The Long Way by Aaron Redfern
What they say: In a move that defies all logic and likelihood, a young boy named Spiff is called upon to carry out the most important quest that has ever been undertaken. His mission drags him headlong across the face of the world, through a veritable pantheon of hardships and threats that are at once chilling and baffling. Along the way he meets dragons and madmen, and learns that the lovable and the monstrous are two sides of the same coin.
Conceived as a darkly whimsical loose retelling of the Tolkien saga, The Long Way poses the question that high fantasy rarely cares to ask: Why?
- Young Adult Fantasy/Adventure - Released 19th May 2012.
Excerpt from The Long Way:
The ground was moving.
Spiff was slung across the blond warrior’s
shoulder, arms dangling limply across the man’s back, tapping against the
leather armor in time with the feet that were passing out from behind the
warrior’s buttocks directly in front of him.
It was a disorienting view.
“Awake, little thrall?” the blond one
said. “We have not been introduced. I am Eyjolf, second most warlike among men.”
“I’m Spiff,” said Spiff. He wasn’t sure Eyjolf heard him.
The warrior set him down and set beefy
hands on each of his shoulders. “Awake
so soon! That’s what I like to see. You’ve got some real spirit.” The world was right side up again, and the
rest of Eyjolf’s men were there, plodding along. “This is my warband. Remember who they are. You’re our thrall. But really, it’s not so bad. There are plenty of bands in the hall, but
none of them has half as good a time as us.”
Spiff didn’t know what a thrall was, but he
was already getting the feeling that they were not going to let him go. Where was Euclid?
They hadn’t gone very far by the time they
reached the warriors’ home. Like so many
things that Spiff had seen since leaving his small town, it was inconceivably,
unreasonably huge. The whole structure
was made of iron, and its walls rose hundreds of feet straight into the
air. The triangular roof was made of
what looked like thousands of overlapping golden shields. The double doors at the entrance were made of
gold as well, and were wide enough for Eyjolf’s entire warband to walk through
abreast, with room to spare. As they
came closer, Spiff saw that the iron walls were covered in bas relief carvings
of battle scenes. One carving depicted a
man charging into a row of spears, and another showed a dragon with a pair of
legs protruding from its mouth, and a handful of other men hacking futilely at
its feet with axes. The carving was
large enough for the grins on their faces to be quite unmistakable.
Another wing was being built off of the
side of the main hall, but was incomplete.
Squares of iron wall had been erected in patches, and behind them were a
skeletal layer of vertical beams. It
looked like it would be every bit as large as the existing building when it was
finished.
“Welcome to Nornheim, home of the Nornmen,”
said Eyjolf, sweeping his hands out before him.
“And welcome to the Hall.”
“The wildest place on earth,” one of the
warriors chimed in. There was a
unanimous cheer of assent.
A man was standing in the center of the
doorway, and even the high doors of the hall could not make him appear
dwarfed. He was the biggest man Spiff
had ever seen. He was a full head taller
than Eyjolf and half again as broad, and formed from pure muscle, though his
stature was so great that he could have been one of the iron carvings
superficially clothed in flesh.
Everything about him bulged. His
blocky shoulders bulged out of the sides of his iron breastplate, and his arms
bulged down from there. His legs bulged
up from leather boots that could have crushed a thousand insects in a single
prodigious step. His face was hidden
beneath a black helm; steel ram’s horns curled around the sides of it. A shaggy brown beard bulged out beneath the
lip of the helm. He hefted a warhammer
in one hand that Spiff could not have dragged with two.
“Only one, Eyjolf?” said the man. He chuckled, and Spiff felt his chest
shake. “The great raider returns, with
one thrall to show! Perhaps you followed
in my wake by mistake, and took only what remained.”
“Anyone can collect women and children,”
said Eyjolf. “I slew a wizard today.”
The big man pounded his chest with a
fist. “I have been the bane of a hundred
hundred men. I have rid the Gollsfjall
mountains of trolls. I have broken the
backs of bears. The gods—”
“—Hear your name and tremble,” Eyjolf
finished.
“Aye,” said the big man. He laughed and strode into the hall.
“That’s the Smitemaester,” said
Eyjolf. “Greatest champion of the Hall.”
“He has never been killed,” one of the
Nornmen said reverently, looking after the receding figure with a look of mixed
envy and awe. “Not even once.”
“Keep away from him, if you know what’s
good for you,” Eyjolf told Spiff.
Aaron has written three novels, including The Long Way and its sequel, The Forgotten Way. His short-fiction titles include Stories About the Rain and Crawl.
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