mrsimple

Moving right along, here is the fourth chapter and first insight of the protagonist.

Hope you will enjoy! :)

Chapter 4: Mixed Messages

Beast

The sky showered down onto us the same rains that would have cooled the camp-fires of our enemies. Of their charred remains, a trace of heat.

There were no stray objects left behind. That had made it difficult to establish if this party had been here with an intent to hunt animal, Ireren, or Dansk. Any of those would be met with a line of punishments, but that line would be all the more severely stretched out.

It all depended upon which of these folks had in mind to make their prey. To answer that question, I would have to hunt them down.

On one worn path, a muddy trail had lead up and through the trampled and flattened green. I was aware there be a road ahead of that trail. If I wasn’t mistaken, the road would slither its way someplace far from here.

But the blades of grass were bowed towards me. That meant this would be their entry into this fallen camp-site.

My black eyes shifted to inspect the other path: a hastily stamped flat patch of grass that fell short of the sparse growth within the forest. Torn up by a number of hardpressed boots in a hurry to get away. That would be the sign of their escape.

An escape from us.

I could see the difficulty our riders back home would have had if they’d pursued this group. We would also have a need to dismount.

"Monter nu ned?" I asked in my Dansk tongue if we should dismount now, but the elder shook his head at me. As if I was impatient for this hunt to resume, but I just wanted this done with quickly.

"Afmontere for advarsel," the graying haired man spoke gently to me, pointing out where I had mistaken my own people's use of our language. Though, he did nod at my suggestion and dismounted.

"Do we bring the horses?" I switched to the Ireren's tongue, it was smooth over my tongue and relaxed the clip I needed in the localized accented Danish. I would always prefer the Irish tongue.

My mentor nodded, and having switched his speech with me, he advised, "It will be best to let them burden our luggage rather than to risk someone seeing an opportunity with us burdened."

Uncertain who he meant, I asked: "Them?”

“Our horses,” he had clarified.

“Would we give ourselves away if they hear them?" After I had asked, my mentor remained quiet. “Mikael?”

And he finally gave his conclusion: "They will, but we need to see their intent."

“They’re killers.” I had no way of explaining how I knew. I simply sensed it. “I can tell.”

He gazed down at me, "And do you know if these are killers of man or beast?” Before I could respond, he cut me off with, “I do not. Keep your assumptions in check." He looked away from me to stare into space, always as if he’d seen something more than I ever could. “They see us, I speak to them. I hear what they have to say, you listen. They act, and we judge.” And he turned his attention back to me. “They are the killers. Not now, today, or ever are you to be like them. Understood?”

“...Yes.” I had a thought, and I voiced it. “Do I play innocent?”

“No play.” For a moment, I was crestfallen by that response, but he stated: “You are innocent. Be as you are, and they will come to you.”

This was how we baited them.

Onward from this cold site, we would’ve no choice but to go on foot. It would be into and under the forest's shelter, to be free from the rain, and hidden away from open sight. As more than drops of water fell from the fickle leaves and branches above our heads, our hoods were pulled tighter to conceal who we were.

The time now was meant to remain silent, so I had thought, ’Not that anyone will recognize Mikael, but me…?’ By a mere glance, I knew all would know who I was.

Thankfully it was the mid-morning. A light would’ve shined through the green canopy above us, but the nature of this weather had other plans.

A fog had begun to lift from what appeared to be a steel-blue realm of this neck of the woods. Black bars rose up from the ground and through these hues of light and dark blue shades to give us our leafy roof. And a worrisome gathering of clouds brought a warning of much worse falling from the sky than what many predicted to call a flood.

This was why I wanted to end this quickly before our quarry climbed beyond our borders for higher ground. We would lose the opportunity to know who they were and to inform them of who they had crossed.

In a reluctant patience, I watched my mentor prepare for our pursuit in these thick woods and how we would be traveling further. I did not like it.

If we set the horses to our side, we would have that flank be our blindspot. To add onto this problem, this path was also too narrow for us to brush shoulders with our mounts.

Then to have them between us, our cooperation will be hindered with an obstacle clopping in our way. It was not wise to divide us with a beast.

At last, if we were to set the horses in back of us, we’d have our backs ever more exposed with an opportunist to sneak around and to follow our horses fat asses. If they succeeded in passing us, it would only be a matter when their comrades required a surprise from behind.

The horses would have to be hooving it before us. A path like this told us where we were going, and the horses would shield us in more ways than one. We’d be the surprise.

As we followed the path for awhile, I also realised another trick in allowing a horse to lead us. It was common that beasts would sniff out and track down the nearest stream to drink. I could, but not in this wet weather.

But before the rains came, it would’ve been a possibility for these poachers to have found a spot. But my theory would only tell in time. I needed patience… And a distraction for my impatience.

"Mikael?” I whispered as quietly as possible, but enough for him to hear me. “When will my brothers arrive?" I had asked this for the second time today, praying that an answer will be more secured in detail than left in vague suggestion.

But I was wrong.

"They should send someone to herald their coming soon," was what I had heard once before and now again.

I dropped the subject and remained quiet for awhile, unless he had my breathing as a part of the conversation. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d commented on how I lived.

To my mentor, I did more than just enjoy talking like an Irish. In his words, I breathed and walked like them too. And I was sometimes found asleep as they would have preferred.

If we are to live here, and to survive, I saw no reason why we could not to become a part of the land. We took a part of it, it should only be a fair exchange that those born into our new home are given the respect they deserved.

We were sowed on and of this soil they had taken and rose us from.

But I thought about my elder brothers, who were born Danes. What I thought was, ’If they had been raised in the lands they governed, would they be more Albany than Dansk?’

...I doubted it. Their realms laid on narrow and shattered islands, and those were coasts that would welcome no one except their own.

After mulling it over, I knew there were exceptions.

Leinster, our northern neighbor, had a Celtic tolerance. They had a saying, ”Do not provoke and none a consequence shall fall upon you.” We were thankful they buffered us from the Meath, those of Dyflin, but I couldn’t say the same about any other Gaelic kin the Leinsters provided and sheltered.

Those Irish tolerated us and our Dyflin adversaries, but the other natives had a different story.

All the Ireren wanted us invaders gone. I was born here, but I was still an outsider to them and an adversary to the Norse.

And I was sick and tired of it.

Sniffing, I could smell that I was not the only one sick of these horrendous interactions with the locals. As of now, I could smell the foul stench of someone having loosened their bowels in an unfavorable manner.

When I looked at Mikael, I saw him glancing around his shoulders for a moment. He had a neutral expression on his face, but I caught the flare of his nostrils. He could smell sickness in the air too.

“Mikael, is that --”

“Sh,” he curtly shushed me and knelt down to a crouch. I had no time to react before he grabbed me by the top of head, and through the hood, pulled down on my long black hair like a leash. And again, before I had a chance to voice my complaint, he clamped my mouth shut behind a large palm.

With his one hand over my silenced lips, he had me face the direction he had been pointing with the other hand.

Out ahead, past the horses, there was a group of men. All had their eyes trained on our beasts. It had appeared they’d yet see us. In this rain and foliage, I was not surprised by their blindness, but they’d been interested in our direction.

It would only be a matter of time before we were spotted.

And these were more men than we were told about. No way could we handle this many, and I showed my lacking confidence to Mikael by nipping his hand.

He simply smiled and tapped my nose to get me to let go of his hand. Then he showed me his finger by holding it in front of my eyes before directing my attention up with it.

My mentor simply tapped his temple. I had to think for a moment before I comprehended the gesture: we had to use our heads.

He lifted up and out of his crouched position to casually go around one horse's flank. Mikael never bothered to look in any of the mens direction. I caught that his focus was on what the mount carried.

He dug into the satchel as one man shouted out to him.

"You there! Are you alone?"

I watched as Mikael turned, and then his face first paled, then flashed with redness. I had difficulty keeping a smile off my face from his bluff. He appeared stunned for only a moment.

Then silently, he shook his head in response to these men and gradually, as if in hesitation, he beckoned me to come out.

I had an idea what trick this was, but I followed my mentor's gesture to reveal myself. As he mentioned to me earlier, I put up no performance and came out from around the horses as I was.

But I wondered, ’Why does he say I am innocent?’ It made no sense because I was responsible for a countless number of mens deaths.

"Do not hurt us," Mikael begged as he pulled me quickly into him. I was turned to face the same direction as he, embraced around the back with my shoulders tightly pressed against him. "If you want our horses, they are yours and all they carry."

"No. No, we are not thieves…” At this man’s statement, my black eyes caught furtive glances from one man to the other men. I could tell by how they behaved that this was a lie. “Please, sit with us, we have been searching for someone."

This man nodded, and I saw others had instantly given a nod or look of approval. A truth, but that meant they hunted a man. I wondered, ’But who?’

Mikael had yet to let me go. I watched as our horses were taken by some of the men to their inner-forest camp. We stood still and watched.

At least, until I no longer couldn’t endure another moment without more knowledge.

"Thair?" I blurted out the word, a question and person. It was to see what faces they’d featured.

And I saw their brows lower, and this made their gazes dense as they looked down at me.

One man said, "No dearthair to us."

That sounded interesting. I thought, ’A traitor, perhaps?’ That would make some sense if this group represented someone and the man being hunted had done something to offend them. But now I wondered, ’Who are these men and the fugitive? And what had this man done to attract this many in pursuit?’

"Quiet," Mikael commanded me and I sealed my lips shut. But he was the next to ask a question before we ever moved from this spot. "Are you all well?” The furtive glances again, and I saw my mentor had expressed himself having caught those looks for the men to see. And with a protective defiance, he stated: “I will not risk my child when one of you are sick. Which one of you has it?"

"Don’t worry.” Another of the men came forward and towards us with his open palms shown. He wanted us to believe he was harmless. “They are back there, but do not worry, we camp away from them, not with."

So it would be just these men for us worry about. That made me wonder, ’Are the others we saw perhaps too infirm to be a threat?’

The supposedly harmless man suggested: "C'mon, it is dry this way and we are willing to share."

With a shove from my back and shoulders, I knew now was when we should walk with these men.

"I'm Megilen and that is Caef,” the one who approached us had said. He was an Ireren and the other Norse.

That made me wonder, ’Are they mercenaries?’

"I'm Mikael and this is Laurel," my mentor honestly told them.

Both of the men paused to look at me. I felt their stares and tried to hide myself further against my mentor, but I was pushed forward to continue on until we reached these mens campfire.

When we passed them, they remained standing to have their open opportunity to inspect me. I was told to listen, and Mikael had said my name. So that meant there was reason behind the reveal.

After I comprehended that, I then turned and looked back at the two men. Our eyes met, my blacks were seen by their greens and blues. And when we stood by the fire, it was then they faced me fully. I supposed they wanted a better look at my face.

Their hands hovered in the air above their belts with an itch, but they had at last resumed to walk towards their camp.

They were silent now. Mikael had taken them off-guard and I made them uncomfortable.

I didn’t like it. I wanted them to stop staring at me.

In a whisper, I said, “Stop it.”

A flinch from the harmless man named Megilen, and he turned his attention back to my mentor. But the other man, Caef, continued to bore a hole in me with his deep blues.

“Forgive us.” Megilen motioned us towards the fire, as if to welcome our party to sit down. “It is not often we are visited by a prince.”

In an obvious attempt to change the topic, Mikael said, “The man you seek, is it that he might be seeking asylum? Or are these men of yours the reason for him running this way?”

We watch them sit down while my mentor found a spot to be seated. I walk a step away from him and closer over to the fire our hosts have offered to us. I lowered my hood and warmed my hands.

My fingers loosened their strain from the numbness by a simple flex of each digit. After they had stared at me, I only wanted to listen now.

But they didn’t answer Mikael.

For only an instant, I glanced at the two seated men. And I caught their stare still being directed at me.

If they couldn’t break their focus from me, I would be the one to plainly ask, "Who is the thair?"

From one man, I saw he held fear in his eyes. I was seen as an authority here, and he must’ve known his band of men had trespassed. But I knew more than that.

He wasn’t harmless. I sensed this Megilin was a killer.

The other, had a different look. He disturbed me more than the killer had. I caught on that his blues would look me over as if to discern a mystery. And behind his gaze, there was a desire to know more about me.

When Caef shifted in his seat to stand, I stepped back. I was fully aware and alarmed by his wants. And he had an advantage of a strength in numbers with taking what he desired.

That strength was a fallacy.

The fire between us wasn't enough to shield either of them away from me, but the fiery hot and solid fuel was loose enough for our use. In the corner of my vision, I saw Mikael jabbed and sprung the burning twigs and charred bits up onto the men. It was with a precisely kicked boot, giving him time have his sword drawn.

While the men frantically brushed off the orange embers and cooling blaze, I snatched up a single sturdy stick of fiery delight from the destroyed campfire. The fire never bothered me.

Both men drew out their skeans and presented the blades towards us. In close quarters, they had the advantage on us with those knives.

But Mikael had the length of his sword and I with the buffer of a fire being hurled at them. And end over end, my fiery stick was enough to delay them away from pressing that advantage.

And what was more, that fiery hot length of wood had actually struck --

-- at the same time as Mikael's sword flashed over the kicked up flames.

One keen blade dropped --

-- followed by a screaming Ireren. The pitch of his voice caught my attention in time to watch Caef drop down to his knees and cradle his bleeding stump. I saw his fist on the ground still held the skean.

The startled Norse rubbed the burn I gave his face --

-- long enough to show surprise at how quickly I closed our distance. I held no weapons, but I did carry sharp objects.

A single tip of my arrow, clenched between my knuckled-fist, was tickled under Megilin’s adam's apple. I saw that he no longer wished to move. And I supposed he hadn’t seen the type of blade I had drawn to his throat. I gave credit of that to when I threw that burning stick and he was blindly slapping the flurry of those flames to snuff.

But I could now hear the infirm shuffling. I thought, ‘Is this where we compromise?’

"The thair, tell us," I demanded.

"A messenger for Erling," this Megilin told me.

That had taken me by surprise. This had more import than I had a potential thought. But I wondered, ’Is Erling seeking an ally or information of about enemy?’

Snapped out of my thoughts, I saw those men were shuffling faster towards us.

To dissuade them, I dug the tip slightly up into this Norse’s skin, and commanded: "Tell them." I flick my hood covered head to gesture at the approaching mob of sickness. "Tell them, they must go back and rest longer."

"R- Rone! Don't worry, it is nothing.” He had started, but it took another sharp stab of my arrow to get more out of him. “Go back and rest, all of you," he told this one man, Rone, and then to the rest of these sickly men.

"What has happened to Caef?" I heard this from behind me.

"A misunderstanding," I stated.

"His fault," Megilin reinforced me by pointing at the maimed man.

I had caught Caef glaring at us, but at least he was now silent.

Mikael had picked up the lost hand and removed the skean to hold in both his hands a long and short blade. His back was straight, and his eyes were on the furthest man, but pointing in two directions at those closest to him. He waved the blades at those wandering about us to return with their ailing party.

"We will be leaving if no one here is to object," as Mikael said that, I scanned their faces before the flick of his new skean gestured for me to follow him.

As I let my arrow-tipped-fist drop from the Norse, I saw the man breathe more easily. I was thankful he had never dared to make a move after me. So I gone from him to quickly come by my mentor's side.

My eyes never left Megilin’s, as I wanted to be ensured of his current will to end this violence today. The man was a killer, but I might have been wrong to think he took joy in it.

When I was back with Mikael, we retreated to the horses and carefully turn them toward the more spacious side of a nearby stream. Our eyes were still on the group, but soon enough, we galloped faster and farther than the sickly could further chance to pursue us out of the woods...

Sometime later, we allowed ourselves to cater our beasts to a much needed restful and slower pace. And we did this also that we could speak to each other without the danger of biting our tongues.

"Would it be best to find the man or have him be looked for?" I ask this curiously of my mentor. But I wasn’t certain if he could answer.

"Neither. We never discovered a name or description of the man.” He turned to face me and stated: “Let the message reach Erling and watch the lord’s movements." As if he had an afterthought, he added: “And prepare for what he might do."

"If nothing?" I responded in wonder of what might Erling would do.

"Then nothing. If that be the case, it didn't concern us.” He turned away, but I supposed when I said nothing, he glanced my way again with a smile. “I meant the message.”

Having known what he initially meant, I simply nodded and remained silent. I wanted to ask him another question, but refrained.

I knew the tricks he played got results, but I never enjoyed being the lure. I wondered, ’If it had been one of my brothers, would he still risk a prince?’

Somehow, I believed he knew I would be okay. And that my brothers were not much to look at except being men with royal titles and land. I was something else.

We continued on our trek back to our home in Vandfjord in silence...

A long time ago, these gates had been battered down. Then when a foolish prince had rode out to meet the men violently knocking on his door, a legend had been born.

Now, those doors are reinforced with a band of iron framed and encase in flexible steel. Flanking and snaking around the town was a stone-quay. It was walled in with a line of long dragon-headed ships that reached high above our heads.

We entered within once the people guarding this fortified town opened these sturdy gates.

As I dismounted, I saw and handed the reins of my charger to a stable-boy, and I turn to see my mentor do the same. At the same time, I caught the looks of my people.

Each person had their own role to play in this town, but mine felt like a needless position here. These people had more than enough guidance without me, and they could increase the welfare of their neighbors to a greater scale of prosperity with their available wares.

We had trade. I was proud we could interest the Leinsters to tolerate our presence during a mercantile exchange.

This port provided more than needed. It was rich. And this was no surprise why the Ireren clans desired to take this place from my family and these people.

But what was more, with us having to raise the skill of our sentries higher in their station, it provoked the Dyflin to test us. The Solvkrigskonge, Silver Warrior-king of Dyflin in Meath.

It had been a few years since I had foolishly rode out to meet him in combat. I truly was nothing more than a child then, and I had learned early that I hated war.

To my mentor, I grabbed his attention. “Mikael?” He turned to look down at me, and I asked: “What if Erling comes back?”

“Fight for what you can, and leave what cannot be defended,” was his advice. “Laurel, be prepared for King Erling. This time, he may bring with him his house.”

“Giske?” A little laugh bubbled up through me. “A true wonder it is of how that house full of deathseekers survived for so long.”

Before Mikael could say more, one of our Dansk had rushed out to greet us.

"Wenceslas has arrived," I heard him declare.

This brought me to a shocked silence as well. I turned to stare in disbelief at my mentor.

Mikael, looking at me, then back at the Dansk asked: "Are you sure? All the way from Horsens?"

As the man nodded, I shook my head.

"Metz or Clement, but not him. He has his own throne to sit in Jylland..." I had recovered from my silence, but was close to almost cursing when I learned this one brother out at the three of them had arrived.

Wen was my eldest brother, the heir to my King father in Horsens, Jylland of the Estrid line in parallel with the Jute in Jelling, Jylland. One ruled the Scandinavian Danes, while we ruled the Dansk across the seas.

"We best go and see to your brother's wants," my mentor suggested. I was to follow in his footsteps with a hidden scowl at his back. I had no ill-will of Mikael, but I didn’t like his switched allegiances to my eldest sibling upon arrival.

Although, I should’ve expected it. While I had to risk my life for it, my elder brothers always got what they wanted...

mrsimple

I'll continue this in a bit.  I just need to work out some kinks in the next chapter, write another chapter of Bullied, and throw a oneshot at some people who want me to write a story about a kitty.  o_O

 

Lemme know whatcha all are thinkin' about this story's progression.  I'm having fun, but it makes the time I put into this a blast if I know the viewers are enjoying it too.  :D