'My men?' he asked weakly.
'Dead. Around you. Waiting for you in the halls of the brave. You fought well, lord.' I said, holding his hand. 'I was looking for you. I am the man they call the Oath Breaker.'
His eyes focused on me, but he could not see. 'You are Hraban?'
'I am, lord. I have a question for you. Do you know where is the place called Freya's Tears? Where a girl is held, a baby only.'
He looked confused. 'Yes, it is a league that way.' He was apparently pointing, but could not know his arms did not function.
'Where, lord?' I asked patiently.
'North of here, a grotto by a rock-strewn hill, just by the river and a ford. Just ride to the north, until you hit the river, and follow it north and west. It is on the other bank,' he explained, tired. 'I saw the baby, when Armin showed her to us. He kept her warm, and I laughed with her.'
Tears filled my eyes. 'Was she fine? The child?'
'She? Yes, it was a she. She was beautiful,' he smiled with blood on his lips.
'She was?' I said, my grip tightening on his hand.
'She was, and is, I hope,' he said, worried. 'The bounty hunter was her guard, for some reason, and was very protective of her. They are guarded, safe. Warm. Unless now, something happens. So many dead.' Wodenspear smiled. 'My wife was here, and I sent her away, before the end. She will keep my daughters safe, I have no sons.' He sobbed as he tried to move, his body wracked with pain. I nodded at him, but he did not see it. He calmed, and his eyes fluttered, tears conquering his cheeks. He was breathing sharply and closed his eyes. His voice was his again. 'I did well, Hraban,' he said, himself again. 'We were close. We were heroes.'
'You did, and you are, lord,' I told him, and waited with him until he died. The sun was going low, the forlorn rays flickering through woods. I looked downhill, and saw Drusus still conferring with his officia and couriers. I mounted my horse and guided it towards the north, my helmet turning around, leering maliciously at some looters. I saw one's face, and recognized it.
It was a man of Bricius, with a red scar on his forehead, and he was only pretending to loot a corpse. He was staring at me. I hefted my spear as I rode to the dark, and I knew Lok's beast was near me, following behind, for he knew I was seeking the same prey as he was.
Let him come.
CHAPTER XXXVI
The river was beautiful that evening, silvery moonlight playing on its rippling surface. I guided my horse on its bank, hailing a mix of fleeing enemy carelessly, many Sigambri and Bructeri running for the ford that was near. Many were harboring deep wounds. There were lots of men in those woods, especially the terribly wounded ones, men who stopped to wash their wounds at the river, resting a bit before going on to die, families and women helping the lucky ones who escaped the battle. I rode past them, a man like them, and they did not heed me, though many would have wanted my horse. That was why I held Nightbright out prominently, letting all see the deadly piece of metal, one they should not risk by trying to steal anything from me.
The wind had picked up, and was making strange spirals on the water. I gazed at the woods and the ridge where the battle had taken place, now hours away. Somewhere in those woods was the man who wanted to hurt me, in so many ways. Father's pet, Lok's spirit. I was weary of battle and travel, had not eaten much the past days, my finger throbbed, but I was ready for one final fight. It might be final one for me.
Before me, in the moonlight, I saw churning water, a strangely calm pool in the middle of the river, a bank full of thin reeds, and on the other bank squatted a tall mound of rubble, overgrown with moss and trees. Before the stony rubble, there was a small lagoon, and by that lagoon, there was a man. I stopped my horse to gaze at him. He was hooded and swathed in a cloak, and he was not alone. He had two men with him, and they were talking. A lock of blond hair was rippling in the wind, I saw this much, and I felt exhilaration. I gazed, focused my eyes, and saw a stubby horn on his waist. It was Armin, I was sure of it. The bastard was risking much, staying so close to the enemy army, but he was wily and clever, and also too lucky.
I noticed there was a stream of men running to the river, not far, and decided that must be the ford, or else they were very thirsty, bent on draining the clear waters. I guided my horse forward, and smiled joylessly as the men waded across, weaponless, one missing an arm, and the horse dipped his head to drink. I refused his wish, deciding it would have to wait, and guided it after the men carelessly. It floundered once, then twice, but found solid ground soon enough, neighing unhappily as it climbed out of the river. I guided the horse to where I had seen the men conferring. I was holding Wolf's Tear loosely on my palm, the blade of the spear glinting in the moonlight. I caught a sight of many men creeping to the beach opposite of me, trying to find the ford. More fugitives? I smiled. No.
I saw the figures ahead, in the midst of a turbulent discussion, and as I got closer, I heard them speak clearly. One was Armin. 'Of course it is a terrible loss. What else could it be? We lost thousands of men and women, and will lose more before they go home. There is a legion at confluence of our rivers, near our border. They will want vengeance for this. Now, we must get our men back, and find Rochus. He must be found.'
'The army is scattered,' one man said unhappily. 'Not easy to find your brother out there.'
'Find him. Army is scattered, and it will be so until winter,' Armin told him bravely. ‘We have the rest of the army back home. But, now, it is up to us to find all we can, take them home, and we must survive. Smile, because the Chatti are now allies. They will never forget what happened to Ebbe. We will muster our men, get help, and we will fight the bastards. My father routed the Chauci, and next year, we will all stand united. Take heart! We nearly succeeded today. Rarely has the bastard wolf lost so many men.'
I snorted, and they turned to look at me. One man rode forward, his head askew, as he gazed at me. 'And who are you then? This is not any of your business.'
'It is Hraban,' Armin said heavily. 'The man I will never again trust.' His eyes were hard as he looked at me, his cowl falling on his shoulders to reveal a sweat-streaked face of a warlord.
'Trust, lord?' I asked him with rising anger. 'Ever have you tried to scheme your enemies dead with my help. The first time you wished to slay my father, now Drusus. Perhaps you should have asked me to join you openly, and not ask me do unsavory deeds for you, and you would love me better today.'
He smiled, and I saw he was exhausted. His cheeks were hollow; his lustrous hair matted to his scalp, but there was a dangerous gleam in his eyes. 'Maybe so. Yet, times are desperate. Your father—'
'Is a Roman, Armin,' I told him heavily. 'He has a deed to do in these lands. Then, he will go back to being Roman. It is he, who wishes to slay Drusus, perhaps other men like the Roman lord. Then, he will gather all the bastards to a war against Rome, and lose the lot. Many more so than you did today.'
He gazed at me without emotion, his eyes drifting to the side, where there was an opening of a hole, with water running out. It was a grotto, and Wodenspear said that was where Lif was. I guided my horse closer, but his men pulled their axes and grabbed shields, shifting protectively before Armin. Armin nodded. 'I have a hunch you are right. He will sell us all out, and then he will be rewarded handsomely. However, I shall foil him. For us all. For Thusnelda.'
'Thusnelda is likely a woman worth fighting a war for, lord,' I told him brusquely. 'I failed at killing Drusus. He is a better man than you.'
He laughed. 'Hard to say. Had you not failed, we would be harrying the Roman legions now,' he said coldly. 'Not the other way around. And my brother would be alive.' He lifted his head as a buccina rang somewhere far away. 'And had you helped me kill your father, we would have both been happier.'
'When the time comes, if I am lucky to be there, I shall slay him still. Where is she?' I asked.
'She is safe, Hraban,' he told me evenly.
'She would be safe with me, and I do not have her,' I told him, with a threat thru
mming in my voice.
He said nothing, as if considering my words. 'She has this Odo after her, no? And your father likely as well?'
'Yes to both,' I grinned. 'So I want her now. It is a father's lot to defend his blood.'
'A father's lot is a terrible one,' he mumbled. 'There was a greasy bounty hunter with her. A strange man to guard your child.'
'I trust him better than you, Armin,' I snickered. 'So let him go as well.'
'I did,' he said evenly. 'They are gone.'
'They are gone?' I asked dangerously. 'Wodenspear said you are holed up here. Hiding. And you let them go?'
He slumped in his saddle. 'I have many men here, Hraban, so do not raise your voice. I owe you nothing. She is gone. In fact, I think it might be best you did not leave this place alive. She will be better off, if you are no longer hounding her.'
'How dare you tell me my daughter is better off without me? So, you will not help me get her. No? Yet, you are a ruthless bastard, are you not? Will you change your mind, if I give you this?' I said calmly, holding up Draupnir's Spawn. 'The ring you so desire? The ring to give the Cherusci freedom from the Suebi, the trinket that pacifies the Semnones and the Langobardi? It would be hard to find it in the river, Armin.'
He stared at the ring, my ring, the ring my grandfather had stolen from Bero in fear of the prophecy. It was an ancient jewelry, something many desired for the power it held over the Suebian nations. It was a mark of the gods’ own favor, the first ring of the first men, and there it was. Armin had it once. He needed it. It would give him men, influence amongst the Cherusci and the Suebi, alike. 'And you only wish to have Lif?' he asked dubiously. 'No sanctuary? No demands?'
'I will one day find Catualda, but, no, I have a home now,' I told him, as I threw the ring to the air, making him grasp at air instinctively.
'Catualda is not here.'
'I said, I will find him,' I said bitterly. 'Guard him, or not. I will, one day.'
He smiled. 'You are eighteen, Hraban. A bit younger than I am. Yet, you are Woden's Chosen. A Curse Carrier, the Blade of Woden. Lord of the Bones, I name you. You have slain so many men this past year, and few champions do as much carnage during their lifetime. And here you are still. He stands no chance. I will guard him, no matter his flawed temperament and his ill deeds. He will need help.'
I nodded. 'Go, and get Lif. Give me my daughter.'
He hesitated at that as well, likely thinking about the girl and his honor. He opened his mouth to say something, but then a woman stepped out of the grotto. She was tall and willowy, beautiful, with red blonde hair, high cheekbones and wide hips, her strides purposeful and long. On her brow, there was a golden band, and her dress was an elk leather vest, with dark wool beneath. She came to stand next to Armin, who gazed at her with care. I nodded at her.
'Thusnelda, I take it? Your father Segestes approves your presence with him?' I pointed Nightbright at Armin.
She bristled. 'I am not here, Hraban. I am with relatives. And, as he is my cousin, I did not exactly lie,' she told me haughtily. Then, she turned to Armin. 'Either we find the ring from the river, or won’t, but you will not treat with him. You will make no deals with this one, and stain yourself.'
I laughed. 'Has he told you what stains he already carries? What he has tried to do? He tried to scheme my father into a grave mound by using me, and asked me to kill my host, my lord. While holding Lif hostage. A mere baby.'
She looked down. 'He tells me everything. And I tell him the girl is not yours, no matter if you sired her. There is the prophecy, Hraban, and you are a hunted man. But, she will be safe.'
'Your man here, your cousin, would keep her safe? You are going to war with Rome for years on end, should you survive that long. Your father, Segestes the Fat, is a Roman sycophant. Who exactly keeps her safe?' I asked her spitefully.
'She has a sister. You know who that is. Veleda. The bounty hunger told me. She and Hands are gone. So, it will end here, Hraban,' she told me fiercely, and I admired her spirit.
'When did you let Hands go?' I asked, and then I heard a baby cry in the woods. I looked up, saw a small clearing up on a hillside, and there strode the fat bounty hunter, his dog trailing him, and he was carrying something. It was not far at all, and my heart raced.
'No, Hraban,' Armin said calmly. 'Let me have the ring, and then, I shall hold you prisoner. One day, perhaps, you will go free.' I looked behind me. There was a group of shadows moving up from the dark, and before them, walked a larger shadow than the rest. Armin's eyes shot up, his handsome face twisted in anger, as he prepared to flee. 'Romans? Your traitor auxilia?'
I shook my head. 'It is Leuthard. He is my father's beast, Armin. They have been following me, for my father wishes you dead. He needs no competition in slaying the Romans, and wishes to finish his contract with his masters. Or mistress. It has to be him who slays Drusus, you see, and he dislikes you for what you tried last year. And so, he wants your head.'
Armin whistled wildly and men rushed from the grotto. They were household guards of Sigimer, his bodyguards, men like the ones he had sent to Castra Vetera and the fort I had defended. Tall and young, strong and springy, they were armored in leather and bits of steel, ruddy and blond men, and they rushed over the water trickling to the grotto to stand before Armin, looking startled as strange men approached.
'Leuthard!' I yelled.
The line approached. It was the band of Bricius, the lank haired mercenary advancing from the dark. He grinned at me, for there were twenty men in the band, a motley crew of throat cutters, armed with axes, spears, arrows, and bows. Leuthard strode before them, his huge sword out, and the five men around Armin tightened their wall, looking hard at the enemy. I pointed a finger at the bald beast. 'Meet Armin, Leuthard. My father's prey.'
He stared at me, as I guided my horse away to the side. 'Stay here, Hraban, and we shall finish what we started,' he growled. 'If you run, I will just find you. And your brat.' He waved his hand towards the woods.
'You are not going to find her,' I told him calmly. 'For you will not survive this night.'
They laughed, and a man of the Red Finger raised his bow, gave a toothless leer, and shot an arrow at my horse. The beast screamed and fell, and I jumped off it, my helmet flying off my head. I got up, holding my spear, the spear of Balderich. Leuthard shed his cloak, revealing his huge physiology to all of us, holding his shield and sword up. 'Lok knows, Hraban, I hate you. You are not going anywhere this night.'
Armin chuckled. 'Looks like we are on the same side, then, Hraban. Fight with me, for Thusnelda, at least.'
'No, we are not,' I told him. 'And your Thusnelda,' I said with a wicked grin at her, 'wanted me dead just now.' I grabbed a bag from the horse. 'You men! The Red Finger? Come, and look at this.' I threw the sack to the grass in front of them. It spilled open, a small mound of gold and silver Drusus had given me pouring out, glittering in the sparse moonlight. 'Look at that, my friends, for it is but a paltry sack of trinkets, should you bring Armin alive to Drusus this night. Your cousin is dead by my hand, Bricius, but there will be more gold with Drusus, enough to buy a dozen cousins for a greedy bastard like you. Gold will trickle through your fingers. You will shit silver, if you capture them. And only if I live, for Drusus is my brother.'
Bricius licked his lips, as Leuthard turned to look at him with suspicion. 'You have made oaths to Maroboodus,' the beast said, turning around in swift circles, pushing a man further from him. Their arrows were pointed down now, and Bricius was trembling, looking at me in a curious way, his hatred and dead cousin forgotten. 'I said you have made oaths to Maroboodus!' Leuthard yelled.
I chuckled. 'You made oaths to Hunfrid before that! And after he could not pay you, being my prisoner, your oaths were forgotten. Who do you think can pay you better, men? Rome, or a paltry Germani chief? You have no tribe, you have no loyalty, and now, you can give Drusus Armin. Do you think he would appreciate having Armin in his hands? Let me say it again. All you need to do
,' I hissed, 'is take him to Drusus.' The twenty men raised their heads at me. 'Alive.' Bricius grinned at Leuthard.
'And I take it you want his head?' Bricius asked, nodding at Leuthard.
'Yes, of course,' I told them casually. 'Spare the woman. She is valuable. Unmolested.'
Bricius smiled hugely. 'Feather the bald shit, and do what he says!' The arrows turned to Leuthard, who cursed like an animal he was. Arrows flew, splintering his shield and side, and I retreated to the woods and gripped my helmet, pulling it on. I gazed up the hill where I had seen Hands and sprinted hard. Behind me, battle was joined, as Red Finger turned to Armin's men, charging them with savage glee, and I saw Leuthard fall on his back as a few men tried to stab him with spears. I heard Bricius howl commands, and Armin as well.
This I did to your father, Thumelicus.
He had manipulated me few times too many, in his greed to stop Maroboodus from marrying Thusnelda. In his desperation at gaining victory, he had forced me to soil myself. He was a great warrior, a greater commander and a chief; perhaps he would have been a mighty king. But, for me, he was a scheming bastard, and he would have been my gift to Rome.
I sprinted up to the woods. I heard the baby cry, not too far, and ran like a lynx that way, loping like a cat indeed, cursing the loss of my horse. I had not anticipated Armin would let them go, but Thusnelda had convinced him, and I cursed her as well, the beautiful, high-minded bitch, even if I was happy to know there was a woman such as her in Armin's life, a girl with compassion to keep him sane, if he should survive Rome. She had likely cared for Lif as well. I sprung through the woods, starting to feel lingering desperation as the grass rustled mournfully in the weak wind, and I was no tracker. The sound of battle was fading as I ran, picking directions at random, and finally, I fell on my knees in the middle of a small clearing, leaning on a rock, cursing the gods.
Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2) Page 54
