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

by Alaric Longward

  Horses neighed, men yelled, and I heard soft curses and commands. An arrow flew by. The last of the four fugitive Marcomanni was struggling with his horse in the current, as an arrow hit the horse. The beast screamed like a human would and went under, and the man cried as he followed it. He disappeared under the surface.

  I struggled, kicked the horse. Looking back, I saw Odo standing on the bank. The haggard creature was wearing a white, long tunic; oddly clean in comparison to his greasy red hair, his snake-like face staring at me maliciously. He walked forward, holding his hands out to his sides, barking prayers, and I knew whom he was praying to. He was casting some sort of a spell, or likely a curse, now using his wand, which danced in the air. He had some other men and women dismount, and joining hands, they started chanting. They tried to stop us, and I snorted at the fools. Some of his braver men guided their horses to the river's edge, but none tried to follow us.

  'Hraban! Come! It is time to pay your debts now!' Ansigar was screaming, and I saw his face, savaged by the beating I had given him, his frame bent and crippled. I had whipped him so hard the bones had been bared. Apparently, I had hit him in the face as well, though I did not remember that. He was not crippled enough to be unable to use a weapon; he had a sword and a long bow, which he pulled out, nocking another arrow. Gernot was behind him, his missing hand wrapped in a red cloth, an unreadable expression on his face as he stared at me. Another victim of Father's, and of his own insecurities, I thought, as I tried to keep conscious.

  An arrow splashed near me, and I heard Odo screaming at Ansigar. Dutifully, the next one smacked near Fulcher. They wanted me alive, and Lif as well. I struggled to get my horse across, but it obeyed, barely managing the current. Ansbor was nearly level with Cassia, reaching the shore, and Fulcher was behind me, trying to help me, while keeping a nervous eye on Ansigar, who was now afraid to shoot, for he might hit me. I had to look back, feeling familiar eyes on me.

  I noticed Ishild's horse reach the bank, where the fur-clad men were milling. On her lap sat a boy of five years old. He was no ugly brute like Odo, but a blonde-haired boy with inquisitive eyes and a gentle face. Odo was stalking the riverbank, and pointed a finger at me, then snapped fingers at the men around him. Ishild rode to him, speaking gently, pleading, and he was silent as his men whipped their horses, dark-furred and dirty, long hairs streaming as they rode to find boats. He was coming; I would not be safe, and neither would Lif.

  My horse pulled itself up from the water, stumbling, and I struggled to stay on it. Lif was only slightly damp, now crying gently, her eyes searching my face for reasons for all the insanity around her. 'We must go, for they have men searching for boats or rafts. They will be after us very soon,' Ansbor said weakly, looking at our former friend. Ansigar made a throat-slitting motion our way, dancing on the riverbank ferociously.

  I turned the horse towards Odo, his eyes glittering darkly. 'You sister-raping, dirty mongrel! Bastard!' I screamed at him. 'Do not follow us, you damn filth.'

  'Or what?' Odo yelled back. 'This is your wyrd, Hraban. Your wyrd is to serve us, and you shall not escape. Never you shall. Never could. We always knew that. We knew you when growing up.'

  'And you will hound me to the end of eternity?' I told him. 'Threaten Lif and me?'

  'Lif, you idiot, will marry my boy, and is safe and precious. I will only need you, and that ring. I know you have it. Ishild tarried and lied to keep you safe, gave you this gift of brief flight, but it is done now. Stop suffering, Hraban, and let this thing run its course.' I spat, and eyed Ishild, as I was shivering, trying to get the blood flowing in my limbs. Odo saw my look and smiled at her briefly. 'She will marry, Hraban.'

  'You?' I spat.

  'Gernot! She will marry Gernot for her lack of commitment to our cause. It is just, is it not?'

  My brother made no move at that, his face still, but when Ansigar nudged him, he shuddered and nodded carefully. 'We shall share a woman, brother,' he called out.

  'Come here, Hraban, and you will fight for her,' Odo smirked. 'Fight your brother for her virtues, and then submit to me. I shall hurt you. You have challenged me so many times, but you shall live a while, perhaps, knowing Ishild is safe.'

  I considered it. Fulcher was trying to revive Cassia, but Ansbor rode next to me, wiping water from his neck, as he grabbed my horse. 'No. We will find a way.'

  'We have been trying to find ways as long as we have fought them, but always we fail,' I sobbed, as I clutched Head Taker desperately, longing to go and kill the bastards.

  'Then we have to wait a while longer,' he said. 'Ishild chose this; we must choose something else. Wait. We shall wait. I wish you had told us. What happened to Ermendrud?'

  'He did not get her,' I told him. Leuthard had.

  Fulcher was watching our discussion as he spoke, rubbing Cassia. 'This is not good. She needs help. She is blue and white in places. And the horses? Shit. They shiver, and are already exhausted. We should find shelter.'

  'There is no shelter,' I told them hollowly, feeling Odo's eyes on my back. 'Let us find a place to die at.'

  I began to ride for north. Cassia was behind me, half-conscious, Fulcher supporting her. Ansbor rode behind us, rubbing his frozen legs, his teeth chattering. I did not think about the inevitable. The Quadi in that land were gone. Villages were half empty, people afraid of war and terror. Few would aid us. Gods, I prayed for Adgandestrius, my Chatti friend, to appear again with a troop of his terrible warriors, but such miracles only happen once in life, and so I lost hope, even if my body fought on. Lif watched me happily, and I smiled at her, loving her. Over a wooded hill and in a small homestead, we found some poor herdsmen, and they mercifully gave us some milk, asking for nothing in return, and so we rode again. We had to stop for the night, nearly reaching the hills of the ravaged Matticati, and the land where the occasional Chatti ventured, considering these hills theirs. Quadi disagreed with them, and so it was a warlike place.

  That night, nothing disturbed us.

  We headed north, towards the Matticati lands, and I was feeling unrested despite some sleep. Cassia was recovering a bit, breathing fairly well again, shivering less, though she was silent as she brooded in her saddle. It was not a merry troop, and I did not remember anything amusing or pleasant from that trip, only worry, and the cold.

  We stopped, and had to rest for a few minutes, and Ansbor grunted at me awkwardly, as I was giving the baby milk by a small, sputtering fire, staring at the flames. He was fidgeting by the flames, crouching to warm his hands.

  I nodded at him, feeling drowsy and hopeless. 'So, in trouble again, eh?'

  'Yes, that we are,' he chortled. 'We need to find some allies. Stronger ones than Burlein.'

  I shook my head at him. 'It was my fault as much as his. I should have known Father would not sit idle. Nor die in bed.'

  'Winter was over,' Ansbor said somberly. 'We were all happy to enjoy the wares of those damned merchants, the possibility of an easy war. They made everything pleasant for us. We made it so easy for them.'

  'Burlein was happy to hear Father was dead, but we should have done many things differently,' I cursed as Lif was sputtering with the milk. 'We let them lull us into sleep. And that one bag of lies. That man.'

  'What man?' he asked, mystified.

  'The man who shot Guthbert, Gunnvör. Burlein's poet gave me credit for it. And so he—'

  Ansbor laughed hugely. 'You, and your fame. One way, or the other, someone gets hurt. Now, even tribes topple. Hraban's Dark Hand, the poem should be called.'

  'I doubt it will ever be sung again,' I told him broodingly. 'No matter what, we should have been on our guard. But, he was not. He was relieved. I was worried for her.' I nodded at Lif.

  'How is she holding up?' he asked, staring at the baby and changing the subject, and I sensed he was critical to me.

  'She is likely to survive us all.' I grinned, for she truly was. Odo would not let her get hurt, no matter what he would do.

  'Do
you think we should give her to Cassia, that she might slink away in the night, and we draw the Hel humped shit-bags after us?'

  'How do you propose we draw them after us? Odo is out there.' I thought of Leuthard, and would never let the two run to the woods at night. Had we left earlier, had I listened to Hands and Veleda? Wyrd. 'They have scouts; they know where we are.'

  'I say she goes,' he told me, looking down at his hands. 'And—'

  'And? You shall go with her?' I asked him with a sneer.

  'Perhaps?' he told me, gazing at me.

  'No,' I told him, and I saw he was struggling with his patience. He shook his head, and looked disgusted.

  After a while, he spoke again. 'That boy before her? It is—'

  'Ishild and Odo's,' I said, with spite. 'That boy, Lífþrasir, is to marry her.' I nodded, indicating Lif. 'Over my rotting carcass, of course.'

  'Over ours as well,' he said prudently, and then grunted as he gathered his courage. 'I blame you for not sending them all away. They should have gone with Euric, when he rode East for the winter.'

  'They should have, yes,' I told him. 'But, we were on top of our world then.'

  'Yes, I know,' he uttered forcefully. His fat face was humorless and harsh, as he eyeballed me, and I shrugged.

  I growled at him. 'Cassia. Of course she is free to go. Who am I to hold her here, against her will? But, she will not go to the night alone. We might leave her with a homestead, some larger house that can defend itself, and she can get to safety from there, eventually. However, Lif comes with me,' I told him, with a hint of a warning in my voice.

  He was hugging his knees, and rocking back and forth, looking at the sleeping woman. 'I love her. You know that?'

  'Everyone does. Even she does. But, have you told her?' I asked him. 'I told you before to make it known. I have no part in what you have left unsaid.'

  'I need you to tell her to go,' he told me, staring at my eyes, desperation and resentment playing there. 'Because she says she does not wish to go. And it is your fault.'

  'Mine?' I hissed. 'Mine? How?'

  'She has always avoided the topic of love. She is a friend, the best of friends indeed, but she does not wish to go, as she says she is your friend, too.'

  'I think she is, but—'

  'Is she more?' he asked spitefully. He grabbed a rock and threw it to the fire, staring at it, as if ashamed for the words he uttered.

  I opened my mouth in an angry retort, but for Lif's sake, shut up. I shook my head at him, and searched for an answer. The truth was, I did not know what I thought about her. I had loved Shayla. I had cared for Ishild. I had once liked Ermendrud. But, Cassia was close to my heart. I respected her. She was courageous, beautiful, and intelligent. She was different in my heart, different from the other women I had known that past year. I stared at Ansbor's face, one of my last few friends, and wanted to tell him she did not think of him that way. It was not my fault. It just was so. I drew a ragged breath from my guts.

  Ansbor waited somberly. 'Does that mean yes? This is the thanks for all the help I have given?'

  I let the breath go, and shook my head. I resented his tone. I sneered at him in disgust. 'We are running across this hostile land, chased by Odo and others, gods wager on the hour of our demise, I am trying to save a baby, and we are lost. And you are jealous. Yes, Ansbor, she is beautiful and willful, intelligent and braver than most men. She has a biting personality and a warm heart, she is intelligent and loyal, but she and I? We share respect. What you wish to have with her is for you to build. If she does not love you? You will have to handle it.' I saw my words left him unhappy, even more jealous. Ansbor would be my enemy, perhaps. Like Ansigar, he would hate me. His eyes glared at me suspiciously, and I grew even more annoyed. 'For now, neither Hraban nor Fulcher are a threat to you. No words have been spoken. I am not a lover to her. But, someone else might be, one day, unless you stop guarding her like a fat, lazy dog, and tell her how you feel. She might say no. It is possible and likely, for you do not respect her wishes and independence. Now, scamper off, and thank you for all the help you have given me.'

  He got up unsteadily and turned to go, but did not. 'You know, I do not follow you for the silly oath I gave you that day last spring, not anymore. You have lost so much honor since then, no man would be ashamed to leave you. Yet, my father died in that same battle as your heroic grandfather and brave mother, and I have vengeance to take, as well. Therefore, I shall follow you, for we have common goals. One day, we might not have them. I am not sure I wish to die a sad, useless death for the many dangers you bring us, but I shall fight for you still, for now. In addition, I thank you for slaying Vago. That somewhat alleviated my need for vengeance.'

  'Thank you, Ansbor,' I told him tiredly, fully understanding my friendship has been perilous for him. 'Let us hope we don't face each other in a shield wall one day.'

  He laughed. 'Wouldn't it be nice to fight in one, for a change? All we have been doing is burning halls, and fighting spirits and bastards in the thickets.'

  'Yes, a shield wall would be terrible, perilous, and nice, all at the same time. I'd rather shit myself while waiting for a battle I know is coming, rather than suddenly shitting myself for all these surprises,' I told him, and glanced at Cassia. 'Speak with her already, or lose her. Someone will take her, as I said.'

  He nodded, his face dark as he gathered himself. 'If you take her, it will break us,' he said. He walked for her, his steps hesitating and heavy, until he plopped down next to her. She awoke with a startle, half-pulling at the axe next to her, but then she relaxed. Ansbor spoke to her at length. He was calm enough, apparently spilling his heart finally, and she was nodding, and then holding his hand gently. She was not a cruel woman, one insensitive to someone else's needs. Then, she both nodded and shook her head, throwing her hand around the northern hills. Ansbor's face was anxious, and he argued, but she was adamant, and he looked suspicious, his eyes flickering my way. Finally, she squeezed his hand, and he relented, getting up and walking off while cursing softly. Cassia took a long breath, holding her hands on her face, and then looked startled, as she saw me watching.

  I could not turn my face away.

  Her eyes were moist and shining, and she blushed, and then turned to lie on her side, her eyes on mine. She was beautiful and I felt my heartstrings move. Gods help me, but she was more than a friend, but could not be, for Ansbor. 'Your father,' I told Lif's curious face, with a sad shake of my head, 'is like a vortex of shit. You are caught up in it, you are smeared. Woden did not do a very good job when he created our family, did he?' She smiled, I was sure, and shut her eyes. I laughed gently, and took a deep breath. 'I hope you make it, love.'

  In the very early morning, we got on our horses. We would try to get some distance between us and the enemy, but it seemed Odo had not rested that night. Far in the morning mists, savage men were yelling questions. Then, like shadows, I spied them sitting on horses below us, in the trees we had ridden through the night before. They had crossed the river in force, and spread out to find us, Hel bent on capturing us. There were but ten of them, down there, but surely more were out there somewhere. They sat still as some of the enemy went on their knees, searching marks of our horses’ passing. One looked up, his hand on a churned bit of grass and mud. He pointed our way. I spat, for while Odo was not with them, Gernot and Ansigar were. The latter rode forward, as if he had seen something. Then, he yelled, his finger pointed at Fulcher, whose red hair was like a halo as he moved for me, not having noticed the danger. He pulled back, but the damage was done.

  'Haiyaah!' I yelled, and we rode.

  For hours, they rode after us relentlessly, and slowly caught up to us. They had fresher horses, and I could see in the distance Ansigar mocking us. We were closing up to the small mountains and rolling, craggy hills of the Matticati, and there were light beech woods spreading around us. I could hear their horses now, and knew they gained us every minute. They were as patient as wolves, tracking a ble
eding auroch, ferocious in their quest to find us, and their rewards would be great. We would fail, Lif would suffer. Ansbor and Fulcher would die, hopefully, and I was to be a prisoner they would barely keep alive.

  And, Cassia would suffer, I knew she would.

  She would suffer like women do, when caught by immoral men, and there was nothing else in Odo's troop but such men. I prayed to Woden as well as I could, subjecting myself before the god, then cursing his fickle nature, but all he would give me was the battle rage, and that started to hammer inside my head.

  'We have to face them soon!' Fulcher yelled at me breathlessly, as I spurred my horse on the mossy ground, the horse staggering as I held on to Lif, who was gurgling happily.

  'I know. We will,' I said hollowly, fearing the moment, as I was looking for a defensible position.

  'It's Ansigar. He and your brother are cowards! We might make it, if we kill the two!' Ansbor yelled as he joined us, guiding his horse next to me. I shook my head. The black-garbed men would not run. They were there to kill and capture, or they had no going back.

  Then, in front of us, stood a sturdy, shaggy stallion, happily eating early green grass.

  Hands was sitting on it, looking at us carefully, swathed on furs.

  I reined my horse to a halt, remembering how he had parted from our company, and how Ishild had been whispering to him.

  'What are you doing here?' I hissed at him, as Fulcher and Ansbor pulled their spears out, surprised.

  'We have not the time,' Fulcher urged, guiding Cassia to the side.

  Hands ignored them. 'Time to make a choice, Hraban. You owe Veleda a life,' he said, staring across the woods, where my filth of a brother was getting steadily closer, navigating a rough, ragged cliff we had passed just a few minutes earlier. 'Had you agreed, and given her to me earlier, they would not be here. She would be safe. It will be hard for me to save her, and men will die. Perhaps the prophecy itself takes bounding leaps forward, but I can save her.'