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Chapter Eight
I keep getting tempted to jump to the end! But I'm having fun, anyway.
Chapter Eight
Campfires. Confidences, and confidence, sharing and lacking. Sleeping late.
“I’ll watch the big eejit. You two get some sleep.” Erik raised his voice. “That is, if we have some sharp eyes and ears keeping watch?”
An arrow lodged in the dirt at his right foot. A few seconds later it was joined by another between his feet. The shaft had seemed to fall almost vertically, and he felt its feather brush his nose. Or he imagined he felt them. Either way, he decided to trust Ruth’s archers.
BloodRaven was lying near the fire, and Erik placed his own bedroll close bye. Another night without sleep wouldn’t do him much harm, he decided, and the youngsters needed rest. Han was coming along nicely, he decided. The boy could have taken to his heels during the skirmish, and he wouldn’t have blamed him. Instead he’d reacted with bravery, and, more importantly, with intelligence. If he’d stood against the Hounds, he would have been cut down in seconds. Instead he’d used his wits to find cover, and bitten from the bushes like a viper when he had the chance. A Viper, yes, now there was a name for him to earn. Erik thought of something he could do if he found a couple of the snakes, and grinned at himself – hunting poisonous serpents in the dark – would he ever grow up. He watched where the two youngsters had settled down, close enough to talk without disturbing the feverish BloodRaven and his nursemaid. Or far enough away not to be overheard… Ruth had done nothing to make Erik suspicious, but then she didn’t have to be. Suspicion was Erik’s natural state, and had kept him alive till now.
True, she’d killed Hounds, but a capable leader might decide that a few dead minions was a fair price to pay for leaving a spy behind enemy’s camp. It was a devious trick, and one Erik had used himself. He remembered charging a shield wall at the tip of a phalanx of riders, thrusting through the enemies camp like a spearhead, looking behind him to see a black-clad assassin slip from his horse, riding straight ahead leaving their living weapon behind. He remembered the enemy’s jeers as they rode back to their own camp, and their lamentation a few hours later when their leader was found dead in his tent.
The second charge that night had been decisive, and afterwards Erik’s army held the Northlands.
He remembered another time, when it was him rolling from a black horse swathed in blacker silk, a poisoned blade strapped to his arm. Except it had turned out to be the Queen of the Icenae in the largest tent, not their King, and things had taken a different turn. He grinned in the dark. That escapade had cost him his commission, his lands, and a dozen years spent infiltrating the Legion. Still, the payment Clea had offered was good, and the memories of her had kept him warm on colder nights than this.
No time for memories now, though. He had set a pot of water to boil on a flat stone in the fire. As the water began to boil he threw in a handful of leaves. Ruth caught the movement and nodded to Han.
“The Man With the Map is a healer – he brews up something to ease BloodRaven’s fever.”
She pitched her voice low, but Erik’s ears were sharper than those of a normal man. He turned away, though, rather than let her know he had heard. After all, there wasn’t enough tea to go around, and he was dammed if he’d share his.
Han had decided that Ruth was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, just as the Man With the Map was the wisest, and BloodRaven the bravest. They were like heros from some Speyman’s tale, and he still couldn’t believe he was walking with them.
He traced her face and figure by the low light of the fire, and wished he had the courage to talk to her. But she had said nothing since commenting on The Man’s medicine show, and he didn’t dare wake her. He sighed and settled down to sleep, expertly positioning himself in the narrow zone between freezing and smouldering. He knew that he would roll closer to the fire in the night, and blessed his luck again, to be sleeping by a fire without having to suffer too many kicks in the night. His breathing deepened, and he fell towards the edge of dreams.
“Are you asleep yet?” Ruth’s voice was only a whisper, but he started like a surprised animal and she stifled a snort of laughter. “I take it you aren’t.”
“No, no, wide awake,” Han whispered back. “Just didn’t want to disturb you. Or them.” He nodded across the fire to where The Man was inhaling fumes from his mug and sighing. Strangely he hadn’t given any to BloodRaven yet. Probably too hot, thought Han.
“How long have you three been travelling together?”
“We only met BloodRaven this morning, Only a day,” whispered Han, realising with a shock that this was true – in some ways it seemed like forever since he’d been swept away by the two of them.
“How do you know them? Are you kin to the old one?”
“Yes, I’m his nephew,” said Han, and then almost bit his tongue. Why had he lied?
“How come you’re out here in the wilderness with them? Won’t your parents be worried?”
“No, I’m an orphan,” said Han, returning to the truth like a drowning man temporarily touching a sandbar. “My father was a soldier, and my mother was, ah, um…”
“A camp follower?” suggested Ruth.”
“Yes.” The sandbar shifted a little under Han’s feet, but he decided this was true enough.
“My father told me of many such children. He said the Empire might be Father to his nation, but for his own part he’d sired a legion. I could have been one myself, but he married the old chief’s daughter when he took over Masada. ‘Nothing like a wedding,’ he’s supposed to have said, ‘To give treason an official look.’ And that’s me – treason’s child.”
She cut off a bitter laugh.
“Still, it meant I was raised well – the best food, silks and treasures. I took to weapons, though. Of all the children of Masada I was the best with the dagger and sword. He was so proud of me the day I won my first tourney. Nobody thought I had a chance against Daniel. He was a year older than me, and a hand and a half taller. But I hamstrung him and tripped him onto my blade. Father was almost in tears. He even helped me cut off Daniel’s ears as a trophy…”
She giggled at Han’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m only joking. We’re not complete savages at Masada!”
Han shook his head. “That’s a relief – I thought you really did kill another child.”
“Oh, I killed him all right, but I’d never have been given the ears for such a clumsy kill!”
Her laughter carried across the fire. BloodRaven lifted his head a little, and panted, “Ah, the innocent merriement of the young. It does me good to hear it.”
“Quite,” replied Erik, deciding not to share the subject of Ruth’s amusement. He rested a hand for a second on BloodRaven’s brow.
“No fever, no chills. You’re a tough son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. That must be why the sword chose you.”
BloodRaven stirred. “That’s the second time you’ve spoken about my blade as if it has a mind of its own. I wish you’d share whatever knowledge you have of them.”
“You realise you just asked me a polite question? This morning you were ready to leave me dead in the dust for my knowledge. Think about that, and you’ll see something about the nature of magic weapons.”
“Oh, I realised that much months ago – the Blade brought me blood lust, as well as the skill to satisfy it. You were right - I was never much of a fighter before I found the sword. It was enough for me to swagger my way through a town, drop a few hints that the place looked pretty flammable and pat my flint-pouch for me to make enough money to get drunk in the tavern, and buy enough drinks for the locals that they decided it was easier to humour me than take a risk. It wasn’t a bad life…”
“But then you became a hero, eh?”
“Yes, I did. The damm sword seemed to drag me into every monster’s den and brigand’s lair I passed. So long as I carried it, I was faster, stronger than I had been before. Stronger by far. Poisons didn’t affect me, I didn’t have to sleep. I could drink ale like water – in fact, I did – much purer, you know, without it making me more than merry. No hangovers, either. And even when I was wounded, I felt no pain. That was the worst thing, when that bastard brought me down with his mace. I hadn’t felt anything like it in nearly a year… I need to get that blade back, old man, without it I’m not BloodRaven, I’m just a man. And that’s not enough for me anymore. So will you tell me what I need to know?”
Erik nodded. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. But not tonight.” BloodRaven started to protest, and tried to struggle upright, but Erik pushed him down with the flat of his hand. “Tonight you are just a man, and that man needs to rest if he’s to be any good to me in the morning. But to stop you from nagging me, I’ll give you two pieces of advice.
First, you’ve bought at least on lie about the sword you found. You’ve always been told of heroes who wield magic weapons. Well, that’s almost exactly the opposite of the truth. And for another, try to remember that BloodRaven has carried the swords of ruby and diamond for over fifty years, according to all the tales I’ve heard – I’d be careful who you tell that you found yours a year ago.”
Chapter Eight
Campfires. Confidences, and confidence, sharing and lacking. Sleeping late.
“I’ll watch the big eejit. You two get some sleep.” Erik raised his voice. “That is, if we have some sharp eyes and ears keeping watch?”
An arrow lodged in the dirt at his right foot. A few seconds later it was joined by another between his feet. The shaft had seemed to fall almost vertically, and he felt its feather brush his nose. Or he imagined he felt them. Either way, he decided to trust Ruth’s archers.
BloodRaven was lying near the fire, and Erik placed his own bedroll close bye. Another night without sleep wouldn’t do him much harm, he decided, and the youngsters needed rest. Han was coming along nicely, he decided. The boy could have taken to his heels during the skirmish, and he wouldn’t have blamed him. Instead he’d reacted with bravery, and, more importantly, with intelligence. If he’d stood against the Hounds, he would have been cut down in seconds. Instead he’d used his wits to find cover, and bitten from the bushes like a viper when he had the chance. A Viper, yes, now there was a name for him to earn. Erik thought of something he could do if he found a couple of the snakes, and grinned at himself – hunting poisonous serpents in the dark – would he ever grow up. He watched where the two youngsters had settled down, close enough to talk without disturbing the feverish BloodRaven and his nursemaid. Or far enough away not to be overheard… Ruth had done nothing to make Erik suspicious, but then she didn’t have to be. Suspicion was Erik’s natural state, and had kept him alive till now.
True, she’d killed Hounds, but a capable leader might decide that a few dead minions was a fair price to pay for leaving a spy behind enemy’s camp. It was a devious trick, and one Erik had used himself. He remembered charging a shield wall at the tip of a phalanx of riders, thrusting through the enemies camp like a spearhead, looking behind him to see a black-clad assassin slip from his horse, riding straight ahead leaving their living weapon behind. He remembered the enemy’s jeers as they rode back to their own camp, and their lamentation a few hours later when their leader was found dead in his tent.
The second charge that night had been decisive, and afterwards Erik’s army held the Northlands.
He remembered another time, when it was him rolling from a black horse swathed in blacker silk, a poisoned blade strapped to his arm. Except it had turned out to be the Queen of the Icenae in the largest tent, not their King, and things had taken a different turn. He grinned in the dark. That escapade had cost him his commission, his lands, and a dozen years spent infiltrating the Legion. Still, the payment Clea had offered was good, and the memories of her had kept him warm on colder nights than this.
No time for memories now, though. He had set a pot of water to boil on a flat stone in the fire. As the water began to boil he threw in a handful of leaves. Ruth caught the movement and nodded to Han.
“The Man With the Map is a healer – he brews up something to ease BloodRaven’s fever.”
She pitched her voice low, but Erik’s ears were sharper than those of a normal man. He turned away, though, rather than let her know he had heard. After all, there wasn’t enough tea to go around, and he was dammed if he’d share his.
Han had decided that Ruth was the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen, just as the Man With the Map was the wisest, and BloodRaven the bravest. They were like heros from some Speyman’s tale, and he still couldn’t believe he was walking with them.
He traced her face and figure by the low light of the fire, and wished he had the courage to talk to her. But she had said nothing since commenting on The Man’s medicine show, and he didn’t dare wake her. He sighed and settled down to sleep, expertly positioning himself in the narrow zone between freezing and smouldering. He knew that he would roll closer to the fire in the night, and blessed his luck again, to be sleeping by a fire without having to suffer too many kicks in the night. His breathing deepened, and he fell towards the edge of dreams.
“Are you asleep yet?” Ruth’s voice was only a whisper, but he started like a surprised animal and she stifled a snort of laughter. “I take it you aren’t.”
“No, no, wide awake,” Han whispered back. “Just didn’t want to disturb you. Or them.” He nodded across the fire to where The Man was inhaling fumes from his mug and sighing. Strangely he hadn’t given any to BloodRaven yet. Probably too hot, thought Han.
“How long have you three been travelling together?”
“We only met BloodRaven this morning, Only a day,” whispered Han, realising with a shock that this was true – in some ways it seemed like forever since he’d been swept away by the two of them.
“How do you know them? Are you kin to the old one?”
“Yes, I’m his nephew,” said Han, and then almost bit his tongue. Why had he lied?
“How come you’re out here in the wilderness with them? Won’t your parents be worried?”
“No, I’m an orphan,” said Han, returning to the truth like a drowning man temporarily touching a sandbar. “My father was a soldier, and my mother was, ah, um…”
“A camp follower?” suggested Ruth.”
“Yes.” The sandbar shifted a little under Han’s feet, but he decided this was true enough.
“My father told me of many such children. He said the Empire might be Father to his nation, but for his own part he’d sired a legion. I could have been one myself, but he married the old chief’s daughter when he took over Masada. ‘Nothing like a wedding,’ he’s supposed to have said, ‘To give treason an official look.’ And that’s me – treason’s child.”
She cut off a bitter laugh.
“Still, it meant I was raised well – the best food, silks and treasures. I took to weapons, though. Of all the children of Masada I was the best with the dagger and sword. He was so proud of me the day I won my first tourney. Nobody thought I had a chance against Daniel. He was a year older than me, and a hand and a half taller. But I hamstrung him and tripped him onto my blade. Father was almost in tears. He even helped me cut off Daniel’s ears as a trophy…”
She giggled at Han’s face. “Don’t worry, I’m only joking. We’re not complete savages at Masada!”
Han shook his head. “That’s a relief – I thought you really did kill another child.”
“Oh, I killed him all right, but I’d never have been given the ears for such a clumsy kill!”
Her laughter carried across the fire. BloodRaven lifted his head a little, and panted, “Ah, the innocent merriement of the young. It does me good to hear it.”
“Quite,” replied Erik, deciding not to share the subject of Ruth’s amusement. He rested a hand for a second on BloodRaven’s brow.
“No fever, no chills. You’re a tough son of a bitch, I’ll give you that. That must be why the sword chose you.”
BloodRaven stirred. “That’s the second time you’ve spoken about my blade as if it has a mind of its own. I wish you’d share whatever knowledge you have of them.”
“You realise you just asked me a polite question? This morning you were ready to leave me dead in the dust for my knowledge. Think about that, and you’ll see something about the nature of magic weapons.”
“Oh, I realised that much months ago – the Blade brought me blood lust, as well as the skill to satisfy it. You were right - I was never much of a fighter before I found the sword. It was enough for me to swagger my way through a town, drop a few hints that the place looked pretty flammable and pat my flint-pouch for me to make enough money to get drunk in the tavern, and buy enough drinks for the locals that they decided it was easier to humour me than take a risk. It wasn’t a bad life…”
“But then you became a hero, eh?”
“Yes, I did. The damm sword seemed to drag me into every monster’s den and brigand’s lair I passed. So long as I carried it, I was faster, stronger than I had been before. Stronger by far. Poisons didn’t affect me, I didn’t have to sleep. I could drink ale like water – in fact, I did – much purer, you know, without it making me more than merry. No hangovers, either. And even when I was wounded, I felt no pain. That was the worst thing, when that bastard brought me down with his mace. I hadn’t felt anything like it in nearly a year… I need to get that blade back, old man, without it I’m not BloodRaven, I’m just a man. And that’s not enough for me anymore. So will you tell me what I need to know?”
Erik nodded. “I’ll tell you what you need to know. But not tonight.” BloodRaven started to protest, and tried to struggle upright, but Erik pushed him down with the flat of his hand. “Tonight you are just a man, and that man needs to rest if he’s to be any good to me in the morning. But to stop you from nagging me, I’ll give you two pieces of advice.
First, you’ve bought at least on lie about the sword you found. You’ve always been told of heroes who wield magic weapons. Well, that’s almost exactly the opposite of the truth. And for another, try to remember that BloodRaven has carried the swords of ruby and diamond for over fifty years, according to all the tales I’ve heard – I’d be careful who you tell that you found yours a year ago.”
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I think I'll start scanning for typos before I post, though - Empire instead of Emperor, on intead of one, that sort of thing. i blame my pc keyboard, which is a bit crap.
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