Veegal's Wall Page 5

  Chapter 5

  “I know it’s the right choice,” Dredrik said as they rode toward the wooden walls of Galnath. “Does not mean I like it.”

  The snow in the region was still thick despite three days of sunshine. The bitter north winds overpowered the sun and helped things remain frozen. A lack of prints leading to and from the closed gates indicated little to no activity outside the walls. Smoke could be seen rising above the walls likely from chimneys beckoning the party with promises of nice cozy fires.

  Vessa was riding with Dredrik now. She had taken turns on each mount to spread the burden. “This is my home village. The people are for the most part nice humble people, and the best part is my cousin owns the local tavern and bakery. I’m sure she will supply us with a few good meals and a nice warm place to sleep.”

  “With a bit of coin I’m sure,” Eertu said.

  “Well I for one am looking forward to the visit,” Hadrenn’s voice as boisterous as ever. “I’ve heard tales of Galnath, town full of bastard children and very few men. Sounds like good odds for a nice evening or two to me.”

  Mind your tongue lad,” Wikkid reprimanded. “This may not be the best time to be, well, you.”

  “I’m just saying it sounds like there may be more than a few lonely women in there.”

  “Hadrenn, the women of Galnath are far more than you could handle.” Vessa warned. “You are not as charming as you think you are.”

  Hadrenn smiled. “We’ll see.”

  “Tell me Dredrik what it is about my village that unnerves you so. It is unfair to judge a place you have not been to.”

  “I have been here.”

  “It’s a small town, I am sure I would have heard if somebody of your reputation had been here during Argile’s crusade. I come back to visit quite often.”

  “It would have been many years ago.”

  “Then what, did you steal, kill, or commit some other atrocity that would make you not want to show your face here again?”

  Dredrik sighed. “No, I’ve not done anything to offend these people.”

  “Then as the lady asked, what is it that unnerves you about this place?” Eertu Inquired.

  Dredrik remained silent for a few moments considering his answer. “Graves,” he finally replied.

  “Graves?” asked Hadrenn “As in holes in the ground filled with bodies?”

  “Aye, graves and all the memories that goes with them.”

  Wikkid urged his steed forward to draw even with Dredrik. “We all face our pasts sooner or later. It is often necessary to move forward. Either by luck or divine providence you have been given what may very well be your last chance for reconciliation.”

  “Coming from you those words are dripping with irony Master Wikkid.”

  “All in good time, we dwarves have a lot longer to make things right.”

  “Hold!” a voice cried from the guard tower to the right of the gate. “Who goes there?”

  The wall was no more than four meters tall so the party could easily make out the face of the woman standing watch.

  Vessa lowered the hood on her cloak and peered around Dredrik. “It’s me Vessa. I come with friends in need of room and board for a few days. So please Harriet let us in, the journey has been long and cold.”

  “Vessa,” Harriet exclaimed, “Welcome back! Open the gates.”

  After a quick reunion with the guard Vessa lead the party through the narrow streets barely wide enough to allow a wagon passage. She was greeted by many as they made their way toward the center of the village. It was obvious that Vessa was well liked by the townsfolk.

  Hadrenn was surprised to see the stories were actually true, at least about the lack of grown men. Only a few males above the age of fourteen roamed the town, the guards, workers, craftsmen, mostly women.

  Finally they came to a stop in front of one of the only two story structures with a worn sign swinging from hangers in the breeze claiming the place to be the Galnath inn. A young boy approached and after a brief discussion with Vessa offered to see their mounts to the stables after the party unburdened the beats of their belongings.

  “Seems to be the place to be,” Hadrenn announced as they stepped into the inn’s common room eliciting a few hard stares from the mostly female patrons.

  “It is, Vessa replied, “doubly so in the winter months. Warm fire, strong drink, and good company is about all anybody can ask for during the bitter cold.”

  “You had me a drink”

  “Vessa weaved the party through the maze of tables toward the bar. “I thought that was the dwarf’s line.”

  “What Wikkid? I can drink him under the table.”

  “Now I know your jesting,” Vessa said.

  “It’s true Las,” Wikkid stated sounding mildly irritated. “I’ve never seen dwarf, and most certainly not a man drink like Hadrenn.”

  “Not that I’m a raving drunk,” Hadrenn added quickly. “It’s just that when it suits me I can hold my drink.”

  “Vessa!” called a voice from behind the counter. “Welcome back.”

  The woman stepped out from behind the counter and embraced Vessa in a friendly hug. “I didn’t expect you back so soon.”

  “Me neither. It’s a bit of a long story that I will tell you later, but for now do you have any room available?”

  “Do I ever not?” the woman asked.

  Vessa lowered her voice to just above a whisper. “We also need your other talents. I have a few small wounds that could use some attention, and though he hides it one of my companions seem to be in considerable pain.”

  “Ah male bravado,” the woman said with a slight laugh.

  “Don’t think that is why. I believe he simply does not want the rest of us to worry about him.”

  “So, introduce me to your friends.”

  “Cousin,” Vessa said raising her voice back to conversational levels. “This is Hadrenn, Wikkid, Eertu and Dredrik,” she said pointing to each in turn. “Gentlemen I would like you to meet..,”

  “Eitreen,” Dredrik said stepping closer and pulling down the hood of his long coat.

  . . . . .

  “So this is where you found our fearless leader,” Hadrenn said as he slammed down his empty mug. The party minus Dredrik now sat around a square table as near to the fireplace as possible. With their gear stowed away and food and drink before them in abundance spirits were running high considering everything that had transpired over the past week. “Seems a cozy enough place to me, why would anybody want to leave?”

  “Ran into him about two hours walk from here,” Wikkid replied after draining his own mug. “If you want any more than that you’ll have to ask him yourself. It is not my story to tell.”

  “So that’s all we get?” Vessa asked.

  “We do not often discuss what drives us from our homes, not even among friends.” Eertu said. “When you join a tribe your past is forgotten. All that matters is what you do within the tribes.”

  “So as far as any of you know, the one sitting next to you could be a mass murderer.”

  Hadrenn laughed. “So says the assassin.”

  The tone of Vessa’s voice was laced with amusement. “I have always heard that Northmen could carry a grudge for life. I have not so much as even threatened you and still you moan.”

  “But you would have tried if your employer had still been alive and kicking.”

  Vessa sighed, Hadrenn had her there. “True enough. So what happens if somebody already a member of a tribe commits a crime against a fellow tribe member? Can he or she be forgiven and accepted into another?”

  Wikkid swallowed down the fried chicken he had been chewing on. “No, every first generation tribesman has to serve in a military capacity as a form of proving. You only get one shot, if you cannot prove your willingness to help the whole you are cast out. If you are born into a tribe you are born with the benefits of citizenship as it were. If you throw that away it’s your own loss.”

  “It’s
not as if everybody in the tribes were at one time a criminal,” Eertu added. “Not even I knew this in the beginning. Most were political enemies or simply down trodden or homeless beggars with nobody willing to give them a chance. Most now are the children of such outcasts. Honestly it’s the rumors of roaming packs of thieves and cutthroats that keeps us unwelcome in most civilized places. Argile knew this, his own less than generous forerunners are the reason for many of the tribe’s oldest families.”

  Hadrenn nodded in agreement. “King Argile had worked hard to reconcile many of his family’s sins. While not my King I respected the way which he went about righting many of this nation’s wrongs.”

  “Would it be a breach of protocol by asking what brought you to Eebrook?” Vessa asked Hadrenn.

  “Well I’m from the far north, but that much you know. As many would say I’m a barbarian. I have done nothing to be exiled from home. I am simply here because I wish to be. I’m not even actually a Tribesman.”

  “It’s true,” Wikkid agreed. “He simply showed up one day and never left. Now that I think of it he never asked to tag along in the first place.”

  Vessa cocked an eyebrow. “This sounds interesting, and I could use a good tale.”

  Hadrenn smiled as her. It was a charming smile she thought.

  “Males of my people are required to seek out a Warmaster to serve under for no less than five years once we reach the age of decision. After over two years of searching I had found none to my liking. As you might imagine my father was furious with me, called me stubborn and bull headed. I can honestly say looking back he was and still is right.”

  Laughter broke out around the table, even a few chuckles could be heard from patrons at nearby tables who had been listening in.

  “Anyway, with my father himself being a chieftain it was considered a blight on the name that I had not begun service yet. So I packed up just a few belongings and headed south in search of redemption.

  One day while strolling through the Aldine forests I came across a small band of warriors who had thrown themselves into the defense of a caravan from raiders. They were greatly outnumbered and had no real reason to be there other than it was the right thing to do.”

  “I’ll not lie,” Wikkid interrupted. “The hope of reward lent aid to our decision to act.”

  “Wikkid, I am trying to spin a heroic tale here, you’re ruining the tone. As I was saying, I jumped into the fight with reckless abandon taking two of the raiders before they knew what hit them. I guess my intervention must have cost some confusion because the remaining raiders ran for it even though they still had the advantage of two to one.”

  “I think it was your size,” Wikkid said. “Not many men in Eebrook come close to your stature.”

  “Not to mention it is unheard of to see a Northman alone,” Eertu added. “They probably had heard the stories of marauding giants from the north and figured there had to be more on the way. I’d bet good coin they thought they’d come back later to find the lot of you dead.”

  “You weren’t with them then?” Vessa asked.

  “No,” Eertu said, “probably about a year later before I came to Eebrook, but Hadrenn loves this tale.”

  “After the raiders were driven away,” Hadrenn continued while giving Eertu a dirty look, “Wikkid and Dredrik had convinced the rest of their party to track them back to their stronghold.”

  “Looking to find their stash of ill-gotten loot,” Wikkid explained.

  “I simply went along uninvited figuring I had found a worthy Warmaster at last. I have not been disappointed by the lack of adventure yet.”

  Vessa took another sip of ale. “What did you find when you got to the bandit stronghold?”

  “Some coin, a few pieces of jewelry, furs, an assortment of trade goods. In all it was enough to feed all eight tribes for a winter and buy much needed goods,” Wikkid said.

  Vessa smiled at Hadrenn. “Not what I expected from a barbaric Northman.”

  Hadrenn shrugged. “Life is full of its little surprises.

  . . . . .

  “I’m fine,” Dredrik protested.

  “Vessa says you’re not. Being observant is what keeps her alive, remove the shirt,” Eitreen ordered.

  “Speaking of Vessa, I never knew you had relatives outside of Galnath.”

  “Interested? She can be very charming.”

  “No, just making small talk.” Dredrik pulled his tunic off over his head unable to restrain the groan that escaped his lips.

  “I didn’t either, after the raid my mother’s estranged brother came to help rebuild and brought along with him his entire family.” Her eyes went wide as she got her first glimpse of Dredrik’s wound. “Is that a burn? What did you do to yourself?”

  “Aggravated a Shaman, I wouldn’t recommend it.”

  Eitreen walked over to a large chest and began rummaging through it. “Anyway My uncle seemed to be fairly well off, and well-schooled in both construction and warfare. After his arrival he rallied the village and set us to the grim task of rebuilding. Here we go.”

  Eitreen came up with a clay jar and opened it. Her face contorted into a sour expression after she smelled of the contents. “Not the greatest smelling sab but it should help fight off infection and mend the wound. It also has a numbing effect so the pain should lessen.”

  “After we had rebuilt the town and added walls,” Eitreen continued, “Uncle began training us all in the arts of war, mostly archery with short bows and crossbows as we are mostly women but a few of us excelled with blades. Vessa had already been well trained when she arrived. Uncle had started her training at five.”

  Dredrik flinched as Eitreen began to rub the sab on his burns. “She mentioned a sister in Calington.”

  “Jaclyn, probably Vessa’s complete opposite except for her outgoing personality.” Eitreen began unwinding a roll of cloth bandages.

  Dredrik grabbed Eitreen’s hand as she came close. “Look, this is a bit uncomfortable. I mean it has been a long time and we were best friends.”

  Eitreen pulled her hand loose and began wrapping the bandages around Dredrik’s chest. “What is there to say? When we needed everybody to pull together you left.”

  “It wasn’t like that,” Dredrik protested.

  “No, was that not you riding away with, them?”

  “It was the price.” He said is voice rising slightly. It’s complicated.”

  Eitreen placed the lid back on the sab before stuffing the jar back into the chest. She shut it then used it for a chair. “Explain it to me, I think you owe me that much.”

  Dredrik nodded in agreement. “After the thugs set me loose as game I ran south, literally right into Wikkid.”

  “That would be the dwarf out there being drank under the table by the big man?”

  “Yes, I explained to him who I was and that we needed help. Their leader, Jarred, wanted nothing to do with the situation. He was more concerned with the fact that Galnath was where they were heading to trade furs for grain and that now the trip was wasted. Wikkid on the other hand figured that they owed it to lend a hand as Galnath was one of the few villages that would trade with the Lost. After a heated discussion involving Wikkid’s axe the majority voted to help us. But as a concession I had to leave with the tribes no matter what the outcome to make up for any potential losses. Three of theirs died aiding the village.”

  “Why didn’t you tell somebody? At very least you could have told me goodbye.”

  “Both my parents were dead, and I was young, stupid, scared, and ashamed. I think that qualifies as not being in the right mind.”

  “You had no reason to be ashamed Dredrik. If you had not brought help as quickly as you did things would have been much worse.”

  “They were on their way here anyway,” Dredrik argued. “It just would have taken them awhile longer to arrive.”

  Dredrik cautiously slipped his tunic back on. “I ran Eitreen. They raped and murdered my mother right after cutting me free.
I had a chance to do something and I ran.”

  “You were ten. There was nothing you could have done. Your haste saved me from being the next little girl taken into the building for their twisted pleasure. I saw you personally thrust your father’s sword into the man that abused your mother.”

  Dredrik sighed, “That was vengeance, not bravery. I ran him through from the back. Then I gathered up my father’s armor and horse, the armor for me the horse as tribute for that snake Jarred, and fulfilled my end of the bargain.”

  Eitreen stood up and caressed Dredrik’s head between her hands and touched her forehead to his. “You did nothing wrong, and I forgive you for whatever it is you feel you did. Now, enough about the past, you’re here now so what brings you back home?”

  “Would you believe me I said we’re running?”

  “You’re joking.”

  “I wish I were. There is a whole lot of bad heading this way and I’m not sure exactly how much time there is. Is it possible to speak with the village elders, council, or whoever is in authority tomorrow?”

  “It should not be too hard to arrange. The weather has everybody trapped in doors with nothing to do but eat drink and gossip. We’ll make a party of it.”

  Dredrik shook his head. “They’re not going to like this.”

 

  . . . . .

  “That’s a lot to swallow,” a young man in his late teens stated in response to Dredrik’s tale, “especially from strangers.”

  The meeting was arranged quicker than Dredrik had thought possible. It helped that Eitreen and her staff of three served breakfast to all that attended. The way things were going he wondered if she should have broken out the ale as well.

  “He speaks the truth,” Vessa said backing Dredrik. “I may have not witnessed the siege myself, but I was in the Dukes camp when all hell broke loose there.”

  “Assuming this is all true,” said an older woman with graying hair and frail frame. “One, what can we do about it, and two there is no guarantee they are coming this way. Veegal’s Wall is many leagues north west of here.”

  “Sure, there is a chance that they will bypass the smaller villages and head to Veegal’s Wall first. But sooner or later they will back track and secure their winnings. Only a fool would just assume that rebels were not lurking around making plans to strike,” Hadrenn stated in a cool even tone. “What will you do then?”

  “We are prepared to defend ourselves,” another young man protested.

  “Were you not listening boy?” Wikkid asked. “Between the war camp and Montrel Harriman had nearly five thousand troops and conscripts at his disposal. They lasted two days. Unless you have several legions hidden in the wilderness along with an army of magic wielders you won’t last minutes.”

  “We do not plan on causing trouble for whoever may rule these lands,” the grey haired woman argued. “It is not our place to care on those matters. We keep our heads down and mind our own business nobody will have reason to harass us. Trying to make a stand is what destroyed this village last time political unrest hit eastern Eebrook.”

  “I only see a few options available. First is to surrender and hope for the best. This village has tried that before. Second,” Dredrik held up two fingers, “make ready to defend and as you said keep your heads down and hope to go unnoticed and pray that when they do your new overlords are not slavers. Three,” Dredrik now held up a third finger, “pack up everything you can carry and leave with us for Veegal’s Wall when the weather breaks. If Veegal’s Wall holds you all can restart somewhere in western Eebrook.”

  The room immediately erupted into several heated debates, in some cased appearing as if people would come to blows when Eitreen slammed her goblet down hard on the bar as she called for silence.

  “We need to discuss this in an orderly fashion. Jumping down one another’s throats will accomplish nothing. We have governed this town as a democratic council for many years now and we will handle this crisis in the same way we always have. Everybody will get a chance to speak that wishes. Afterwards we will vote on what do about it. Dredrik, what chance does Veegal’s Wall have of holding?”

  “I do not know,” Dredrik answered honestly. “The royal army has the largest collection of magic wielders ever assembled until now, and they have an extensive arcane library at Calington to fall back on for information. With any luck they will find a defense. It will take a good amount of time to move an army from Montrel to Veegal’s Wall. And the weather should slow them down even more. The sooner we can get there the sooner we can help them come up with a plan.”

  “Everybody that is not a citizen of this village needs to clear the building,” the elderly woman ordered. “That includes you Dredrik, you have no say here. Frankly the way you abandoned us all those years ago you are a far cry from the man your father was. We will send word when we have reached our decision.”

  . . . . .

  Dredrik fumed. The last comment made by the old hag had stung him deep, but he could not argue with the statement. That was probably what bothered him most. He stood with his friends around a fire pit that was kept burning in the market square just outside the Galnath inn each attending to their own thoughts.

  “You have been quiet Wikkid.” Dredrik said at last more to avoid his own thoughts than for conversation. “What do you think?” For the first time he got a good look at the square in the daylight. The buildings completely encircled the area with their back walls all facing outward. Where there were gaps, spiked fences as tall as the buildings filled the spaces and heavy gates were located on both the east and west sides along the road. A fallback position he realized. Last stand in case the village walls were breached.

  “There is not much to say. In the larger scheme of things it does not matter. Either they come or they stay. Whatever their decision we have to leave soon.”

  Dredrik simply nodded in agreement. Wikkid was right as usual. “I dropped my armor off at the smithies at daylight today. If anybody else has anything they need attended to I suggest you get it delivered.”

  “Perhaps there is a way to get a message to Veegal’s Wall much quicker,” Eertu said as he warmed his hands over the roaring fire. Vessa can send a telepathic message to her sister in Calington. She delivers the message, the mages in Calington research a response and sends a message to the Wall.”

  Hadrenn shook his head. “She told me last night something is still interfering with her link, and they have the highest telepathic rating. She says the bond is still there, but she has no idea whether what she is sending is getting through our not, but she is receiving nothing.”

  “No matter their decision it would not hurt to offer our assistance in advancing their training further. Either path will benefit from what we can teach them,” Wikkid added.

  “Agreed,” Dredrik said. I trust you can set up a training regimen for the villagers. “If nothing else it might keep Hadrenn out of trouble if he is busy.”

  “Wouldn’t bet on it,” Hadrenn said. “A village full of unattended women. Still just my luck to find heaven and we are too busy avoiding an apocalypse to enjoy it.”

  “Eertu, something about Vessa gave her immunity to whatever overcame the camp. It could have been luck, could be something else. Get with her and see what you can sort out,” Dredrik ordered.

  “Will do,” Eertu said glad to have an assignment that kept him indoors out of the cold.

  “Make sure to assign me duties in the training as well,” Dredrik told Wikkid.

  “No Lad,” Wikkid turned to the sound of the inns door squeaking open. “You have healing to do.” Eitreen and Vessa stepped outside and made for the fire. “And I’m not just talking about your burns.”

  Dredrik could swear the dwarf was smiling beneath that beard of his. “Now how is that fair to Hadrenn?”

  “Hadrenn takes his pleasures whenever they arise. Even I find time to relax now and then. You,” Wikkid poked a finger toward Dredrik, “have been worrying about everybody else
for the past eight or nine years.” Wikkid lowered his voice, “you may soon be our king, but here and now I am senior to you in this tribe and I am ordering you to take these next few days as the gift they are.”

  “Alright,” Dredrik surrendered. “I’ll do as you say Milord.”

  All four turned to face Vessa and Eitreen as the came close. Both women’s faces were unreadable.

  “The villagers have decided to stay and see it through,” Vessa Began. “They do not wish to abandon all they have worked for. The two of us may not agree with the decision but there it is. I however will be leaving with you. I must reach my sister.”

  “Will you not come with us Eitreen?” Dredrik asked. “Staying here is pointless.”

  “I’m sorry Dredrik, I stay with my people.”

  It took all Dredrik’s restraint to not curse under his breath. Here he was with a chance to change the past, and it’s the people who vote to remain in harm’s way. Even those who know this is a bad idea would stay out of loyalty. He could not fault them. He would do the same for the tribes. The entire village had signed their own death warrants and there was not a thing he could do about it.