I shifted my shield and took a step back. “You think to sacrifice me? You think my death will bring you victory against the Quadi and will give you a husband and even a child? No blood can do that.”
They stepped forward.
I whistled hard. They stared at me in wonder.
I cursed softly, and Tamura smiled.
She spoke as she walked forward, almost gently. Her weapons were glinting. “Maroboodus the Goth, son of Hulderic—”
“Hulderic? Don’t bring my father into this,” I told her, backing off. “He’s be so happy with all this.”
“Scion of the great Woden,” she went on, “fight for your life and give us a victory. I shall wear your skin as my saddle and your bones in my standard, and may the fire god give us a glorious summer of victory, marriage, and fertility! Take him. Spare the vitka.”
The men rushed me. The girls ran to my sides. Tamura was walking behind her brothers.
And at that, I rushed away.
I heard an arrow thunking into a tree just next to my head, I heard the enemy coming for me, a team of killers hot on my trail.
Another arrow scraped along my sleeve and spun off.
I simply ran. I ran deeper and deeper to the woods, ran in a grouch, and heard the enemy coming around me, breaking branch, jumping over boulders, panting with excitement. They were loping like animals in the darkness, they were rushing forward like hunting dogs on a scent, and they didn’t need horses. They would catch me and take my heart, peel off my skin, and Ingulf and Red Raven would die fools.
Bero would celebrate. I knew he would.
I crashed through a thick branch and fell down a small, rocky hillside, begging I’d not break a bone. I rolled and crashed into a small clearing, saw a shadow landing next to me, and crashed my shield at it.
A sword smashed to my shield’s rim.
The shield smashed to the man, and he slipped on his arse. I stood over him, lifted my sword, and then dodged away.
A rope flashed by me. I spun away, rushed for a few steps, stopped, whirled, and hacked back with my sword. It hit nothing, and I saw one of the girls backing off, pulling at the rope. The warrior was getting to his feet, spitting blood. I ran off, dodged under a thick tree-branch, and ran for the darkness, trying to catch my breath.
It looked like the end of the Bear, indeed.
There were calls, whistles, and cruel laughter to my sides and back, as the Sarmatians, wild as fire, were herding me. I ran on and stumbled on roots, slippery rocks, praying to Lok for the god to damned well take note of what was happening. The bastard was asleep.
I heard a sharp intake of breath and tried to dodge away. I crashed to a tree trunk and fell back.
An arrow tore into my arse.
The chain jingled, and I felt a stabbing pain, but the arrow didn’t penetrate, fell off, and I ran like a hare.
“Lok,” I panted. “Lok the Trickster,” I begged. “Give me aid. Let them fall into a pit or at least give me a fast death!”
It is possible he heard.
If he did, he helped me just a bit. I found a small clearing, a ragged hillside, and there was a man-sized hole. I dashed for it, sensed something moving behind me, and spun, lifting my shield and hacking down.
The war-chief I had struck once was right there, and his sword bashed over my shield. He pushed my sword away with his shield. He hacked again, but I crashed into him and then slammed my shield into his with bone-jarring force.
The man was powerful, skillful, a rider, and a killer in any shield-wall.
He was also unlucky.
His shield fell apart, and he tried to roll away. I jumped after him and hacked down like a butcher.
The Head Taker cut into his arm, and to the bone, and through it. The Head Taker took an arm, and he howled as he fell back.
I grimaced as I backed off, then saw a shadow coming, glimpsed a raised bow, and the arrow flew. I hid behind my shield; the arrow tore into my shield, and then another came after it, so very fast. It scratched my scalp, and I backed off, seeing red dots of pain. I saw the Sarmatians running around me, and then another arrow ripped past my thigh, drawing blood, and I howled as I backed off. A rope spun in the air, landed around my shield, and I let go of it as I jumped inside the cave. Arrow clattered next to my head.
I got up and leaned back to the stone wall. I waited, but the enemy didn’t come. I looked around and found darkness, wet, dripping stone behind my back, and rough rubble under my feet. I stretched my neck to see what was happening outside and nearly died as an arrow went past my face, crashing not far into stone. I leaned back, sword high, the blade scraping the ceiling, and tried again. No arrow, and I watched the enemy outside, the small clearing lit by Mani’s light. The Sarmatian I had struck down was shivering and weeping in the shadows, and Tamura was leaning over him, her brother. The other man, the one with a wound on his face, held a shield and a spear now, and the two women were on the sides, looking at the man dying. They were all whispering prayers.
“Come out, Maroboodus,” Tamura said softly, while seeing the man off to the shadow-lands. “I told you not to make this a bad death.”
“I just cut down one of you,” I said. “It’s already a good fight, no?” I asked her.
She shook her head and looked at my shadow, her face a mask of rage. “Come out, or we’ll roast you out. We’ll drag you out like a badger out of a hole.”
“Look out for the teeth,” I advised them and feared so badly, I nearly shat myself.
I looked behind me. I had no idea how deep the cave was.
“Come, come,” called out the man. “You took a bit of my flesh, boy. I’ll take it back, and you’ll be remembered a fighter. No reason to be shy. I don’t fear your teeth.”
“Why don’t you come in and get me?” I yelled. “I find it only fair that the sacrifice has a fighting change, eh? More glory for you, no?”
She sighed and shook her head. “Mada, Saruke, keep the dog inside. We’ll start a fire. Let’s make this a proper sacrifice. I must send our brother on his way, and fire we must have so the god can hear us.”
I watched them working. The two women, Mada and Saruke, kept a sharp lookout, and the man began gathering wood. Tamura kept by the dying man, who was shuddering, until I was sure he had died. She was singing and nodding her head as the man spoke softly.
I crept back from the entry. I touched the walls, found them wet and sharp, the rocks jutting out in places. I touched the back wall and poked ahead with my sword, while looking out for the shadows that were guarding outside.
I found the back wall, a root-infested muddy wall that would not allow me to leave or hide. The entire cave was just designed as a death trap.
Or a grave.
“This is it, Lok? This is the best you could do?” I asked softly. “A lame horse would have been as good.”
Tamura called out, “What did you say, Maroboodus? A horse?”
“I asked my god,” I called out, as I walked for the doorway, “if this is the best they can do. This shitty mound.”
“They don’t really care, Maroboodus,” she said, and watched her brother building a fire from kindling and smaller woods. “Tomorrow, Akkas will sacrifice for the final time for your gods, and this night, I shall sacrifice for ours. You must prepare for your death and stop blaming the gods for your foolery. You took my daughter. You took my brother. It was all well done. You are right. The deaths will make you a richer sacrifice for the pure one. Aša Vahišta, the purest of beings, shall purge us of all our fears.”
“I’ll hump your pure gods,” I said. “I’ll make them filthy and defiled. I piss on your fire. Come and get me.”
She looked at me with fury and nodded at the building fire. “Watch. We’ll make it bright and huge. Piss on it, if you can.”
And I had no choice on the matter.
I watched.
She went to help the man, and together, the two built a blazing inferno in the middle of the woods, and the clearing
was soon lit. It burned high—bright orange, white, and yellow—and crackled pleasantly. The two females were soon sweating, and it ran in rivulets across their bodies, but they never flinched from their duty.
I considered trying to run, to attack, to flee.
The girls were ready. The arrow was constantly aimed at me.
Tamura was soon nodding, and she removed her tunic as well. Her powerful body gleamed with sweat. She leaned to her brother, who nodded. He had collected dry hay and dead brushes and was making a set of large torches by tying them into branches. He had a clay bottle of something that must have been Roman, and soon, he stood up, holding two such large braches, both tipped by hay and dry brushes, gleaming with something thick and wet.
The man thrust them into the fire, and they flared violently, as if their god had answered their prayers and was watching. Two branches flaming, the man roared and ran for the cave.
They tensed, they jumped out of his way.
I lifted my hand before me and cringed, prepared and prayed as I leaned on the rock.
The other Sarmatians joined the man in the rushing attack. They came forward and howled like beasts. I watched them, my sword quivering, and I begged to Lok one more time.
The man got to the cave threw the burning branches inside. One flew past me, the other one struck me, and I clapped at a burning sleeve. The archer girl slithered past the man who was turning to get his spear from Tamura and aimed her bow. The other one stepped out of sight, her rope taut. Tamura was watching me carefully.
The girl let go with the arrow.
The arrow tore to my shoulder, my chain saved me, and still, the weapon drew blood. The man stepped in, I stabbed at him, but he bashed down with his spear, and intercepted my stab. Tamura was behind him, and her lance punched for my guts. I stabbed again, drew blood from the man’s hand, and then, he moved past me, and I was bashed in the face by a hilt of a sword.
I fell on my back, saw a rope around my ankle, and then, I was dragged out of the cave. My sword hand was stepped on, my hands were tied, and I kicked the rope wielding girl in the face, splitting her lip, but that was all I could do. My legs were soon tied together as well.
Tamura and the man dragged me for the fire and dropped me unceremoniously before it. The man pushed my sword deep in the ground, in a crude offering to their gods, and more would follow shortly. I fought, but Mada and Saruke fell over me and kept me still while Tamura pulled out her long dagger.
“So,” she said huskily. “Are you ready, oh great Goth?”
I spat. “No. Of course I am not. Look, I would discuss this further. No? Can you just wait until I am ready, at least?”
She smiled and shifted closer. She kneeled next to me and placed the dagger over my throat. “No man is truly ready for the god of fire, Maroboodus. Bless my marriage, bless my war, and the seed in my womb. Let him or her ride the winds one day, and—”
“By all means,” a harsh voice called out, “finish him, and then, we shall deal with our issues. I feel like doing some sacrificing myself.”
They all stiffened, turned, and got up. I rolled to see what was happening. From the darkness emerged a ring of men. My men. Except they were not. They now had red shields. Heinrich was there with them, looking down at the Sarmatians gloomily from his horse. Bertilo was sitting next to him. He had my twenty men, and all held a framea and javelin ready, some had bows, and they had surrounded the place. His bodyguard, dozens of them was emerging from the woods, and there, I saw Ingulf. I also saw Bero. He had been tied on a horse and gagged. Ingulf grinned as he saw me and the fire. “Were they going to roast or smoke you?”
I shook my head. “I didn’t ask.”
Heinrich wasn’t happy with our banter and frowned as he rode forward. The Sarmatians moved to make a line. He smiled at Tamura and grinned at their semi-nude state. “Well, you proud bitch. Seems you swam right into our trap. This trout will feed me well.”
Tamura picked up her shield and spear. I edged away from them and got up to my knees. Tamura was staring at Heinrich and then at Bero.
Heinrich nodded. “Aye. We planned with Maroboodus. I was to prostrate myself before your coward master to buy us some time to scheme. After, we were going to send a man to feed you a story of Maroboodus’s high blood, and how you would follow the vitka this night, alone, too curious for your own good.” He smiled. “When this Maino was taken, we decided to use Bero instead.” He winked. “We all knew Bero would go back on his word and ask you to give him his son back in return of telling them where Maroboodus would go and what he would do. It was a risk. He might have told Akkas about Maroboodus and I. We figured he would not risk being called a liar, and made a simple deal with you, instead. His son’s return for Maroboodus.”
Tamura nodded.
Heinrich smiled. “We don’t care about Akkas’s relations with Rome. Not one bit. We are not interested in who does what in their shitty relationship.”
“No?” Tamura asked bitterly. “You should.”
“No,” he said. “We don’t need to find a way to get to Akkas. We now have one. He figured it out immediately.” He nodded at me. “I hated the plan at first, but here we are. All the players we need.”
Tamura looked at me. I struggled free of the ropes around my limbs. I got up and found my sword. The Sarmatians, knowing death when they saw it, didn’t even turn to face me. They faced Heinrich.
I pointed the sword at Heinrich. “What did you mean ‘finish him off’? And where in the name of Tiw’s milky nipples were you?”
He smiled. “It sounded dramatic. I meant nothing by it. And we were late and got lost. The scouts who rode after you were distracted by the dead vitka on the trail. The fire helped.” He turned to Tamura. “Will you die well?” he asked her.
She nodded, her face white with fear.
“Alas, but you will not,” he said. “You are the way to Akkas. I shall kill your girls, unless you kill the man. Let it be tomorrow, at the sacrifice.”
She took a ragged breath. “You want me to kill Akkas. In front of everyone. The only thing you wanted was for me to follow him, with my family.”
He nodded. “Yes. I shall take your girls to my camp, and you will do this. Just to show you we are not fooling around, see this.”
He turned to his men.
“Tie up the women,” he said. “Kill the man.”
The Hermanduri rode forward, filling the clearing. Bows were lifted, and the Sarmatian man looked at Tamura with a weak smile. He lifted his sword and then grimaced as arrows tore to his back and one into his face. He fell silently and made no sound as he lay, either.
The women and Tamura were turning and turning.
One of the girls screamed a challenge. “Heyaa!” she roared and shot an arrow at a man. He slumped over his saddle and fell, and Tamura and the other girl were rushing forward, but it was to no avail.
Our plan had worked.
We had bought the time, Red Raven survived, and I had made myself into Akkas’s man and had told Bero to keep his oaths to me while serving us. I had told him I’d fight Maino, but he was offered a way to save him, and he had taken it. He had sent the bodyguards of Akkas straight to us, and now, Akkas was doomed.
It all felt hollow to me.
I felt a twitch of anger as I watched the scene. I felt Ingulf’s eyes on me and didn’t look that way.
The red shields were coming for the women, thick around them. They jumped down from horses and clustered about them, and one of them fell with a lance on his gut. I saw the girls struggling and born down under shields, but Tamura dodged a man, pushed under his horse, and attacked. She stabbed one man in the gut, left the lance, and pulled a sword, running for the Red Raven. She was blocked by men, and roaring in anger, she rammed her shield into a man’s, furiously stabbed over the shield, and took the man’s skull in sword’s point, and then, a warrior rode behind her. Bertilo. He swung a club and struck her neck. She fell, moaning, and the Hermanduri leaped on her. They tied her ha
nds, and those of the other two, and pummeled them into silence. I watched as they worked, the men smiling like two-legged wolves. The Red Raven looked at his captives with spite.
He gave me a glance and cheered up. “It worked. It worked well.”
I shrugged. “She still has to agree. She might not care about her girls enough.”
He looked furious. He jumped down and stalked at the captive, who was regaining consciousness. He squatted next to Tamura. He smiled down on her and grabbed her hair. “Well, you vixen. You are mine now. You will agree to all I want. Akkas, for your girls.”
“Never,” she whispered. “I shall not obey you.”
He pulled her up and put a rough hand on her chest. “You will share my bed, or your daughters will,” he said simply, and I looked at the girls. They were defiant, but I also sensed they were terrified. I shook my head, but he went on. “I do not care to see women fighting a war, but I can have a private battle with one or two in the dark. That is fine with me.”
I felt anger gnawing inside me. “Where are Maino and Erse? Tamura?”
She looked at me, her eyes round with anger and humiliation.
Heinrich also looked at me, annoyed, and then down at her. “Where did you take your captives from that night you attacked me?”
She shook her head.
He slapped her, got up, and looked down at the two girls. “Which one shall I give to my men?”
“Wait,” she said weakly. “No.”
“Yes, which one,” he wondered, and walked to them and toed one. She hissed, and he laughed. “Very spirited.”
“Agree,” I said. “Agree to this. There is no reason to hold secrets now. Your fire god has abandoned you. Save your children.” I felt bile rising to my throat. Red Raven’s threat was vile. It was not what we had agreed to.
She turned to look at me, fury, fear, and disappointment playing on her face. She closed her eyes and nodded.
“I thought she might be incapable of sensible thoughts,” Heinrich said. “Like animals, these nomads. I am very much surprised. Speak, then. Speak the words.”
“Our prisoners from that night,” she whispered. “We sold them to the Romans. They are in the Roman camp.”
The Wolf Page 13
