Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) (32 page)

He died with a spear in his belly.

The strike was swift and brutal, and I could hear the blade grate on the ring mail, which had given in like it was made of bark. Leuthard’s bellow was enough to shake the sleeping birds out of the trees. Rabbits were dashing like mad hermits in the shadows, a deer bolted with a warning snort, and the men beside and before Leuthard turned in shock. Leuthard moved like a wraith despite his size. He grabbed the sword from the dying man’s hand, struck right, and disemboweled a man moving for him. His fist swung left, and another man’s face turned into a mask of blood as he plummeted down the hill, neck broken and on his way to abyss. Leuthard kicked open the heavy door and retreated inside, as the men surged after him.

“Fast! Charge them!” I bellowed, and kicked the flanks of the horse. It whinnied in surprise, and I forced it forward as I stared at the group of men milling at the doorway ahead. Some of the enemy were turning for us, but most were trying to get in, stabbing their spears to the shadows. One of them seemed to disappear, as if an invisible monster sucked him in, and his death screams gave that notion credence. The others were throwing javelins, stabbing spears, and I hoped there would not be more of them inside. I hoped Leuthard had killed the lot and died in the process.

A man singled me out, and threw his spear with a grunt. I didn’t see it in the dark, and I prayed, but it sailed past me, and I felt it more than saw it. I looked at the man in the eye, as he drew a seax, a thick, short blade, skimming his eyes over my horse, which he intended to hamstring. I pulled out the hammer, and nearly fell from the saddle for its weight, but that saved me, because the horse changed direction at the last second because of my loss of balance, and ploughed over the man. Few horses do that willingly, but this one did, and it didn’t seem to feel bad about it, as it neighed victoriously.

I forced it past another man, who was indecisive between attacking Decimus, or me, but chose as he dodged away and went for my companion. I guided the horse to the doorway. I hammered down at a man who turned from the door, and the hammer connected with his chest so hard dust billowed up from his hair. He fell back and took another down. The horse turned as spears flashed at its face. One tangled in my tunic, another scraped across my chest, and I cursed, though it didn’t break skin. One man charged me, hollering madly, and pulled me from the saddle. We fell in a tangle of limbs. I sensed men moving around me, men who had abandoned the attack on the door. A spear flashed above me, and the man holding me down pulled away, grinning victoriously. I knew I’d not be able to dodge the strike.

Woden’s rage forced me to try. I rolled, but was kicked back, and the spear came for me.

I felt my belly knot with fear, and I expected death, but then Decimus bowled over the spear man, hitting him with his fist. I rolled up and smashed the hammer’s hilt in the face of a man coming for me. The hilt struck his nose, flattening it, and he fell from me, his eyes rolling with pain. I got up and saw Decimus was strangling the man he had tackled. The enemy was clawing and struggling, but weakening, and Decimus was chortling with his victory. A hurt enemy approached him, ax high, but I ran at the man and swung my weapon so hard the hammer sang in the air, and his head simply caved in. He was a quivering mass of meat, and then Decimus got up, trying to take his breath, and I turned to look for more trouble.

There was none.

“Adalwulf!” Decimus hissed, and grabbed a spear and a shield, bloodied like a fiend of butchery. “Leuthard. Where the fuck was he? We have to—”

The beast answered. “I’m here. No need to find me.” We turned to look at the armed man. His sword was not the Feud Settler, but it was red to the hilts, and so was his face. He had a savage look on his face, obsessed with battle lust, but very unlike mine. He was not done with the fight. He kept staring at Decimus and me, possibly calculating his chances, and then he licked his lips, and shuddered. “It’s done.”

I got up and faced him. “All quiet in there, Leuthard?”

He shrugged, and took a step to the side, and leaned on the door. “What was in there is dead.”

“Ear?” I asked him.

He smiled briefly. “No. He’s not there. Nothing of worth inside, except for the old priest. Go and have a chat with the man.” He flicked his attention to Decimus who was about to protest. “It’s safe. Though he won’t come back as he went in. It will change him.” He glanced at me gleefully, and then at Decimus. “Go on. Hesitate not.”

I looked at Decimus who nodded and moved near the door as Leuthard walked out, kicking over the corpses. “I’ll guard the way,” Decimus said nervously, and kept an eye on Leuthard. I knew he meant to run to me, should the deadly man come suspiciously close to him.

I took a deep breath, passed Leuthard, not showing fear as best I could, and felt his eyes following me. He spoke, as if to himself, as I entered. “Ask him about everything that puzzles you. He will answer every question. Eat the knowledge, Adalwulf, drink tears.”

I hesitated, and pushed to the dark corridor. It was not very wide, but wet, and there were bodies on the ground. I poked them with the hammer to make sure none had a surprise for me. I went forward, making my way down the stony path, partially lit by fires on the end. Soon, I saw a large, warm cavern full of shadowy crates, wooden sheds, a few stalls meant for a few horses. It was the Den of the Brethren.

There were colors in the semi-dark. Torches and a small bonfire burned in the middle of the cave, and some rocks glistened with odd green color, as if covered by glow-worms. There was water running from one end into a small pool near the middle of the cavern, and the water reflected the light from the fires and of Mani, which indeed shone thorough the shrubs on the ceiling. Roots were running down the walls, and the greenery cast strange shadows in the large hall of Hati. I walked forward and noticed there were bunks, rows of them, with hay and gear scattered all over and around them. Yet, there was order in the semi darkness, as it was clear where the food was made, where men feasted, where they sharpened and repaired weapons and gear.

There were also slaves there.

I stopped at the sight of them. Leuthard said none of importance remained, and even I had to agree with him. They were miserable, horrified wretches. They were sad Celts, mostly women, and all mistreated and malnourished. It made me cringe to see them covering in the corner, their dirty feet peaking from under their hems, their haunted eyes full of fear.

I felt my way down stone steps, and gazed at a dark corner with cages. Three were empty.

One held a man.

At least I assumed it was a man.

There was a shadow there. I pulled out a burning shingle form its holder, and advanced. I heard the slaves whispering, but I looked at the man, and found what I had been looking for. The old man was holding wooden bars, and as I looked at the cage, I decided he might actually break free quite easily. He was a sturdy fellow, with white beard, thick shoulders and a wrinkled face. “I cannot leave,” he said with a clear voice that dispelled my fears, and oddly answered my thoughts. I got closer, and saw why he couldn’t leave.

His eyes were white, his knees crooked, and he could not stand up.

I went to my haunches, looking around and trying to make sure no more of the Brethren hid in the dark. I did not trust Leuthard’s words. “I’m looking for your master.”

“My master?” he chuckled. “I smell Leuthard near. Didn’t he tell you anything?”

“Something. Where is Raganthar?”

“My son?”

I rubbed my face.
Damned animals
, I thought. “Yes. I want him.”

“Raganthar’s not here,” he chuckled. “Leuthard is. I don’t want to see him.” He was nervous as he said that, nearly begging. Then he chuckled and pointed at his eyes. “You know what I mean. Keep him away from me.”

I shook my head, and then cursed myself for an idiot. “I’ll do my best. He and I? We don’t share friendship. We have a common quest. That’s all.”

“One you forced on him?” he chuckled throatily. “He will think about it every waking moment, boy. He is thinking about how to eat your heart. You are a prey to him. He might seem tamed, but he is not. Be careful. Whatever deal you made to force him to attack this place, he can undo in an eye blink.”

“I have his sword,” I told him, looking behind to make sure Leuthard had not sneaked in. “I have it, and it will have it melted into a puddle of scrap if he does not help me regain the other sword your son will use for an evil deed.”

“Swords, swords, all are for evil deeds,” he chanted, and then his face turned up toward the hole in the roof.

“One sword from a Goth lord,

To kill a Roman bore.

Another from a beast,

To enslave the god of feast.

Three fates shall entwine,

Tears will fall on a grave of pine.”

He fell silent and shook his head, rubbing his face. “That’s what I got for you.”

“And what was that?” I asked, bewildered. “A poem?”

“A boon from the god,” he said with a wistful smile.

“Woden? Or yours?”

“Woden? Nay!” he chuckled. “Mine. Look around you boy. Would Woden find his ways here? Nay. This is the Den of the Hunters, of men who have been touched by the god of night sky.“

The wolf?
“I’ve been told of Hati, yes.”

“He, who hates,” the man said sadly. “He makes his way to the world. While his brother Sköll chase Sunna during the day, he should chase Mani in the night, but he is a lazy wolf, hates his father Lok, and rarely obeys him. He mates with women he finds desirable, and sometimes, the offspring is different. This is so with the Batavi, and many in their family run with the moon. They walk the day, serve their lords faithfully, but rarely sleep well in the night, yearning to release the animal inside. They are no real wolves, boy, do not fear, only savage men, full of emotions you might find in an animal, and they eat their enemies.”

So they really eat them
, I thought, pushing down the fear. “I’ve seen Leuthard in the dark,” I said, trying to keep my voice calm. “He is more a wolf than a man.”

The man nodded nervously. “
Him,
I’m not sure of. He might actually be more a wolf than a man. And my son is also odd. Both sons, in fact. The Brethren are nothing but vagabonds, but be careful with this family of mine.”

“They’ll die as men,” I said with confidence. “They must.”

He shook his head. “They say a true Brethren can die once and come back. I think with Leuthard it might be worse. He received more than his share of Hati’s blood.”

I gazed at the man. He sounded intelligent, near lucid, almost sane. “So. You seek your god’s wisdom for them when they ask for it. They keep you like they would their dog. Now, I have questions. And then I’ll release you. This is a shitty life.” I waved my hand around the cave.

He chuckled. “Leuthard’s brother. Guthbert. He’s bereft of the mad blood, the curse that makes them all crazy as a feral hound. I wanted to go with him to Rome, after Leuthard left the Den, but Raganthar disagreed. I tried to anyway, but they made sure I’ll not go anywhere.” He bowed down and wept, and I felt distantly sorry for him. “They give me a girl, and food, but this is life most miserable, indeed. Release would be a relief. You don’t understand it, young man, but there comes a time you forget all your dreams, and only wish to travel to the gods. If you have the heart for it, I’ll be grateful for a killing blow.” He looked grimly amused. “I think you will find the heart for it.”

“I would kill your tormentor for the sword,” I told him. “I’ll kill Raganthar. Tell me about him, and then I’ll do my best.”

He nodded. “You three are tied together in the bundles of yarn running through the hands of the Norns. It is a mess, this tangle of yours. The Two Swords and two men of Hati’s, and you, a youngster out to challenge the lot. It will make a good nightmare, eh? If you survive, you will weep on a grave of pine.”

“What is a grave of pine?” I asked, not sure I wanted to know.

He rolled up some shit in his hand, because they didn’t clean the cage, and it didn’t seem to bother him as he tossed it aside. He cocked his head and shrugged. “You’ll find out. Make it that far, and perhaps the tears won’t matter. You’ll fight him before that.” He leaned closer. “Remember. Kill them well. Take their heads, if you can. Don’t let them rule the battle you will fight with them. Cheat. Do anything you need to make sure you win.”

I looked around and felt cold, as if I had put off the inevitable long enough, knowing I’d break my heart one way or the other. “I will. So, let me know. Where is Raganthar and what is he going to do?” I asked him.

He chortled and shrugged. “He is going to kill this Roman, someone called Tiberius with the sword of the Goth. I feel you already guessed this.”

I sat still, nodding, and his hands twitched, waiting for me to go on, and I did. “Tiberius. The high man who just recently sorted the Roman disgrace with the Sigambri. He is travelling the river now, with Marcus Lollius. I know this, and guessed it. Where?”

“Oh! You know much for such a young man from the shitty hills far in the east. Adalwulf, no?”

I felt the hair stand up in my neck. “Did they mention my name to you? They used me to distract a high lord, but did they tell you of that?”