by Taber, Colin
The boys approached the rocky spine of the ridge with slowing steps.
To travel the last half dozen paces, Ulfarr dropped down to his knees in the gravel and tufts of grass.
Brandr followed suit.
A line of knee-high rocks marked the top, the very bones of the ridge. As the boys neared them, side-by-side, Ulfarr whispered, “Once we see a Lakelander, we go.”
Brandr nodded, his early bravado gone.
They closed the last of the distance, both coming to a stop as they crouched behind the rocks.
With a quick glance at each other, they raised their heads, together.
Beyond the stones was the valley as described in countless retellings of the Raven and Wolf Meeting Tale. The slope down was not as steep as what they had just climbed, and the scrub-covered hillside gave way to thickets of trees, and eventually to woodlands near the bottom of the vale. They could see glimpses of a lake through the woods, and beyond that, a bluff rose up to dominate the area.
But they couldn’t see any Lakelanders.
Brandr gasped, “There is no one!”
No halls were visible, not even smoke from cooking fires or the working of iron. The boys saw no fences marking out pens or yards, nor spot any grazing livestock. Only a few trails marked the green vale.
The area looked deserted.
Ulfarr was stunned to see nothing, but thought hard and eventually answered his friend. “The village is on the other side of the lake. Perhaps their halls are hidden by the woodland.” Such a thing was possible, as in many places the height of the trees blocked the view of the lake and the opposite shore around the base of the bluff.
Brandr frowned. “Maybe this is not the right vale?”
Ulfarr glanced at him, considering the idea.
“There is nothing,” Brandr repeated again.
“Keep your voice down. I can see trails, but little else.”
“We cannot go back without knowing for sure.”
Ulfarr pursed his lips and again looked over the vale.
To come so far and not see anything of their rivals was a great disappointment. Not even a hall, a field, a fence or a cow.
He said, “The bluff is as I’ve heard described, but there is no one here.”
In truth, his own curiosity was now stirred and far from sated. His gaze drifted back to the thickets dotting the slope nearby, leading down to the wood and lake.
Guessing his thoughts, Brandr said, “Why don’t we go into the vale and check?”
“We shouldn’t. It is one thing to pass along a border, but another to cross it into their homeland.”
“But we can’t even be sure if this is the right vale. What if they’re all dead or have fallen to some calamity?”
Ulfarr again searched the land ahead for some sign of the Lakelanders.
Brandr continued, “You said your father had heard reports of people going missing, of theft and of troubles. We should check in case we are living next to a vale overrun by shades!”
“Keep your voice down!” Ulfarr hissed. “We shall go to the nearest thicket and see what we can, but we must leave as soon as we see someone.”
Brandr smiled, his excitement building, but he also understood that what they were about to do was risky and well beyond play. “Just to the thicket,” he agreed.
Ulfarr patted him on the shoulder and then climbed over the crest. Keeping low, he ran for the nearest trees.
Brandr followed only a few steps behind.
The ground fell away to a gentler slope, another stony plain of rock and loose gravel half-covered with tufts of grass and stunted shrubs. The boys hurried through the scrub, heading straight for the edge of the thicket.
They reached the trees, moving past the first trunks and into the thickening undergrowth. Again, protected by good cover, they slowed and relaxed as they made their way deeper in. Nearby, a bird took flight, keeping them on edge.
The boys could see well-trodden paths twisting through the wood, showing that people frequented the vale. Keeping near the best cover they could, they continued on, heading for the thicket’s opposite edge.
When they were over half way through, they heard a murmur in the distance. The sound came as a whisper, so soft that the boys looked at each other, unsure if they’d heard anything at all.
Eyes meeting, they realised that they both had heard it.
They were not alone.
The boys dropped to the ground, crawled quietly into the undergrowth and waited, holding their breaths. The murmur did not repeat, although, down the hill, they heard another bird take to the air.
Ulfarr whispered to Brandr, “We need to know if someone is there.”
Brandr nodded.
Quietly, and with great care, they continued forward, crawling past berry bushes and through ferns, seeking what cover they could.
As they advanced, they listened for the murmur to repeat itself. Had it been a voice?
Finally, they came to the edge of the thicket.
Ulfarr and Brandr lay low in the undergrowth, beside a thick oak, mostly hidden by a bush spreading above them with heavy summer growth. From their vantage point, they looked out on the grassy clearing that ran down the slope until it reached the next thickets. They immediately saw the source of the whispered murmur.
About fifty paces away, three Lakelander men moved cautiously around the edge of the next thicket. The men advanced, with bows at the ready, stalking something ahead of them.
The boys’ earlier disappointment at not having spied brawling Lakelanders from the crest of the ridge was now long gone. Instead, tense and quiet, they watched in fascination.
Lakeland wasn’t empty after all!
The men were hunting, which made gaining their attention dangerous in itself, but they were also, most certainly, Wolves of Lakeland. They looked rugged and wore rough and dirty clothing. Such men weren’t likely to take kindly to a couple of stray Godsland Ravens.
The men stalked through the clearing’s edge, holding bows nocked with arrows, wearing knives sheathed on their belts.
Ahead of them, visible through the trees, a lone deer stood, drinking from a stream.
Much closer to the boys, only half a dozen paces away, a branch snapped, the crack sharp and sudden. The deer lifted its head, saw the advancing men and bolted, bounding hurriedly away.
The men cursed and let their arrows fly.
The two boys turned to the source of the noise that had disturbed the hunt.
A huge Lakelander stood there, partially hidden from view by the oak that sheltered the boys. The man, his back to them, was looking down at a broken twig sticking up from under his boot. He was also part of the hunt, as he had a bow in one hand and an axe at his hip.
A skraeling boy, similar in age to Ulfarr and Brandr and wearing the worn rags of an enslaved thrall, stood just in front of him, also staring down at the small branch. Despite the ruddy complexion of his woodspeople heritage, the boy’s face noticeably paled as he took a step back from the giant Lakelander.
The Lakelander raised the bow in one hand to strike out at the boy. The skraeling dropped to the ground as he lifted his arms to cover his head.
The big man growled, “You’ve ruined the hunt, you wretch!”
The bow flashed down, hitting the boy’s upraised arms with a mighty crack, though he managed to deflect most of the blow by dropping further back. It seemed the boy was experienced at such evasions.
The Lakelander wasn’t satisfied though. With a quick glance to confirm the spoilt hunt, he then turned back to the boy, drew back his leg, and delivered a solid kick to his ribs.
The skraeling threw himself back and went sprawling.
The other hunters chased after the deer, new arrows ready, leaving the clearing behind. “The boy’s given us away!” one of them growled.
Behind them, the Lakelander advanced on the cowering skraeling. Without hesitation, he sent another kick into the boy, a blow aimed at his head.
The
man thundered, “You are useless! I should cut the throats of you and your mother!” The big Lakelander put a hand to the axe on his belt and stepped after the skraeling thrall as the boy tried to scurry away.
Ulfarr and Brandr were shocked by what was happening before them, an unfair confrontation cloaked in a dreadful and heavy air. They knew the Lakelanders were quick to anger – and even quicker to draw blood. They had grown up with the tales of Thrainn and One-Eye and their boiling tempers, including the description of how their rages had led to the foul murders of both Leif and Ari.
The other hunters were not in sight, but a cry of triumph sounded out from the far thickets, suggesting that an arrow had found its mark. That cry distracted the big Lakelander for a moment, making the giant turn and look to where the chase had led. The move put his face in profile.
He wore an eye patch.
It wasn’t just a Lakelander, but Thoromr One-Eye who stood before them!
Brandr gasped, catching the attention of not just the skraeling boy, but also the Norseman.
The man spun about, his single eye open wide and staring.
The skraeling did not hesitate. He got to his feet and launched himself in the opposite direction of the hunting party, using the opportunity to get away. Once he’d gotten some distance, he headed for an upslope copse of trees.
Spittle flying, Thoromr yelled, “Ravens!” as he pulled his axe free.
The paralysis of the two Godsland boys was quickly shattered. They got up, turned and ran, tearing back through the thicket that had hidden them.
Behind them, Thoromr bellowed and began to chase.
Ulfarr and Brandr didn’t stop, charging on until they got free of the trees. From there they raced up the ridge side, bounding over shrubs and spills of rock, until they reached the crest. Once they crossed the spine of stone, they ducked over it and stopped, laying down, using the ridge’s rocky bones as cover while they looked back for their pursuer.
There was nothing — just the distant woodland and field of shrubs broken up by the odd thicket.
With thumping hearts and heaving chests, they finally looked to each other and burst out laughing, drunk on adrenalin.
Ulfarr gasped. “That was One-Eye — did you see?”
“He was close enough that I could have taken out his other eye for my father!”
“You should have!”
Brandr laughed and gave Ulfarr a shove to the shoulder, sending him sliding a few paces down the slope.
Ulfarr chuckled as he fought to stop his descent.
Brandr got to his feet to follow his friend and head back down to their raft. Before he did, he glanced back over the crest to check on Lakeland one last time.
He saw movement.
The skraeling boy was sprinting across the open ground, heading away from the woods and thickets, up the same ridge. He’d reach the crest a good fifty paces or more further along from where Ulfarr and Brandr hid.
Behind the boy, further down the slope, One-Eye stepped out from between some trees. He lifted his bow.
Brandr hissed, “One-Eye’s going to put an arrow in him!”
Ulfarr had stopped his slide and now scrambled back up so he could peer over the crest.
There stood Thoromr, fitting an arrow, as the skraeling ran for safety.
Ulfarr looked about, finding nothing but some small rocks and pebbles. He grabbed a stone that sat well in his hand, one that would be good for throwing. “We’ve got to stop him!” he said, as he grabbed at another with his other hand.
Brandr did the same.
They stood up together, stones in hands, and began throwing while yelling curses at One-Eye.
The first rock to fly through the air fell well short but rolled down the hillside towards the woodland to scatter others and raise a clattering din. The second got closer by ten paces, but still flew only two-thirds of the distance between Thoromr and the boys.
One-Eye turned and lowered his bow a fraction to see from where the stones were coming, and he was soon yelling his own abuses and curses back at the boys.
The boys both threw another rock each.
Thoromr raised his bow, fitted an arrow and then let it fly.
Ulfarr’s rock flew through the air and landed amongst some gravel down slope, setting off a small fall of stones that tumbled towards Thoromr. But the boys weren’t watching. They had seen him fit the arrow and were already dropping behind the ridge, seeking cover.
They hit the ground, and Ulfarr let out a surprised gasp as the arrow flashed by the side of his head, just over his shoulder.
Brandr cursed at the whoosh of wood and feathers. He turned, his eyes following the arrow as it cut past, landing well down the ridge. Startled, he turned back to Ulfarr, only to realise his friend had a hand up, held tight to his cheek.
Bright red blood began to run from between his fingers.
One-Eye cried out triumphantly in the distance.
Brandr gasped. “You’ve been hit!”
Ulfarr, his face pale, did not turn, but his eyes were intense and locked on something over the ridge.
Brandr turned and looked.
One-Eye was striding up the slope. He clutched a fresh arrow in one hand and held his bow in the other.
Ulfarr and Brandr lay unarmed, with One-Eye coming for them.
Without discussion, they turned and fled.
The boys leapt over rocks and charged through the scrub, as they made for the path that would lead them back to the safety of the nearest trees.
With their minds full of bloody tales of the murderous doings of One-Eye and his father, Thrainn, it took only a dozen heartbeats for them to find shelter in the first pines near the top of the ridge. There, the earth, fractured in the distant past, left a rough upslope of boulders and small, terraced rock faces, with trees and ferns sprouting from any shadowed pocket of soil beneath it.
Reaching the cover of the trees gave little comfort though, so they did not stop. The boys ran as fast as they dared, taking the first switchback bend in the trail, desperate to get back to their raft.
When the two boys took the first turn, Brandr let out a yelp and fell. His foot had caught on a twisted root that had angled up and buckled as it grew into the thin soil, seeking gaps in the rock beneath.
Ulfarr went to him, trying to help.
They could hear One-Eye’s approach, his loud mutterings rumbling from the far side of the crest.
Ulfarr, with blood still running from the deep graze to his cheek, hissed, “He’s coming!”
Brandr tried to rise, using his friend for support. He cried out as he put weight on his swelling ankle.
“We need to go!”
“I can’t.”
Ulfarr turned and looked back across the slope. They were not far enough into the tree line to be well hidden. He was unable to see One-Eye yet, but he could hear the Lakelander’s stream of anger. The giant was only moments away from reaching the ridge top.
The young Raven hissed, “We must hide.”
Brandr nodded and began to crawl to where the shrubs grew thickest. “Over here.”
The cover would do from a distance, but not up close. “Let’s hope it is good enough.”
Brandr left the trail behind, crawling into the shrubbery. He went deeper, seeking the best space he could find. The ground fell into a shallow gully, a channel that carried water down the slope during the rains and thaw, but for now spread damp and well hidden by summer foliage.
Once Brandr was in the heart of its depths, Ulfarr looked back to the trail his friend had left behind. He scuffed it with his feet, working to hide the most obvious tracks, stirring flattened ferns and kicking fallen leaves over the path. Ulfarr then stepped into the shrubs, easing himself between two trees and the thick ferns that covered their roots. When he arrived next to Brandr, he looked at his friend and whispered, “We shall be alright.” Blood, however, still ran from the furrow the arrow had gouged across his cheek.
A curse sounded from t
he crest of the ridge nearby.
The boys turned and looked back, just in time to spot Thoromr as he reached the top. They ducked down into the depths of the gully.
Ulfarr was confident they would remain hidden if Thoromr stayed at a distance. But if the Lakelander crossed the crest and followed the path to the trees, coming close enough to search the foliage, they would most certainly be discovered.
Nearby, from further along the ridge and past Thoromr, a bird sang out loudly to distract the giant Lakelander.
Ulfarr couldn’t believe their luck!
He used One-Eye’s distraction as an opportunity to get a better look at the gully that hid them. The ditch ran down the slope, offering only patchy cover along most of its length. Upslope, the gully began at the base of a small rock face, including a half-hidden overhang created by the fractured bones of the ridge.
Studying it, Ulfarr saw shadows that suggested part of the overhang had some depth. A thick scrub of trees, shrubs and ferns also stood in front of it, blocking access from where Thoromr would approach. The space did not look big, but appeared deep enough to provide sanctuary for the two boys.
It would do, hopefully, until Thoromr grew tired of his pursuit and moved on.
The bird called out again, an insistent sound that drew Thoromr across the ridge top and made him turn his back on the boys as he searched the other part of the slope.
Ulfarr grabbed the opportunity to move.
He got up, quietly stepped over Brandr, and then grabbed him under the shoulders and pulled him up the gully bottom into the thick ferns in front of the overhang.
Brandr tilted his head back to look at where they were going. Once he saw the dark space, he did what he could to ease the journey as Ulfarr dragged him up the gully.
When they reached the overhang, they crept further in.
The ferns crowded on one side, backed up by the thick greenery of shrubs and trees.
Brandr bit his lip, trying his best to ignore the pain coming from his swelling ankle with each movement and knock. He did not have far to look for courage though, as Ulfarr kept working to get them to safety, even though his cheek still bled.
Finally, they were inside and taken by shadows.
Together, they sat listening as One-Eye’s first few steps through the summer shrubs took him away, until they slowed and finally stopped. The Lakelander hissed a curse and then turned about. One-Eye no longer muttered, but they heard his heavy footfalls as he began to come back towards the start of the trail and the woods that hid the boys.