They carried Hafdan's body carefully, looking sadly at those who stopped to watch. The Northmen began to gather around, all of them morose and silent. Among them, Wulfgar, the new High King of the island's Northmen began a chant in their language. It was one that Menelith did not understand, but knew was befitting of a fine warrior. It pained him to see the faces of Hafdan's brothers and sisters.
Hafdan would be missed.
"How did this happen?" Bertram asked. "He was tied securely to the post, and the water was freezing. I'm surprised he even survived, much less escaped."
"And that's what puzzles me the most," Svengaar said. "How did he slip past the rangers?"
"They were likely patrolling the most logical areas around the fortress," Wulfgar suggested. "Which means he slipped past in plain sight. We all probably saw him and didn't think anything of it."
"I saw no one," Bertram said. "But then… I was here."
"The killing was a cowardly one," Wulfgar said. "The man has no honor at all. Attacking a man from behind is the act of a savage."
He spat on the floor, prompting Bertram to scowl at him. Wulfgar pursed his lips and looked away.
"He's right," Svengaar said. "If this is the kind of soldier employed by the beast, then we can expect more cowardly acts from them."
"That goes without saying," Menelith said. "T'kar's armies have already slaughtered women and children. Fortunately, Captain Jarka is no longer a threat, but that leaves room for an officer of even worse character. Nothing would surprise me anymore."
"I'd wager this Lorcan fellow is already worse than his late commanding officer," Skulgrid said.
"Likely," Menelith agreed. "Captain Jarka was remorseless and without emotion. Lorcan seemed to enjoy the acts he committed."
"It's hard to decide which one is worse," Bertram said, leaning his head against his shoulder. "But that is not important now. With Dearg gone, we have no one to organize any kind of offensive excursions, nor defensive for that matter. Despite his youth, he was a good strategist."
"We have Menelith," Skulgrid said. "And Wulfgar and Svengaar are experienced leaders."
"That is true," Bertram said.
"I don't think now is the time for offensive moves," Wulfgar said. "T'kar has not made another move against us. I'd wager his wound is still healing. We should use this time for more building, and recruiting perhaps."
"Recruiting?" Bertram repeated. "Recruiting whom?"
Wulfgar shrugged. "Surely there are other tribes nearby. There are those who don't live in the villages."
"All of the villages are gone," Bertram reminded him. "Expect for those on the east coast, of course."
"Then we recruit them."
"How?" Bertram asked. "If they were in a position, or had the desire, to be recruited, I would guess that Baleron and the others would have recruited them by now."
"Maybe they have," Wulfgar said. "It's a day's ride from there. They could be on their way now."
"That is not necessarily a good thing," Skulgrid said. "From what I remember, the people of Scarcliff are criminals; thieves, smugglers and the like."
"I like them already," Wulfgar said.
"It wouldn't surprise me if they've already skinned Baleron and the others alive by now," Bertram mused.
"Baleron is capable of taking care of them," Menelith said. "And he is a good judge of character. He will see them through. And if the people there can be recruited, he will do so."
"That's all well and good," Bertram said. "But if we see them marching in our direction, how will we know they are friendly and not allied with T'kar?"
"They would never side with the Beast," Skulgrid said. "They are true rebels. Even if they hated us, they would hate T'kar even more."
Bertram shrugged, standing up in front of his throne. "Then what do we do? Do we wait? Stew? Throw parties? Pick our noses?"
"As Wulfgar suggested, we should build," Menelith said. "We will need more weapons; arrows, blades and the like. If my warriors can use your forges, they will be happy to do so. I have two of the best smiths in all of Alvheim."
"Good," Bertram said. "There is plenty of iron in the stores to make steel. It is yours. Leather is available, too, if needed."
Menelith bowed his head, motioning for his two warriors to depart with him. Bertram watched after them, sitting back down and waiting for someone else to speak up.
"Anything else?" he asked. "If not, it is time for the Northmen to prepare their tribesman's body."
"We thank you for honoring our traditions," Wulfgar said. "We will need wood for the pyre."
"It is yours," Bertram said. "Take all you need, and know that you have my sympathy for your loss. Hafdan was a good man."
"Thank you, my friend," Wulfgar said. Then, turning to Svengaar and the others. "Let us send our friend to Valhalla."
Thorgrymm leaned his elbow on his knee as he stood at the bough of his longship. The men behind him rowed quickly, singing their songs of the sea, and he laughed at their antics. Ahead, the island of Eirenoch was beginning to peak through the heavy mists that covered the sea. There, his wayward kinsmen had settled, and there was where his scouts had seen the beacons. Something was brewing, the High King knew, something important that he was absolutely not going to miss.
Not for all the mead in Valhalla.
Around him, the oarsmen on the other ships were beginning to row faster as the land was sighted. They were all anxious to reach the shore and join in the fun, whatever that was, and the High King could hear the anticipation of battle in their songs.
"Thorgrymm," his shieldmaiden, Greta, said.
He turned around, glad to see her already prepared for the landing. She had her shield and sword in hand, and her silky platinum hair flowed around her head like divine, golden fire.
"Ready so soon?" he said, laughing. "We've not even landed yet."
Greta smiled widely, and he could see the lust within her. She was always ready for a fight.
"Always ready," she said. "But I doubt we'll see any battle yet. We'll be landing near Svengaar's tribe, not the enemy, whoever that is."
"I'd wager Svengaar got himself into a squabble with Ubbe and needs our help," Thorgrymm said, remembering the friendly rivalry between the two Jarls that occasionally led to enmity.
"Doubtful," Greta replied. "But if so, I'll take Svengaar's side. You take Ubbe's"
The High King threw his head back and roared with laughter. "Always the shite-stirrer, you."
"The mist is thickening," Greta said, pointing her sword forward. "If it gets any thicker, we won't see the shore."
Greta was right, he saw. The mist was rolling in from the west, obscuring the distant shore quickly. In just a few minutes, the shore was completely gone from sight, replaced by the thick moisture that appeared so suddenly.
"Kronos!" he called out, listening for the echo.
An archer in the next ship fired a flaming arrow toward the shore. Thorgrymm watched it sail upward, arc through the mist, and disappear. He heard nothing.
"Wait a few minutes and fire again," Thorgrymm called out to him.
"The shore is littered with rocks, from what I remember," Greta said.
"We'll have to be careful then," Thorgrymm said. "But I don't foresee any danger. As long as we head for the mouth of the river, we'll be fine."
"Then we need to change direction."
"We will. Don't worry."
Shieldmaiden Ronja stood upon the rocks at the north shore, her eyes squinting through the mist in search of the shadowy forms of ships approaching from the north. She had heard the echo call from the sea, and even saw the flaming arrow that followed.
She knew only one thing could be happening; her kinsmen from the Northlands were approaching the shore. Whether that was a good thing or not remained to be seen.
"Kronos!" she heard again.
She jumped down from the rocks and toward the guard post near the river mouth. The other shieldmaidens had heard the call as well, an
d were assembling to defend the village. Not knowing why the other Northmen arrived, they had to be prepared in case their kinsmen decided to raid them or punish them for fleeing their homeland.
Without the rest of the tribe present, they were the village's only defense.
They lined up on the shore, swords in hand, with a dozen archers behind them. Ronja's hands trembled with terror, and her teeth chattered as she stared into the fog. She could hear her sisters breathing heavily around her, and she knew they too were terrified.
"We won't stand a chance if they attack," one said. "They'll stomp us into the ground."
"Prepare your arrows," Ronja called back. "Tar and flame them. Be ready to fire at the ships if I give the signal."
"Kronos!" the call came again.
Another flaming arrow streaked in and embedded itself in the ground several yards ahead of her assembly. Her heart began racing, and she swallowed hard.
"Hold the torch up," she called back. "We don't want them shooting at us again."
They waited patiently, all of them shifting nervously as the sound of battle songs began to echo over the water. The first ship broke through the mist a few moments later, and Ronja could see the form of the High King's helmet in the dark shapes. The ship was large, larger than the ones that accompanied it, and Ronja knew Thorgrymm himself had come.
"Ho there!" a voice called out from the center ship.
Ronja began banging her sword on her shield, and the others followed suit. Soon, the thundering sound of steel on wood filled her ears, and was met the same sound coming from the ships.
The ships moored themselves several yards from shore, and the Northmen began piling out and lining up along the rocks. Thorgrymm stepped through them, his giant axe in hand, and his scowl piercing the hearts of the defenders as they stared in horror. The High King laughed when he saw them, handing his axe to his shieldmaiden, and stepped forward.
"Is this how you greet your king?" he asked, laughing.
"Our queen is not present," Ronja shouted. Her sisters looked at her nervously.
Thorgrymm cocked his head, stepping forward again, coming within just a few feet of Ronja. His shieldmaiden stood at his side, her eyes focused on Ronja, who bravely held the king's gaze.
"What did you say, girl?" Thorgrymm growled.
"I said our queen is not present," Ronja replied, swallowing hard, but keeping her eyes locked with his.
"Your queen, eh?" Thorgrymm repeated.
"Who is your queen?" the shieldmaiden asked firmly.
"Igrid," Ronja replied.
"On whose authority?" Thorgrymm asked.
"On her own. She claimed the helm. Ubbe contested her claim. She killed him. She is now our queen."
Thorgrymm threw his head back in laughter. "Well then," he said. "Where is your queen?"
"She led the tribes into the Highlands," Ronja said.
"All of them? For what reason?"
"To do battle with T'kar," Ronja said.
Thorgrymm's smile disappeared then, and he leaned in just inches from her face. "T'kar?"
Ronja was silent. She only nodded. Thorgrymm cocked his head. "Is that why you lit the beacons?" he asked.
"We lit the beacons to call the other tribes to action. They have been gone since then."
"And Svengaar left you in charge?"
"Yes."
Thorgrymm looked over to his shieldmaiden, who shrugged. The High King folded his arms across his chest, smiling at Ronja.
"You are brave to defend your village against the High King and his warriors."
"It is my duty," Ronja said. "To Kronos, and my queen."
"What is your name, girl?" the shieldmaiden asked.
"I am Ronja. I am Igrid's servant and shieldmaiden."
"Very well," Thorgrymm said. "Then I respect your position. And I respect the queen's decision to join the battle. Tell me, have you room for more warriors? My men need rest from the long journey before we join in the fun."
Ronja smiled. "If you are friends, you are welcome."
"Man the boats!" Thorgrymm shouted behind him. "We'll decide what to do with them later. You, Ronja, tell us everything."
"Who is this Dearg?" Thorgrymm asked, biting off a chunk of meat from the ham hock he held in his hand. "That is not a Northman's name."
"He is a foundling," Ronja replied. "Found in the river when he was a baby. Olav and Svana raised them as their own."
"And he was the first to travel into the Highlands?"
Ronja nodded. "Some children found the bodies of three Highlanders in the river. Dearg, Ivar, and Fleek traveled up the river to return them to their people."
"What kind of people are they, then?"
"They are fine warriors," Ronja replied. "Even the women. Some of them are here."
"Why?"
"T'kar's troops traveled into the Highlands and laid waste to several villages. Our warriors went to help them, and the surviving women and children were allowed to come into our village."
"What say you, Greta?" Thorgrymm said to his shieldmaiden.
"A noble act," she replied. "Svengaar is an honorable man. Such an action doesn't surprise me."
"Nor me," Thorgrymm said. "But my question is, who convinced him to join in this battle?"
Ronja shrugged. "He says Kronos gave him a sign, and he lit the beacons."
"What sign was that?" Greta asked, leaning on the table.
"Two hundred horses wandered into our village."
Thorgrymm laughed. "Now that is a sign for sure."
"We will join your tribes," Greta said. "Where do we go?"
"Along the river," Ronja said. "Then to the east along the valley, then south."
"And what will we find there?" Thorgrymm asked.
"You will find the Highlanders and the Northmen working together to fortify the mountain passes," Ronja said. "And the Alvar."
Thorgrymm's eyes widened at the mention of the Alvar. He turned to Greta, whose eyes were also wide. She bore a crooked smile that told Ronja she was skeptical.
"Are you sure?" Greta asked. "They are just old wives' tales, I thought."
"No old wives' tales," Ronja said. "They are real."
Thorgrymm nodded then, smiling at Ronja with his mostly toothy grin. "You will lead us to the party, eh?"
"If you would leave some warriors here to help guard the village, I would be happy to, King Thorgrymm."
"Consider it done," he said.
"I will leave my shieldmaidens here," Greta added. "And some of the older warriors. Your village will be well-protected."
"Fine then," the High King said. "We march in the morning."
Chapter Eight
We'll wait here until morning," Finn said as he led Baleron and the others toward the exit of the cavern system. "Others should be coming through once the way is clear."
"Do T'kar's troops come here often?" Baleron asked.
"Never," Finn replied. "Not to this village anyway. This is the first time they've attacked."
Finn sat down on one of the stones that had been arranged around a fire pit. This cavern was evidently commonly used for several reasons, Baleron supposed. Though there was an exit here that led downward to the southern road, there was another passage opposite the one from which they emerged. It led into the darkness, but Baleron could hear the faint sounds of rushing water.
"Where does that go?" he asked.
"That, my friend, is the major smuggling route," Finn replied. "That is how my men get to Tannagard to deliver their goods."
He smiled as he finished, pulling a flint out of his cloak to light the fire.
"What goods are those?" Ivar asked.
"Weapons, whiskey, women," Finn said.
"You smuggle women?" Freyja asked.
"Oh no," Finn said. "Not for that reason. Women who want to escape from whatever troubles them. There are tribes in this area that aren't too fond of their own womenfolk."
Alric smiled and pointed at his teeth for some r
eason Freyja didn't seem to fathom. Baleron chuckled, knowing that the young Highlander meant that the tribal women usually lacked most of their teeth. They were fairly primitive as compared to the rest of the folk of Eirenoch, but their women were well-appreciated in the southern parts of the island. The tribes there were seriously lacking when it came to the number of women among them.
But Baleron was more concerned with how Finn knew about him and Odhran being rangers.
"How did you know of the rangers?" he asked.
"I know many things," Finn said. "I have scouts that comb the area. They are just as skilled as your rangers, and they tell me everything."
"You seem like much more than a smuggler and a kingsman," Alric said.
Finn smiled crookedly. "You can learn a lot from a criminal," he said.
"I would wager you're only a criminal in T'kar's eyes," Ivar said.
Finn shrugged, throwing a small stick on the growing fire. "Daegoth, too," he said. "At least regarding his own laws. But he's not here anymore."
Baleron glanced at Ivar, who raised his brow. The ranger made a hush gesture with his finger and Ivar shrugged.
"Tell me about this Tannagard," Baleron said. "I've never heard of it."
"You, sir, were correct about knowing much more about the north," Finn said. "But I can't fault you for that. Tannagard was where I was born. It's a fairly well-hidden town on the coast, at the bottom of the cliffs. The only way into it is the cave system behind me. That's why I am the main smuggler and trader in these parts. No one else wants to bother going there. I get paid to transport goods, the sellers and the buyers make out like bandits, and no one is any wiser."
"What kind of people are they?" Odhran asked. "People of the island, or other parts?"
"It's a mixture, lad. Some from the island's parts, some from Thyre, others from the Northlands like these two here; blonde hair and all."
"Not all of us have blonde hair," Ivar said, smiling. "Just the pretty ones."
He and Freyja grinned at each other, prompting Finn to bellow in laughter. He shook his head and began packing his pipe with tobacco.
"If you want to see Tannagard, I'd recommend it," he said. "It's a fine village and would be a good stop. We can go there instead of heading back down to the road. As far as reaching Tel Drakkar, I think it would be better to travel around the coast rather than through the mountains. Ever since the rock fell from the sky, there's been strange creatures about."
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