Raven's Wyrd: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 2)

by Alaric Longward

  I sighed, holding my head with my other hand, but decided to speak to him. 'Lord, it is Hraban. I have set Balderich and Tear free, and—'

  He shuddered. 'Hraban, the boy who lied to me.'

  I shrugged, breathing deep. 'Yes, it is I.'

  He shook his head. 'Tear! The witch, the whore. She gave herself to Adalfuns, rather than me, all those years ago.' He cried a bit, and I nodded. Once, Bero had tried to woo her then kill her. There were vitka who knew of her blood and her Lok spawned family, and their uncouth plans for the prophecy, and her family had been hunted.

  Yet, Bero had cared for her looks enough to spare her.

  After that, the old man, famed Adalfuns the Crafter, had saved her, and then married her, and they had sired their children. Ishild, and Veleda at least were his, but Odo, that creature, was spawned of evil itself. I briefly wondered where Adalfuns was, for had he not promised to help me three times in my hour of need? Yes. But, no, he was not there to help me deal with the broken Bero, whom I had betrayed.

  He was sobbing. 'I let her go. I was weak. Bark wanted her dead, but I failed. And look at me now. Look what she did to me. All I wanted was to have Woden's Gift, my ring by right. I wanted to lead the people in peace, and win in war and rule well. I would have elevated you. But, you let them manipulate you,' he hissed, and I nodded and laughed bitterly.

  'I am sorry, Bero. I am sorry for your losses and my failures, but then, having her raped by mercenaries was not very well done, was it?' I spat, and got ready to use the sword. 'You only failed to kill her.'

  He spat and shuddered. 'I have paid,' he cried bitterly, writhing so hard the blanket fell off his tortured body. Cassia tried to relax him with soft words, but he had none of it. He hissed: 'Raven to find the sister, poor Veleda! They will sacrifice her; their own blood, and Odo shall use the children who are to survive to populate this world anew! After Veleda dies, the final wars begin! You will find young Veleda, then Draupnir will be set in blood, and the trickster is free of his shackles. This they found out from the goddess.'

  'I know the prophecy,' I told him. 'I have bested it so far.'

  'You think so? You have only slain their enemies, Odo's foes. Bested it? And, yet, you are here, risking it again,' he sobbed. 'I used to be like your father, and did not believe in it, but now? I do, oh, I do.'

  I nodded. 'I learnt much from Shayla, a druidess. I'll brave it, my lord, and shall prove worthy enough to foil them all.'

  He spat in anger and bellowed in pain. After it subsided, he said with a weak voice, 'Hulderic was weak. He chose not to fight our uncle, Hughnot, the Black Goth, when we were young. He wanted the ring kept safe. He was selfish and untrusting, costing us everything in the north. I would have been a better guardian for it. I would not have run. And, now, you say you are not going to run? Perhaps it is a sign. I hope you are right. The prophecy is real. They are of the blood of Lok. But, I guess you knew this as well.'

  'I do, lord,' I said miserably. 'Let us see, then. I shall take you to safety. To … mend.'

  He cried as he tried to laugh, for he was a thoroughly broken man in body, and then turned his head to me. 'No.'

  'Great Uncle, Cassia is a talented healer; she might … ' She shook her head sadly.

  'Lies, boy. Lies. I'll see your grandfather, my brother, Hulderic, soon. I will hail him, and then I shall flail him. We hated each other, but most of all, I hated your father. The man who gave the ring to them,' he said bitterly. 'Odo mocked me for it; he told me he would take my ring and extort Maroboodus, for he knew his secret. He told me he will bleed you, and set you on the road, eyeless and maimed, alive enough so that you will find her, in his leash.'

  I put the ring on his chest. He jumped in surprise. 'That, Bero, is the Draupnir's Spawn. It is with me. He but briefly held it. I shall not give it to them.'

  He looked towards his chest in wonder as if his unseeing holes could see it and cackled something unintelligible. 'Finally. Mine. Again.' Then, his back arched as if something otherworldly took hold of him, and I grabbed the ring off his chest. He whimpered, tore at his tight bonds, and cackled. His empty eyes jerked towards me.

  'Woden's Ringlet is not golden,' a deep, vibrating female voice told us sweetly, and the hair in my neck was standing up crazily.

  Cassia took my sword and punched it through his chest, while grimacing in fear. He took deep, gasping breathes and then went still, so suddenly it was hard to fathom. 'What did you do?' I shrieked, grabbing her painfully.

  She whimpered as she stared at me. 'It was not Bero, Hraban.' She grimaced in my grip, but I held her and stared at my dead great uncle. She put her hand on my face, turning it towards her. 'It was not him. He is at peace now.'

  'Who was that?' I asked, staring at her beautiful face.

  'Sigyn?' she said with a small voice, and buried her face on my shoulder. I let go of her and stroked her back, letting her stay there. She continued, 'They used his life force and pain and suffering to talk to a goddess. She used him to come here, and say those words. He was but a vessel now, not entirely human.'

  I nodded, and spoke in a small voice as I gazed at the dead man. 'Ansbor said they invoked Sigyn when they learned more of the prophecy. Why would she talk to us?'

  She got up slowly, and looked at me carefully. 'She gave us a warning?'

  I shrugged and smiled at her, wiping tears. 'Perhaps she wants to punish Lok and keep him under guard?'

  She smiled. 'Or perhaps she loves him and keeps him near, and makes sure he is unable to flee far.' Her voice was husky, she blushed, and I understood I was in trouble, for I wished to kiss her.

  Instead, I let go of her and pulled Nightbright out of Bero. 'Woden's Gift is not golden,' I said casually, trying to forget how close she had been.

  'I do not understand it,' she said, and neither did I, then.

  We went downstairs, and Euric and I carried Tear painfully out of the tower. I wanted to drop her to the bottom of the swamp, but I also wanted to speak with her. There was plenty of time to find other swamps later. She said nothing as she gazed at me, not entirely comprehending the activity around her. Yet, I did not trust her, and kept a close eye on her. 'Odo will die, by my hand. Veleda, your third child, will live,' I told her, and she nodded. 'And now, I shall fetch Ishild. Then, if we survive, we shall speak at length.'

  A small spark in her eyes flashed, and perhaps she even nodded. I nodded back, hating her, but we left. We rode to the edge of the woods, and saw how Hard Hill was covered in a fine sheet of snow, which was still coming down gently. Dogs were barking nearby; some horsemen rode around the hill guarding the celebration. Up there, far up, I saw Balderich's Red Hall, and the fires sputtering merrily around it. My grandfather looked at it with an expressionless look on his face.

  I clapped my hand on Euric's shoulder. 'Will you ride to Grinrock? Take Cassia with you, and Tear?'

  He nodded. 'I will take them, and you will come there.' We clasped arms. 'Make sure you do not die. This was child's play in comparison with what you try now. We still have Wandal to find, you see.'

  I shrugged. 'Wyrd.'

  'Wyrd,' he said. 'I will meet Ermendrud at the edge of the town. And, Hraban, she does not hate you. She is mad as a hungry bear, true, but she lost a baby. She did. She has not been well.' His eyes flashed as he said that, and I knew he did not think Wandal was the father, for they had not married yet. I remember Wandal saying she had felt ill in the mornings, and I had ignored the problem then, but this would soon be something I had to deal with. She had lost it. I felt terribly cold at that, even if there was no future for Ermendrud and me. Finally, I turned to my grandfather. 'Will you go with them, or come see me become a Kin Slayer, as well as an Oath Breaker?'

  Cassia hissed. 'I shall not go—'

  I ignored her. 'Grandfather?'

  He shrugged, his eye red. 'I have not eaten well for a while. I wish to see my hall, I think, and feast in blood and flesh. Let us share that meal.' We laughed nervously and rode up, hail
ing the guards on the way. Euric led fuming Cassia and unconscious Tear off towards the south, picking up a mule from a stable near the bottom of the hill. It held our wealth and his hammers, plus precious winter clothing.

  Hard Hill would die that night, and we needed a new home.

  CHAPTER VIII

  We rode towards the top, Balderich disguised under a blanket, bravely holding himself erect, no matter his weakness. Fulcher wore my old chain mail, for I had taken Leuthard's. It was superbly heavy, uncommonly uncomfortable, and too large in the shoulders, but it did make me feel powerful. Ansbor carried a large hasta spear and wickedly carved javelins, and he was admiring Leuthard's sword, a weapon I had grudgingly given him. He had no idea how to use it, but I doubted he needed such instruction that night.

  A man was lingering near the Red Hall. He noticed me, and I nodded at him. He ran off, grinning like an imp. He would set the plans moving with Burlein.

  On top of the hill, I stopped Minas, observing the happy folk wondering at the snow that still blew in from the banks of clouds. Red Hall. This was the wondrous place where so much had happened that past year. Things of dreadful consequences, happy feasts, unhappy marriages, and the battle with the Matticati and Melheim, Burlein's rapist brother. I had taken his eye there, in rage, an arrow in my throat, and saved Gunhild. Tonight, there would be the final act, I decided. Minas was steaming in the cool air, looking about, distraught, demanding for something to eat. It was a magnificent animal, and there were appreciative murmurs from men who stood there near the Red Hall. I pulled the cowl of my furred cloak lower. 'Wait here, my friends,' I said softly and dismounted. I walked to the guards.

  'Is Maroboodus in? I would pay my respects. I hail from the far east, and seek a good lord,' I clapped one of them on the shoulder, and he nodded in pride, admiring my sword and shield.

  'The lord of this land is in. He is a generous lord, and the best warrior this side of Rhenus River. You find him in a hospitable mood,' the guard claimed. 'But, I am not sure he will hire a vagabond, such as yourself,' he said with an insolent laugh.

  I laughed. 'We will see. I hear both his worthless sons are gone!' They snorted and nodded their heads.

  'He'll make new ones,' said the other one, and we all laughed heartily. I would cull his balls, I would, and he would make no sons or daughters, if I had anything to say about it.

  I entered the room where Balderich and I had met for the first time, and I shook my head, for to the left corridor was my former abode, my room for the month I had spent there. I stared at the crowds. There was a tumultuous party going on, and now there were perhaps twenty men of the old families of the Hill, fifty of Maroboodus's own picked men, and twenty Quadi getting drunk. Men roared drunkenly and cheered happily, and some men were wrestling with grunts.

  Guthbert was not as sour as I had seen him. Mayhap he sensed Leuthard had gone to Hel or even Valholl, if Woden was in a merciful mood. He was gambling with a serving wench, throwing dice hopefully, and lost a silver coin and cursed deeply. Then, my eyes sought out the most dangerous man in the room, and found the lithe, sleek-haired man who arrested little admiration for his physical prowess, but no man who looked at his eyes would walk away without a flinch. Now, unlike earlier, Nihta was quite drunk, smiling happily while speaking with my father. He had been my friend. He had trained me dutifully, shared fey and funny stories of far-away lands. He had mercifully given me my weapons the day they had left me at Odo's mercy.

  None of that mattered now.

  Only few men had armor on, but all of Father's old band of men did. Most had access to weapons. There were many Roman chain mails scattered on the benches, things none of the lucky ones to own one would leave far from sight. Gunhild saw me standing there, and for a second, the look on her eyes reflected her terror. She calmed herself, and I nodded carefully, flashing her a smile from under my hood. She answered it, though it was forced. She remained still, tense, and ready.

  Vannius.

  I stared at the men in the hall. There were great many Quadi there, all Suebi as were the Marcomanni, sharing the same lineage, but different tribes. It would go ill with them, or us, that night. I had been thinking about Vannius, the man who had sided with Father to drive my friend, Tudrus the Older, out of the Quadi tribe. I wondered if he had loved Koun enough to help me. My eyes sought him, still wondering if I would approach him.

  He took the choice out of my hands.

  I found him sitting, strangely subdued, near the end of the table. I was surprised to see he was looking directly at me, looking very sober, and glancing at Gunhild. I realized she had spoken with him, for her face betrayed worry. He was her friend, she had claimed. Vannius could doom me easily, and as he did not have his happy smile adorning his face, I was sure he was thinking about it. He seemed like a lynx, sizing up a large boar, thinking keenly if he could down it. Cold sweat broke over my brow. He shuddered as he noticed Gunhild approaching him, to urge him to speak with me, but got up before she could reach him, took a mead horn from the table, and walked towards me. I relaxed my grip on Nightbright.

  Vannius came to me, and grimaced wickedly. 'Let the sword be, and grab a horn. She wanted to spare me the surprise, Gunhild, for I am her friend, and Koun's brother. Little does she know I did not think of Koun too much when I helped your father and Sibratus with the Quadi. Such an amusing world, this shithole place of ours.' He was still not smiling, his eyebrows screwed with displeasure.

  'Greetings,' I told him softly. 'So, how has life treated you? I remember you did not wish to return to the Vangiones, being the third son.' My idea was doable, I thought as his eyes flickered around the room.

  He smiled wistfully, but then his mood changed, and his voice turned ice cold. 'Did you kill Koun?' he said, hand on dagger. 'I betrayed his hopes once, but Gunhild told me he is dead. It seems I have a conscience.'

  That it mattered to him was important. 'Koun, your brother,' I smiled at him, and he bristled. 'The fool who worried for you, obeyed Maroboodus for you. He kept Father's secret. The secret it was not Bero, but Catualda who treated with Rome. The same Koun you left at Maroboodus's mercy, while you helped him subdue the Quadi for a personal gain?'

  He looked away, swallowing, his long Suebian knot undone, and he tugged at it to make it unravel all the way. 'Yes, that Koun. And, I never wanted him to die. I hear he did, and I hear you told Gunhild it was Catualda. I just made oaths to kill him. But, then, I see you there, and you, Hraban, would say anything to hurt the men in this hall,' he told me, glancing at my aunt nervously wringing her hands.

  I waved my hand gently around. 'Catualda did kill him. He reneged on Father, for he wanted the ring more than my father's promises,' I said, grimacing at my father, who was kissing another slave girl, and then saluting Freya for her generousness in women and war. Surely, the Red Goddess objected to him, but then, perhaps not. Gods were as fickle as men. Goddesses more so, no doubt. 'He gave Koun promises, but kept none. What is your game, Vannius? Gunhild's friend.'

  He blushed. 'She is a fair woman.'

  I snickered. 'She is also older than you by ten years, and the reason Isfried is dead and possibly Koun too, who loved her. Had he been less in love with her, Catualda could not have surprised him.'

  His eyes scourged me strangely, and he hesitated and let go of the dagger. 'I will wish to hear the full story one day.'

  'Aye,' I told him. 'So, I ask again. What are you doing now, dear Vannius?'

  He was older than I was, but also youthful enough to be my smaller brother. He did not object to my tone. 'Your father did promise me vast lands and much honor. You likely know he plans on taking the Boii lands, far to the southeast, one day. These lands are still possible for me to gain, mind you, so tread carefully, Hraban.'

  'Oh, I heard the story,' I chuckled. 'But?'

  'Sibratus,' Vannius said cantankerously. 'The Quadi is above me in councils and trust. I have started—'

  'To wonder if you are another tool he can, and will, discard,
as easily as he squeezes out a turd, no?'

  He looked like a man with a frozen turnip under his tongue. 'Perhaps. He is prone to treachery.'

  'You betrayed my friend, Tudrus,' I said, emotionlessly. 'That we even talk, is a miracle.'

  'Shut your mouth, Hraban; we are all soiled,' he sulked. 'I know not what I am to do now. Perhaps I shall skewer you? What can you offer, better than promises of Maroboodus? Your ass?'

  I leaned forward with a smile. 'We hold Hunfrid.'

  'Yes,' he said, uncomprehending. 'What?'

  'We have your brother,' I repeated. 'The one you dislike. The one you both hated.' He frowned, though there was some disbelieving excitement in his eyes. 'And, holding your eldest brother, the brother you both detested, holds certain promise for … you? Seeing how Koun is dead.'

  'How is Hunfrid?' he asked as casually as he could, for he was suddenly closer to the kingship of the Vangiones than he had thought. Much closer than he knew, I snickered. He did not apparently know Vago was dead.

  I did not answer his question. I picked up a mug of ale, apparently abandoned on the table, and shrugged. 'You know, when I was a … guest in Burbetomagus—’

  'You were in our home?' he asked, breathless. 'You saw our hall?'

  'I did see your hall,' I told him with a snicker, not wishing to tell him I torched it over his father's corpse. 'I was going to tell you I admire the vast, rich lands there. All the wheat, fat cows, trade, and Roman wares. Mediomactri are veritable slaves to the Vangiones, I think. Your lands, my lord, are worth ruling. Rather than lands still held by enemies.'

  He fidgeted. 'I asked, how is…'

  'The axe-faced asshole? He is alive. Getting bored and fat, no doubt,' I told him. 'Burlein holds him.'

  'And Burlein,' he said mischievously, his eyes calculating, 'the bastard who is a reluctant subject to our lord here,' his eyes flickered towards Maroboodus, who was discussing animatedly with Nihta, sharing some amusing story, for both chuckled deep and long, 'has not delivered this arch enemy of the Marcomanni here? Is there a reason for this, I wonder?'