On the Bosberg docks, the small fleet loaded supplies in preparation for the trip to Disipica. Jarl Sigtrin was also getting his ship ready to accompany them. Brenda was on the docks trying to convince him not to go.
“But I must. These are my people. It is my duty,” opined Sigtrin.
“Come now, my lord. That is pure sophistry. Your duty is here. These soldiers can handle this.”
“I’ve made my decision, dear Brenda. I am going and that’s final.”
“Well then, you best make room on the ship for one more then. Because I am going with you.”
“Make that two, mother. I want to see Erik. He has been in danger all this time, and I want to be with him,” said Selti.
“There you go. If you’re in danger, then we are in danger,” added Brenda.
“It’s not safe. Besides, who will take care of your home while you’re gone?” asked Sigtrin, hoping that he had finished the argument with that reasonable question.
“Sorgi is home now. He has that covered. Who will look after your domain while you are away?” Brenda shot back an arched eyebrow that silently issued a challenge.
A helpless expression came over Jarl Sigtrin’s face. His men were smiling secretly as they went about their work. He finally sighed in resignation, “Very well. But you will need to hurry. I won’t be waiting if you don’t come back in time, gathering what you need for the voyage.”
“Selti, grab our bags.”
Jarl Sigtrin’s eyes widened as he realised she had already packed before approaching him, and so, with his last-second plan foiled before he’d even thought of it, he sighed and boarded his ship.
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
It was morning, and they had already broken camp. Shufi reported back that there were no sightings of the slave fighters in town. They didn’t have pits there, which meant they had probably already traversed the river to Mevennoli.
They had moved as a unit to the riverbank to scout for river transports that could accommodate horses. The best option was two barges that could take ten each per trip. That would mean two round trips for each barge.
“You think we can make it in a day, Master?” Orn asked Gereld.
“Hm, yes, I think we can do it. Spend the night in Mevennoli, and then on to Disipica. Just remember to focus the current to just slightly wider than the boat itself, and once you have the momentum, you ease back the force and allow inertia to do most of the work. That way you won’t pass out, and you won’t cause the river to break its bank and flood the surrounding countryside. Sound good?”
Orn merely smiled in response. As they gathered on the bank, moving onto the barges via the pontoon, one of the Huscarls reported he saw suspicious activity on the other side of the river.
No sooner had he reported it than arrows started raining down all around them. The huscarls moved in closer together and raised their shields. Erik was moving to get behind the cover of the shields when an arrow struck him in the shoulder.
“Erik!” Venna screamed. She saw him go down and raced to his side with her shield up. Fortunately, his armour arrested most of the punching power of the arrow, so it didn’t go in deep. However, his left arm was useless now. Another volley was on the way over when Orn sent a blast of wind that cut most of the arrows in half, resulting in a few falling nearby, but the rest tumbled harmlessly into the river.
Orn sent a second blast of wind around four feet above ground level. There were cries of pain and shock from unseen assailants as a solid blast of air smashed into them, knocking them down hard. Immediately, Orn ran to the river bank and dropped his shield onto the water’s surface. He then jumped onto it as he created a mini wave and rode it across the river.
Venna twitched instinctively to stop him, but found herself torn between covering Erik and preventing Orn from leaping into danger. She opted to stay where she was covering Erik, the anguish of being forced to decide written on her face.
As Orn approached the far bank, he leapt off onto the shore, and the wave he was riding flicked his shield into his hand. He summoned ten water spheres out of the wave as it returned to the river and had them rotating twenty feet above his head. The reeds and tall grass near the riverbank obscured his vision as he moved forward, shield held up in front, sword at the ready. An excited cry came up from the Nevans. Since Orn’s encounter with the goddess, he could now understand them.
“There, one of them is on this side!”
“Regroup, and we can rush him at once!”
“You can, I’m out of here! They’re using some sort of sorcery!”
The grasses had thinned out, and he saw some men lying on the ground in various states of consciousness, bows and quivers strewn about. Others were limping or running away in fear. Some were getting to their feet and drawing short swords.
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They wore light-padded armour made of cloth, if any at all. Most bowmen preferred to stay light to move fast and have as little restriction on movement as possible. There were thirteen of those who could still fight and chose to. They formed a rough line, spreading out to surround him. Orn picked his targets.
He focused on the more competent-looking fighters, envisioning the water getting colder as it elongated and formed into thin, sharp shards. He focused on their necks. Then held his sword aloft, and with a chopping motion, sent the ice shards straight down into the enemy.
In an instant, he had struck down eight of the men. One of the ice shards shattered against a helmet, and another missed entirely, as one man randomly dodged, having sidestepped at that precise moment to avoid a large stone on the ground.
Those that weren’t hit reflexively ducked with two of them turning tail and running for their lives. Orn thought, ‘Well, now we are down to three. Better odds than a second ago.’
Those that were struck rolled around on the ground, grasping at the sudden hole torn into their throats. Try as they might to hold back the flow of blood spurting, it was to no avail, as their movements slowed. That icy feeling of shock and blood loss overtook their senses, dragging them down into eternal sleep.
The three men remaining nervously shuffled the grip on their swords, far less sure of themselves than before. Then Orn spoke so that those three and any hiding could hear him.
“Why do you attack us?”
The three men flinched. One of them flinched so hard that he dropped his sword and slowly sank to his knees as he muttered a prayer to himself. The remaining two looked at each other and then, as one, they rushed at Orn and moved to attack him from both sides at once. Orn shifted his stance and waited. Time seemed to slow down, and he watched as the one to his right ran forth with an overhead swing, and the one to his left came in low, sword point forward.
As their blades drew closer, Orn reacted. He dropped his left arm as the sword point was inches away, taking the stabbing blow on his shield as he swung his sword in an upward arc, knocking the overhead swing offline. He followed his sword swing with a shield edge strike straight into the throat of the man on his right. With his larynx crushed in, his face turned red as he tried without success to draw breath through his collapsed throat.
While he turned, his sword continued flowing into a downward arc, clashing with the sword of the remaining enemy. The man had regret written all over his face as Orn stalked him, moving around in a clockwise direction. The man was constantly shifting his weight, moving to make an attack, only to halt it as the opening he thought he saw wasn’t there.
Finally, he threw a front kick at Orn’s shield, which forced him to brace behind it as the man tried to stab at him. Orn ducked as the sword point came over the top of his shield, and shunted his shield up and to the left, opening the man’s guard. Punching his sword straight forward, he ran him through.
The archer shuddered, his eyes opening wide, looking at Orn, but unfocused as he tried to speak. He only managed a wheeze that turned to a gargle as blood bubbled from his mouth, and he slid backwards off of Orn’s sword. Orn flicked the blood off his blade and transferred it to his shield hand.
He walked to the man still on his knees praying, and grasped the front of his padded gambeson, pulling him to his feet. He was still muttering with his eyes closed. Orn’s face turned fierce. “Look at me!” The Nevan man’s eyes snapped open and focused as he met Orn’s stare. Tears started forming in his eyes as Orn drew him in closer still. “Who sent you? Why did you attack us?”
The man sobbed as he tried to avoid the steely gaze of those piercing grey eyes. “I don’t know! I don’t know! It’s just a job. My captain takes the coin, gives us the orders and pays us when it’s done. I swear that’s all I know. Please, don’t kill me! I’ll leave, you’ll never see me again, I swear, don’t kill me, I have a family.”
Orn spat on the ground with contempt. “Then maybe you should choose a fresh line of work and be with them. Who protects them while you’re off killing innocent people without knowing why?” Then he shoved him to the ground. “Go on, get out of here. GO!”
The man continued sobbing as he ran, stumbled, crawled a little, got back up and ran again. Orn went to the nearest body, wiped his sword on the dead man’s tunic, and returned it to its sheath. He took a quick moment to relieve the nearest men of any coins they were carrying and then headed back to the river.
Once he was back on the other side, he moved towards Thayn to report on what he saw when Venna intercepted him. She slapped him hard, and the noise caused heads to whip around towards where the sound came from.
As soon as their minds perceived the wrath of Venna directed at Orn, nobody dared to show interest. The group of seasoned warriors immediately looked away and tried to find something to do, or at least pretended to be busy.
He put his hand to where his mother left a red mark and a stinging sensation. She was shaking with fury as she said in a quiet, measured tone indicative of her anger, “Just what in the five hells were you thinking, going off on your own like that?”
Orn stood there in shock. His mouth was opening and closing, but no sound came out. Her voice went up in volume as her eyes began welling up. “What, do you-you think just because…some Goddess makes eyes at you that…what, y-y-you can’t be killed? Is that it? Well?”
She glared at him as her bottom lip began quivering. It seemed she was about to go on. Instead, she shook her head and looked to the heavens as she swiped the tears from her face. She let out a sardonic laugh as she turned and walked away, muttering to herself. “First Erik, now this one, by the Gods, they’ll be the death of me, I swear...” Orn half reached out towards her as she walked away, but still couldn’t find his voice.
Orn was still staring at where his mother had been, his hand still on his cheek. She had never struck him like that in his life. His brother had received many wallopings, but Erik had worked hard creating the mischief that earned them, such was his big brother.
Erik had sidled up next to him, placing a consoling arm around his shoulder and in a low voice so their mother couldn’t hear him said, “Not to worry, brother mine. At least you won’t get lonely on her shit list. Come on, let’s get these boats to Mevennoli. I think half a day away should give her enough time to cool off.”
Orn nodded as he took a deep, shuddering breath, struggling to contain the guilty feeling of upsetting his mother this much. He pushed those thoughts aside and walked over to Duke Thayn. “Uncle, I cleared the other side of the river. More mercenaries, it seems.”
“You really should be careful going off into danger like that. You’re lucky a slap was all you got.” Thayn chuckled softly. “You should have seen her when you took off. I’d sooner face Ansar in full rage than your mother when she’s upset.”
“Don’t remind me. But I think we should take some time to construct something for overhead cover on the barges. I believe there’s a likelihood that there will be more bowmen as we move along the river. Between points we’ll be fine because they won’t be expecting the speed we can move on water, but when we stop for the night…”
“Sound plan. Do you think we will still make it to Mevennoli by tonight?”
“As long as we leave in the next hour or two, we should still be fine. We have to make two trips. According to Shufi, the river between here and there is pretty straight, and it’s nice and wide so we can maintain a good speed.”
“Well, let’s get to it, then. To Mevennoli.”