The Wolf

by Alaric Longward

  “Tamura is close to him,” I said. “And the vitka?”

  He frowned. “Yes. Nobody touched the vitka,” he said.

  Bero looked at me with curiosity, as I spoke. “I could.”

  “They are very suspicious of new men, right now,” he said. “You won’t—”

  I shook my head. “I will get in there. I will. I can help you. But only if you help me.”

  “You want us to help you?” he asked.

  “I need you to kill my father’s men,” I told him. “And then, I shall aid you. My father first. I will deal with him, and you shall spare him, and the two women. I need you to kill some men.”

  “Maroboodus, I—” Bero began, but I snarled at him to be quiet. He wasn’t. “You think battle can be avoided, if you just find why Rome supports Akkas? You think you can find a way to change that support? You think too much of yourself.”

  “Shut up,” I told him. “I can.”

  “So, first,” he said, “what is the plan?”

  I winked and pulled him up. I took him to the side. “What Bero says, is true. It might be too much to hope, we can break Rome and Akkas. We can try. But how about this? Listen. You won’t like it.”

  He listened, then he nearly had a raging fit and danced around the wood cursing me in so many ways that I lost count. Finally, he stopped, panting, and shaking his head. I spoke to him at length, and he held his face, breathing hard, and finally nodded. Heinrich snorted and leaned back on a tree. “And I thought I had had a bad year already. Lost my two mares, you see, and a cousin, and this business with the Romans and the bastard. And now, your plan…this story” He spat.

  “North and south, my lord,” I said thickly, “are no different. No land gives birth to happy stories. All a man can do is weather and master them. This way, the one I suggest, is the way to master your foe.”

  He squinted at me. “And now. Shall we deal with our end of the bargain?” He nodded to north, and I turned to see far on a hillside a set of fires.

  Father? They are very close.

  It was no coincidence. Lok was with me.

  “Your kin, I think, away over there,” he said. “It is likely, though it could be others. Only a fool lights fires on that side of the river. Chatti and Hermanduri take note fast.”

  “Yes,” I said carefully as I gazed at the dangerous man. “You mentioned you lost mares? Take his horses. We can do this, this very night.”

  “Lost two, beautiful horses both,” he said ruefully. “I will. Ingulf!”

  Ingulf appeared. He was dragging Bero behind.

  Heinrich nodded at me. “He is going to give me an oath of servitude. His plan is a mad one. He we will likely die. I like it. When it is over, I shall make you both war-lords, give you men, halls, and wives, and you shall make your fortune against our enemies. What say you?”

  I nodded. “I give you my oath to be your man, by Woden.”

  Ingulf opened his mouth and sighed. “And I. I, too.”

  Heinrich’s eyes went to Bero, who was cursing.

  “He, too,” I said gleefully. “By Woden.”

  He nodded. “We get there. I have twenty men. They will do well. You want us to kill his men and spare his women?”

  “Get me Erse, one of the women,” I said.

  He blinked. “You want to spare her? Fine. I mean, we know how to steal off women. We do it all the time. We’ll separate your father’s head from the body and take the weeping girl to you, and you may reassure her—”

  “I don’t want Erse,” I said. “I want to give her back to him. I said, kill his men. Not him. Not yet. Kill his men. Kill all of them.” My eyes went to Bero, who shook with anger and fear. Ingulf was, again, shaking his head.

  Heinrich stared at me, confused, and then, Heinrich’s eyes widened. “Oh! You don’t want your father dead. That would be disrespectful, indeed. I wondered. The rest die.” He chuckled and stroked his beard. “You have to poke at your father and test out his oaths. You hope will make you one and take Erse.”

  “He will make me one,” I said simply, “if he wants Erse back. The woman he seems to love. Of course. If not. He must die.”

  He squinted. “And possibly,” he smiled, “they won’t mind losing their horses? And what happens, Maroboodus, if he refuses? You will kill him. Or us?”

  I smiled. “I will join the attack to show you I fear no battle. And if he refuses, I cannot kill him. He is my father. You will.”

  Ingulf stepped forward. “Maroboodus. This is—”

  “His men will die,” Heinrich said. “And then, he will follow, if he is stubborn. We have the time. Let us prepare. I do love to make corpses of my enemies, but giving peace to feuding family members is something I have always loved to be part of. Peacemaking! Nothing is better. It might involve a bit of violence, but everyone shall weep with joy after!” He roared with laughter, and I smiled wryly. “Men, let us have an adventure! Tomorrow will be a long day.”

  Ingulf rolled his eyes, and we left to kill men I had once loved well as brothers.

  They gave me no choice.

  That’s what I told myself.

  CHAPTER 4

  It took us two hours to ride to the fires. It turned out to be Father.

  We watched them from the shadows of a hillside. Bero was gagged, and Ingulf held a sword on his throat. A line of twenty men was around me. Heinrich and Bertilo were wearing their armor.

  “The horses,” Heinrich said softly, “are tired and beaten. The armor and swords are fine, and spears. But they are sick and tired.”

  What we found was not a dogged pursuit. It wasn’t a field full of angry, resentful men.

  They were exhausted, silent, and dirty, and I agreed with Heinrich—sick.

  There were no more than fifteen warriors. Some bore wounds, others seemed hungry. Many slept around two fires. I saw the two women. Erse, she looked busy and unhappy. She was roasting a hare. Bero’s wife, the young woman, was aiding her, stoking the fire, and looked beautiful. Erse pointedly avoided looking at her. I saw Harmod, who was on his horse and about to ride out of the camp for the river.

  And I saw Father.

  Hulderic the Goth was sharpening a sword. He was listening to Erse and some of his men who were sitting near, but he was sharpening a sword like his life depended on it. He looked like a warlord, his mail gleaming, his face fierce, though he looked thin and tired.

  I had come to his rescue once. He to mine.

  It mattered little. He was a man of the old ways, old beliefs, and he wouldn’t stop until I was dead, or his slave, and he, yet again, held sway over my future. He wanted his sword, he wanted Bero and the ring, and an obedient Maroboodus, if not only his head.

  I closed my eyes and gathered strength.

  We would slaughter his men. I would go for Maino. We would take Erse, and I’d trade her back for peace with Father. If he refused, I’d go to the dark land and see it through. He’d either back off, or he’d not walk away.

  It wouldn’t be hard.

  Father’s campsite was not well guarded. It was simply because most of his men were gone. I counted them again, and I was sure some had stayed with the Langobardi Finnr, or perhaps some had even been enslaved by our Goth relatives in the battle.

  It wouldn’t be hard.

  And yet, it would be very hard. For me. For him.

  Heinrich was speaking softly to two of his men. Both were lean and mean looking men. They jumped down and disappeared down the hill.

  I saw Harmod leaving, out to scout. He guided his horse out of the camp and went for the river, some miles away.

  Heinrich pushed me. “Ready?” he whispered. “No time like now?”

  I hesitated.

  Then, I saw Maino. I had missed him before.

  I saw the thick-faced bastard behind Father, tossing in his sleep. I spat and hissed softly and then buried my face in my hand. I nodded, and he tapped my shoulder.

  “The man behind my father,” I whispered. “The beefy, shit-toed
bastard.”

  He nodded. “A man for you to kill?”

  “A man I want to kill,” I snarled.

  “Fine,” he whispered. “I will pass it along. Cannot promise a thing, can I? They already will have hard time taking your father without a fight.”

  “And you will take Erse,” I said, and pointed my finger at her. She was sitting by a fire now. “Spare the other woman as well.”

  “Yes, yes,” he said. “Of course. Your father is moving. Now?”

  Hulderic walked to the edge of the fire to piss, and I hesitated as I watched him lifting his chain and tugging his cock out. We waited still, and I knew we waited for me.

  If we were to square off with swords, would I fight him?

  No? Yes?

  He walked back and sat next to Erse. He pulled her to him, and she came unwillingly, looking up at him as he spoke softly. There was tension, but he had cared for her for ages and only lately had he shown it was deeper.

  Was she a slave, or a wife, or something in between? She had better be a beloved wife.

  She was certainly beautiful, and while no longer young, she was a woman worth loving.

  I pulled the Head Taker softly, my mind made up. “Lok bless me,” I whispered.

  Erse.

  I was risking her life. There were no guarantees in what was about to happen.

  “Are we doing this?” hissed Heinrich.

  I nodded.

  He waved his spear in the air, and shadows moved below. We waited a bit and then moved down the hill slowly. It was not a noiseless descent, but wind was howling, and it covered us for a bit.

  As I watched, I suddenly realized the Goth horses were moving, nervous. I saw a Goth guard, walking past the horses. And then, suddenly, he disappeared.

  A shadow moved under the horse, and another. Then, one was working on the ropes.

  Nobody moved in the camp. Hulderic was still sitting by the fire, just as Maino was laying down. Others were snoring gently.

  “Damn, they are good,” Heinrich whispered. “Like farts in the wind.” Not soon after, both farts appeared in sight for just a moment, one holding a hasta they had taken from the guard. The waved it at us.

  Heinrich nodded, and we moved forward faster.

  A man looked up, startled.

  The horses in the corral whinnied and moved as one. Hooves struck ground, something broke, and the Goths were rousing themselves, probably thinking there was a wolf in the woods.

  But they were two-legged wolves, sitting on horses. The horses surged forward and for the camp.

  Men yelled warnings and grabbed weapons.

  The horses galloped through the camp. I could see one of the Hermanduri pulling at the strings of the horse, sitting low on his, leaning on its neck. I saw a taller Hermanduri surging to the camp and bit my lip as Erse got up, and the man crashed past Hulderic, grinning like a devil, nearly trampling Maino, and then, Erse was jerked over his saddle. She was screaming.

  “Wake, alarm!” Hulderic was screaming at the men scrambling around. Five men were rushing after the horse.

  And Maino got up, groggily.

  “Heyyaah!” Heinrich screamed. The men around me howled and rode down the grassy hill, dodging branches and trees.

  I, too, kicked the sides of the horse, and it surged on. We charged forward like the spirits from Hel. We rode like evil vaettir on the night winds. Men were throwing javelins down at the camp. A Goth screamed and fell on his back, impaled.

  We crashed amidst the Goths. Heinrich was laughing as he pushed his spear at a heavy-set Goth. The man grasped at the spear but was run through. Heinrich pulled an ax and turned to attack others. Three Goths were tossing javelins, and two Hermanduri fell, crashing down, one dead. The Goths loped to the fallen and hacked down with clubs and axes, and then, a furious melee was taking place around them. Many went for Father, herding him with spears, laughing. Father’s eyes were on me.

  I ignored them.

  I was looking at Maino.

  He was taking steps away from Father, and then, Maino pulled an ax, jumped on a man’s back, and pulled him down. He was hacking down wildly with the ax, killing the Hermanduri, but I was close, guiding my horse, and the Head Taker went up.

  He turned to look at me, bloodied and savage.

  I spat at him and spurred my horse for him.

  And Lok laughed, and Tiw, god of fair fights and law, whispered to the murderous bastard’s ear as he hopped away and fell. I rode after him. He had bought himself time, but not enough.

  I lifted the sword, and then, the wife of Bero came to stand before the horse, terrified. She screamed and lifted her hand.

  I had a second to decide. I could kill her and trample Maino.

  I pulled my horse around.

  Howling with rage, I spared her, not sure why. Men were screaming in a furious fight, and I saw Goths rolling in the darkness, Hermanduri spurring after them, and I saw Hulderic with his sword high, men around him, his eyes wide as he eyed me.

  “Marobooooodus!” he roared. “Stop!”

  I laughed and guided my horse around the girl, who was on her knees. I spurred for Maino. “Come, cousin! Let’s end this, so I can hang you damned father!”

  The blade reached for Maino, but he fell back, a warrior to the bone, and I thundered past him.

  Hulderic, hacking with his sword, appeared and pulled the girl to him, retreating, harried by the Hermanduri.

  Heinrich was killing one of the last Goths. The man fell with a cleaved skull.

  Then, we heard an odd, chanting noise.

  A horse ran to the camp, bloodied, and then, ten others. They were Goth horses, terrified.

  Every man in the camp turned to look at the night.

  There a line of riders was approaching. They wore leather armor, hard-boiled and black. A thicket of lances was above their heads, and then, suddenly, there were bows.

  Heinrich cursed and kicked his horse.

  So did Bertilo.

  Arrows thrummed in the air. They flew like sparrows, and men fell. A Goth was screaming, on his knees, spitting blood. Four Hermanduri fell from their horses, crashing amid their victims.

  I turned to look at Father. I saw him pulling the woman to the woods and Hermanduri scattering around him.

  The enemy charged forward.

  They were not Heinrich’s men. Lok was laughing. They rode black, small steeds, heavy and beautiful, and now hefted the lances. Two of father’s men leaped forward and fell, lanced to the mud. Three Hermanduri rode at the newcomers, yelling desperately, and hacked down on one, then another, and emptied the saddles. Then they were ridden down and stabbed to death by lithe warriors in leathers. Maino was rushing away, and many of them turned to chase him down.

  “Take him alive!” called a voice. “Take some alive! The women, the best fighters!”

  It was a woman’s voice.

  “Run, you damned fool!” I heard Ingulf calling from the woods, and I realized I had been sitting still. Wild with panic, I kicked my horse’s sides and rushed for the foe, hoping to break free. Three of the looked at me, surprised, and turned their horses fast as lighting. I heard Maino screaming, men howling as they died, and then I heard no more, as I crashed to the foe, and hacked at them.

  One was a girl.

  She was young, bareheaded, and held a wide sword. She bravely attacked me. Two men charged me from the sides. One lanced me and missed, other one stumbled from his saddle as his horse tripped on a corpse.

  The girl was there.

  She came for me fast as lighting. Her sword was high.

  I hacked down with mine and then I was past her. I felt her sword rattling on my chained back. I looked back.

  She fell from the horse heavily, head over heels, and said not a word.

  I heard a female scream of anger and despair, and rode away. I rode like the wind, and for the woods. From there, another Sarmatian emerged, a tall man with a blond beard and silver belt. He spat and guided his horse for me. />
  I, too, kicked my horse’s flanks and leaned down on the horse.

  The lance tore to my chain, ripped it, and scratched my horse’s side, but I slashed down at the enemy, and felt the blade carve to his face. He howled, and turned away.

  Then, I was free.

  I rode the night, panting, terrified, through the woods for the south. I didn’t look back. I rode and soon realized nobody was chasing after.

  I turned and rode up to a small hillside. I gazed at the campsite.

  I saw the horses riding around the fires. I saw them seeking the woods to the north, so someone had escaped.

  Father?

  I saw them herding some men together, and then, the riders were tying down their hands.

  One was Maino. Another was Erse.

  I watched as they, some thirty of them, all with wicker shields, lances, bows, and swords, armored with leather, looted and picked up weapons, herded horses, and then, gathered around a woman, who was holding the fallen girl in her arms, on her knees. She was a beautiful, blond woman, a powerful woman of horses and blood, and I had killed someone close to her.

  As if she knew I was watching, her eyes sought me out.

  She couldn’t have seen me, but she was watching the darkness, and there were tears and sorrow there. I noticed she was joined by two other girls, both also blonde and lithe, and together they carried the girl to a horse. Soon, they rode away for the east.

  I rubbed my face. I had lost Ingulf and Bero. Heinrich might be alive. I had to get back to the hillside. I followed the Sarmatians at a distance, because they would have used the same ford we had, and when they forded the river in that place, I waited for a long while.

  I felt a warning in my spine and waited a long while more.

  I was about to move when I saw two shadows shifting. There were horses and men on them, and they had been watching the ford. They rode off. I felt my back crawling with fear for the skill of the dangerous opponents.

  I hissed with impatience, I cursed and raged in my head as I waited a bit more, and then, I guided my horse forward to the river and forded it. I expected a javelin or an arrow at any moment and cursed my lack of shield. I made it across, shivering and dripping water, and waited, sword out. Then, I guided the horse south, rode that night and morning, and finally saw the smoking ruins. I went past them, ignored the foxes and other animals feasting on corpses, and then up the hill, my sword ready, and found the camp.