Riding the wind:

“Saddle up; we are moving in five minutes.” Ursula’s voice rang out as men prepared their gear and women loaded the carriages. Children cleared the camp while men checked their armor and sword. It was going to be a day’s journey before they could rest again, so enough preparations were made to ensure that everything was ready.

“Make sure that all fire pits are put off,” Colt commanded and moved forward. Jake scanned the camp and followed Colt. Tim and Em were busy making bandages. They'd  work when they can; it would be too late if they wait for the inevitable injuries. Injuries and death go hand in hand with war. They can’t expect to come out unscathed, and they weren’t.

The soldier rode a pony. Stallions were difficult to handle, and his gelding was tired. Within minutes, they set out. A magnificent army of three hundred horses and fifty carts carrying men, women, children and supplies. They weren’t trotting, the horses pulling the carriages wouldn’t be able to follow. Still, they maintained a pace of five miles per hour.

The soldier didn’t force Colt to gallop, cause he knew that there was no immediate danger. Orc attacks usually come in waves. Once a wave was defeated, the other Orcs took their time to recuperate, increase their ranks and attack again. The army suffered from the previous Orc invasion the other day, and thus, they were in no danger of another attack, not for a few days at least.

Martha dragged Ragnar into her carriage. She moved with the efficiency of someone who knew her work. As soon as they began to move, she started to make balls of flour and sugar which can be as good as plain bread in times of need. A mother’s job is to take care of her house and feed her children. Martha had four hundred to feed, and she did a spectacular job without complaint.

She wouldn’t be paid to care about them, but she did. Ragnar watched for a while before offering to help her. Their carriage was a supply wagon, and thus they were the only ones present besides the driver. Martha smiled and passed some flour and sugar. It wasn’t difficult to learn, and there was no recipe. She mixed the flour with water, a bit of oil and added enough sugar to make sure it was edible.

It may sound raw, but it was energy and in the battlefield, they'll look delicious, she said. Ragnar slowly followed her instructions and by the fifth ball, he was decent. As for the other balls, well, let’s say they weren’t as good. Time slowly passed, and they sat in silence. Martha sneaked glances at Ragnar now and then, but he seemed involved in his work.

She felt something was wrong but kept quiet until she eventually figured out what was ticking her off. Ragnar worked like a slave. Slaves were worked to the bone, and many of them lacked the will to even complain. It was a kind of instinct their minds developed where they would just work for hours upon hours ignoring everything including themselves.

Although Martha didn’t force Ragnar to work, she realized that she hadn’t been clear enough. Moving carefully, she grabbed his hands and shook her head. Ragnar looked at her in confusion. He was trying his best to work; she'd saved him, so he wanted to do anything in his capacity to repay her.

His hands were small. Sure, he couldn’t make better balls than her, but he was trying his best. Martha looked into Ragnar’s eyes. She could see the confusion, the peril in them. She shook her head and said, “I don’t know where you grew up and how things worked there, but that’s not how they work here Ragnar. You don’t repay people by working. You repay them with love. I didn’t help you expecting you to work for me. So stop, instead, let’s say, sing for me. Alright?”

Ragnar looked at her blankly. He didn’t understand her, but he nevertheless said, “I can’t sing.”

“Why?”

He looked at her and opened his mouth, but the words stuck inside. “No one ever sang for me,” he wanted to tell but he couldn’t. Martha smiled and patted his head. “I will sing for you then.”

Risin’ up and above, the wolf howled

First, I was afraid

I was petrified

The tears…….

Ragnar listened to Martha’s beautiful voice in a trance. How long had it been since he heard a song? Two years? He didn’t remember, but he’d never heard such a beautiful song before. It wasn’t just Ragnar, Martha’s voice drifted out of the carriage, and the caravan immediately quieted down. They closed their eyes in content listening to the song about fear, pain and bravery.

Colt glanced at Martha’s cart. He'd seen Ragnar getting in. Since he was with Martha, he believed that he should be fine. A smile formed on his lips as he felt the wind and the beautiful notes on him. It was a peaceful morning, like the silence before the storm.

Hours passed by, but Martha’s carriage wasn’t calm. Ragnar was unwillingly explaining his life while Martha listened with tears in her eyes. There wasn’t much to say anyway. Since he could remember, he'd been in a convent, sold to slavery, been a slave for four years. Changed hands a couple of times, until he came into the possession of his last master, Cartier, two years ago.

Colt had at some point arrived near the carriage. Although he couldn’t catch everything, he heard most of it. A bitter smile formed on his face as he looked at his left wrist, a mark of an iron wheel was etched on his skin with hot steel. Not many knew about it, but in Mogul empire, the iron wheel represented the lowest of society, slaves.

He’d been through it. He’d fled all the way from the other corner of the world and had seen just about every atrocity humans were capable of. Colt sighed and rode forward. It was late afternoon, and he could see the distant smoke of the military camp.

Stolen from its rightful place, this narrative is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

An hour later, they could clearly see the neatly laid out tents of the army camp. Ragnar sneaked out of the carriage unable to bear with Martha anymore but was then dragged by Em so that Tim can take a look at his injuries. He was a good physician, but he’d better take him to Tim, who’d been a mercenary doctor for fifty years.

Ursula rode along with Colt and Jack. The army had long since noticed them and was waiting for their arrival. Colt frowned as he estimated the army’s strength at two thousand. It was less than his expectations. At such number, he knew that they might end up bearing a significant burden. The pleasant atmosphere was slowly becoming tense as they approached the barracks and suddenly Ragnar could sense killing intent in everyone’s eyes. He’d seen it too many times to misjudge it.

They weren’t here to fight. Aren’t they allies? He thought. However, the atmosphere only grew heavier as Colt rode forward to meet Darren, who was coldly looking at him. The soldier immediately dismounted and ran up to Darren and whispered something. His gaze only grew colder as he sized up the mercenaries.

Colt sat on Nelly looking down on Darren. Likewise, Ursula who usually had a kind of chilly air around her became even more unapproachable. It looked as if a fight might break out at any moment. Ragnar sat there with Em, who was smiling to himself. Unlike Ragnar, who had never seen anything like this before, he was very familiar with the current chain of events.

Both commanders were fighting a war of dominance. They were going to be allies in war, and they weren’t going to trust their back to some coward. Darren sighed and said, “Go find a corner, I'll call you later.”

Colt smiled and said, “I guess I'll find a corner. Wait! This place seems quite good. Set up our camp here guys. I like this view.”

Darren smiled. He liked Colt. Many mercenaries wouldn’t mind some ill treatment as long as they were paid enough totas. Not many would fight for their honor, and he liked the fact that Colt asked to lead his men rather than treasures. They were desperate, and he knew that if Colt had asked for more, he wouldn’t have hesitated for long but Colt instead chose to keep his honor and his men with him.

Darren walked forward and extended his hand. Colt smiled and dismounted his horse. Both men shook their hands, and it was only after that the atmosphere turned normal. After an acknowledgment from both commanders that they would treat each other as equals that the soldiers and mercenaries dropped their guards.

“What do you think? Quite silly, right? Men of such power doing such petty things, but don’t believe it's just them. Even between two kings, a coalition would start with provoking, testing and then acceptance.” Em explained to Ragnar, who was watching in confusion.

“What’s the situation?” Colt asked in a calm voice raising eyebrows. Darren smiled and said, “Orcs.” Shaking his head, Colt replied, “Orcs are rowdy, yes, but they never raid this far into a human settlement. We shook hands; now it’s time to assure me of your sincerity.”

Jack and Ursula along with others were confused. Colt never spoke to them about his doubts. Darren laughed. “You're a sharp man Colt. As expected from one of the youngest mercenary leaders to join His Majesty’s honorary guard. Yes, it’s true that there is more to it. The Orcs were routed our way by the Cimmerian tribes. We ended up clashing with the Orcs, who're coming back for revenge while the Cimmerians are waiting in shadows.

I've sent a message to the Capital with my best hawk; it should reach the minister’s ear by tomorrow. Reinforcements will be dispatched and will arrive as early as in a week. Our job is to pretend as if we're struggling until his Majesty’s forces arrive.”

Colt listened to Darren and frowned. His nose twitched as an unfamiliar scent passed by him. The air swirled around his fist as his body moved like an arrow. The air seemed to scream as his fist punched the empty air. It happened in a split second, but the force of the fist caved the air as if it was a wall. Darren watched in disbelief, and so did Ursula. The soldiers and mercenaries watched in mute horror as a large oak in front of Colt, the size of three mammoths splintered like a dry twig and almost fell apart.

“What the..? You..you..” Darren stuttered. But, before anyone could answer, a creature fell on the ground appearing out of thin air. It was a small ugly thing crushed to its death. Almost none of the soldiers present had ever seen something remotely resembling the creature. Further, they were scared by the Colt, who'd killed such a creature with an inhuman power.

“What is that?” Ursula asked. Jack’s eyes were cold, and Colt’s were colder as he replied, “A Licker.”

Before she could any further questions, Colt stared at Darren and said, “Prepare everything in your arsenal. Don’t spare a single arrow. A Licker was sent to spy. It isn’t some Cimmerian tribes; this is the work of The Cimmerian tribe.” Turning around, he announced in a loud voice, “Don’t believe the legends. They aren’t afraid of silver, nor they fear men of faith. Your cross won’t work on them, and they do not resemble demons. They're the Demons. Men, even if you run, they'll come for you. A Licker at this time of a day means that they'll be here tonight. To kill, hunt and celebrate in our fear.

But, I'll tell you one more truth. They aren’t immortal. As you can see, I killed one of them. Prepare and be fearless; victory shall be ours.”

Darren was shaking inwardly. He had never heard of a Licker, nor did he know of the legendary Cimmerian tribe. All the other Cimmerian tribes were just people who lived in the cursed forests of NightWind. But, he'd seen powers similar to Colt. Staring at Colt, he asked, “You're an Arcane user?”

People listened in silence. They were too shocked to chatter. Colt stared at him and said, “And that is the only reason you’ll have a chance to fight back.”

*****

Wanna spare a minute to help me around, comment your opinion. As a new author, your comments will boost my morale. 

Kanna.