen of the First Nation departed their homes in the Orkney Islands and Northern Scotland aboard fifteen, ninety-five foot wooden vessels, to find another home in distant lands.
Five hundred and forty-two years later
For months the Heimdall crew has been pursuing the original Rognvald route towards America’s western shores. Sixty-seven days after departing Flores Island in Europe’s westernmost waters, they’ve finally arrived at the mysterious Isla Socorro in the Revillagigedo Archipelagoes.
In this second novel they continue their spirited search for the First Tribe. They resolve a conundrum about Gamelin’s Tempest sword, they discover warrior descendants from the original Viking voyage, they encounter the supreme Mortiken leader, Amalek Baaldur, and the witch, Krystal Blackeyes, they expose a shocking deception concerning King Agar’s son Magnus and the ancient assembly of Troth, and the crew’s ongoing struggle against a ruthless enemy continues challenging them beyond their abilities.
Born in Chicago Illinois and now residing in La Mesa California, Richard L Cederberg is an imaginative man with spiritual vision and purpose in all his writing. Richard was the primary songwriter, poet, and leader, in over thirty-five professional bands, and has written 1000+ compositions, poems, and stories. Since his teen years Richard has always understood the power of well constructed ideas and words as being the most effectual way to transport people into the world of imagination. Having traveled tens of thousands of miles throughout Europe, Canada, the Azorean Archipelagoes, the Yukon Territories, Alaska and the USA, Richard uses his adventurous spirit and wide-ranging artistic experience to enhance all of his stories.
The rain became torrential, and was accompanied occasionally with hail the size of marbles; I wondered how Lizzy and Rorek were weathering this, it must have been dreadfully noisy on the schooner and we all hoped that no damage would be sustained. The cave was quite remarkable and the roar of the storm outside was considerably lessened. Thankfully we’d been provided a safe, impermeable abode on this gigantic rock out in the middle of nowhere.
* * *
It was truly breathtaking, a thespian production featuring thousands of exotic fish whose interface was truly an astonishing sight. Floating motionless for several minutes, my eyes beheld a flawlessly proportioned interaction rivaling the greatest ballet or symphony I’d ever seen or heard. Mysteriously though, our presence caused only a momentary inquisitiveness, and within minutes we’d been completely accepted into this aquatic domain and soon ignored. As we followed Anders down, I noticed that the sun, reflecting down from the surface above, had become a yellowish circle with feathery edges, a golden medallion hovering and undulating with each passing wave. It was mesmerizing in this place, and while the delightful glow of sapphire water embraced us in a slowly increasing chill, we all sank deeper into the yawning cerulean gloom.
* * *
He was massive . . . a colossal Titan with epic physical proportions, a Herculean Goliath, an evil doppelganger Jack must have encountered at the top of the infamous beanstalk and catapulted down to earth to save the heavens. Time seemed to stand still as I gazed up at this gigantean ogre, and every fear I’d ever struggled with was again intimidating me with niggling lies. Wickedness dripped from his snarling, twisted features, and I feared Pandora’s Box had been opened, and with the opening, a monster savage of temper had emerged.
* * *
“How’s it going guys, anybody miss me?” Anders shouted through the window as the truck skid to a halt in the gravel.
“Nobody missed yur sorry Viking butt dude,” Garrett shouted, running over and shaking hands with Anders. “Bout time you got back, missed ya man. Hey, you ever thought about gettin a haircut homey, you could sail the Heimdall with that freak flag.”
“Naw . . .” Anders eyes flared fiercely for a moment, and then he shook his head with a chuckle, “not till you get a lawnmower and cut those nasty spikes off your head dude.”
Laughing throatily, and punching each other on the shoulders, Garrett and Anders faced off, flexed their muscles, and then wildly roared at each other while stomping the ground. Afterwards, for several moments, they both stood motionless like clouds, staring at one another, deeply entranced in mysterious contemplations.
* * *
On roughly chiseled steps, the hidden passageway descended gradually one hundred yards into a large subterranean chamber. Considering the excessive amount of moisture inundating the chamber above, it was surprisingly dry here, and the waters thunderous noise had been substantially lessened. There was an eerie calm in this place and I quickly found myself beleaguered by a profound and sudden melancholy, as if the tears of an entire nation had fallen suddenly in this one room. It seemed I was not alone in these insights either; the entire crew expressed the same feelings and all agreed that something devastating had happened here.
