Trafford Publishing: Rorkruun: The Mystic Sword of Justerealm

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Rorkruun: The Mystic Sword of Justerealm

by Doug Funk

150 pages; quality trade paperback (softcover); catalogue #00-0097; ISBN 1-55212-432-0; US$17.00, C$19.50, EUR14.00, £10.00

Rorkrüün chronicles the journey of a young boy from insecure boyhood to heroic manhood, with mythical touches interlaced with his adventure

Sample Excerpts

Chapter 1

     "There goes one!" yelled Bjorn. "He's coming your way, Thor. Get 'im!" The illusive white fox Bjorn followed disappeared amongst the crags. Those pesky foxes continually ravaged the lambs in the area. Dogs didn't help because they were only used during the sheep gathering time at the oncoming of winter. He hoped it would cross the path of his best friend, Thor, just over the ridge. Thor also came from the Icelandic village of Sudavik.
     "Did you get him?" he hollered... no answer.
     This hunt, set up by the elders of the village and surrounding district, celebrated the beginning of summer in the Christian year one thousand and one. His hope, to get one of the rewards being offered to young people for any fox skins they brought in. Maybe, if he got some, it would help to make his father take some pride in him.
     Hiking high into the hills with Thor, they moved further away from the sea. Tired from the climb, he leaned against a gigantic stone. Wow! The spectacular view of the countryside and the wind-frothed sea beyond created a beautiful picture. Very spectacular, he thought, as he slid down to rest. Something jabbed him as he moved his back against the boulder.
     Turning around, he noticed a nodule, somewhat like a handle, protruding from the stone, which seemed oddly out of place. Curious, he started twisting, turning and pushing on it, thinking he could pull it from the stone.
     What's happening thought Bjorn? It moved, it really moved, the whole boulder moved. Rotating slowly, it gradually exposed a vast opening disappearing into the side of the barrow. With his heart in his throat, he could only stand there, petrified, as it slowly revolved. What fearsome power set this huge rock in motion, he wondered? What about the cavern? Could this have been the home of the grotesque Trolls he'd heard about? Legend stated those ugly inhabitants of elfdom had been turned to stone by a witch's spell placed upon them by one of the handmaidens of Freya, wife of the Great God Odin. Could other Trolls still be alive, maybe in this cave?
     "Thor," he shouted. "Thor-r-r, come here, quick!"
     "What's the matter?" Responded Thor, coming from behind an outcropping close by, a red streaked white fox dangling from his belt.
     "Look!" pointed Bjorn. "Look what I've found."
     When Thor came up, Bjorn, in a state of excitement, told him what happened. Peeking anxiously into the passageway, with Thor looking over his shoulder, Bjorn expected hordes of ferocious demons to come racing toward him with murderous zeal. Nothing! Give thanks to the Goddess Hel of the underworld, he thought. Nothing!
     "This is unbelievable," uttered Bjorn in a subdued, fear-stricken voice. "This stone moved, and look what's behind it. What magic can move such a monstrous piece of rock? I think we should stay out of there, something tells there's danger here. The power which makes boulders move goes far beyond my feeble ability to handle."
     "Mine too,* exclaimed Thor, *but we have to go in there. Never, ever, have we discovered anything as exciting as this. I don't want to miss this chance, especially since these weird things have been happening. You must hide your fears, Bjorn, be strong. We mustn't miss this opportunity."
     "But what will my father say? If we get lost in there, how will they know where we are? I'm scared."
     "We've always found our way out of these caves in the past and we will again. Don't get yourself all worked up, and quit worrying about what your father will say or think. I get sick of hearing you worrying about him. Think about yourself for a change. I'll be with you all the time and I'll protect you," assured Thor, gripping his friend's small shoulder, for he'd grown much bigger than Bjorn.
     "But I'm really frightened. Who knows what could be in there?" uttered Bjorn.
     "Forget your stupid fears, let's get going," prompted Thor in disgust. "Come, we must make torches to find our way through the caverns."
     Without further discussion they made their way back to the hollow where hot pitch bubbled out of the ground next to a cluster of steam vents. Plut, plut, plut, as the bubbles built they popped and burst, just like when his mother made pudding at home. Bjorn saw these vents wherever he went in Iceland. Many times before, in their explorations of caverns, they'd used this tar pit.
     Bjorn helped Thor find two sturdy sticks nearby and thrust their ends into the thick, black liquid tar. He dipped them several times and then he and Thor rushed back to the opening. Bjorn laid his bow and arrows beside the entrance so he could pick them up on their way out and Thor did the same. Weapons like these, he found, became useless in the confining darkness of a cavern. Thor placed his dead fox next to them and wiped his hands on his jerkin to get rid of the sticky blood.
     Taking his flint and steel and some dried grass he found near the entrance, Bjorn started a small fire and lit one of the torches. They kept the second torch as a spare, just in case the first one burned down. Also, he shoved more dry grass into a pocket in his tunic to help start another fire if they needed it.
     Cautiously, Bjorn and Thor crept into the dank and spooky cave. Like most caves, it smelled of mold and heavy dampness and echoed every tiny sound. The passageway proved spacious, so they didn't have to crouch down as with most other caves in the area. Bjorn wasn't surprised at this because, if Trolls used it, the opening would have to be large. The rough-hewn tunnel seemed to slope on a slight incline downwards and for a good distance it stayed fairly straight. Turning the first sharp corner, they spotted what looked like a pile of rubble.
     "What's that?" whispered Bjorn.
     Moving closer, the torch lit the area and revealed it to be more than just debris. It seemed to be a pile of clothing.
     "Look! Bones!" breathed Thor.
     "There's more than bones," murmured Bjorn, "it's a whole skeleton. Don't touch it. The dead spirits could take our souls. Be careful! Keep back! Look at the odd clothing it's wearing. He must have been a warrior; notice the metal chain-stuff under his leather jerkin. And the helmet, look at all the decoration on it."
     "And look here," said Thor, reaching, "a sword, and a big one. Look how much it is graven. From the weight of this sword, he must have been very strong. I wonder why he died here, so near to the entrance. His torch looks like it burned up all of its pitch. "
     "I've never seen a skeleton before," said Bjorn, "I find this unnerving. Spirits always linger with the dead and I don't want those spirits taking over my senses. I wonder if the warrior's soul has yet departed to the land of the dead, or whether his ghost still walks these caves? Let's get out of here," said Bjorn. Looking around apprehensively, he half expected to see a glowing form of some sort behind him and sighed with relief when nothing appeared.
     "Maybe he didn't have any light to see by, or maybe he couldn't find his way out." After this startling comment, they looked at each other and scrambled as fast as they could back to where they'd entered the cavern to make sure the door remained open.
     A dead-end! Not a trace, gone! Vanished! They'd found the right spot, Bjorn felt sure, but the opening just disappeared. Nothing, no signs at all, not even a crack down the wall.
     "This isn't possible," said Thor, sounding a little shaky, "Could there have been a turn we missed in the shadows?" With great care, they retraced their steps, checking every inch until they again reached the skeleton. Now, thought Bjorn, really feeling jittery, what are we going to do. The only exit they knew about no longer existed. They would have to continue on and try to find another way out. The usually fearless Thor also looked nervous. Quickly, Thor reached down and took the dead warrior's sword. With fear driven steps Bjorn crept down the tunnel, imagining the torments the gods held in store for them. Thor followed closely on his heels.
     "This is frightening," moaned Bjorn. " How do we get out of here? We have no food except for our lunches, and our gut bags hold our only water. We could die like the warrior back there."
     "I know," said Thor, "but we must keep going and watch for another way out, as quickly as we can. Besides, this sword is very heavy. The warrior must have been overly strong to be able to carry it, but then, he may have been a lot older than me."
     He hardly finished saying this when they came to a split in the tunnel. One branch angled downward and to the left, and the other one turned to the right.
     "This tunnel looks like it goes deeper," said Bjorn, pointing to the left hand opening. "The other one looks as if it stays at this level, so I think we should try it. I don't want to go any deeper if I don't have to."
     "I agree, let's go," declared Thor, and turned off into the right-hand passage.
     This passageway contained many crooks and bends as it went along. "We must be careful not to miss any possibility of a way out, so let's take our time and check every hump and hollow," said Bjorn. Leading the way, he rounded a corner, and found himself in a large room. There, in the center, stood a huge monolith, which looked like a tombstone.
     "Oh. Odin p-p-preserve us," stammered Bjorn, "we m-must be in a b-burial ch-chamber. L-look, this stone has r-runes marked all over it."
     "You know a bit about runes, what do you think it says?"
     "Well, I don't know everything, "said Bjorn, calming down, "I'll try to figure this out. Let me see," Bjorn studied the stone markings with care for quite a while, drawing from the knowledge his father passed on to him. Bjorn's father taught him things about Runes and other things, but he also picked on him all the time, reminding him of his puny size and telling him he would never amount to anything. He felt his father loved him, but because of the constant ranting, Bjorn lacked confidence in his ability to accomplish anything. The sheep dogs got more attention than he did, he thought. Because of this, he clung to his close friend, Thor who never put Bjorn down or made him feel useless.
     Thor wandered over to the wall. "Bjorn, this cavern is covered with runes. It would take you a week to read them all."
     "I guess so. It seems this room is called the Chamber of Knowledge, and all the information stored here is for the benefit of all men. You must remember I am not an expert in this translation stuff. Maybe some of these other runes could tell us how to get out of here."
     "Wonderful. And where would you start to read?" Thor exclaimed sarcastically, as he roved around the walls of the huge cave. "It must have taken people years to chip these markings into the stone."      Bjorn stopped here and there as they moved around, and read some of the other runes, thinking he might get lucky.
     "You're right, we can't stop to study all of this," stated Bjorn, concern in his voice, "our torches would run out long before I could finish, then we'd be in deep trouble. It doesn't look like we'll find any other tunnels leading from this room, so we'd better go back and take the other passage."
     "O.K., let's get a move on, we don't want to run out of light and end up like the swordsman."
     Spurred on by that comment, they returned to the main tunnel and went downward into the left fork. Bjorn noticed steps cut into the stone. "What manner of men chiseled all these stairs into solid rock. Could they have been other than men? Maybe goblins, or could dwarfs or trolls have made these caves while they mined for gold and silver?" Bjorn blurted these thoughts as they walked. However, this new trail seemed straight, at least not like the last one.
     " I don't care who made them," quipped Thor, "as long as they're not living here now."
     They moved on, and then, all of a sudden, they heard a faint sound like a breeze rustling the leaves of trees. Bjorn stopped, frightened.
     "Shush! Listen!" He breathed. "Someone's in this cave!"
     "Let's hope not," whispered Thor, "it sounds like the wind, but it can't be. The flame from our torch isn't bending to any breeze. It must be something else. Let's go on, but be careful, and don't make any noise."
     The corridor started to level out, which made Bjorn happy because he thought they'd soon be down to sea level if they went much deeper. As they padded along, the sound got louder, until it became so deafening they could only communicate by talking loudly and eventually, by shouting. Also, the path began getting slippery.
     "This is deafening enough to wake up ten drunks," yelled Thor.
     Stumbling around a turn in the passage, Bjorn and Thor discovered the source of the noise. There before them appeared a subterranean river tearing its way through the solid rock and churning up great plumes of white water, spray, and mist. Stopping, they peered through the haze at the beginning of a bridge spanning the void. The other end of the bridge disappeared into the dense vapor.
     "Should we go across?" Asked Bjorn, nervously.
     "We have no choice. This is the only way out, as far as we know. We have to follow it," bellowed Thor. Tentatively, he tested the surface of the span and shouted, "You can see it is well made. From the looks of the moss covering everything, it must've been here for a hundred years."
     Being careful not to slip on the wet moss, they scurried across the bridge. It wasn't a great distance, maybe only about a hundred feet. Reaching the safety of the far side made them feel better, even though they didn't have any idea what still might lie ahead for them. However, it didn't take long to find more curious signs.

Reviews

Local author pens Viking page-turner

by Alex Browne
Arts Reporter

Move over Harry Potter and friennds; there's room on the shelf of the avid reader for Bjorn, Thor and the rest of their Viking crew.

Local author Doug Funk's Rorkruun, The Mystic Sword of Justerealm, is what used to be described, around the dawn of the last century, as a rattling good adventure story.

The tale of two boys from Iceland - Thor, son of a fisherman, and Bjorn, undersized son of a sheep farmer - who sail with viking captain Kjarvald to the remote land of the Inuk people (part of Canada today), this slim volume provides an absorbing read that is easily accessible to the yong and young at heart.

First time author Funk has a knack of spinning an intriguing yarn, and some earyly awkwardness of dialogue and exposition is soon swept aside, with the sure sweep of a Norseman's blade, by his fast-moving narrative.

The book also benefits greatly from richly evocative line drawing illustrations by local artist and realtor Bonnie Moy.

As the title suggests, there is a magical, mystical element to the story - but it never succumbs to standard sword and sorcery posturing. And, as its author says, "there's not a cuss word in the whole thing."

At heart, it's the rite of passage of two young men through such adventures as whale hunting, attacks by raptors wolves and a great Ice Bear, a reminder of the basic human values that unite all races and times, and a painless history lesson that imaginatively paints an authentic picture of life in the year 1001.

Part of its strength is that it uses one of the best expository devices invented - the ability to create a convincing world by allowing us to see it through the eyes of novice characters who must quickly assimilate its lessons (the Luke Skywalker/Harry Potter formula).

Through Bjorn and Thor's experiences we learn about farming and fishing communities in Iceland, about ancient clocks and navigational techniques, and that the Vikings - recipients of some of the worst press through the ages - were as much about peaceful trading and explorationas picturesque plundering. This speaks to both Funk's careful research and his own Icelandic/Vicking heritage.

The 69 year-old author grew up in Selkirk, Manitoba, but his maternal grandparents emigrated from Iceland in 1902. He's sure that his grandfather's stories of the old country and the Vikings must have planted a few seeds that are now coming to fruition in Rorkruun.

"I've no idea where the story itself came from," the retired sales and marketing manager said.

"I sat down and started typing one day about two boys who were going hunting for white foxes and it just grew and grew from there. It just came that way, and I think because of that it's such an exciting book."

Funk, whose previous literary efforts were usually amusing letters recounting his experiences through Europe and the Orient, belongs to an unofficial writers group that includes Ed Griffin, who teaches writing courses in Surrey.

"He's a good teacher and a good friend, and people have been very good in correcting my mistakes - one guy, for instance, used to be in the Navy and jhe set me straight on a few sailing details."

The book also derives some of its authenticity and evocative power from Funk's lifeling love of nature and the wilderness - at one time he was one of the top bird carvers in Canada.

But Funk has also done exhaustive research to make his tale more realistic and authentic to its era.

"In any writing, if your facts aren't straight about your setting people will notice it," he said.

His grandfather had a copy of the Edda, a collection of Icelandic sagas dating from the years 850 to 1100, the time of the Vikings. But Funk has been able to flesh out his tales with facts from other research. It's taught him a lot about the people, he said, and about their capabilities as explorers and traders.

"I've always thought that all kinds of them landed on the shores of North America. When Leif Ericson found Greenland he took 24 ships with him, but only 15 arrived. Did all of those perish?

"Their seagoing ships were so well designed and so flexible they could go anywhere."

For information on Rorkrunn, contact Funk at 535-3302

REVIEWED IN "SAULT THIS WEEK", SAULT STE MARIE, ONTARIO

As book lovers scramble to buy up editions of Harry Potter and other adventure books, Canada now has its very own novel that brings magic and mystery to new levels.

Doug Funk will be in town to autograph copies of his adventure novel Rorkruun, The Mystic Sword of Justerealm. There will be a very special book-signing event tomorrow and Saturday at the boutique Studio in the Churchill Plaza.

Funk delves deep into his Icelandic heritage to spin a tale of Vikings, shipwrecks, mysticism, bear attacks and much, much, more. In other words, a thrilling tale for all ages.

What makes this story outstanding is that it is told in a very convincing way through the eyes of the main characters.

The story centers around two young Viking boys who are stranded in the ancient land of the Inuk, which is now part of the Canadian Arctic.

The story takes place at the turn of the millennium—in the year 1001. Funk paints a thrillingly accurate picture of day-to-day Viking life, which is a sharp contrast to one that is usually found in stories and film.

The 69-year old writer traced his roots through his maternal grandparents, who emigrated from Iceland in 1902. Raised on his grandfather's stories of the old country, Funk developed a real appreciation for Viking history and culture.

For example, his grandfather had a copy of the Edda, a collection of Icelandic sagas dating from the years 850 to 1100.

Although Funk is keen on putting the reader in as accurate a setting as possible, the story is completely original and follows a universal theme of triumph over incredible obstacles.

The boys survive a thrilling adventure before returning to Iceland. They experience such adventures as whale hunting, attacks by wolves and a Great Ice Bear.

The two boys, Thor and Bjorn, sail with the Viking captain Kjarvald to the remote land of the Inuk.

The tale does ring a bell of authenticity as it mirrors the travel of Leif Ericson and other Viking heroes.

Funk's vivid description of the abundant nature in the new world makes this tale an even more special one.

Funk's stunning detail of nature and history makes this tale a classic. The book signing event will be a family affair, as Boutique Studio owner George Funk is Doug's brother.

Rorkruun, The Mystic Sword of Justerealm is Doug Funk's first novel.

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Sample Excerpts

Chapter 1

Reviews

REVIEWED IN "SAULT THIS WEEK", SAULT STE MARIE, ONTARIO

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