"We should take this route. It's longer than the usual one, but it's safer. What d'ye think?" Alfyn asked as he drew a crude map in the snow, marking their position and the path they would need to take to reach the Howlers.
Ivar scrutinized the crude map, which looked like nothing more than a few careless lines scratched by a child. It took him a moment to make sense of it, but once he did, he gave a small nod, it matched what he had in mind. "Aye. I had the same thought."
Alfyn smiled, satisfied. He might have asked to travel with them to the Howlers, but he wouldn't risk his remaining clansmen if this Ivar chose the faster route that is plagued with danger. He rose from his crouch position and said, "I'll go back to me people now. We see each other on the morrow, Chieftain Ivar."
Ivar looked at Alfyn's bruised, swollen face, the missing teeth, the split lip, and couldn't help but smile inwardly. It was fun, using someone as a punching bag, especially when they were the ones asking for it. Still… asking for a fight just to see if he was worth traveling with… He rather liked the way these people think.
He gestured to the stone beside them and replied, "Why not sit fer a while, Alfyn, and tell me why Jorund attacked yer clan? It'll help me and me band prepare better if we know what they're after. Don't ye think?"
Alfyn frowned as he stared hard at Ivar. If possible, he would rather not speak of his brother's foolishness, the very man that had brought about their clan's destruction. But he supposed he couldn't keep the reason to himself and the few who remained. Sooner or later, others would learn of it. He glanced at his band resting nearby, then looked back at Ivar and nodded. "If it'll make ye feel better, then I suppose ye ought t' know."
With that, he walked over to the stone and sat down.
Ivar exhaled before walking to the opposite stone and sitting down as well. He wanted to know what had driven Jorund to attack the Frostbornes if he intended to deal with him. As the saying went, know your enemy and know yourself, and since he already knew himself well enough, all that remained was to understand his enemy.
"Uhmm…" Alfyn scratched his head, mulling over where to begin. After a moment, he decided to get straight to the point as he wasn't one to mince words. "Have ye seen Jorund's wife?"
Ivar shook his head. He hadn't even seen Jorund since that attack years ago, let alone his wife.
"Well… my brother, Svala, stole her from him." Alfyn paused before continuing. "At first, Svala ran into her band while out hunting, and they clashed. My brother wiped out her people, everyone but her. Even when she kept sayin' she was one o' Jorund's wives, my brother didn't listen."
He let out a short breath. "She was too beautiful. Guess my brother was thinkin' with his d*ck at that time."
"It was after a fortnight that someone saw Jorund's missing wife and told him. He came to us in a fury and demanded she be returned but my brother refused." Alfyn shook his head. "Jorund left with a threat, but my brother dismissed it."
"That foolishness brought about our destruction. On the third night, hell came down on us. My brother knew that Jorund had been gathering men, preparing for an eventual clash with Sylas, but he was too confident he could face him head-on and still win."
Alfyn's gaze hardened. "And ye've seen the result of that confidence. Jorund brought all his men with him and slaughtered near every warrior in our clan, then took our women as prizes for his own warriors. At least, that's what the survivors told me. Ye already know, I wasn't there when it happened."
Ivar looked at Alfyn, momentarily speechless. He hadn't expected the reason for the attack to be a woman. He could only shake his head inwardly at that. Even in different worlds, some women could still bring disaster upon foolish men.
Still, something Alfyn had said piqued his curiosity.
He looked at him, a hint of sympathy in his gaze, before speaking. "Sorry about what happened to yer clan. What're yer plans now?"
Alfyn growled before replying, "Revenge, of course. We'll recover with the Howlers first, if they'll have us, then grow me band until we've enough warriors to face Jorund and his men."
Ivar nodded. He had expected that answer. Still, he couldn't help but pity Alfyn. That plan would likely never come to pass. Sooner or later, he would be the one to kill this Jorund.
"Good luck with yer revenge, Alfyn."
Alfyn steadied himself, then looked straight at Ivar. "Ye know… we could use yer help when the time comes."
Ivar met his gaze and considered it. After a moment, he replied, "I can't give ye an answer now. Ask me again once ye've finished buildin' yer band. Who knows? Maybe Jorund'll be dead by then, and ye won't have t' bother with revenge at all."
He couldn't wait for Alfyn just to kill this Jorund. He knew how difficult it would be for Alfyn to rebuild his clan and grow his band of warriors again. Heck, he didn't even know if Alfyn would live long enough to take his revenge.
"That's impossible." Alfyn shook his head. "Jorund's as slippery as a rat, and I know men like that tend to live long 'nough. I'm confident he'll die by me hands then."
Ivar could only nod at that. He let the silence stretch for a moment before shifting to what truly interested him. "Ye mentioned Jorund and Sylas were preparin' fer an eventual clash. Why're they at odds?"
"Hmm?" Alfyn frowned at him. "Ye don't know?"
Ivar shook his head. "Didn't have time fer gossip back then. Been busy survivin' the winter with me clan." And cultivatin'. But he left that part unsaid.
"Aye. Survivin' comes first." Alfyn nodded in approval before continuing. "Well, near every man in the True North who ain't busy stayin' alive knows this, Jorund and Sylas are competin' to be the one and only Magnar o' the True North."
He shifted slightly before going on. "It started two years ago. Sylas was goin' around persuadin', threatenin', and killin' those who opposed him. Then he met Jorund Snowfox, and they fought. Heard it ended in a draw."
Alfyn let out a breath. "After that, Jorund declared himself a Magnar too, said Sylas wasn't the true one since he couldn't even defeat him, despite havin' the numbers. Heard Sylas spat blood in anger when he heard that."
He gave a small shake of his head. "And since then… the two've been clashin' now and again."
Alfyn's eyes suddenly widened as a thought struck him. "Now that I think on it… me brother, Svala, meant t' back Sylas as the true Magnar. An' I'm sure Jorund knew that too." He rubbed a hand over his head as he thought. "Maybe the attack wasn't just about his wife… maybe Jorund had it planned from th' start, t' weaken Sylas's numbers o' warriors."
He scratched his head faster, lettin' out a frustrated sigh. "Ahhh… all this thinkin' hurts me head."
Possible. Ivar thought it was likely that Jorund had planned the attack on the Frostbornes with or without one of his wives being taken. And if that was true, then Jorund truly was a fox worthy of his name. He glanced at Alfyn, who was still scratching his head. There were a few among the free folk who could think properly, not just fools who only knew how to fight. It was a shame most of them preferred swinging a blade over using their heads, instead of doing both at the same time.
He shook his head inwardly at the thought, then said, "It's possible Jorund had it planned all along… but does it really matter? He'll end up dead anyway, aye?"
Alfyn stopped scratching his head, his expression hardening. "Aye. He'll end up dead by me hands."
Ivar smiled, then rose to his feet. "I wish ye good luck in yer revenge, Alfyn." He paused, glancing at the darkened sky before continuing, "But I won't keep ye any longer. Ye should head back to yer people if ye don't want t' run into wolves on the way. They attacked us last night, an' I'm sure they're still lurkin' nearby. Might even come at us again tonight. Best be careful."
Alfyn stood up at once at the mention of wolves. There was no need to hear anything more. If he'd known, he would've left earlier instead of wasting time talking. He shot Ivar a slight glare before replying, "Aye. If there are wolves about then we should go now, like ye said. Ye should've told me earlier."
If I had, ye wouldn't have stayed and spoken so much. But Ivar kept that thought to himself and said instead, with a hint of regret, "Sorry. Slipped me mind. But I've told ye now, haven't I?"
"Hmmp." Alfyn scoffed and waved a hand. "No matter. We'll go now. We'll be here come the morrow mornin', Chieftain Ivar."
Ivar crossed his arms and gave a nod. "Aye. Be careful out there."
Alfyn narrowed his eyes at Ivar one last time before turning and walking back to his band. "Oi! We're goin'! They say there're wolves about!" That was enough to get his warriors moving quicker.
Ivar let out a quiet chuckle as he watched them leave and it didn't take long before he saw his own companions making their way toward him.
"How'd it go?" Ulf asked the moment he neared.
"Did ye agree t' travel with 'em on the morrow?" Hilde asked right after him.
Ivar raised a brow at the barrage of questions but answered all the same. "It went fine. An' aye, we'll be travelin' with 'em come the morrow."
"I'm curious why Jorund attacked the Frostbornes. Did ye ask about it, Ivar?" Torren inserted after he answered Ulf and Hilde.
Ivar let out a sigh and sat back down, then began recounting what Alfyn had told him about the attack.
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It had been seven days since they began their journey to the Howlers, and all of his companions had been grumbling about how slowly they were traveling. The journey was meant to take only three days, as they were taking the longer route, but instead it had nearly tripled that. Fortunately, they would arrive soon, once they crossed the river not far ahead.
Ivar looked toward where the remaining Frostbornes were resting and couldn't help but grumble under his breath as well. He hadn't expected nearly a hundred of them to survive the attack. Even if most were women and children, it was still a large number.
One of the reasons for their delay was the need to hunt along the way. It tested his patience more than once. There were times they couldn't bring down enough game to feed everyone, and he had been forced to dip into his own reserves, supplies meant only for his band once they headed south.
Now, he could only regret it. He hadn't accounted for the Frostborne's needs when he agreed to travel with them.
"Couldn't thank ye enough fer all the food ye've lent us. Me swear we'll repay it once we recover, if ye're still in the North by then." Alfyn looked at him with a smile. Most of the bruises and wounds on his face had already healed.
Ivar looked back at him, and the urge to start punching that face again flared for a moment. Fortunately, he managed to push it down with a few steady breaths.
"Ye better be," he said. "I want yer clan t' start payin' me back before I head south." They had spoken now and then over the past few days while traveling, and Alfyn had already learned that Ivar planned to go south.
"Come now. Ye know what me clan's been through. We can't rightly pay it all back in such a short time. Maybe when ye come back?" Alfyn reasoned.
Ivar shook his head. "I need the food now. Why would I need it when I return, when I can get all I want in the south? Just give what ye can, and we'll settle the rest later."
Alfyn frowned, studying him. "Ye speak like Marvin the trader now." He paused, thinking it over, then nodded. "Aye… we can do that. But whatever we give depends on what we can hunt. Ye can't complain later, no matter how little it is."
"Aye. Give me what ye can, and I'll take it. I'll still be here fer a moon or two, so ye've got plenty o' time t' repay me fer me rations." Ivar hoped that would be enough time to deal with Jorund. He wasn't in any real hurry to leave the place behind, but he didn't want to take the risk. Last winter had taught him that much, it had come suddenly, trapping them in the hollow with no time to join other clans. If possible, he had no intention of reliving that experience. Even if it had only been a few months since summer began.
"Hmm?" Alfyn raised a brow. "Why wait so long? Thought ye'd leave the moment ye hand Skapti an' the rest over t' the Howlers."
Ivar crossed his arms and let out a breath. He watched his people setting up their tents and preparing food before answering, "I've got some pests t' deal with first. Don't ask what or who, I won't answer."
Alfyn followed his gaze and nodded. "Aye. Wasn't plannin' t'." He had thought Ivar would leave soon enough, sparing them from having to repay what they had eaten, but it seemed he would have to divide whatever they hunted for at least a moon. He sighed inwardly at the thought.
After a moment, he spoke again, getting to the point of why he had sought Ivar. "Enough about me debt. I came t' ask, should I bring all me men who can still fight t' the Howlers? If Korr sees how many warriors we've got left, the talks might go faster. Don't ye think?"
"Ye mad?" Ivar looked at him as if he were a fool before adding, "When we went to yer settlement before, ye wouldn't even let us bring all our warriors, almost got us killed the first time. Now ye want t' walk into theirs with all yer men? I'd say ye'd be dead before ye even speak with Korr. Ye know him, he'd swing first before spittin' a single word."
Alfyn scratched the back of his head, thinking it over. After a moment, he nodded. "Aye… yer right. Was just askin'. So how many will ye bring? An' how many should I bring?"
"I'll take Ulf with me. Ye bring one, same as me. We need the rest here in case someone comes sniffin' around," Ivar said, glancing about their camp. The ground they had chosen had too many openings, too many ways for a handful of people to slip through unnoticed. They needed every warrior they had just to hold it. It wasn't ideal, but it was the best they could manage for now.
"Aye," Alfyn agreed. "We keep the warriors here. I'll head back, pick one, an' return. Then we go?"
"Aye," Ivar nodded. "Do that. We'll leave when ye get back."
Alfyn was about to leave when Haldor came rushing toward them, shouting, "Ivar! Ivar!"
"What?" Ivar called back.
Haldor didn't answer until he reached him. He stopped in front of Ivar, panting. After catching his breath, he said, "There's smoke comin' from the Howlers. Me an' Hilde think they're under attack. What should we do?"
Ivar frowned deeply at that. He couldn't help but think that this escorting task he had taken upon himself had gone awry. First the Frostborne, and now the Howlers were under attack as well. It seemed the world they lived in had gone completely mad.
"What?" Alfyn shouted, grabbing Haldor by the shoulders. "Who's attackin' them? Did ye see? Was it Jorund?"
Haldor tried to brush off Alfyn's hands but couldn't, so he snapped back with a glare. "Get yer hands off me first."
Alfyn released him at once, realizing what he was doing, then asked again, "Did ye see Jorund there?"
Haldor shook his head, adjusting his fur coat. "Nay. We didn't see. I ran here the moment we spotted the smoke while scoutin' ahead. Hilde stayed behind t' check what's goin' on. I came t' tell ye."
Alfyn turned to Ivar, urgency in his eyes. "We should go an' help them. If it's Jorund, then this is me chance fer revenge. If we strike while they're fightin', we can hit 'em from behind and catch 'em off guard." He lifted the axe at his side, his voice full of battle-hunger. "Thought I'd have t' wait years fer this… but maybe the Old Gods want it now. I'm goin', Ivar. What about ye?"
Ivar considered their situation before answering. "We wait fer Hilde first. What if it's not Jorund? What if they're not even under attack? Could just be a large burnin' fer somethin'. We confirm first before rushin' in."
"What?" Alfyn's eyes widened, as if he had just heard something absurd. "Why wait? If they're under attack and the Howlers have only a few warriors left, then me chance at revenge is gone. We need t' move now! This is our chance!"
"He's right, Ivar," Ulf chimed in, having rushed over the moment he heard Haldor shouting. "We should help the Howlers. An' if it really is Jorund, then we can take revenge fer what he did to us years ago." He looked at Ivar intently before adding, "Let's fight 'em!"
Torren nodded beside him, and the rest of the band, those who had heard everything that was said, looked at Ivar eagerly, clearly in agreement with Ulf and Alfyn.
Seeing that, Alfyn grinned. "See? Yer warriors want a fight. What're ye waitin' fer?"
Ivar rubbed his temples. Didn't they realize Haldor's report wasn't even confirmed yet? And they hadn't even seen Jorund there. Still, he knew there was no turning back now. If he held them back, he would lose the authority and prestige he had built over his band, and he hadn't even begun his journey south yet. He drew a deep breath and made his decision. He would fight. And if he lost everything here, including them, then so be it. He would carry on alone as he would make sure to save himself first and foremost.
When he exhaled, he raised his voice so all of his warriors could hear. "Ready yer weapons! We're goin' t' fight!"
"Yeh!" his warriors roared, raising their hands in excitement.
Alfyn laughed heartily before turning away to ready his own band.
Looking at them, Ivar could only grumble under his breath. It seemed he would have to risk the people left behind, as he had no choice but to bring most of his warriors with him. He then glanced toward the direction of the Howlers' settlement and could only hope it was all a false alarm.
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