Vern
I wake up later that day to the door of the dorm slamming. Briar throws his cloak on the ground and gently places his axe on the chair. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes.
"I think by the end of this tour I'm going to be sick," he mutters.
"Why?" I ask groggily, merely entertaining the thought he's, no doubt, dying to make known.
"Look around and you'll catch on eventually," he glowers. "Your highness." Briar spits the last phrase and I suddenly realize what he had meant. This was mine. Granted, this village in particular was relatively small, mostly because of how close it is to Fagerhult. Mikael had explained that it was mostly made up of craftsmen. I wouldn't doubt it either. Most of the things I'd seen in the market earlier were all bartering for different wooden creations. I'd been told this was just one of many villages that I would now control but the reality still hasn't completely hit me. "You think I care?" I question him.
Briar rolls his eyes. "I think you'd be crazy not to."
"Yeah, whatever. I wouldn't expect you to understand," I ignore his comment. He snaps up.
"Stop it, man! You're a King. Since when do you care what anyone thinks? You have people. You have villages. You have Fagerhult, which is practically an empire all on it's own. You have an army. Heck, you practically have legions."
I stand up, grabbing my sword belt and throwing the long cloak over my shoulders.
"And you don't care," Briar mutters. "You know, if Elin were here, she'd tell you how much of an idiot you're being."
I turn on him. "Don't put words into her mouth! Besides, if she were here, she wouldn't have let me kill Rasmus in the first place."
"Oh for the love of the gods. What's it going to take to get you to stop acting like a fragile flower?"
"Here's an idea, shut up," I laugh, heading for the door.
"As if." Briar pushes past me, sauntering into the dusty street. "Follow me. The Earl wanted to speak with you."
"Wonderful," I mutter.
I follow Briar down the small streets down towards the harbor. He approaches one of the larger dwellings.
A smallish man stands outside the door. He bows low, his brown hair falling over his face as he stoops. I wait awkwardly for him to straighten.
The Earl gestures to the harbor and we start walking. The people milling about the street suddenly part, leaving an empty path for us. I glance from person to person and not one fails to meet my stare. They all sink into bows. By the fifth person, I abandon acknowledging them.
"You are truly not a fan of this," the Earl comments.
"Hardly," I shake my head.
"Thank you for coming, my King," the man speaks, his voice uncharacteristically loud for a man his size.
"Please, call me Vern," I request.
The Earl grins slightly. "The great King Herreinn. If I were given such a name I'd demand everyone use it."
I shrug. "Pretentious, don't you agree?"
"Maybe for anyone else, but not you, Sir."
"Vern," I correct. "Besides, I have not done anything great."
"Ah, yes. I have heard the news from Fagerhult. The villagers will forget it by the time you return. They do not miss Rasmus anymore than a rich cow longs for poverty."
I chuckle at the analogy.
The Earl grins. "Perhaps I should not say that in your presence."
"Actually, I don't think I could come up with a better description for them. Though they'll all starve to death if they keep making the Great Hall look like a slaughterhouse."
"Most unfortunate. You won't be finding that here."
"I don't blame them," I shake my head.
"You misunderstand," the Earl stops walking and turns to face me. "These people know better than to waste anything we are given, whether they agree with leadership or not."
"What do you mean given?" I question.
"We are not the farm village, therefore we get what food that we need from them. No more, usually less."
"I don't understand," I shake my head. "The village I grew up in, we always had more than enough food."
The Earl stares out over the harbor. The sun glimmers on the water, sinking low towards the horizon.
"There are rumors that you grew up in a village that raided the seas more than the mercenaries themselves," he says in a quiet voice. "Many of the Earls hope this is true. Perhaps you can make this true for us and we can stop begging for every scrap we can gather."
The seer's words echo in my head. Teach them how to raid? I barely know anything myself. Certainly not enough to lead these people. Besides, I can't. Raid wasn't an option anymore according to the gods.
"Why don't you just farm for yourselves?" I ask.
"We have no farmable land. The same reason we aren't miners or cattle herders. We were getting some food from the Saxons, but that's no way for us to live."
"You want to raid then," I ponder the thought.
"Not just me, Sire. Will you do it?"
"Teach you to raid so you can go attack other Viking villages? No," I shake my head. "The gods forbid it."
The Earl's attitude suddenly changes. His fists visibly clench.
"So you leave us all to starve save for when that greedy farm village decides to be generous?" he growls.
"For now, yes."
With that, I leave the Earl knowing full well that he's furious. Briar catches up to me.
"What did that just accomplish?" he hisses.
"We're leaving," I announce.
"But the feast!" Briar protests.
"We have our own food supply. Save the food for these people."
"Vern! What's with you!?"
I grin slightly at my friends attitude.
"Why won't you teach them how to raid?" Briar asks.
"We aren't allowed to attack anymore Viking villages. We have another option though."
Briar thinks silently for a few moments.
"South," Briar breaths. "You want to attack unknown lands."
"Are you mad?!" Briar shouts.
I whirl to face him.
"I need to get out of here and get on with this village tour. Either come with me or wait here but my company does not know that I've left for at least a half day. Understand?"
"No, I don't. I think you're going insane," Briar shakes his head.
I stride purposefully in the direction of the stables with Briar protesting relentlessly in tow. When we enter the stables, Ashby jumps to his feet. "Vern. King. Sir," the boy stammers.
"Oh dear gods, don't do anything he says," Briar demands.
"Don't mind my companion," I glare at Briar. "We need our horses."
"No!" Briar shouts at the blond boy. "We don't."
Ashby starts laughing.
"I can't believe you let him talk to you like that," Ashby says to me. I walk past them, looking for my horse amongst the stalls.
"Sometimes, I can't believe it either," I shrug. Ashby laughs again, motioning to a horse to my left.
"Ah, thank you."
I throw a blanket onto the horses back. Ashby finishes with the saddle.
"Aren't you going with your soldiers?" Ashby asks, pulling the leather strap tight.
"No. And I'd appreciate if you don't tell them we're going."
Briar peeks in from the next stall.
"You know, I still haven't agreed to go."
I cock my head to the side. "You haven't said otherwise."
I lead my horse outside with Briar close behind. "That hardly constitutes as an answer," Briar grumbles.
We ride on for most of that night only taking breaks when it's absolutely necessary. By dawn the next morning, we've already passed through two villages and are a few hours away from the next. After seemingly endless complaints from Briar, we take a much needed break by a steady flowing brook. I kneel down along the bank, filling my flask with water. A steady breeze rustles through the trees overhead and the air holds a somewhat sticky quality. Briar leans against a tree a few feet away.
"Storm's coming," I say, standing.
"Good that. Maybe you'll let us stop at the next village."
"We need to get to the last two villages. Maybe we can stop at the fifth."
"Why?" Briar asks.
"Last two villages are mines and weaponry. Fifth is masonry," I repeat what Mikael had explained to me.
I stand up, grabbing my horses reins. "Actually, on second thought, I say we skip five."
Briar's eyes narrow and he moves towards me.
"Do you even know how far those are? I haven't eaten since yesterday morning! You're a king and here I am starving like a peasant."
I turn on him. "You know, you're getting really annoying."
Briar plasters a giant grin on his face and bats his eyes like an idiot.
"Thank, my liege."
I sigh, knowing he's not going to shut up without any motivation. He stoops down to drink some water from the stream and I'm more than gracious for the small lapse of silence. I close me eyes, enjoying the peacefulness. Peace, something I'd never be afforded in Fagerhult.
A twig snaps a short distance away and my eyes shoot open. Briar's leaps to his feet, joining me in a sweep around the trees. I clip an arrow onto my bowstring and take a few steps through the trees. Nothing seems out of the ordinary.
"See anything?" I call over my shoulder. I wait for a response a few seconds.
"Briar?"
When I look back towards the brook there's no one there. I pull back the arrow, slowly walking forward.
"Briar?" I ask again. Nothing. I look up in the trees, searching for some kind of hint as to where my friend could have gone. My search continues down to the mossy ground.
A couple scuffs leave deep ruts in the ground heading along the creek bed. I take one last look behind me and start following them. The further I go, the more I begin to doubt that this is just some stupid prank of his. Either that, or he really was serious about being hungry. A glint of metal catches my eye just ahead at the base of a rocky shelf. I run a couple steps, scooping Briar's axe off the ground. Blood covers much of the blade. I search frantically on the forest floor, quickly picking up the trail of blood. It's thick. Too thick.
I sprint along the trail, hoping by some miracle the blood is not Briars. The blood glistens in the sunlight, heading down into a ravine. I hold onto the trunk of a tree and lean over the edge. The ledge is mossy and almost a straight drop. There, at the bottom of the drop, a body lays in the middle of the brook.
"Briar!" I shout.
My voice echoes down the ravine but the body doesn't so much as flinch. I check the other side of the ravine for any sign of movement. Nothing seems out of the ordinary. Even the birds sing up in the trees.
I drop down to the next tree that grows out the side of the steep hill and catch myself on it, slowing down my slide. The next one is a good five feet away and does a brilliant job or ripping the calluses open on my hands. After sliding down another several trees, I glance down. From where I sit, the creek rushes several feet below, carving itself along the bedrock. The body of my friend lies motionless on the shallow rocks, his face just barely above the water.
Slowly, I inch out over the edge and drop down. For a second, all I feel is the wind rushing past my face and then my feet hit the hard ground. I land in a roll, efficiently drenching myself. I crawl over to Briar and notice a thick stream of red coming from the back of his head. Gently, I turn his head, now getting my first look at the small gash. I lean down and press my ear against his chest. A sluggish thump echoes through my head.
I lean back onto my knees and notice another slice that runs along his stomach. The water around me clouds a deep red tint.
"Briar!" I shout. I glance desperately up into the trees, hoping, no, praying that a friend would come to our aid.
I lift my hands out of the water and red drips off of them.
"Gods, Briar," I moan. I yank my cloak off and tie it around his middle. Frantically, I rip off a piece of my tunic, balling it up and pressing it into his head wound. My stomach twists itself into a knot and I struggle to keep going. Sure, Briar and I have both had our fair share of injuries. Growing up back in Havredal with Briar and Welch, we were all bound to be dragged into the village half dead at least once every couple months but this was different. We were alone and the nearest village was at least a three hour ride away. Unless I could get the bleeding to stop, or at least slow down, he wouldn't make it back to our horses.
With a grunt of effort, I hoist his body over my shoulder. I start heading back upstream where we'd tied our horses. The going is agonizingly slow and I struggle on the slick rocks. Every so often, Briar's weight shifts on my shoulder and I'm forced to stop.
Finally, I reach where the ravine levels out and collapse by our horses. I lay Briar down and struggle to catch my breath from the climb. A long blood stain runs down my leather vest and tunic. I groan loudly. My eyes sweep through the trees once more for anyone, either friend or foe.
I wrap my arms around his waist, hoisting him up onto my horse in front of the saddle. Not willing to waste anymore time, I pull myself up into the saddle and flick the reins of my horse.
For the next few hours, I push the animal as much as I dare with the extra weight. Briar barely shows me any evidence that he's still alive, save for the occasional moan. I try to keep pressure on the wound on his head but the terrain we travel over is rugged and I'm forced to avert most of my attention to trying to keep Briar from sliding off the horses back.
When I finally see the gates of the fifth village off in the distance, I urge the horse into a full gallop. We fly through the open gates and I pull back on the reins, sending dirt and dust flying through the air. I dismount, landing on the ground with a thud. A small group of soldiers rush towards us, weapons drawn.
"Where's your healer?" I demand.
"We don't offer lodging to mercenaries," one of the soldiers spits.
Briar groans loudly behind me.
"Gods men! I'm your king and you'll do as I say!" I shout. They all take a visible step back, completely stunned.
"Your majesty," one of the men recovers enough to stutter and stoop into a bow.
"Take my companion to your healer," I command. They obey instantly, whisking Briar off into one of the smaller dwellings. One of the soldiers approaches me.
"Sire, perhaps you should go see the healer as well?" he suggests, cautiously. I glance down at myself and see how terrible I look. Most of my clothes are blood stained, more red showing then leather. However I might look, the chilling realization hits me that the blood, save for the small amount seeping through the cuts on my hands, was all from Briar.
I realize the man still waiting with a questioning look in his eye.
"I'm fine," I wave him off.
Before anyone else can ask any questions, I disappear into the marketplace. I pull a small sack of coins from my belt and make quick work of buying new clothes and finding a place to stay. I try to wash the majority of blood off in the small sink and wrap my hands in cloth. I stare at the door of my room in the inn contemplating the chances that the soldiers wouldn't remember my face now that I wasn't covered in grime. Eventually, my concern from Briar wins over and I venture into the streets once more. No one seems to notice me and I start wandering through the streets. Most of the people carry carts full of different materials and a couple open vendors are bustling with people. Up ahead, two tall men with long capes walk in my direction. One of them speaks quickly while the other looks furious. I casually switch directions in the crowd, following close enough behind them to hear what they're saying.
"I cannot believe you didn't bring him to me!" The man hisses.
"He didn't seem to be in a chatting mood," the other man tries to defend himself.
"And what of his companion? He hasn't been there to check on his condition?"
"We have men waiting if he were to go to the healing hut, but no he hasn't been there yet. His friend hasn't woken up since they arrived."
"But he is still alive?" The man who seems to be in charge asks.
"Yes, but he has lost a lot of blood. In fact, our king was practically dripping in it when they arrived."
The two stop walking and I duck around the corner of a home, staying out of view.
"Why hasn't he come to us?"
"I don't know, sir. He must still be in the city, unless he bought another horse."
The leader drops his tone even quieter and I struggle to hear his voice.
"I don't like it. Not at all. He could be anyone."
"We will find him. Just give it until dusk."
They walk away and I glance towards the sky, a grin crossing my face. No way was I going to reveal myself, not yet. Why would I? So the villagers could commence with the disgusted glances and cruel rumors? No thanks. Besides, Briar was going to recover but in the mean time, I was stuck here for awhile. Why not make the most of it? Seeing Briar though, that would be a trap waiting to happen but I really needed to see him.
I take another way back to the place where I'd seen the men carry Briar inside. Two men stand guard in front of the door. I stroll behind the building, praying they don't recognize me. A window suddenly swings open and a bucket of water is thrown outside. Before the window can completely close, I catch it, glancing inside. Briar lays inside the dim space on a table. Two people bend over him; an older man and a young girl with long brown hair that's been pulled back into a braid. She lays a wet cloth over his brow. Briar doesn't move, save for the lazy rise and fall of his chest.
The girl clicks her tongue and her small expression crinkles.
"He's not going to survive," she whispers.
The older man chuckles quietly. He works intently on the wound on Briar's stomach.
"That's not an option."
The girl rolls her eyes, crossing the room. "Why does it not surprise me that the Earl thinks he has control over death?"
"Well, that's simple. Someone gave him a title."
She turns back to Briar.
"Do you think he's royal?"
"This boy? No. He's a warrior. Probably why he's still alive."
The girl sits on the table beside his body and runs her hand along the side of his face. I let the window close with a quiet thud, satisfied that they are doing everything they can to keep Briar alive, even if it is just for my sake.