'Arms! Get your weapons, shields. Hurry up, louts!' he shouted like a mountain would. He disappeared inside the tower like a wraith. A man wailed inhumanly inside, and we all shuddered. I prayed to Woden, and I heard the thrumming sound inside my head, Woden's dance savage, and my blood was boiling. I would fight for his honor. If I fought Leuthard, I would die for his honor. But, I had no plans to do so.
I had a champion. I nodded at Euric, and he took a tight grip of the rope, running under the water.
We waited nervously, as they got ready. It took some moments, but then a man walked out, a red painted shield in the fore, then another with a bow. They had no armor, not even Leuthard, who was following them outside. It takes time to pull chain mail on, a cumbersome process at best, and I was happy Leuthard had left out the priceless lorica hamata he usually wore. I still had mine under my tunic, the one I had taken from the guard at Burbetomagus, but it was of bad quality, and such things did matter. The men cautiously checked on the man lying on the doorway, who was as still as a stone. They walked around the top, looking around for dangers, but Leuthard walked carelessly for the edge now, the sword my father gave him swinging angrily in his hand, and he was also grasping javelins. He came to look directly at us. He knew where we were, his instincts those of a predator. The snow was billowing around us, and he squinted, with his arm blocking the flakes, but all he could see was our shadows.
I walked forward, and noticed an archer stare at the box.
'Who are you? Come here so I can see you!' Leuthard snarled at me. I drew Nightbright and hefted the sunburst Vangione shield I had looted. 'A pig sticker you have? I will use it to scrub my ass!' He laughed, as two more men followed him outside, carefully, but gathering confidence. The archer was poking at the crate. I stopped some steps in front of my friends and held my sword down in the blizzard, not bothering with any insults. 'It is foolish to try to rob us, stranger. This is no simple guard tower,' Leuthard said, cocking his head, but his voice faltered, as he noticed my helmet. I was staring up at him. He recognized me. 'Hraban!' His voice sounded incredulous, then happy, for he would love to eviscerate me.
I nodded. 'Hraban it is. Back from the exile. The foe to my father, I am here for Balderich, Bero, and Tear. And, of course, I will scrub this sword inside your ass, as you are entertaining such thoughts anyway.' He was nodding madly, unstable and perhaps a bit drunk. The archer had removed the cloth covering the box, and was peering inside it through a small hole. It would be dark in there.
'You are a stupid boy, Hraban. Always was. That is why your father screwed you over. He cannot abide stupidity, no, he cannot. Who could? Why did you come here to die? You cannot get inside the tower, and I am not stupid enough to come down there. Who knows what evil you have brewed up in your little, filthy mind,' Leuthard laughed, hefted a javelin, and threw it at me in a blink of an eye.
I put up my shield, and it clanged off the leather, spinning wildly and broken to the swamp. The men laughed at me.
'Well done, cur,' Leuthard took up another, and started mocking throwing motions towards me. I did not budge.
'You are party to the deaths of my family. You helped the murderer, at least, and you betrayed your lord, Bero, and his wife. You are no man. Spineless as Catualda is,' I sneered at him. 'Such cowards, of course, would stay up there where I cannot open up your filth-filled bellies. Will you not come down?'
He shook his head. 'I, the traitor? You are the one they call the Oath Breaker, boy, and it is not all due to your father. I was there when you made oaths to my former lord, Bero,' he said maliciously, and thumbed inside the tower. So he was still alive, my relative. 'You are like we are, only weaker. As for raping your ass down there in filth, Hraban, I would love nothing more, but I am a warrior. Have been for a long time. Despite my appetite for yellow-blooded pretenders, I am not a fool. I will come, when it is clear I will not be ambushed. It might be this very night, it might be a year from now, but I will, one day, find you. Then, you will cry in fear. My word on that.' I felt cold, shivering fear at his words. He spat at my direction. 'You are not to be trusted.' He made a lewd face. 'On Ishild, when she is not pregnant, perhaps I will marry her? She is a fair woman, and I fear no magic.'
I spat. 'I am not her man, but I will be happy to fight for the mother of my child. Cowards threaten women, Leuthard, makes them look as weak as liver. I bet even Guthbert hates you.'
His eyes twinkled. 'Oh, he does. Wants me dead, like you do. Yet, I will not speak about that, not with you.' He threw another spear at me, wickedly, snake-fast, and with such strength that it shattered through my shield, bowling me over, missing my forearm by inches. I got up, holding the pierced shield up, dazed, and despite the yell of warning from Euric, another fell by my torso, inches away.
Fulcher was running for me, hoping to pull me back, but I held my hand up with a savage snarl. I yelled at Leuthard. 'Well thrown, for a mead sodden drunk. Now. Come down. Die. Or give me Balderich.' I spat filthy water from my mouth. He growled, and whispered something to his men. Here was a prize worth taking to Maroboodus, but to take it, he would risk much. I spat at his direction. 'There is a reason why you are the one guarding a swampy tower, while they feast up there. The Marcomanni? They know you. Mothers spit at your sight, youngsters are told not to be like you, and men dream of killing you, yet are loath to do so, for there is no honor in it.' I yelled as I pointed my sword at him. 'They say you are here with these men, because you have an affair with them.'
Perhaps he would have come down for that. Never was a man as insulted as he was, and so were the men with him. He said nothing, a sure sign of the man contemplating a violent, dramatic move, but still he gritted his teeth. The archer now had his dagger out, and was grunting as he pried at the box. It cracked, and Leuthard glanced that way.
'Your brother is the best man in your family; I heard Romans call you the fat, bald cow. They say you could not challenge an elderly matron to a single combat, and your foes die from behind!' I yelled up at him. 'And now, you will come down, because I will it. Or die there. Euric!'
Euric pulled at the rope, running between his fingers. It tightened, rushing up from the filthy water, and the archer crouching next to the box fell back in astonishment as something clicked, and the end of the box fell open. I heard Euric sniffle with pride at his construction.
Have you ever heard a mountain wolverine growl, my lord Thumelicus?
It is a deeply thunderous sound, as if a storm is raging somewhere near you, but you do not know where, exactly. In any case, it fills you with trepidation, with wild terror. The sound is as primal as if torn from a mad god, the beast as awe-inspiring as an earthquake, its claws as merciless as a stormy sea, despite its relatively small size. The sound that emerged from the deepness of the box was a reverberating song of death, rushing from deep inside a cavernous, muscle-knotted hairy chest, a noise of the purest form of hate, raw, unforgiving. It was the voice of vengeance.
The dog-sized creature was utterly furious of the bouncy ride it had endured, its captivity to begin with. It had been a mother, before it fell into a trap, and sharp teeth were the first thing we saw as the brown streak flashed out of the box. They sunk to the feeble throat of the terrified archer, a man who had no time to so much as scream. He died in an eye blink as the animal tore his throat out, the corpse flapping on the ground, and staying there. Then, it raised its beady eyes up towards the men staring at it with utter surprise. It was just warming up, and the unholy light playing in its eyes told the men on that rock that their boring life was about to change, drastically.
'It cost me a lot at Hard Hill, Leuthard! Now, show us your mettle, or come down!' I laughed as the men around Leuthard shook in terror.
Fulcher whispered to me, 'What if it kills the lot of the louts and then eats Balderich? And this Bero? Or us?'
I cursed softly, and prayed to Woden. A man cannot plan for every eventuality.
A wolverine can smell terror. It loved every moment up there on the ro
ck. It was fast, the rock was small, and the men were weak. Its awkward gait brought it towards the nearest man; it jumped and clawed at his crotch, tearing a weirdly bloodless chunk off his forearm, the man uselessly trying to ward himself. I nodded at Fulcher, Euric, and Ansbor, and they ran up, following me as we sprinted forward, pale as they saw the rare beast rage at the enemy.
Two of the enemy dropped their weapons and jumped down, falling to the frigid water. I ran after one, a man who tried to wade away. I caught up with him with a huge bound, sinking my sword in his back, pushing him under the water, where he struggled weakly for but a moment. The other one limped north, towards the swamp. Fulcher grunted as he threw his spear, the weapon spinning in the air, splitting its way through the light snowfall. The man fell, crying, as he groped for the thin blade protruding from his belly, pierced through.
Up on the rock, another man screamed in fear, and we all heard how Leuthard's sword swished in the air. There was an animal-like yelp, and then a deep curse, a pained oath, and then a savaged hand flew in the air to bounce off Fulcher's chest. Another oath bellowed forth, as Leuthard attacked the beast again, and then he screamed like a child. We could not see what was going on.
Suddenly, we saw a ball of fur, arms, legs, and blood roll down from the top as Leuthard kept his savaged forearm in the mouth of the maniac creature, his sword buried in its belly. They fell hard, but the beast did not give up, its legs furrowing meat out of the bald man's chest, making small yelping noises as the sword was sawed back and forth. We moved to stand around them. Finally, Ansbor threw a spear, and the wolverine shuddered, going still. Leuthard was bleeding profusely under it, trying to keep his face on top of the water, his face in a pained daze. His right hand was raw and red, one finger nearly lost, all skin gone from the hand. I walked casually forward and stepped on the fingers holding the sword. They did so limply, he let go with a grimace, and Ansbor picked up the tall sword.
'What shall I tell your brother?' I asked, as I placed Nightbright on his throat. The man was full of wounds, his chest a mass of red. He was surely dying.
'Tell him to burn me, and send my ashes to our father. The old man, he would appreciate it,' he said with a raspy breath, and shivered. I saw a bloody foam break out of his savaged chest. I nodded.
'I will send both of you to your father, Leuthard,' I said, and prepared to kill him.
He shuddered as he laughed bitterly. 'I do hate you, boy. Not sure why, but there you have it. Sometimes, the dogs just hate each other, for what would the world be like if we all loved each other, eh? We would be bored to tears. I will see you in Valholl,' he said, and shook in brief terror as I pressed the blade to his chest. Before I could plunge it in, he jerked crazily, rolled on his side, his face going under, and so he died, his flayed hand on top of the water.
I nodded, taking a relieved breath. I had feared that man. But, I also feared what was to follow. 'Come. I have to see what is inside.'
CHAPTER VII
We cautiously climbed up, and dispatched the one man who was still alive, his guts flowing on the ground; so many ropy entrails it was incredible. The beast had gotten stuck on the mess, for much of it was cut savagely, torn around in a struggle. Ansbor retched at the sight. I pushed the door open with my blade. I saw a hefty table, a nicely warming, roaring fire, a half-eaten horse leg, some overturned benches, and a few hay-packed niches, where one could sleep. It was a filthy room, yet, in some ways, homely.
In the corner, a chain mail was draped over a bench, one that Leuthard had used. It was heavy and free of rust, a fine thing, with a serpent's face of carved bronze in the chest. 'I'll take that,' I said, as I ran my fingers over the precious thing.
Ansbor shook his head enviously. 'Another level up there.' He pointed to the end, where a sturdy ladder was leaning on the wall, and there was a yawning darkness up there. We walked to the ladder and I got up on it, climbing up with Nightbright at the ready. Gods knew there might be someone hiding there with an axe, and then my story would be at an end. I noticed the room above was not entirely devoid of light. Something was burning up there as well, giving some comfort in the darkness. Rats scurried around. I climbed up, cautiously turning around, trying to sense danger.
Nothing. Shadows.
I stood in the semi-darkness. There were rottenly constructed wooden cages around the small cramped space, and a horrible stench filled my nostrils. I turned over a jug of water with my foot, and realized it was rancid piss.
'Hey!' Ansbor yelled from downstairs as the rivulets found a way through the floorboards.
Looking up, the snow-filled sky was plain in sight, for there was no roof and I could see a small platform up there, a place where Tear and Odo had uttered their spells, and recited terrible curses in the name of Lok. I looked at the cages. I tried to fathom the jumble of things inside them. One was a skeleton, I was sure. Then, another. I squatted to look more closely at it, and noticed it still had its hair, a silvery thing around the bony face. I fell back in terror, drawing my shallow breath, and I understood it was not a skull after all, but the emaciated face of Tear. She was unconscious in a ragged heap of filth, her old face ashen gray, and she still breathed.
'Asses,' I said. 'Damned shit-eating animals.' Even if Tear was my enemy, she had shown some remorse for the events that had taken over our lives.
'Hraban?' Fulcher asked, his voice suspicious. 'Wait, stop!' he added, and someone was climbing the ladder. Cassia's face appeared, her axe in her hand. I waved her down cautiously.
'Euric? Can you get him? And the others. Have Ansbor stand guard,' I asked her, and she blanched but nodded, whispering down the ladder. While they were climbing over the loud protests of Ansbor, I poked at Tear with a piece of wood. She stirred ever so gently, and one bloodshot eye glared at me.
'By Mogon, they have kept them in their own shit,' Cassia said, as she squatted next to me. She pushed me away as she tore the door open, stepping inside, and gently began dragging Tear out of the cage. Euric helped her.
'Odo has a lot to answer for, acts of foul cruelty and many deaths on his head, but so does my father,' I said, as I kneeled outside a cage that held a dark mass of shadows.
'Balderich? Grandfather?' I poked the shadow; it slowly rolled over, and a man came forward, pressing his ravaged face to the wooden bars. I recoiled at the dirty, old face, his one good eye rheumy, and his few teeth rotten.
It was Balderich indeed.
'Hraban? Can that be you? They told me you were dead, they told me Gunhild was dead, and they laughed,' he said weakly, as he was trembling and wearing but a torn tunic. 'So cold, Hraban. So cold.' He coughed. He was skin and bones. 'I did not betray your family. No! It was someone else.'
I wiped tears off my face. Father had duped me into betraying both Bero and Balderich, and I shuddered with hate. Cassia laid her hand on my shoulder briefly, and I nodded gratefully at her. 'I know, Grandfather. It was Catualda, and his master was my father.'
'Maroboodus,' he asked, suddenly seeming sane, for hate has a way of clearing one's mind.
'Yes. He has a lot to answer for. We are here to take you out. To safety. Burlein is out there, this night,' I told him.
'I always liked Burlein. Third son, but he had wits. No. Not wits, but he could at least laugh,' Balderich said. 'I only wanted to retire, you see. In Gaul, before we went to war with Rome. I was too old for war, and Bero, while loving peace, was no friend to the Roman Wolf.'
'Let us discuss later, Grandfather,' I said with a broken voice. 'Now, we have to get you out. Did Tear hurt you?'
He grunted in terrible anger. 'No. I was brought to them only days before Maroboodus raided this place, but what they did to Bero those nights? I believe in the gods now, Hraban. I have seen, and heard, terrible things, I have.'
'I have a battle ahead of me. Many battles, in fact, and so we shall spare her. She might talk, after all, despite being a fanatic.'
He nodded. 'You are in charge now, boy. I thank you. I do thank you. My sp
ear and shield?'
I laughed, astonished. 'Old man, you need not worry about them. We go and get them. You will have them back. And, if not them, then you will have Maroboodus's head. They were Aristovistus's once, but what we are about to do, is more important than such relics.'
He looked at me in wonder, as Fulcher helped him up on very shaky legs.
I glanced up to the platform. Balderich noticed it and nodded, taking a shuddering breath. 'He might be alive. Best kill him, Hraban.' I swallowed, and went up a creaky staircase. Cassia followed me. 'Spells were cast on him, Hraban!' Balderich screamed. 'He might not be alive, but do not touch him in any case!' Cassia was nodding at his words. We got up the stairs, and glanced around. We were very high, and could see far, if the weather and time of day allowed it. Wind was bitterly cold up there, and Bero was chained to the floor. Cassia gasped, and I had to look away.
He had no eyes and only one ear. His fingers were broken, and his knees smashed. He was a creature, only barely living, lost in the mists of pain, and he howled an inhuman scream of hate and desperation curiously mixed together, as he sensed our presence. I kneeled next to him, and could not recognize this relative of mine, a lord of the Gothoni, then of the Marcomanni. He was a careful warlord, a guardian of the people, a man Hulderic, his brother, had wronged in his fear of the prophecy, a man my father had robbed of one son, and whose other son, Catualda, had turned traitor. He was a lord I had sworn fealty to, and whom I had betrayed. He was my great relative.
'What shall I do?' I asked him weakly.
He heard me. Cassia crouched, and put an old blanket over him. He shuddered in reaction to the sudden change, terrified of the touch, whimpering weakly. I sat next to him and drew my blade. His head was sniveling around, instinctively trying to see, but he had no eyes, which did not apparently stop the tears, for he wept bitterly. 'Who is there? Who is it?' His voice was croaking, sadly begging, bottomless with fear, and hopeless. Cassia looked at me with begging eyes, making a stabbing motion.
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 11
