Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (30 page)

“Shall we go to Moganticum?” I asked Leuthard.

Leuthard shook his head. “No. We might, eventually. But now, we’ll travel in the wilds. The Den of the Brethren is not far from Moganticum, and we will find men there who know the truth. A man, for sure. We should go now.”

“Yes. I think Iodocus is far enough.”

He smiled nastily. “I’ll pay him back one day. So, let us leave. To the Den. We’ll find answer there. And perhaps the fate of … a woman? She’s alive, don’t worry. A lot will be made clear to you there. And your road of suffering will continue.”

He thrust his bound hands forward.

Gisil? Was she truly alive? How would he know?
I felt the hand of fate, a cold grasping thing embrace my heart. There was something in Leuthard’s words that made me flinch, to fear the truth. The uneasy thoughts thundered through my mind, like thousand spears beating the hide of a shield, and I got a hold of myself with great difficulty. “Where is it?”

“I said I’ll show you,” he snarled. “Are you too afraid?”

“No,” I lied, but cut the ropes anyway.

He got up, and looked down at me. “Let’s go find some answers. Our road begins. Free the Roman.”

“I don’t trust him,” I murmured.

Leuthard snorted. “We don’t have to trust each other. We’ll travel together for a while. That is all.”

I cut the Roman’s bonds.

W
e made our way out of the cellar, looking out for trouble. There was none. A sizable fire burned in the town above us, and so we rushed out of the hill in relative peace. We crossed some fields, rushed across wooded trails, and Leuthard, who had raided the land before, found a house with a fine stable. The men were busy in Sparrow’s Joy, fighting the Marcomanni and the fires, and none stopped us from taking some mounts. The boy left to watch them wisely made himself scarce when we appeared. We mounted the beasts, and guided them to the yard.

“Will they give chase?” I wondered.

“No,” Leuthard grinned. The village could be seen well from there. There were distant screams, and terrible amount of smoke pouring to the dark sky. I decided that would be the end of Seisyll’s home. “They’ll be busy for days,” the champion said, and turned his horse away.

We made haste, and let Leuthard show the way. He was silent, gazing carefully around in the darkness, picking routes we would never have found on our own. We followed a reedy stretch of river, which led to the wilds of Gaul. I thought we were headed north. He slapped his horse forward at a canter along the river’s banks, his head turning left and right.

We kept close to him, fully aware how dangerous he might be, but then, I didn’t trust Decimus either. I spend half my time cursing I had not taken Iodocus with me, and tried to convince myself I’d do well without him. He should survive, him and Danr, and take the news to Hard Hill.

Eventually, I rode next to Leuthard, keeping an eye on the blackness like he did, suspicious of the thickets. Eventually, I had to fight a yawn, feeling exhausted after the horrible night. “How much longer?”

“Long,” he said nebulously. “Too long.” He looked back at Decimus, who held a spear uneasily as he tried to listen on our Germanic banter. “Isn’t this a strange alliance.”

“It’s a strange one indeed, as desirable as a thief in a feast,” I said, hating the man. “Built on lies, greed, hatred and we’ll do well to finish with it fast.” I looked at him, and he shrugged.

“What?”

“Why didn’t you ride after Iodocus? You might have killed us,” I said, and he rolled his eyes, as if that was a fact. “You might have found him out there, or in Hard Hill. You had five days to do it.”

He thought about it. “Why? Obviously, I might fail. You guessed right I would do much for that blade. It is precious to me. Iodocus could lose it easily, if he saw me coming. He’ll be looking out for me. But there’s more, of course.” He was nodding to himself, muttering. His head and neck were still caked with blood, and he had been wounded many timed in the battle, but he seemed unaffected, indomitable like a demi-god, ready to ride for days. “You have been very lucky,” Leuthard said at length. “They say you fought very well in the hall of Teutorigos, and that was your first fight? What, you got bruises and that stab wound and that was only a flesh one. Some slaps in the face? Raganthar was a fool not to make sure you died. A fool. And then you charged the back of Fulch’s men?”

“
We
stopped them, actually, he just helped,” Decimus said resentfully. “We held the Celts in line, when they were crumbling. Lost some lads in the process.”

Leuthard chuckled. “There. There’s luck, and there’s Roman steel to aid you. There will be a time you’ll get truly hurt. Then we see what kind of a berserker you are. Woden might or might not give you a seat in his hall, and it depends on if you can die smiling. I have faced many men in my past. I’ve never turned down a challenge. I do this for my Feud Settler, but also to settle my feud with you. You get what you want, I get what’s mine, and gods will watch as we settle it. You’ll be a changed man by then. It will amuse me. Yes, I'll enjoy seeing you break. That’s why I’m doing this. But, for now, we will ride for hours yet. Conserve your strength.”

We rode for a time, and I felt my eyes closing. I don’t know how long I fought it, but in the end I napped, and woke up with a start when Sunna was trekking to the sky. Leuthard had left the river, and Decimus was leading my horse. I pulled the bridle from his hands, and he grinned at me tiredly. “Had a nice nap? All rested? No Roman could sleep like that in a saddle, but our auxilia can. Lazy mules.”

“We’ll all rest when we get there,” Leuthard said from the front, before I slapped the Roman out of his seat.

We dodged a small copse of beech trees, thundered up a hillside with yellow flowers, and spotted a lonely tree on top. The branches and leaves were swaying in a light breeze like light clouds across the sky, back and forth, and it looked both peaceful and eerie, as if the spirits of the night were there, lingering a moment after the long night, warning us off. Instead, Leuthard stopped by it, and looked over the land. Decimus was speaking with his horse, some odd Roman chant, and that was the only sound other than the snapping of the leaves.

“When?” I asked Leuthard.

“Soon,” he answered with a snarl. He was fidgeting and shrugged as he guided his horse closer to me. He pointed a finger across a dark wood with elevations, rocky crags, and some green rivers snaking across the woods. “We ride northwest. Raganthar’s mercenaries are a reclusive lot, and enjoy their privacy in a secluded spot near what we call the Gray Fur Hills. The locals around here call them something different,” he said with a crude smile, “but the locals don’t come there any longer, so they have lost the right to make up names.”

“Romans might rename the hills, one day,” I said. “They don’t fear scruffy madmen. How far is it?”

“By evening tomorrow, we shall see it,” he said and chuckled. “Romans might, but they will just visit.”

I rubbed my face tiredly. “And these Brethren. They all serve god Hati? These …”

He picked his teeth, and shook his head. “Hati’s no god. Just a hunter.”

“He travels the sky after Mani. Isn’t that a god?”

He shrugged. “A god cares for power. Hati cares for the hunt. That’s all. He cares not for those who would worship him. He appreciates a good hunter.” He waved for the horizons. “The Brethren are scum. Mercenaries, criminals, madmen. Most are just like any thief skulking in the woods.” He pointed a finger at his own chest. “And some, some are like me.”

“Liars?” I asked.

He leaned close. “Do you think I’m an ordinary man?”

I shuddered, hiding my revulsion and fear. “No matter what you are, you’re still a man,” I said softly, and I saw he was irked.

“Remember that when we get there,” he laughed dryly. “Ear and Raganthar are kin to me. We have been kissed by Hati, and you’ll see.”

I nodded, and held my hammer tightly, as his horse bumped into mine as he tried to get down. I thought he did that purposefully, like a dangerous animal testing its bars. I guided my horse into his, and it shied away. He smiled coldly, as he let the horse eat some grass. He turned to take a piss. “Fine. Tell me about your family.
What
,” I asked him brusquely, “gives you
your
battle rage? I feel, see the rage. It’s there, and fills me with careless power. I see the figure of—”

“Woden,” he answered, shaking his head spitefully. “The One Eye, Woden and Freya the Red touch a warrior like that, though rarely. Freya’s brother, Freyr, also might give a warrior the gift, or a curse, but mine is nothing like that.”

“Madness, then? Hati’s madness?” Decimus asked from behind. “We have gods, plenty of them in Rome, and all are welcome, but not Germani gods from that side of the river.” He nodded towards the east. “Your gods drink blood and tears, and are unsuitable for Rome. Too primitive, aren’t they?”

“How much do you know of Hati?” Leuthard asked, visibly relieved after the piss.

“He chases the moon?” I said. “One day, he’ll catch it, while Sköll takes Sunna, and their father, Fenfir is released. Its all a story.”

“But you believe celestial horses pull Sunna the Bright across the sky? And you believe Sköll chases her? Or in the case of Mani, he is chased by Hati?” he asked, amused, as he mounted. “You do not think the Night-Wolf will grasp the brother of Sunna one day, and feed on him?”

“No,” I laughed. “You tell me nothing. You say your family is special, that you serve Hati. But—”

He slapped his thigh to silence us. “We don’t only serve him. We are
of
him.”

We stared at him, disconcerted. I rubbed my face. “Stories are fine way to pass time, as long as the poet knows what is too unbelievable. Son of Hati indeed!”

He laughed. “Hati is a lazy wolf. He is tired of chasing the elusive, chariot-drawn coward every night, and escapes to our world, to Midgard, or one of the other Nine. He is capricious, cruel, and gives his gifts to men with his seed.”

We sat there with Decimus, staring at the huge lunatic. “You say Hati takes women in the night, and thus are born men who are more than the rest of us? And this is why you might rip a man’s face off. Because you are more than men?”

“Or less,” Decimus whispered.

Leuthard pointed a finger north. “My father, my brother, and I loved the north. We lived near the sea,” he said. “The Batavi live there. Great horsemen, stout warriors. They are formerly an offshoot of the Chatti, did you know that? Do you have any legends of men who do what I do?” he asked me. “Come now. You must have sat in your father’s lap as the elders spun tales.”

I shrugged. “I was a bad listener. But you hunt. That’s what you do. And you say that’s because you are a god-spawned—”

“Hunt,” he said roughly. “I hunt. I hunt in my dreams, I hunt in battle, I hunt in the night, and you know it is true. I hunt like Hati, not like a man. Or have you seen a man mauled like Seisyll before? And the others? That is where my prowess comes from. From seed. You speak to your Woden, Adalwulf. I need not seek help from anywhere. It’s all in my blood.”

The others. Ingrid. Bait
.
And many others,
I thought.
His prey.

He chuckled at the look on our faces. “Believe what you will. It will do you no good. The Brethren mimic us, my family. They kill, and do as we do, but they don’t hunt, not like we do. They are a pale shadow in comparison to Raganthar, Ear, and I.” He lifted an eyebrow.

I let the message sink in.

“They are
family
?” I asked softly.

“Yes,” he chuckled. “Family. Now know this. You will have to prepare. Raganthar is a cousin. He is Ear’s brother. In case you get the chance, kill him fast. He’ll hunt you, if you let him out of your grasp. And then I’ll miss the chance to kill you myself.”

I gazed at him. “All related. You might have mentioned this earlier.”

“Well, you know now,” he smiled dreadfully.

“And how do you expect me to believe you would betray him?”

“For my sword, I’d feed my mother to the spiders, pup,” he laughed and shook his head. “Trust me. Our god understands. And I dislike Raganthar, though not Ear. Ready?”

“Let’s go then,” I said darkly, feeling the deal was turning sour.
Relatives?
I missed Iodocus. There had been something shadowy and odd about Raganthar. While I refused to believe they were wolf-spawn, for we had such stories indeed in the lands of the Chatti, I felt I was walking naked across molten iron.

We trekked until that evening, took routes the Celts had long abandoned, and rode on, and rode past valleys where some brave herdsmen were guarding fat cows. Gaul was supposed to be far more cultivated than Germania, I thought, but you could hardly notice the difference. “Where are the Roman roads?” I asked Decimus, having heard of them.

Decimus was humming as he looked around. “Not here!” he chortled. “There are many leading to Lugdunum. The ones that skirt the river in Lower and Upper Germania are still being constructed. There are some military roads in place already, but we will be building them forever.”

“Do you know who would desire a war with Germania?” I asked him, happy to speak even with the rogue than the beast. “Have you heard of anything odd?”

He burped and held his belly and he had a clever, guarded look in his eyes. “So hungry. I’ll eat the mane off this horse, if I don’t get something else soon. As for your question, I don’t know. Peace is profitable enough for the local merchants, but terrible for those who supply the army. Negotiatores, they call them,” Decimus said. “These negotiatores must feed the men, find gear, ship luxury items, and find things to replace what can’t be had, but peace is horrible, because they have to cajole, negotiate, and fawn on the local merchants. Give war, and they dictate the terms. Oh, they squeeze the fools and make riches. I wish I was one.”