'You hold me against my will,' she said, with a small whisper, holding her other arm with a clutching grip, scared. 'Why would you do so? I have my fate, and it is not with you. Never was. Not after you rejected me.'
'With Odo? Why? Don't you think now is the time to tell me? No?' I yelled at her until she shivered with fright. I kicked at the screaming man in frustration, and he went quiet. I stood over her, until I felt ashamed and turned away to check on the two men. I rummaged their pouches and the horse's bags, and took their food and a horse, which I gave to Ishild. Behind me, I saw a wolf look at the man from the shadows. It howled, and I heard it had friends. 'You will not run again.'
'Don't threaten me,' she whispered, wiping a tear. 'You do not understand.'
'No, Ishild, nor do I care to guess.' I spat, and she turned to look at the grove of wood the men had found her in. 'Where the Hel is she?'
'Who?' she asked. 'There is something up there.'
'Ermendrud.' I was gazing at the edge of the hill where the two Marcomanni had gone to fetch her. 'She was hiding there.'
'There is something else out there,' she whispered. 'I sense it.'
I took a deep breath, and guided our horses that way, Ishild clinging on to hers. There, a small clearing that was still, untouched and pristine. Then there was a tiny hissing sound in the night as wind ruffled through the hill full of wild barley. A fox was stalking its perimeter and somewhere up the incline, something hissed. It was a sibilant voice, full of malice, and I heard a crack, a meaty crack of bones. The hissing voice sighed, and spoke terrible words with a slur, almost singing. I had pulled Nightbright, as I listened to the voice.
'Whisper the pleading words in this deeper night and ask if you would: where is the morning's saving might?
Far, far from these chopped bones, my meal, that is what I shall tell you, and I will add: here there shall be no hope nor light.
Sleep, my mutton.'
I dismounted, and walked up the hill, Ishild in tow, Nightbright glinting in my hands. Up there, on the summit, a large shadow was hunched over a corpse, blocking the stars and the moon. I knew it was a corpse, for the arm was there by me, lying on the grass, drained of blood and gnawed on. The two Marcomanni were in sliced heaps near the shadow, one missing a head. The corpse jerked strangely as the thing tore at it. I was not sure if it was eating it, or just ripping it apart, sated by the very act of defilement. The thing raised its head as I approached, and it looked darkly furry, though much of that was filthy clothing. It rose up to its full height, though a bit stooped as it regarded us ferally. Its right hand was a mass of scabbed scars, looking like gray and scarlet rock. My heart was beating like it was about to burst through my chest.
It was a man, certainly, but one that was possessed.
It was horribly scarred, but the scars were not the cause of the man's debasement. This creature had been guarding the chosen of Lok, so commanded by Maroboodus, and I prayed to Woden for mercy. I thought something had crept inside him in that tower.
It was Leuthard, huge and menacing.
He chortled a bit as he regarded me, his hands still holding Ermendrud's flesh, and I nearly sobbed, as I stared at the near unrecognizable body. 'I am happy tonight, Hraban, but I am after you. Don't you worry. We shall meet soon again.' Leuthard pointed a scarred finger my way, and loped away, nearly animal-like.
He was a possessed man. Mad.
I turned to regard the white-faced Ishild. 'What do you know of this?'
'He is your father's creature, Hraban, not Odo's. When I met with … Odo, that one was hunting the woods. He is looking to make sure you do not escape. Your father need not chase you. He set this hound on you. He has some other mission to perform as well for Maroboodus, since he spared you now. Some deed. Something for later. He is not stupid; don't underestimate him.'
'What deed?' I asked, as I wiped tears. Ermendrud was dead, and I cursed the words of Hands. Had I given Lif away and left a week ago, she might be alive. Others might die yet. 'Never mind. What is he? He is not human.'
She licked her lips. 'He never was, not fully. There are many creatures of the gods in Midgard. Many. Spirits, unhappy dead. And older things. You and I are of god's blood. He is as well.'
'Which god?'
She smiled wistfully. 'Lok's creature.'
'What?' I asked her.
'Lok sired many monsters across the Nine Worlds,' she said with a small voice. 'But, that one does not obey Odo, no. He is proud, chaotic. While Lok's creature, he does not serve him, willful, proud. He is—'
'Mad. And he now follows us for my father? As does Odo for me and Lif?'
She nodded. 'As does Odo. And I must go to him.'
'Ermendrud is dead. She was a friend,' I snarled. 'She was here for you.'
'Not my friend,' she murmured, looking down, and so it was that I struck her across the face, and she fell to the ground.
She lay there, shocked as I gazed down at her. I wanted to kill her, I truly did, but I stayed my hand. 'I regret you are the mother of our baby. But, then, you are no mother. No. You left her. You ran for the bastard. Why did you not take her, and leave us earlier?'
'Because,' she shrieked desperately, 'he demanded Lif. He demanded you! The ring as well. I only wish to give myself.'
'You kept us in the Grinrock, you did,' I hissed at her. 'And now, they will get us indeed.'
She pointed a finger my way. 'Fool. If we had left earlier, Odo would have captured us! Only with Maroboodus's men causing chaos across the lands did we have hope of escape. They had to retreat from the vicinity of the village, as thousands of your father's men attacked. Only so we could flee! And here we are!' she sobbed.
'You knew Maroboodus was coming?' I sneered.
'A fool would have known he is coming. Any fool, save you and Burlein,' she sneered back viciously, and got up, wiping her lip.
I shuddered at her words and spat, but she was right. I glared into the black, where my enemies were preparing. 'It is almost as if you wish to be humped by him. What are you, I wonder? Odo is your brother, you work to extract us from him, but you slink to him, knowing he will punish you. He will rape you. Yet, you go.' I spat at her feet. 'Go to him, then. Next time we meet, we shall not know each other. He will be disappointed you are barren. The prophecy is broken.'
She turned on wobbly knees, then struggled up and walked for the woods. She was sobbing, and glancing at Ermendrud's corpse and at me and at the edge of the woods, she turned. 'What is the one thing, Hraban, that can make a mother give up on a child, and a man she loves? For I do love you.'
'Madness?' I ground my teeth together.
'Aye, madness. Love for one's child is madness indeed.'
'You left her,' I told her bluntly. 'And I have asked for reasons for months.'
She smiled. 'You so worry he would bed me, Hraban. Odo. You have guarded me, been afraid for me, and you were happy when you heard I could never have more children.'
'I … '
'You were happy,' she whispered. 'So happy. He would not whelp children on me, though you thought he would try. But, Hraban, my dear man, Lif is my second child. I have been a mother since I was thirteen, Hraban. I am a mother whose son is with the mad creature, my brother Odo. My son is not safe, no, never with a bastard who thinks of Lok and himself first. I fear for my son, so much I am gibbering with fear when none can see. Years ago, I was but a child really, I gave him the boy who will marry our Lif, should the prophecy come to pass, and a mother cannot let Odo raise him. So I have to go. Lif is safe with you, if you escape.'
'Why,' I asked bitterly, bewildered, 'did you not tell me?'
She sobbed, and shook her head. 'I do not trust you. You rejected me, remember? I gave my love to you, and you thought I did it to bewitch you. And after you left me? I was alone. Had you accepted me? I would have trusted you, loved you, we could have saved my son from Odo. Yet, it is wyrd you did not want me, and I was bitter. So bitter, hurt, alone. Bitter enough to sneak to your hut th
at night, and take you at least once. Now, that bitterness serves Odo, for Lif is in danger. I am a cursed woman, Hraban. Keep Lif safe. Trust, when time comes. Care for our daughter, as I care for my son. Goodbye, Hraban.' She ran to the woods, and left me there, with my self-loathing.
I fell on my knees, tears running down my cheeks.
I was an utter fool, a jester of the first degree, not unlike the small men we had laughed at. I was a joke, something the gods amused themselves with.
I had thought to save her from him, to spare her his filthy attentions, yet Odo had already raped her, when she had been helpless and alone, and I had been but a youth. I did not love Ishild, but had failed her as a friend. She was gone. Gone to her son, not Odo. Now, Odo wanted Lif and me, and they were very close. He wanted the ring as well. He would read the lines; drag me from one place to another until the prophesized events took place, and Lif would suffer. I would bleed on evil, rocky skin, I would then eventually find Veleda, and he would be there for his god's joy and freedom. Poor Ishild.
It looked desperate.
I still had a sword. I clutched it, and took comfort from it. No matter the sorrows and shit, it still stood between the bastards and me, and I would use it to cut off Lok's face, if I had to.
I walked up to the horrid mess on the hill, and looked down at poor Ermendrud. She had been afraid, then she had run bravely after Ishild, and now she was dead. It all felt meaningless to me as I stared at her. The corpse had no resemblance to the spirited woman I had known, the face cold and bloodless, eyes staring to the stars utterly uncaring of my sorrow. Flesh and bones. They were just building blocks, pieces of bricks and lumber scattered on the hill, and what she had been was gone.
I closed her eyes nonetheless, and shuddered in fear, as I thought of the animal Father had unleashed on us. I blessed Ermendrud softly, and ran down the hill and rode away, for we were in a desperate hurry. In the camp, I told them Ishild was gone, that Ermendrud and the Marcomanni were dead, and Odo was out there. I did not mention Leuthard. In the morning's pale hint, the softest of light, a stream of riders was approaching across the horizon.
CHAPTER XVIII
For a few days, we avoided them by riding hard. I risked much when I stopped by a long, rich hall. There, I told a young, battle-hardened chief of the raiders in his land. I pointed to their general direction, and he set about raising his men, happy for some activity, and forgetting entirely to ask who I was. Then, we rode away, and begged the lord would be enough to buy us time. It would not stop Leuthard, as he served Father, lord of the land, but Odo's ill-disciplined men would suffer, or at least be slowed down. We whipped our horses, and dared not rest for more than a few hours.
Leuthard's face haunted me, and while I realized the terrible man had turned into a possessed creature of nightmares, part of me wondered if he had always been one. I could not understand how he had survived that night we attacked the tower atop the rock. That Odo, and likely Gernot and Ansigar, were there after us, felt like a paltry thing indeed to endure, in comparison to the terror of the mad creature stalking us. Sometimes, there were signs behind us of a large number of men. Fires burned in the night, closer and closer. We would take a few hours of forced sleep, save for the one standing guard. We ate frugally in the saddle, and we were sore all over the place, and in a foul, frightened mood. Ermendrud's death and Ishild’s disappearance merited explanation, but I had not been able to give it so far. Cassia had hissed at Ansbor to remain silent, as he pressed the issue.
For that, I was grateful. Their fate tortured me. She had a son. With Odo. She feared for him, and I feared for her, tired of running away. I glanced at the baby in Cassia's lap; sometimes fully awake, staring at the land around her with keen wonder, other times asleep, after sucking some milk from a gourd Cassia had secured. We would need more, soon. I worried for the small one, that she might fall, the fragile thing she was, as she was bouncing up and down, carried by Cassia. The horses were restless and powerful, and our need for speed dire.
Yet, despite all, we kept moving resolutely forward.
Finally, after two restless days and long nights, we were closing on the Moenus River, where we would cross to reach the troubled lands where the Quadi made their home. The Matticati had been thoroughly trounced not too long before, but Sibratus and Tallo would be fighting in the east, and the opportunistic Chatti and the merciless Hermanduri would take sides, or just their own. I would try to reach the Chatti, their capital Mattium being somewhere over the hills and vast woods, past many pastures and glittering lakes. It was desperately far away, and I was depressed as I regarded the river that ran East to West, my former home banks. Moganticum, the great Roman fortress, stood at Rhenus River, at the end of the Moenus River, and for a moment, I hesitated, thinking about turning our horses that way.
Then, the choice was taken away from us.
We heard a distant whinny of a spirited horse, and turned to look behind us. 'They are here,' Fulcher said softly, as we saw a group of forty riders crest a bridge, looking around. They were riding hard. They had a dozen empty horses with them, and I guessed the young warlord had made things interesting for them, at least. I hoped the man was alive. There were some twenty of the enemy, and men were riding madly from the woods, meeting them. One was gesturing wildly in our direction. They knew we were there, and the chase was on.
We rode for an hour, hoping to lose them again, but soon, we could see their first riders reaching for us, very close. A hunched figure was leading them, and I recognized Ansigar, my old friend, one of the Bear Heads, our childhood war party. He had ever been jealous of me. My grandfather had been the leader of the village, a famed warrior, and I had been the scion of the old blood, whereas he had only had the tunic on his back, and saw himself poor and unlucky. He chose to follow Gernot when they received their spear and shield, and ever since, he had guided and helped my brother in the service to Odo. Had they reached the riches and honor they imagined, I did not know, but should they capture us, Ansigar would not go unrewarded. Of that, I was sure. Of the main culprit, there was no sign, the red-headed scarecrow Odo was out of sight.
Nor was there any sight of Leuthard.
I saw Ansigar grin, his thin brown beard braided and whipping in the wind, his eyes in slits as he regarded our flight. I pulled on my helmet with one hand, nearly dropping it. Cassia was whipping her horse madly, holding on to Lif. I cursed the lot chasing us. I should have stabbed both Gernot and Ansigar when I had the chance, but I had spared them, and gods knew why. Then I saw also my brother. Gernot was there, behind Ansigar, heedlessly guiding his horse, the weak face featureless as he barked orders. The enemy spread out left and right. We heard their screams split the air, as we finally came to the muddy, rocky shores of Moenus.
It was early spring. The river was wild, devilishly unpredictable, and very dangerous, in a state that would make it hard to cross, even on a dry summer day. Sodden logs and debris were racing for the west. There were no bridges. There were no boats either. The crossing might be a suicide.
I looked at my friends helplessly and then behind us. We would never beat them.
'I would rather die with a blade in my hand,' Ansbor said, with a scared voice, glancing at the axe Cassia was holding, then pulled Leuthard's sword from his back. The blade was too heavy for him, and he had no training with it, but it was his. Fulcher was nodding carefully. I understood them, of course I did. Few Germani would rather drown, if death was inevitable, and there were spears to fall into, enemy to slay. I shook my head sadly. 'I also, but for Lif. So, I will attempt to cross. I will not force you to join me. Cassia, perhaps if you ride East or West, right now, they will not bother with you.'
She was licking her dry lips in fear, but shook her head, and guided her horse to the riverbank next to me, handing chortling Lif to me. 'Take the baby, Hraban. Keep her dry, out of the deathly water. Do so, for you are stronger than I am.' She guided the horse to the icy, turbulent river, the horse shivering and muddy up to i
ts knees, and she cried out as the cold water enveloped her hips and legs. We were staring at the woman, and she scowled at us, her beautiful face glancing at the approaching troop of demons. 'Best come then. Will you follow me?' Then, she forced the horse fully in. She gasped as the water tried to kill her with its icy fingers, but guided the terrified beast across. 'Come, boys! We have had no bath for days!'
'She is mad, out of her wits,' Ansbor was whispering, fidgeting in his saddle. The last of the four fugitive Marcomanni snorted, as he whipped his horse after Cassia.
'No, she is braver than most men,' I grinned, prayed, and nodded at them.
I wrapped Lif with anything I could find, thanking the gods, and Cassia, for the sheepskin. Her tiny face was poking out from under the myriad of garments. 'Please, Woden,' I grimaced, and went after Cassia, holding the baby against my shoulder, guiding the horse with one hand and legs. Fulcher and Ansbor blanched at the desperation of it all, but they followed me, risking losing their place in the afterlife, the fine tables of the gods and goddesses, braving a trip to Hel's, or Rán's, kingdom. We rode to the cold Moenus, the tired horses faltering and neighing, but they started to swim instinctively, though we had to force them over rather than to follow the shore. Soon, beside me, Ansbor was gasping, and I struggled to hold the baby above the water as I was forced to lean forward.
'Are you fine? Can you make it?' I yelled at Cassia, who was swooning on the horse, her lips blue, and then I cursed as the horse turned sideways. I tried to turn the beast, but the current dragged the struggling animal downstream. I finally managed it, though it was near impossible. I saw Cassia's horse make it out of the river, dripping ice-cold water, shivering, and Cassia half-conscious on it, crying. My teeth were shattering from the cold, but Lif was chortling happily and I thanked Woden for that. Fulcher and Ansbor were next to me, their horses overtaking me. Cassia was glancing behind us, and she looked barely conscious and very concerned, as she looked at the evil men behind us.
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 25
