Nena

by Ann Boelter

  “A large Northmen force has joined the small camp outside the gates. They are sending multiple groups to the northeast and southeast sides of the mountain,” one of the cliff guards reported.

  “Are they trying to breach?” her father asked.

  “Occasionally, but they are easily turned back. These Northmen do not have the stomach to fight.”

  “They are reconnaissance scouts,” Nena interrupted. “They are not trying to breach. They are probing our defenses and reporting our responses back to their leader,” Nena said, her voice grim. “They do this before every battle; then he decides the best way to attack.” She thought of the many times she had heard those reports relayed to Jarl.

  “Attack? Why would they return to do that? They avoided our lands the first time and were well past us. Why do they come back now?” someone from the crowd asked. “I thought you said they would have to leave. Not only did they not leave, now there are more of them—many, many more of them.”

  Nena’s mind was racing. From the sounds of it, Jarl had moved his full force to the gates. He would not have done that for her. He would not risk so many of his men for a woman—a slave. Then why?

  The answer hit her like a blow to the stomach. She was a fool. He had not come for her at all. His spirit was not being choked. The gods had not sent him. He’d come for the Teclan treasure—the treasure she had told him about. All this time, she’d been so concerned with her feelings for him and his possible feelings for her, she’d been blinded to his true purpose. She had told him of the wealth they possessed to try to entice him to ransom her back to her people, and now he was here to claim it.

  She thought back to that night in his tent. How he had speculated out loud that all a man would have to do was take the Teclan mountain and he’d be wealthy beyond his wildest dreams. He had never mentioned it again in her presence, but he must not have believed her when she said it was impossible. This was all her fault. She’d given information to the enemy, and now her people would suffer for it.

  “It doesn’t matter why there are more of them here,” Lothor shouted. “They could bring thousands, and thousands would die. We have nothing to fear. We should be thankful. Now we can kill them all and finally have our vengeance.” Lothor paused, then continued, his voice slightly quieter, but still tight with excitement. “I have prayed for this. It is a gift from the gods. Not only will we not have to wait to avenge Ruga’s death, but those directly responsible have delivered themselves to us and prepare to attack on our terms. It could not be better. The gods truly smile upon us.”

  “Yes,” Meln agreed, though not with the same conviction.

  “Of what do you worry?” Lothor was clearly puzzled and concerned at his father’s lack of enthusiasm. “Why do you not give the order to attack?” he demanded. “Now, before they change their mind and leave?”

  The fact that Lothor was unable to keep his disapproval in check, and openly questioned their father, revealed the depth of the discord that still smoldered inside him. Nena knew from his heated words with her before, that even though he had the highest respect for their father’s battle insight and authority, he was very troubled by the change in him since his injuries. The change she had also noticed on her first day back. When the flame of that doubt was fanned by his deep, almost desperate desire for revenge, Nena feared what Lothor might do. For him to challenge her father now to lead the tribe, would tear it apart and leave them all weak and vulnerable. He had to know that.

  But her father wasn’t the only one who had changed; Lothor wasn’t the same either. He himself recognized he was dangerously consumed by his hatred. By his own admission, he was not thinking clearly because of it. And if he did challenge her father, what would she do? Or the others? Where would they stand? Lothor would be the next chief. All knew and accepted that. But not yet. And not by coup. That could not happen until her father relinquished the position to him.

  Nena glanced around the council and saw the unease on some of the other warriors’ faces as they also recognized the potential for disaster in Lothor’s next words. She was disturbed, however, to see eagerness on the faces of some who appeared to relish a changing of the guard. They were those closest to Lothor—Baldor, not surprisingly, was among them.

  “I wish only to understand their motive, as you should also,” Meln admonished him, seemingly unaware of the precipice on which they stood. “To know how hard an enemy will fight, you need to understand what they fight for.”

  It was basic warrior training, and even the youngest warriors knew it well. A single man protecting his family, or a mother protecting her child might be a dangerous opponent, while an army fighting for another’s cause was often easily defeated.

  Nena wrestled with her conscience and guilt. She had the answer they sought. She knew what the Northmen would be fighting for, and she also knew how powerful an incentive it was to them. The same drive for riches and conquest that drove them far from their homes year after year. When combined with their lack of fear—nay, their desire to die in battle, she knew they would be the most formidable adversary her people had ever faced. They would be relentless and merciless once Jarl gave the order. Her gut twisted. She should reveal what she knew. To withhold the information of why the Northmen were here and what they were willing to die for was dangerous for everyone if they did not take the threat seriously. She stood mute. She couldn’t do it—not when she was the cause of it all. She couldn’t stand to see them look at her with shame and disgust, like she was a traitor.

  “They are stupid Northmen,” Baldor shouted.

  “They have not been stupid in the past,” Meln reminded him.

  “We must do something. If they remain camped there, we cannot leave to raid,” Baldor added.

  “They have never overwintered in our lands before,” an older warrior said, joining the debate. “I believe Nena’s words before to be true. They won’t be able to stay. They must return to the North before the rivers freeze, or they will be trapped and not be able to make it home. They will have to leave soon.”

  “Then that means they will have to attack soon,” Lothor said quietly.

  Murmurs filled the tent as the warriors took this in.

  Meln waited for the tent to become quiet, then spoke. “We have the tactical advantage and our priorities must remain with protecting our people and this mountain,” he announced, taking control like the Meln of old, his tone brooking no argument. “Vengeance is secondary, and we will not risk all by venturing beyond our protection to have it. Have the elderly, the children, and the pregnant women prepare to move to the safety of the winter caves on short notice. Everyone else needs to prepare to fight. Lothor, triple the guards on the walls and station warriors behind the stones in the canyon. If the Northmen decide to attack, we will be ready. And station our fastest messengers along the trails. If reinforcements are needed, we need to know when and where as soon as possible.”

  “I have a suggestion for that,” Nena offered, finally finding her voice, thankful the tribe was preparing for the worst without her having to reveal her own accountability. She briefly explained the Northmen’s use of horns and whistles.

  “Yes. I like that,” Meln agreed. “If three men with horns were set up along the trail, they could pass the signal in seconds.” He turned to Lothor. “See that it is done.”

  Lothor nodded. “After that, I’m going to the Gates,” he said. It was not a request. “If the Northmen do decide to attack, I will be among the first to greet them.”

  Word spread quickly of the growing size of the Northman camp. As preparations were made for emergency evacuation and battle, the strain began to tell on everyone, but none more than Exanthia.

  “They are coming for us, aren’t they?” She whispered her fear to Nena one night as they lay in the darkness. “It’s because we escaped, and they’ve come to take us back. This is my fault. Everyone is in danger because of me.”

  “Shh, shh,” Nena soothed. She reached for the girl and
pulled her under her own furs, wrapping her in a tight embrace. She understood how Exanthia felt. Her own feelings of guilt had plagued her since the moment in the council when she realized why they were really here. “It is not your fault and they are not going to take us,” she reassured her. “You know what to do if the alarm comes?”

  “Yes, I will go with Shia to the caves. But what about you and Jalla?” Exanthia fretted.

  “If the alarm is sounded, we will be needed to fight.”

  “But I can fight, too.”

  “Not yet,” Nena disagreed. “I know you are willing, but you must go with the others. Everyone has an important job to do and yours will be to help those at the caves. Belda will be there and she could have her baby any day. She will need someone strong to look after her. And besides, it will not come to that. We are safe here. You remember the tall cliffs we rode through? No enemy has ever passed through those gates—ever, in all of time, and many have tried. The Northmen are not stupid. They will see that it is certain death and they will leave. You’ll see.”

  “But Jalla says there have never been so many before,” Exanthia whispered.

  “It doesn’t matter how many there are,” Nena said.

  Exanthia squirmed to peer at her face.

  Nena continued. “This is a valuable lesson on the importance of strategy in battle. With the narrowness of the cliff walls and the placement of the boulders, only ten can pass at a time. Do you understand what that means? It doesn’t matter if there are a thousand or more, they are no stronger than the number of warriors who can fight at one time—in this case, that is ten. Our warriors can easily defeat ten. Gentok alone could probably take ten. Don’t you think?”

  “Easily,” Exanthia agreed.

  Nena knew the girl idolized Gentok. His gift of the bow and attention to her training had already earned him a special place in her heart. “Whenever you fight, if you look for an advantage, one can often be found. Deficits in strength, or weapons, or numbers can be overcome. Never forget that. Always fight smart.”

  “I will,” Exanthia promised.

  “Good. Now get some rest,” Nena murmured.

  Long after Exanthia had fallen asleep, Nena lay awake, trying to reconcile her own anger, frustration, guilt and fear. How could Jarl do this? After all his kind deeds and words of affection, how could he betray her this way?

  Because this is who he is and what he does. And he is not at all unlike you in this way. It would be no different than if a foolish prisoner had given valuable information to the Teclan. Of course you would use it. And you would scoff at the one who gave it up so readily. The blame lies only with you. Altene was right. You are a naive fool.

  The true source of your anger stems not from his actions at all, but because you allowed yourself to become soft toward him. Even after everything—your escape, your return home, your decision to choose Gentok, deep down when you thought he might be there with the scouts, you maintained those soft thoughts about him. Now you know the truth. He may have enjoyed you in the furs—even your company as he professed, but it meant nothing to him compared to the wealth of your people.

  Now you must put all that behind you, once and for all, and focus on the business at hand. While the words you said to Exanthia are true, these Northmen are unlike any force the tribe has ever faced, and you know it—and not just because of their numbers. They are skilled fighters and far more organized than any who have previously tried to attack the mountain. And they are far more motivated; while others may have suspected the riches the Teclan held, Jarl knows of it—thanks to you.

  Nena pushed the berating of her guilty conscience from her mind. Even though the Northmen posed a more serious threat than she had let on to Exanthia, the huge tactical advantage provided by the canyon was also true. So would Jarl still attack? She had never seen him risk the lives of his men needlessly before, but she’d also never seen him avoid a fight—except when he’d considered the prize to be too small. That was certainly not the case here.

  He always came up with a strategy to best get around his opponent’s strengths and defenses. But there was no way around the cliffs. Surely he would see that. And knowing the casualties to his men would be staggering, would he actually attack them? And if he did, would she meet him on the battlefield? If so, could she kill him? She envisioned his handsome face as the target past the tip of her drawn arrow. Even fueled as she was by her anger and frustration, her imagination hesitated to loose her fingers from the bowstring. What was wrong with her?

  Laughter filled the Northmen’s camp at all hours of the day and night. The men were rested and spirits were high. They had been a force to be reckoned with for some time, and to a man, they were confident in Jarl to find a way.

  “What’s so funny?” Jarl was on the way to his own tent but stopped and asked several of the men who were still laughing.

  “Bjorg snuck out there a ways and introduced those savages to his new long bow,” one chuckled. “Some young buck was up there dancing around and thought he’d take a piss off the rock in our direction. Bjorg showed him he better piss somewhere else.”

  “Did you hit him?” Jarl asked Bjorg directly, impressed that an archer could have that kind of range.

  “Nah, but I scared him bad enough; he probably has a little piss on his sandals,” Bjorg answered.

  They all laughed again.

  Jarl stepped away and looked at the Teclan sentries on the cliffs above. He wondered if Nena was among them, watching him. With their ranks swelled to near full force, Jarl knew they were an impressive sight. Was she frightened? Was Meln? Surely they had to realize that even with their huge advantage of the natural barriers, Jarl’s numbers were such now that he could quite possibly overrun their defenses—could quite possibly succeed where no one had before. There would be massive casualties among his men, though strategically for the future, he could justify it. With the Teclan in place, he and other vikings had to go far out of their way to avoid them, adding many miles to their trips. But if the Teclan were gone....

  Jarl knew he could sell it—actually knew he didn’t need to; there was always the compelling detail of the sizable wealth the Teclan had amassed over the years, though Jarl still kept that particular fact to himself. He couldn’t risk greed splintering his group by driving some to challenge his authority or act on their own. He glanced back at his men. They were seasoned fighters. Even with death likely for some in the near future, every day they waited and rested, their eagerness grew. They were ready. They wanted to fight, to kill, and Jarl knew their easy laughter now would be nowhere to be seen when he gave the order.

  But if he took the mountain, what would he achieve? He would be a richer man—richer beyond his dreams if what Nena had said was true. But he already had more wealth than he could ever spend. Assuming he was one of the survivors, and Nena was as well—which he knew was a long shot, since he fully expected her to be among the front line of fighters—what would he have won? He would never truly have her after that. Not after murdering her family, her people. Any feelings she did have for him would be lost, never to be regained. And contrary to what Tryggr said, she did have feelings for him; he knew it. He’d felt it.

  And what would he do if he saw one of his men about to deliver a death blow to her? Would he kill him—his own man? Jarl had gone over this, along with all the other dilemmas he faced, from every angle a thousand times—as many times as he had gone over the Teclan defenses. There was much to consider, but really there wasn’t. While he waited for the last scouting party to return, Jarl made up his mind. He knew what he had to do.

  Even though his large tent had been set up after Gunnar’s arrival, Jarl chose to have the scout leader present the latest report outside under the stars. He glanced at all of his higher ranking men, seated tonight around the fire ring, while Altene moved silently among them, keeping their cups filled with wine. Jarl’s full mug remained untouched beside him. With his fingertips steepled in front of his lips and nose, he st
ared into the flames as he absorbed the latest report. This scouting party had just returned from the longest expedition yet to the northwest, but the scout leader reported much of the same. They had probed the Teclan defenses for many miles, but anywhere the terrain was even remotely passable, the Teclan were ready.

  “We thought we found a spot,” the scout said. “Instead of sheer cliffs, the hillsides are steep with a few scattered boulders that could provide us some cover. But after further inspection, even though it can be climbed by men on foot, it would be slow going. The Teclan could pick us off at their leisure. It’s not nearly as heavily guarded as the gates, but it doesn’t have to be.”

  “We are running out of time,” Jarl said. “With everything you have seen, what, in your opinion, is our best option?”

  “I think the best bet for a successful breach is still here at the cliff gates, even though it’s the most heavily guarded. The terrain is flatter, and while it’s only wide enough for ten men abreast, we could at least move with speed. And I think we’d have the element of surprise. With the reputation of the area, no one will be expecting us to attack here,” the scout said.

  “I agree,” Gunnar said. “We could charge in one bull rush and carry double shields.”

  “But double shields would leave us no hands free for weapons,” Tryggr disagreed.

  “We would have no need of weapons, initially,” Gunnar explained. “There will be no one to fight—at least not in the first part of the canyon; we can see in that far. And it would be a waste of time for our archers to try to shoot straight up in the air. The first row of ten men would carry weapons and a single shield to deal with any Teclan warriors we come across in the canyon. The rest would keep their weapons sheathed and use double shields to maintain a shield wall over our heads. The casualties would still be high, but the Teclan wouldn’t be able to kill all of us. Many should make it through. Once through the gates, we’ll drop the extra shields, arm ourselves, and regroup to move on their village. We don’t have maps of the area, but it should be easy enough to find.”