Rivers of Curaw
With the moon striking high, the night was left colder, so he sat close to a warm fire, chewing on a piece of dry salted beef.
Tomorrow, Dagfinn would make the journey. Tomorrow he would save father.
He recited the plan again in his head. Avoid the battle, get to the camps, free father, then escape. It was a hasty plan but a plan nonetheless.
He camped before, knowing that he had a home to return to, but now, there was nothing. He was not even sure if they were still living. Father prepared him for such occurrences, but for it to happen in reality? It was much more difficult than he anticipated.
There was a chance he could truly be alone, with no one to serve, no one to call kin, no one to love. Would he wander the lands of Calradia as a bitter and lonely nord now? Would he be subjected to a low-life thrall? Or worse, would he become a barbaric Sea-Raider? The very men his father despised?
He put away such thoughts for now. Determining the future would come later.
He stared into the orange glow of the fire, hoping that the flame wouldn't get snuffed out by the cold winds. Leaves were tossed in so the fire would crackle more, keeping him awake for the night. Anything could creep upon him. Wolves, outlaws, the Saderans, Vaegirs, even spirits. He never truly believed in them, for he spent countless nights camping in the dense forests, never encountering a single ghost. But ever since the raid on his home, he was a bit more superstitious and paranoid of certain rumors.
Moments passed, and as he was on the verge of falling asleep, he heard a twig snap in the night.
He jolted awake, stood, twirled around, and scanned the forest, searching for anything that resembled the silhouette of a man or an animal. It could've been a hallucination, a product of his lack of sleep. But he still kept alert.
A faint whisper then reached his ear. A voice.
They were using the darkness, hiding from Dagfinn's sight. So he strained his ears, listened for footsteps… The crunching of snow, the warm steamy breaths of a cold man…
There was a quick thwip, and Dagfinn stepped out of the way, nearly dodging an arrow.
With haste, he retrieved his father's scabbard from the ground and slung it over his shoulder. He pulled a Seax dagger out and pointed it towards the forest.
"Hey!" Dagfinn instinctively barked, but bit his own tongue.
He chastised himself for making that noise. Yes it was fear that triggered it but he should've kept quiet like Father said. It would only attract more of these mongrels.
One of them slipped out from the shadows, walking with swagger, kicking up snow as he stepped towards Dagfinn. He spoke Norse in a thick and broken accent.
"Put down knife. Or you die." He said, "You come with me. Now."
Dagfinn snorted, and readied into a stance with his seax dagger pointing towards him.
Perhaps this was his end. Fine. He welcomed it like a Nord should. If he couldn't save father, he would at least die trying to keep their foreign hands off his sword.
"I said put down knife, bastard." The legionary scowled, but Dagfinn wouldn't budge, not one bit.
"…Fuck off." Dagfinn coldly swore.
He studied the legionary, the weakpoints. He could go for the throat, but he'd have to be fast so the archer couldn't hit him. If he could tackle him, he could stab him in the pits and shove the blade into his heart. It sounded easy, but Dagfinn doubt any man would just let themselves get tackled by a boy without a reaction.
The legionary chuckled and threw up a two-fingered sign with his hand.
"Cadme, iacio!" He called out.
Dagfinn strained his ears once again to hear the arrow, ready to leap out of sight. But there was nothing. No response to the legionary's signal.
That veil of confidence on the legionary's face slowly turned from confusion into fear. He shuffled backwards and desperately pointed his gladius at Dagfinn.
He called to his archer again.
"Cadme?"
No response.
Dagfinn poised himself to charge before he finally heard another thwip of a bow. He had thought that he was on the verge of getting shot until the legionary yelped and fell to his knees. An arrow was sticking out the back of his leg.
He looked into the dark, where the arrow had come from.
There, between the trees and under the silent moon, he saw a quiet horseman staring at him, bow in hand.
His steed was a white steppe horse, covered in silver armor. The horseman's cold iron mask made Dagfinn uneasy, but it was at least obvious enough for him to figure out that it was a Vaegir who had shot that arrow.
The rider turned his horse to him and trotted towards Dagfinn.
An odd smell emanated from the rider. Of course, the Vaegirs always smelled foul to Dagfinn, but this was a strange one.
He spoke to him in Norse, fluent and smooth. His voice was slightly muffled by the helmet.
"What is a Nord boy doing here? In the cold lands of his enemies no doubt?"
Tighter was Dagfinn's grip on the seax dagger. Speaking Norse was rare with foreigners, especially when it came to Vaegirs. Either this one fought against Sea Raider scum, or alongside them.
"How do you know Norse?" Dagfinn asked cautiously.
"I am both a warrior and a traveller. I assumed people like me would be respectful enough to study the words of others." He said, cocking his head to the side, "I ask this question again, since I have answered yours. What are you doing here, Nord?"
Dagfinn stared at him with a frown for a moment, before lying to him, "I lost my way in the forests. I'm trying to find my way back. Then they came and attempted to rob me." He nodded towards the Legionary, who was clutching his pierced knee, quietly moaning in pain.
The rider chuckled, then swung his leg off from his horse. He approached the wounded scout and grabbed arrow in his leg, planting a foot over his back.
"No! No! Please!"
"You're lying. These scouts were tracking you." He said to Dagfinn. He then broke the arrow out of the legionary's knee, who let out a pained cry in response. "You… are of value."
"They wanted me as prisoner?"
"Most likely. That is why I slit the archer's throat first. This man here knew he could not restrain you alone without injuring you."
"They're keeping me alive for a reason then…" Dagfinn said to himself.
"Perhaps for bargaining." The Vaegir added, then asked him, "Trying to save a captive you know?"
Dagfinn froze. Father had close ties with the lords and kings. He no doubt had information that would do well for their conquest, seeing as he himself had a fair share in battle and campaigning. He deduced that perhaps it was why these men attempted to take him alive instead of gutting him like they would to a lonesome peasant. He would be leverage.
Dagfinn found himself rushed more than ever. There was no time to waste now. He had to save father before anything else could happen.
He grabbed his arrows and crushed the fire. He then began to march up the snow-covered hill, filled with an unsteady amount of determination.
"You've stopped these men from taking me as prisoner, and I thank you for that." The boy said while marching towards the camp, "But I don't need any help."
The Vaegir did not take his thanks, instead he called after him. "The chances of one man sneaking into a camp and setting the captives free without getting caught is very low. Let alone a young boy like you of course."
Dagfinn twirled around.
"What are you trying to say?" He sneered.
"You'll fail. It will not be like those cheeky tales you hear from the minstrels."
"So what? You'll help me do this?"
He nodded at that, "By your permission of course."
"Why?" Dagfinn asked.
"Because the more disruptions there are for the enemy the better. And because I am bored. In a few days I'll be on my own fighting for some wayward company. To be completely honest. I've grown tired of fighting under the same banner."
Dagfinn took a silent moment to contemplate. He would've denied him right then and there but the situation was dire. It was true that the chances of success was low, but to work alongside a Vaegir was the same as sharing drinks with a degenerate thrall. Besides, he still couldn't stand himself to trust him. If anything he could be a deserter, attempting to deceive him so he could rob him before waking up, leaving him to starve in the cold. Or maybe he'd get it done quickly and slit his throat while he was asleep.
"You think I'm stupid enough to let you go along with me? I don't even know you one bit. So leave, Vaegir, before you find the end of this blade stuck in your eye socket." He threatened, brandishing his Seax dagger once again.
The Vaegir simply sighed behind his helmet, for he had seen much worse attempts at intimidation. So, in a casual motion, he lifted and removed his head gear. The long chainmail slowly revealed his face, showing a gaunt looking man. He looked no older than twenty, with a long face and sharp chin. His black hair was long and ran down his neck, a contrast to his pale white skin. He brandished a gold ring on his finger, endearing and artistic, a single red jewel in its socket.
Narrow eyes looked down on Dagfinn, almost annoyed by his stubbornness.
"I am Athanasi Orlov, son of the Captain of the guard Dmitri Orlov who serves under Boyar Marmun. My family has taken an oath not to dabble in any sort of banditry and outlaw behavior. I intend to keep that oath." He pulled off the ring from his finger, gestured it to Dagfinn. "This ring is pure. Go on, taste it and feel the gold it is made out of."
Dagfinn swatted his hand out of his face, asked Athanasi. "So why become a mercenary? Do they not commit acts of banditry? Pillaging and razing every village they come across?"
"I am not those men." Athanasi claimed, "You have a very flawed perception of others, Nord. It is much more nuanced than you think."
"Nuance or not. Mercenaries have a low reputation for a reason."
"Yet they're still hired to this day. By Nords, Vaegirs, Swadians, Rhodoks, Khergits, and Sarranid men. Don't forget that even mercenaries carry loved ones with them as camp followers. How can heartless soldiers bring daughters, sons, infants, and wives into this world of violence without thinking of them?"
A silence fell between them before Dagfinn grunted and returned back to marching, no acceptance to Athanasi's help.
"You sure you don't need my assistance?" Athanasi asked from a distance.
"No."
He was silent, but ultimately accepted Dagfinn's choice. "Alright then. Farewell young nord, and good luck."
He put his helmet back on and jumped back onto his horse, whistling a tune.
Dagfinn turned back to watch as he began to trot off into the night.
What an ass. Dagfinn said to himself.
But as much as the Vaegir's wits and retorts irritated him, he suddenly gained the urge to run after him while watching his armored form wade into the night.
Why? Why was he regretting his decision already?
Every choice he made was to be final, no second thoughts. It would make him look like a fool if he couldn't make up his mind. But, the Vaegir had a point. No way a single young boy would free a train of prisoners, especially in a guarded camp.
And the talk of mercenaries had slowly become alluring to Dagfinn. A future as a warrior. Living by the sword. By strength and will. It was all he knew and what Father taught him of.
Dammit all! He said to himself. Its like the gods are testing me…
He marched back, kicked the legionary on the ground, making sure he'd stay in his spot, then sprinted after the Vaegir.
"Vaegir!" He shouted, but not too loud so as to not expose himself to nearby patrols.
The Vaegir luckily heard him at the first shout, and stopped his horse. Dagfinn could hear a muffled chuckle under that helmet of his.
He really wanted to plunge a dagger into his eyes.
"Made up your mind eh?" Athanasi quipped.
"Shut up!" Dagfinn panted. "I have a plan. But I don't know if it'll work."
"Oh no it will not work. Whatever you came up with, would have a very low chance of success."
"Fuck you, you wretch! What can you come up with?"
Athanasi glanced around, then lowered his head, saying, "Let's go back to that legionary down there. He might know a few things."
Dagfinn agreed, although in a very distrustful manner, and marched back to the legionary with Athanasi trotting alongside him.
The crippled man tried to crawl away before Dagfinn planted a foot over his back.
"Where are the prison carts?" He growled.
The legionary had no response, so Dagfinn stomped on his back. And then again. And soon it eventually devolved into a series of slurs and curses at the prisoner.
"Where are they eh? I'll skin you alive and parade your freezing body around like a doll! Tell me now! We Nords drink from the skulls of our enemies!"
But to no avail, the legionary was silently stubborn.
"Tell me dog! Or I'll have your head on a spike!-"
Athanasi rolled his eyes and shoved Dagfinn off the man with a single arm, ignoring the boy's protests right after. He picked the man up on his feet and forced him into a tree, slapping him for effect.
"Do not think that you are a valuable prisoner to us." His words were firm yet steady at the same time, it bore a larger effect than Dagfinn's. "There are still more patrols that we can kidnap a cowardly runt like you from."
The legionary was hesitant to speak but eventually broke. He quivered, speaking in broken norse.
"We… march to rivers… look to take up boats… cross to the towns."
"How many are you?"
"I… I don't… count!"
"Speak of an estimate or I make the wound larger."
The legionaries stuck up three fingers. "Legios. Legios. Each."
Dagfinn lifted a brow. He had never heard of this term "Legios" before.
"What is 'legion'?" He said to Athanasi.
Athanasi took a moment to ponder, still holding the man up against the tree.
"If I'm correct. It means more than ten thousand men are waiting for us in those camps."
Dagfinn glared uneasily at that statement. He had never seen ten thousand people before, nor heard of the number very often. The most he had ever seen was when his lord Jarl Knudarr had marched his army through the pathways of his village. He could still remember the banners, which flew in the wind and gallantly paraded three dancing boars, whilst men of great strength and steel chanted a war song.
But they were numbered in the hundreds. Such a count like ten thousand was nearly mythical to him. It didn't help that those ten thousand aimed to plunge a spear into Nords and Vaegirs alike. He was chagrined. His plan really was going to be terrible.
"Don't lose hope yet nord." Athanasi said to Dagfinn. He had seen the waning hope in his eyes. "I know these lands. It will tell us how to strike the Saderans."
Decided to come back to this over the course of time. Apologies for the wait everyone.