"Did Korr steal one o' Jorund's wives too?" Ivar asked quietly as some of Alfyn's clansmates who survived confirmed that it was indeed Jorund's warriors who had attacked the Howlers.
They were crouched on higher ground, hidden among rocks and sparse brush, watching the enemy move below. From their vantage point, they could see the remains of the Howlers' settlement, burned huts, scattered bodies, and a few survivors being dragged about or forced to kneel. This could only mean that the Howlers had already been defeated, and they were too late to join them in the fight. Still, maybe they could do something about the survivors.
"How would I know?" Alfyn replied from beside him, crouched low and hidden as he too watched the scene ahead. He had been forced to calm down from his earlier eagerness to fight after seeing that the Howlers had already succumbed to their fate.
Ivar shook his head slightly, pushing aside thoughts of Jorund's wives being stolen by anyone, as his eyes narrowed while he counted the warriors left below. Fewer than they had expected.
"These ain't all of 'em…" he muttered under his breath. The warriors below moved without purpose, lazing about and doing nothing, some were even drinking, as if merely killing time, a typical free folk trait, with no discipline to speak of. But their numbers were clearly fewer than what it would take to wipe out an entire clan. These men likely hadn't followed Jorund's orders to retreat after the fight and had stayed behind, either to search for more hidden spoils or simply because they were too lazy to move again after the battle. Whichever it was, he had already decided to deal with them, and interrogate them about Jorund's current whereabouts, as the man himself was clearly not among those below.
"They were many before ye lot arrived. Then a big group left just before ye got here, takin' plenty o' spoils with 'em, and most of what I think were the Howlers' survivors, dragged along too," Hilde said quietly not far from him, crouched low and hidden with the rest of them.
"We should've rushed here then, rather than dallyin'," Alfyn said, casting an accusing look at Ivar. He would've left ahead of them after gathering his warriors, but Ivar had made him wait for the rest, who had still been out hunting. If he had known…
Ivar only shook his head and replied, "The Howlers were defeated long before that. D'ye think they'd have left right after the fight? They spent their time here restin'. If we'd come sooner, we'd have run straight into their main force, and then we'd have been forced t' do nothin'."
He paused and gestured ahead. "Look. We're about t' cut down Jorund's strength by killin' all these warriors lazin' before us. Jorund'll have his time."
Then his eyes hardened. "Just not today."
Alfyn grumbled low under his breath but kept quiet after that, staring at the warriors below as if they were already dead.
"What's yer plan then, Ivar?" Ulf asked, a slight smirk on his face as he looked at him. For years, during last winter, Ivar had made them avoid every needless fight they came across and had repeatedly warned them of the cost if they didn't. But now, after hearing that they were finally about to begin a slaughter, Ulf couldn't help but feel excited.
Haldor, Torren, and the rest wore much the same expression as they looked to Ivar, waiting for the plan to be laid before them. They were already used to him thinking ahead before every hunt and every fight they couldn't avoid. So they waited for instructions.
But clearly, not everyone in their group thought the same way.
"What d'ye mean, what's the plan?! We could just walk down there, rush 'em, an' fight. No plan needed!" Alfyn said, glaring at Ulf and then at the rest of Ivar's band. To him, everything was simple and plain before their eyes. They already held the advantage, since the warriors below had no idea they were coming. All that remained was to charge. No plan needed.
"Ye fool!" Haldor glared at him and shot back. "Always rushin' leads t' needless deaths. That's what Ivar's always told us. We listened, and till now, none of us have died, save the one we couldn't save from the winter cold itself."
"Wha…. hmmph…" Alfyn was about to shout back, but thankfully Ivar stopped him in time by clamping a hand over his mouth.
"Don't speak so loud, or they'll hear us," Ivar said, looking at him. Alfyn wriggled in his grip and tried to pry the hand away, but found he couldn't budge it. In the end, he gave up and nodded.
Only then did Ivar release him. He then turned and glared at Haldor. "An' ye, stop agitatin' Alfyn when he already wants t' charge in front of us."
Why stop people who wanted to charge into their own deaths? It would save him a great many brain cells trying to think of ways to keep anyone in his band from dying. Besides, he wasn't all that close with Alfyn… yet.
He looked at the man and asked for confirmation. "Right?"
"What?" Alfyn replied, clearly puzzled.
"That ye'd charge ahead with yer band when we attack," Ivar said, a faint smile on his face.
Alfyn's eyes widened for a moment before returning to normal. "O-of course. We'll be in front when it happens…" He paused, then asked, "Wait… what about ye lot?"
Ivar smiled a little wider this time as he took his bow from his back and answered, "We'll give cover fire while ye charge. Don't worry, all of us have bows, so arrows'll rain like hell on 'em. An' who knows? Before ye even reach 'em, it might already be over, and ye won't have t' do anythin' but stand in front."
"Don't ye dare take away me first revenge from me," Alfyn growled low, glaring at Ivar before moving away from their position and rising to his feet, careful not to be seen from below. He then looked back at Ivar and asked, "Do I have yer word that ye'll support us while we attack 'em?"
This time, Ivar nodded seriously as he met his gaze. "Ye have."
Alfyn studied him for a long moment, searching his face for any sign of deceit. He wasn't much good at telling when a man lied, but he could at least try. Finding none, he sighed and finally gave a nod of his own. "I'll go ready me men. We'll give ye the signal when we start."
That was easy, Ivar thought, smiling faintly. "Aye. An' one more thing, attack from where the sun rises. Biggest opening's there, and that's where they're most likely t' run once they realize they're trapped. I'll cover the rest with me men."
Alfyn frowned slightly, then crouched again and looked toward the place Ivar had indicated. After studying it and finding it a sound point of attack, he nodded. "Aye. We attack from there."
With that, he slipped away from their position, rose once more, and left without another word together with his men. He was still disheartened by the fact that he hadn't been able to budge Ivar's grip earlier. Just what is this little chieftain eatin'? he wondered silently as he walked.
Ivar watched him go and sighed. Sometimes, revenge consumed a person's thoughts and led to poor, irrational decisions. Or perhaps this was simply how these people really fought, charging straight at their enemy, simple and direct. Either way, he didn't care. He wouldn't stop them from doing as they pleased so long as it didn't affect him too much. Heck, he could even use their decisions to his advantage. Just like now.
"What was that? Why aren't we fightin' in front like them?" Torren asked the moment he was sure Alfyn was far enough not to hear them. His blood had already begun to boil with anticipation of the coming fight, only to be met with disappointment when it seemed they would be shooting from afar with bows instead of the melee he had been looking forward to.
Haldor nodded from the side and looked at him, waiting for an answer, as he too had been looking forward to the melee. Ulf kept his expression neutral and simply waited, though judging by his face, Ivar knew he had already guessed what he was about to say. The rest were watching him as well.
Ivar scratched his head before answering. "We can't very well take the revenge they want fer ourselves, can we? We'll give the fight t' them while we provide cover fire from behind. Seems simple enough t' me. It's what they want, an' this was their fight t' begin with. We only chose t' help because we've our own history with this Jorund. Don't worry, we'll have plenty o' fights ahead o' us. I'm sure ye'll get yer glory."
He paused, searching for more to add, but found nothing worth saying. So he stepped back and rose to his feet. "Enough. Make sure ye don't shoot our friends by accident. An'… if possible… don't kill every last one of 'em. I want some alive t' tell me where this Jorund is."
Seeing that Torren kept quiet after that, and the rest said nothing, Ivar gave them a nod and was about to tell them to prepare when Hilde, still crouched and watching the enemy below, suddenly interjected. "Wait! They found someone still hidin'."
Everyone immediately turned to look, including Ivar, who dropped back into a crouch and peered down below.
"Doesn't look like one o' the Howlers," Haldor commented after spotting the figure in black fighting his way out of trouble, having stolen the sword of the first warrior he had killed. "He's wearin' all black."
"A crow?" Ulf said quietly, as if asking himself.
Below them, the man in black cut down one of his attackers after a few exchanges, then felled another soon after.
Ivar narrowed his eyes and sharpened his vision to see more clearly. The man seemed far too well-equipped to be one of the free folk. Ivar could make out armor hidden beneath the thick black fur. His movements were disciplined too, coordinated, though far from extraordinary.
If he truly was what Ulf had guessed, then Ivar could only thank his luck for delivering him someone who might know of lands beyond the endless snow. Hopefully, the man wouldn't die first.
"Ow. That hurts," Haldor said after seeing the man go down.
The man had been surrounded and was struck from behind with a heavy club to the back of the head while fighting two warriors in front of him.
Seeing that, Ivar wasted no time and rose to his feet. "Haldor, go tell Alfyn they need t' move fast and attack. The rest o' ye, get ready. I want that man alive."
Though puzzled as to why he wanted the stranger alive, they still moved at once and prepared for the fight ahead.
Ivar watched his bandmen make their way down the hill before turning his gaze back to the scene below. He let out a sigh of relief when he saw they hadn't finished the man, but had tied him instead, though the captive still received the occasional punch or kick while they bound him.
Then Ivar followed his men and started down the small hill.
—----
Edric Rivers dazedly looked at the wildlings who were punching and kicking him as he lay tied down. He couldn't help but feel that his luck had turned foul ever since his scouting party had left Castle Black to track the movements of the wildlings and investigate the war that was happening between Jorund Snowfox and Sylas the Grim.
On the very first day of the ranging, he had been struck by the flux, which had laid him low for more than a day. After that, his belongings began going missing more often than not, his knife, bits of gear, even the dried food he had secretly stashed away for hard days.
Then, more than a sennight into their mission, his party had run into a large band of wildlings. They had managed to bring down many of them, but the enemy's numbers were too great, forcing them to retreat. It was during that retreat that he had become separated from the rest of his party. He had managed to stay hidden while traveling in search of his party, but it had not taken long before a wildling hunting band spotted him and took him prisoner.
The wildling hunting party had dragged him back to their settlement like a prize kill, shoving him through the snow while laughing among themselves. They had taken him to where he suspected to be their chieftain and presented his sword. Then they had begun tugging at his furs, eager to strip him of whatever else he carried. One of them discovered the armor fastened beneath the layers and barked something to the others, grinning wide as they reached for the straps.
It was then that the shouting began.
At first it was only a distant roar, followed by screams, then the sharp crack of wood breaking and the unmistakable sound of men dying. The wildlings around him froze for half a breath before dropping everything and rushing toward the commotion, weapons in hand. During the fighting, they forgot him entirely.
Edric hadn't wasted the chance the fools had given him.
Still bound at the wrists, he had rolled himself beside the nearest hut and burrowed into the snow piled against its wall, forcing himself into the freezing drift until only his face remained free to breathe. The cold bit like knives, but he endured it. Better frozen than butchered. He lay there through the whole battle. He heard men screaming, women crying, boots pounding through the settlement, and the wet sounds of steel biting flesh. Once, someone stumbled so close he thought he'd be discovered, but they ran past.
When at last the noise died down, Edric had dared to hope.
Then a wildling who had remained behind staggered around the hut, muttering to himself. The fool was either drunk on mead or dead tired, for he never noticed the mound in the snow, or the face sticking out of it. Instead, he stopped a few paces away and began pissing, the steaming stream splashing across the drift and soaking into Edric's face.
The stench was unbearable and he reckoned he had tasted some of the piss drifting in his face.
Then, revulsion overcame caution.
He couldn't help but think that if he had simply endured the piss and pretended it was only water, he would not be suffering the pain he was experiencing now.
"Ow…" he grunted as another punch landed across his face.
"Ye fuckin' crow. Hidin' yerself like a craven. Ye think ye can escape after killin' some o' me men, hmm?"
Edric barely heard any of it. His head was spinning, and his ears rang without end. It took him a moment before he could make sense of the next voices.
"Why would a crow be here?"
"Dunno."
"I saw this one burst right out o' the snow and kill Sten, then stole his sword and killed the rest."
"Get this one with the rest o' our spoils. We can ask Jorund fer more steel in exchange fer him."
"Aye."
"Aye."
"Fuckin' cunt. How many did this crow kill?"
"Dunno."
"What ye waitin' fer? Count 'em."
"Hah! I'm right! Stayin' behind has given us more spoils. This one's worth a lot more than the survivors."
Edric felt himself being dragged through the snow after that. His whole body ached from the punches and kicks he had just taken. Hell, even his face felt numb, and every time he moved his lips, pain flared like fire.
It didn't take long before the dragging stopped, and he felt his back pressed against a tree. When he managed to lift his head, he found himself surrounded by women and children huddled together, crying and sniffling.
"Ow…" He took another blow to the body before the warriors finally left.
Edric sagged against the tree and let his head hang low. For the moment, there was nothing else to do as everything hurt. His ribs throbbed with every breath. His wrists burned where the bindings bit into the skin. His face felt swollen and half-dead, yet every twitch of his lips sent pain stabbing through his jaw. Even his legs ached from being dragged through the snow. He decided then to take a nap, to gather what little strength he had left and hope the pain would ease once he woke up, so he could think of a plan for his current predicament.
He had only just closed his eyes when shouting suddenly broke out. His eyes snapped open. For one strange moment, he couldn't help but think that what had happened before was happening again. Then came the clash of steel, the thud of bodies, and the sharp cries of men in pain. Either what had happened earlier had only been a dream, or this was another attack.
Still, whatever it was, he tried to move, hoping to hide in the snow again. This time, even if they pooped on his face, he wouldn't budge, he told himself.
But even the slightest movement sent pain through his body. He let out a slow, weary sigh and slumped back against the trunk. He could only surrender himself to whatever fate came next. Or perhaps this was all just really a dream.
—---
Alfyn slammed into the first man before the fool had fully raised his axe. His own weapon came down in a savage arc, splitting the man's head from his body. Hot blood sprayed across the snow. The sight of it only fed the fire he had been suppressing all this time, and he drove forward at once. Another man rushed him with a spear, but Alfyn batted it aside, stepped in close, and smashed the man's face with the haft before flipping his axe and burying the blade deep into the man's chest.
After that, the enemy no longer met him one on one. They had learned quickly from those first few exchanges and moved to surround him in a group of three. Alfyn barely managed to evade the strike from his side while clashing with the man in front of him.
"Fuck!" Alfyn cursed. He couldn't retreat, for another had already moved behind him. He traded another blow with the man in front and slipped past the strike from his side, but there was no avoiding the attack from behind. So he braced himself and accepted the pain that was about to come.
He waited for the blow. But it never came.
When he turned, he saw the man behind him with an arrow buried in his neck. Alfyn's eyes widened for a heartbeat before a savage grin spread across his face. He looked back at the two men before him. His gamble had paid off. Whoever had loosed that arrow, it could only be Ivar, or one of Ivar's men. He had not fully trusted the little chieftain, but he had little choice. There was no one else who could help his clan win this revenge.
He moved at once.
Now that he no longer had to worry about his back, it did not take long to overpower the two before him. He shoved the man at his side away, then brought his axe down into the skull of the one in front. He didn't waste any time, he yanked the blade free and drove it into the second man before the fool could regain his footing.
When it was done, Alfyn let out a breath and savored the taste of victory soon to be theirs. All around him, his band crashed against Jorund's warriors, turning the open ground into a frenzy of steel and screams.
—---
"Ye lot saw that? Don't stray too far from yer band, or ye'll get surrounded just like Alfyn. Always fight with yer allies beside ye. Understand?" Ivar said loudly as he nocked another arrow and let it loose. He had to raise his voice for his band to hear, as they were spread out along the slope.
He wasn't about to let such an opportunity pass him by. While the battle raged before them, he fully intended to lecture his warriors by pointing out everything Alfyn and his men were doing wrong.
"Hope ye lot learn somethin' from this rare chance."
Whether his band was too busy nocking and loosing arrows or simply ignoring him, he received only a weak response. Still, he knew they could hear him, so he continued.
By the time the battle ended, he had finished his commentary as well and ordered his men to move forward and collect every enemy who was still alive for interrogation.
Ivar immediately sought out Alfyn and found him near the Howlers' survivors, bent over and gasping for breath. He gave the man a nod and said, "I lost count how many times ye nearly got yerself killed. Ye fight recklessly."
Alfyn snorted between breaths before replying, "That's how true warriors fight. Ye wouldn't know, seemin' as ye only know how t' fight from afar."
"I wouldn't have beaten ye black an' blue if that were true." Ivar only shook his head and let Alfyn recover.
Then he made his way toward the one they suspected to be a crow. He studied the man for a moment and found him staring back with open curiosity.
After a while, Ivar finally spoke. "Who are ye?"
The man only stared at him without answering. Ivar frowned and was about to beat some sense into him when the man finally spoke.
"E..dric... #(%%()." the man mumbled, followed by a jumble of slurred words Ivar couldn't make out.
Ivar frowned at what he had heard and couldn't help but glance back at Alfyn.
"What's this man talkin' about?"
"Dunno. Why're ye talkin' t' him at all? Just kill him already."
Ivar only shook his head. It seemed it would be a while yet before he could learn anything useful from the man.
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Thank you for all your supports. You read ahead on my p tr n.