He turned to the two warriors, who looked as though they were relishing the task ahead of them. ‘Off you go, lads. Don’t make it easy for them.’
They both laughed and mounted. Angest gave them all a smile that sent a chill down Wulfric’s spine. Farlof said his father told him that Angest ate the hearts of the men he killed. With Farlof, it was impossible to tell whether he was being serious or not, but looking at Angest, Wulfric could well believe it. He could imagine Angest choosing not to eat anything else.
The pair galloped away to the south. Eldric watched them go for a moment, before turning back to Wulfric and the other apprentices.
‘You can relax for a while,’ Eldric said. ‘Give them two hours. They’ve been told not to put up a fight if they’re caught.’ He glanced in the direction they had gone and shrugged. ‘But with those two, you can never really tell.’
It was only now that Wulfric noticed Eldric did not have a horse with him, or ranging kit.
‘I’ll be in the ale house if anyone needs me. I’ll be very impressed if anyone catches them. If you’re not back in two days, I might come looking for you.’ He started to walk back to the village. ‘Then again, I might not.’
‘Who’s in charge?’ Anshel said.
‘The man who asks the question first is usually a good choice,’ Eldric said, ‘but you’ll have to work that out for yourselves. See you in two days. Try not to die.’
‘Will they stick together or split up?’ Anshel said.
‘Your guess is as good as mine,’ Eldric shouted back. ‘Enough questions, I’ve a mug of ale waiting for me.’
‘Mug of ale?’ Hane said. ‘I’ve only just had breakfast.’
‘It’s made from grains, stupid,’ Farlof said.
Hane grunted and the others laughed.
‘We need to get organised,’ Anshel said, silencing the banter. ‘We need to put the two hours to good use.’
There were murmurs of agreement.
‘We should split in two,’ Anshel said. ‘Even if Angest and Waldegrim stay together, we’ll be able to cover twice the distance, and there are more than enough of us. There’s no need for all twelve of us to stick together. I’ll take one group. Wulfric, you take the other.’
It took Wulfric a moment to realise Anshel had spoken his name.
‘Wulfric, you take Hane, Kolbein, Berun, Roal, and Helfric. The rest come with me.’
Wulfric wanted to groan out loud at the mention of the last name, but was still so taken aback at Anshel having appointed him that he kept quiet.
‘Wait,’ Helfric said. ‘Why’s he in charge?’
Anshel fixed him with one of his icy stares. ‘Because I said so. Problem with that?’
Helfric cast Wulfric a filthy look, but shook his head. Wulfric felt a twist of nerves, not just at the responsibility being placed on him but at the prospect of having to manage Helfric.
‘I’ll take my lot east of the southern road. You take yours west,’ Anshel said.
Wulfric started to nod, but paused. ‘Shouldn’t we go north?’
Helfric sniggered, and Anshel frowned.
‘North?’ Anshel said. ‘Why would we go north?’
‘Because we saw them go south,’ Wulfric said.
Anshel smiled, the first time Wulfric had ever seen him do so. ‘You’re right. It could be a double bluff, though.’
Wulfric shrugged. ‘No way to know, but they aren’t going to make it easy for us.’ He hoped his voice sounded more confident than he felt.
‘Go north for six hours. If you don’t pick up any trace of them, cross over the river to the east bank and come back south. We’ll head south for the same amount and wheel east if there’s no trail. With any luck, we’ll have caught them before we meet in the middle.’
‘Sounds good,’ Wulfric said.
‘Check your kit and be ready to move off as soon as we get word,’ Anshel said. ‘We’re not giving them a moment longer than we have to.’
RODULF SLIPPED out of the village while all the attention was on the apprentices preparing for their first ranging. Children looked at them like they were all heroes, and the village’s young women gathered to see them off, many offering tokens of good luck to their favoured apprentice. The way they behaved, one would be forgiven for thinking they were going to war. Admittedly it was something of a milestone for them, and their departure looked almost exactly as it did when the warriors went out—always an event for the village—but it was still nothing more than boys playing at being men.
Rodulf felt a pang of jealousy. His first ranging, a training trip or not, was something he had looked forward to for as long as he could remember. He had put those dreams behind him now, and knew that his future could offer far more than he had lost. Visiting Elzburg had showed him how much more of the world there was. He wanted to be a man of it, not some ignorant warrior who lived and died within a few paces of where he was born. He had an important task of his own that day. He carried a leather folder with several folios of maps—maps that would direct the reavers to villages he and his father had scouted and considered ripe for the picking.
The reavers were waiting for him at a rendezvous point some distance to the north. Their relationship had proved fruitful—their profits were enormous already. If the arrangement continued, and there was no reason for it not to, Rodulf and his father would amass such wealth they could move south and set themselves up as merchant princes. Wulfric and the others could charge about the place hacking lumps out of one another until the world froze and the gods returned, for all he cared.
‘TIME TO GO,’ Anshel shouted.
The horses were all saddled, and everyone was mounted. They had been for several minutes, eagerly counting the moments until the order was given. Wulfric’s heart raced as they started off in two long lines, he and Anshel at the head. Their route took them into the village as far as the square where they would part and go in their appointed directions.
As Wulfric expected, a number of people had gathered in the village square. The departure of warriors always brought out a crowd, and even though they were only apprentices, it was little different. Several girls came forward and offered some of the apprentices tokens of affection and luck—ribbons or small charms that they had made.
Wulfric scanned the crowd for Adalhaid. She would likely be in class by then, but he was still hopeful. He spotted her, standing across the square, and his face instantly broke into a smile. He wanted nothing more than to make his way over to her, but he could not leave the formation.
‘Wulfric.’
Wulfric looked down to see Svana walking toward his horse. She held up a piece of white ribbon.
‘Good luck on the ranging,’ she said.
Wulfric reached down to take it, but looked over to where Adalhaid was standing. She was watching. He saw her raise an eyebrow, turn and walk away. It felt as though she tore a part of him as she went.
Svana’s hand touched Wulfric’s as he took the ribbon.
‘Thank you, Svana,’ he said. It would have been unforgivable to refuse it, but he so desperately wanted it to have come from Adalhaid.
She smiled. Seeing both her and Anshel smile on the same day was unsettling, like the confluence of two great and rare events. Thinking of Anshel gave Wulfric a pang of concern. He looked over, but Anshel said nothing until they reached the point at which they had to go their separate ways.
‘Good hunting,’ he said.
‘Likewise,’ Wulfric said, trying to sound as grown up and serious as he could. He took one final glance across the square for Adalhaid, but she was nowhere to be seen. Despite the years he had dreamed of going on a ranging, he had a heavy heart as he led his little band of apprentice warriors north out of the village and into the wilderness.
18
They rode in silence for the first hour, fanned out so they could cover the most ground. Wulfric’s mind was racing with all the things he felt he should be doing as leader of the ranging party. He tried to imagin
e how his father would behave. He thought back to the day they went hunting together and tried to remember anything that might be of use. Try as he might, he drew a complete blank. Pensive silence was less likely to make him look a fool than attempting to say and do more than was needed, so he kept his mouth shut as much as possible. They all knew what they were looking for—Wulfric thought it best to leave them to it.
Like the others, he scanned the forest floor for any indication of passing horsemen. To call Angest and Waldegrim experts in forest craft was an understatement. Few real reavers would present as great a challenge and it occurred to Wulfric that it was perhaps not the fairest of tests.
Wulfric looked to both sides—Hane was to one, and Helfric to the other. So far, Helfric had remained quiet, which was a relief. Wulfric had expected far more trouble from him, but knew that simply because he had been silent for that long did not mean the situation would last.
They continued on for several hours. It was difficult to keep track of time under the forest canopy, and the monotony of their task made each moment seem like ten.
‘Time to turn around,’ Helfric said.
Everyone stopped in their tracks and looked to Wulfric.
‘Still a couple more hours by my reckoning,’ Wulfric said. He wasn’t sure exactly how long they had been going, but it certainly wasn’t the six hours he agreed with Anshel.
‘There’s nothing out here,’ Helfric said. ‘We’re wasting our time.’
‘I’ll say when we’re wasting our time. We’ll continue as agreed, and turn back when I decide.’
‘You’re making a mistake,’ Helfric said.
‘Then it’s mine to make,’ Wulfric said. He stared at Helfric, and held his gaze until he looked away. ‘Let’s move off. Keep your eyes peeled.’
Everyone responded to his order, although Helfric waited defiantly for a moment before moving on. Wulfric glared at him until he did. If the others were to accept him as a leader, he couldn’t allow Helfric to challenge him.
As he turned his mind back to looking for any disturbed leaf, broken twig, or scuff on the ground, he started to wonder if Helfric might be right. It would be embarrassing to have led them in the wrong direction.
‘This is a waste of time,’ Helfric shouted. ‘No one has come this way in weeks. Let’s turn south while we still have the chance of finding them before the others.’
‘It’s not a contest,’ Wulfric said. ‘That was last week.’
Helfric’s face darkened. ‘Everything’s a contest.’
‘We work together. We stick to the plan we agreed with Anshel.’
‘The plan you agreed with Anshel.’
‘I didn’t hear anyone complain,’ Wulfric said. ‘Least of all you.’
‘I’m going back,’ Helfric said. ‘Who’s with me?’ He looked around and shouted it again, louder the second time.
Wulfric’s heart was racing. He wanted to look around to see if anyone was reacting, but he kept his eyes locked on Helfric. There was no sound of movement, and Wulfric could see the frustration build on Helfric’s face.
‘The plan’s the plan,’ Hane said. ‘We should see it through.’
The others remained conspicuously silent, with some staring off in the opposite direction to avoid engaging in the conversation.
‘Fine. I’m going back alone.’
‘No you won’t,’ Wulfric said. ‘We continue on as planned.’
‘You might be the Strong Arm’s son, but no one’s made you First Warrior. Or First Apprentice. I’ll make my own decisions. You’ll look like a bloody fool when we find them in the south.’
‘I’ll take that chance,’ Wulfric said.
Helfric turned his horse and with a shout galloped off at far too fast a pace for the forest. Wulfric wasn’t sad to see him go—he was relieved if anything—but it left them a man short and meant they would not be able to search as wide an area.
‘Let’s keep moving,’ Wulfric shouted. ‘I want to cover as much ground as possible before it’s time to head back.’ He looked straight ahead and rode forward, satisfied by the sound of the others following his lead.
HELFRIC WHIPPED his horse with his reins to urge him on faster. The thrill of a fast ride through the forest started to ease the fury he felt at Wulfric’s casual dismissal of his opinion. He jumped a fallen tree trunk and swerved around another as soon as he landed. He let out a loud laugh, and felt the tension ease from his body. If he pushed hard he could join up with Anshel’s party before nightfall.
It had been a mistake not to speak up when the groups were created, but he had expected them to side with him when it became clear Wulfric was leading them on a fool’s errand. He wasn’t sure when Wulfric had become so popular, but there was little he could do about it. Perhaps it was time to accept the way things were and get on with it. Wulfric was the First Warrior’s son after all; it was to be expected that he would rise to prominence, worthy or not. If continuing to oppose it would be detrimental to his prospects, Helfric thought it best to stop.
His horse screamed and stumbled, and Helfric found himself flying through the air.
THE SOUND WAS UNMISTAKABLY of a horse. Rodulf stopped to listen, but there was nothing more to be heard. Considering he had just met with the men he and his father were paying to steal cattle, remaining unseen was important. The apprentices should have been much farther north by that point, and he didn’t expect to encounter someone there.
His curiosity getting the better of him, he slipped down from his horse and tied it to a tree, then started toward where he had heard the sound. He crept forward, intending to stay out of sight. It was possible that there were reavers other than those in his employ operating in the area. Ordinarily he wouldn’t give a damn—his family did not have the right to keep herds—but more reavers at large in the region could cause problems for him.
He reached the spot where he reckoned the horse had screamed, but there was no sign of one. There were some broken branches and disturbed ground, however. By the look of it, only one horse. He heard a groan, and froze on the spot.
He moved forward with extra care, until he spotted Helfric sitting against a tree trunk. Helfric didn’t look well. His skin was grey and covered in a sheen of sweat, his curly brown hair plastered to his skin with a mixture of sweat and blood. Rodulf could hear his raspy breathing from where he stood. He cleared his throat and stepped forward.
‘Rodulf?’ Helfric said. ‘Thank the gods. I fell off my horse. I’m hurt bad. Get help.’
Rodulf stared at him. If he hurried, he could have the priest back there within an hour.
‘I thought you weren’t interested in speaking to me ever again,’ Rodulf said. ‘I’m only a merchant’s son after all. Are you sure I’m capable of bringing help?’
‘I’m hurt. Get help.’ Helfric tried to shout the words, but they came out as little more than gasps.
Rodulf sat on a dead log. ‘Falling off your horse is a silly thing to do, especially for a big brave warrior like you.’
‘Stop playing about,’ Helfric said. ‘I’m hurt bad. Bring the priest.’
‘How bad?’ Rodulf said. He stood and walked over to Helfric. Both his legs were broken. A jagged shard of bone had pierced through his trouser leg. Helfric had tied a strip of cloth around his thigh above the wound, but his pallor suggested he had lost a great deal of blood. Every moment was vital if he was to be saved, yet Rodulf felt no sense of haste. ‘You’re right. You are hurt bad. Still, I’m sure it’s nothing Aethelman couldn’t fix.’
Helfric smiled and relaxed. ‘Thank you, Rodulf.’
‘For what? I didn’t say I was going to get him. Why would I help you after the way you’ve treated me? You haven’t so much as said hello to me since…’ He gestured to his eyepatch.
‘I’ll die if you don’t help me.’
Rodulf nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, you will. Be sure to say hello to Jorundyr for me.’
Helfric tried to say something, but Rodulf ignored him. He turned a
nd started to walk back to where he had left his horse. He had only gone a few paces when a thought occurred to him. ‘Does Jorundyr take in idiots who die falling from their horses?’
Helfric’s mouth was moving, but there was no sound coming out.
‘No, probably not,’ Rodulf said. ‘Bad luck.’ He returned to his horse.
AS HE WAS ABOUT to give the command to turn south, Wulfric spotted a wisp of smoke rising up where the forest was thinner. He signalled to Hane, who had already seen it. The signal was passed along the line of horsemen, and they all stopped. Wulfric had never been in that part of the forest before so had no idea of what might be out there. He dismounted and tied Greyfell to a tree. Hane did likewise with his horse, and together they advanced toward the smoke.
The forest gave way to a clearing, in the centre of which sat a small hunting lodge. Smoke spiralled from the moss-covered stone chimney—there was somebody inside. Who?
Wulfric looked to Hane who shrugged. It seemed too much to hope that they had found Angest and Waldegrim. There was the very real chance that they had found danger. Wulfric drew his sabre, his action mirrored by Hane. The others gathered behind them and readied their weapons.
Wulfric picked up a rock and threw it against the door. He crouched, prepared for whatever came next. The door squealed as it opened. Angest stepped out, a steaming mug of broth in his hand. He surveyed the gathered apprentices and gave one of his stomach curdling smiles.
‘Well, aren’t you the clever fellows?’ he said. ‘Where’re the rest of you?’
‘The other group went south,’ Wulfric said.
‘You can put your swords away. We’ll come quietly,’ Angest said. ‘Waldegrim, we’re rumbled.’
Waldegrim came outside and surveyed the scene. ‘Well, looks like our vacation is over. Best be on our way then.’
The Wolf of the North: Wolf of the North Book 1 Page 12