The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3)

by Alaric Longward

  ‘And there Lok’s blood must mix with Woden’s Ringlet to undo all of our gods’ creation,’ I smiled. ‘I’ll just damned well slay the lot and bleed them on the stone.’

  Wandal grinned back. ‘With the number of people they have killed there, it is a wonder it has not happened accidentally. A family of Lok’s bleeding on that dark hair of your family.’

  ‘I guess it has to be a very special two people. One from each family,’ I puffed. ‘Certainly it has to be the third sibling of Lok’s holy family.’

  ‘I wish you had left when Tear offered you the chance,’ Wandal laughed and cursed as he stabbed his toe.

  ‘Then I would not have Lif,’ I said and climbed over a fallen log.

  The land opened up a bit, even if it was still terribly steep. We ran wildly and climbed unhappily for half an hour through rubble and dry mud, and we both cursed as we saw that on the side there was a track that was suitable for horses. We took to it. I felt lightheaded, strangely weak from the strain, my muscles were aching, but Wandal told me to keep going and so we did. Woden’s Plate was a day’s climb away. We had none to guide us, but the route was suddenly surprisingly clear as we hiked by the great chasm.

  ‘Ware!’ Wandal said and pulled be behind a boulder. Far to the right, across the crevasse we saw men on dusty horses, going forward slowly. The crisp mountain air made things look brighter though the mountain was eerily silent, with some scraggly goats and thin, curious rabbits the only animals we could see around us. ‘Come,’ he whispered, and we went on.

  ‘How far do you think they will ride out there?’ I asked. He shrugged, too tired to answer. I squinted over the crevasse and did not see the raven. Down in the bottom, water ran slowly, and the trees above us were hardier and much smaller than the ones below. Was this where my little daughter was? I cursed Veleda.

  Wandal grunted at me and clapped my shoulder. ‘It is a good way to live, Hraban. They are not starving. They have peace and only when there are celebrations and vitka and völva disturb them do they have to worry about anything. Peaceful, near the gods up here. I like it.’

  ‘She is just some few years old,’ I told him morosely but decided he might have a point. With me, she would be dead.

  The evening fell, and we sat down to breathe, to massage our feet, and I felt I had some fever. There was some wetness in the arrow wound in my side, and Wandal checked it, looking concerned. ‘It will heal; you are a tough bastard,’ he said grimly.

  ‘We will be there tomorrow?’ I asked him.

  ‘Morning, if we sleep the night,’ he confirmed though he sounded unsure. ‘Armin said it would take one day to hike up there. We have been dragging our damned feet.’ He waved for the higher ground, and we wearily got up, groaning in horror at the thought of some more walking. We trekked on in the fading light, and then while passing a very shallow spot between a craggy wall and the crevasse, we saw the raven. ‘Look!’ Wandal yelled, and pointed to the other side. There, finally, I saw the bird. It was circling around a stone, and men could be seen riding on it.

  ‘You sure this is the correct side? Perhaps Armin meant for you to come from the east?’

  ‘Why would he tell me to come from the east? Don’t be tedious. We were at his hall when we spoke of this. How excited they are!’ I saw Odo raise his hands in triumph. My heart froze in terror. I was sure they had found Veleda or a route to her.

  But it was not a gesture of triumph.

  But of rage.

  ‘Wandal, look,’ I said, and he nodded, sitting down easily.

  ‘This side, Armin told me,’ he noted proudly. ‘And we came to the right way.’

  The raven flew around the men on the other side, waving and weaving in the air, croaking, almost mocking them. After a while, the bird turned and flew to our side, over the crevasse. It fluttered over deep chasm, dodged thin trees, flying erratically until it headed uphill from us, finally sitting on a rock high above us. A shriek of manic hatred could be heard from across the canyon. I saw a man fall down to his knees, pushed by the spindly arms of Odo. It was Gernot who was pleading with the mad thing.

  ‘No reason to hide, is there?’ I said, and Wandal shrugged.

  ‘I suppose not,’ he said. He pulled his pants down, and the enemy on the far side froze as they witnessed Wandal pissing towards them, an insult of unparalleled magnitude. ‘Gods, that feels good.’ And I joined him, mocking Odo with my eyes, even if I could barely squeeze a dribble. Odo stared at us in utter stupefaction. He shuddered, slapped Gernot lazily once more and gave out soft, nearly embarrassed commands.

  There were thirty men with him, and they turned around.

  There we stood, as they passed back down at Odo’s orders, their horses lamed by the rough route, many walking, strange men and odd women with weapons of all sorts. Odo saw me and ignored me, festering with anger. His men were filing after him. I noticed Gernot and Ansigar last in the line, guiding their horses morosely back the way they had come.

  ‘Gernot!’ I screamed. ‘Gernot, my love!’

  He stopped his horse, his hand covered with the red cloth.

  ‘Time to give up the chase, or tomorrow I will kill you, brother,’ I yelled. ‘Ride away,’ Ansigar looked at Gernot, who was sitting quietly on his horse.

  Ansigar yelled back. ‘Hraban! Tomorrow! Tomorrow it will be all settled. They shall be united! Lif and Lífþrasir! They shall wed over your corpse, and when your daughter asks who that fool was, I shall tell her he was a nothing. That is how she will know you!’

  ‘Coming from a peasant beggar and a liar, I am sure she will figure out who is a nothing!’ I retorted, but my eyes were guided to movement, for Gernot and Ansigar had not been last in the line. From behind a boulder, Ishild was riding forth, guided by two men. She sat on the horse, dirty, scuffed, and tired and she looked my way, her cheeks hollow. Somehow, the change in her made her look like Odo. She had been bright and happy, now she was fey and worried. On her lap, sat the boy. Lífþrasir, Odo’s son, some six to seven years old. He was the one who was supposed to populate the world after it ended, with my daughter. He was a surprisingly good-looking boy, his intelligent eyes were regarding me with interest, his pale complexion a bit odd. But he had his father’s eyes.

  Ansigar glanced at her, touching her shoulder as she passed, and she shuddered. ‘She still hates my touch, Hraban! If Gernot dies, she will learn to love it. See. She is not too ugly yet for me,’ Ansigar called, laughing as his eyes settled on Wandal. ‘Still following the liar?’ Ansigar called out to Wandal. ‘I’ll give you an easy one, former friend.’

  ‘You tried once. Try not to get lost on the road, eh? You were ever lost and afraid,’ Wandal yelled back. Gernot looked down and away as if in shame as he guided his horse past Ansigar. ‘Tomorrow we gut the lot,’ he said with a dark voice as he pulled his pants up.

  ‘I left him alive, once,’ I said. ‘The day I whipped him and took Gernot’s hand.’

  ‘I was there as well, eh? My mistake as well. I am sorry for Ishild. She seems … gone?’ he said.

  I did not know and thought about it. ‘She loved me once. She claimed it was so. Now she only cares for that boy. And perhaps Lif. She needs time to heal. Perhaps if we manage to free her tomorrow, she will heal again. She had spirit once, it might be there still, under fear and misery,’ I said miserably, remembering the girl I had grown with. I had denied her love, for her family and my fear of them. She had slept with me once, tricking me for she had been jealous of Ermendrud, and there we were, fighting Lok’s prophecy over our child.

  ‘Yes, Hraban. Perhaps,’ Wandal said doubtfully and threw me a blanket. ‘We rest a few hours. They will not be here before tomorrow.’ We slept that night. Wandal enjoyed the sleep of the dead, and I had nightmares of Ansigar raping Ishild, and I saw myself spearing him, ripping him apart, and I wished Cassia was there to lift my heavy heart. I saw Tear in my dreams, their mother, Lok’s unhappy priestess; my former enemy crying over Odo and Ishild, and I felt wretched.


  Someone important would die the next day.

  Odo. Hraban. If things went very wrong, Veleda. And Lif would be Odo’s. I woke up and stared at the sky full of stars. I spent a miserable night. Come morning we sped off.

  We ran amidst wild patches of wheat and sparse woods along the tracks. Wandal was looking around carefully and finally grabbed me and pointed up. There, up high was a distant red rock like a finger pointing upwards, and around it grew ancient trees and wildflowers. ‘Looks godly to me.’

  ‘It’s a damned rock,’ I said, ‘but I think that is it,’ I surmised and pulled him along. We climbed a small hill with a mossy track in the middle, high stone walls stretching up on either side, fir trees adorning the near unseen route up. We came to the finger-like stone, wondering at it. It had been crafted and was not natural, and there were chisel marks around the stone. I walked around it, touching it gingerly. It seemed ancient, massive and totally out of place so high in the mountain, in the middle of an insignificant track. It was like an accusing finger of a Jotun pointing up at the gods. ‘The old bird is no fool, is he?’ I said, pointing at the raven sitting on a tree over a heavy, tall stone arch covered with vines. ‘It is more than a rock, after all.’

  ‘Armin said ...’ Wandal began, but I nodded and cut him off.

  ‘Look,’ I pointed as the raven flew over the arch and disappeared. ‘Let’s run.’

  We ran up the last stretch and entered the arch. The raven croaked somewhere ahead as if welcoming us. We walked through the small tunnel, feeling trepidation at entering the holy place, but behind the arch, a small valley was revealed to us, and we forgot our fears. The place was a haven. Inside, green grass waved in a very gentle wind. Tall, yellow flowers were lining the high walls. The flowers looked like stars of uncanny beauty rising on the rocky pathways leading to the very top of the mountain. The bottom of the valley was serene and stone laden, and there was a large round rock in the middle of the valley with a suspiciously flat top. An ancient stall sat in the middle of the rock, yellow grass growing from cracks in the stone.

  ‘Come,’ I told Wandal, who shrugged and shook his head uncertainly.

  ‘Gods live here,’ he whispered. ‘See.’ He pointed to a small waterfall by the rocky wall, beyond the stall and the stone, that was surely Woden’s Plate. The water was clear as ice, cascading down the smooth stone for a hole in the ground, and there was a sort of thunder-like sound coming from that hole. ‘Gods listen to us from that hole. I am sure of it,’ he whispered. ‘Armin was right.’

  ‘It’s a waterfall,’ I said tediously though there was a hint of uncertainty in my voice. It did look strange and holy. ‘Let’s check the stall and the stone. That is Woden’s Plate.’

  ‘Armin said the god ate there after declaring Midgard his,’ Wandal whispered.

  ‘Did he say what the god ate? Armin is just talking about echoes beyond time, and we are here for a purpose, not to see the sights and wonder at godly feasts. Lif is here, somewhere.’

  ‘Don’t see her,’ Wandal said reverently.

  ‘I’ll not leave before I do,’ I grumbled.

  We walked down to the stone, and I ran my fingers across it.

  Then I saw it.

  At the edge of the cascading water, there was a small pool of water and beyond that, a small rise on the ground. On top of the rise, there was a wattle and mud house with a simple grass roof, surprisingly hard to spot. The raven sat on a rafter that was peeking from amidst the grass. Smoke was rising from a hole in the roof. Wandal clapped my shoulder as we hiked that way. Anxiety was making my legs weak as I walked. I prayed to Woden for Lif to be there and Veleda as well and feared what would be revealed in the next few moments.

  The hut was near, and we stopped in front of it. The raven crowed, and the door opened.

  Veleda had grown.

  Her eyes were huge and blue, her hair blonde as Ishild’s, her face smooth, and she was wearing a white shift, her narrow hips having rounded a bit. She had been ten when I let her run from Odo in the Hard Hill. Now she was nearly a woman. She looked surprised though there was also resignation. She was not scowling, but she was not entirely happy to see us, and she took a deep breath. She looked at me, and then up at the bird and nodded to herself as she walked to me. She regarded me carefully. ‘So, you came.’

  ‘I came. What else is there for a man searching for his family?’ I told her bitterly.

  She smiled. ‘It was always inevitable, I think. Did I not tell you we would meet one more time?’

  ‘I could have died. Odo might have. Even you?’ I said.

  ‘Yes, but you are hard to kill, Hraban and because the Raven lived, all the events and players were pulled together here. It is so.’

  ‘That is the raven,’ I said and nodded at the bird that almost seemed like it was smiling.

  ‘That is a raven that found the way,’ she said. ‘Woden’s bird. But you were the Raven that fought his father the Bear and escaped Odo time and again. And now it has to be settled here.’

  ‘I will fight for you,’ I told her, gripping my sword’s hilt. ‘I will sacrifice my life if I have to.’

  She smiled sadly. ‘I hope it suffices. That is indeed a selfless act, but you are here for Lif, and that was selfish. No proper father or mother can be selfless when their child is in danger. We will see what you can do now. And if you fail? If he pours my heart’s blood on Woden’s Ringlet? Lok will be freed. Ragnarök will come, one day sooner than later. Cocks will crow, Jotuns will rise from slumber, Lok will raise the dead and gods will die. Your Lif and the boy will survive.’

  ‘I know, Veleda?’ I smiled. ‘Please don’t recite that crap anymore.’

  ‘You do not believe in seidr or galdr, I know. Too many charlatans have ruined your child-like faith, but I see it. Just like I saw your Drusus dying.’

  I shook my head. ‘He is not dead.’

  ‘Not yet,’ she said sadly. ‘He could have changed the world.’

  Her words made me look away in rage, and I struggled to shake myself free of it before turning back to her. ‘You said I owe you a life. Lif. You have her. You have her for my crimes and mistakes, and I did slay your caretakers. If you wish to know, your mother Tear is free and no longer part of the story. And now I want her back.’

  ‘Adalfuns took Tear far to be happy,’ she agreed with a smile. ‘I know. Mother always hated her role in Lok’s schemes. But there was the prophecy, and the family was mad with it, and so we had no choice but to play to the end.’

  ‘How did you find this place?’ I asked her.

  ‘Lord Sigimer told me how to get here. He is the guardian of the Godsmount. Sworn to Woden like you are, Hraban. When Bero passed this way after Hulderic in the past, he married a relative of Sigimer. He married her, for Sigimer’s family is from the north as well. You have heard this.’ She glanced at Wandal, who bowed. She went on. ‘They are your relatives and guard the mountain. They helped me get here. They provide us food. It has been coming even with the war.’

  ‘Armin told me how to find this place,’ Wandal said happily. ‘So, Armin and you are related?’ he asked me.

  ‘Gods curse the whole damned family,’ I spat and fixed an eye on the enigmatic little girl. ‘I would have her. Stop stalling.’

  ‘And take her where?’ she asked me simply.

  ‘I have settled most of my scores this summer. I swore an oath on a sword, and I want nothing more to do with this land. But she is my blood.’

  ‘She would be very sad in your world,’ she said with a small, pinched smile. ‘You might have given brave oaths to be done with your meaner oaths, Oath Breaker, but I see your fight is only beginning. There will be enemies in your life if you survive here today.’ I nodded and took off my helmet. I kneeled before her and looked deep into her eyes. She reached out before I said anything and ran a finger down the scar on my face as if to emphasize what my life was like. ‘Perilous,’ she whispered. ‘Do not take her.’

  I grasped her
hand and spoke. ‘Sadness is the way of the world, Veleda. Tell me, what do you believe in? You admonish me of dangers in my life, but is Lif safe with you? You will live in a world full of Romans and their enemies, and I heard from … Drusus that you take sides.’

  She giggled. ‘I helped Armin; that is all. They help me. And Lif will be mighty if she is not made Odo’s slave,’ she agreed. ‘Her world will be full of dangers at times, but she will be loved by the people, and they will fight for her. Few Germani will love you, ever. Few Romans will.’ She smiled and grasped my hand. ‘I am her relative; she is not my hostage. But what I believe in, Hraban, is the future. A bright future for our kin, the free men, and brave women of the gods. I am a völva, and what my mother has, the sight, is given to me. I will be a woman, and then an old woman of power, and I will unite our people against those you serve this day. And the gods will push the Romans out, and I will be there. So will she. Lif will have a part to play in the future glory of the Suebi nations.’

  ‘You have not seen Rome and her legions, perhaps?’ I said with a knowing smile.

  ‘Neither,’ she said tartly, ‘have you seen Rome. Legions are fine things, no doubt, but Rome will change. I see that, saw it in a dream. One day our people will travel the lands beyond the river. With sword and fire. Lif will be part of that, her children, and their children will be famous and mighty. I see these things. I also see I might die today, and all will fall to dust.’

  I felt strange pride at her words and sighed. I rubbed my face as I stared at the girl and wondered at her many prophetic words. Lif will live on and in her children there will be glory? ‘And if she comes with me? Should I survive this place.’