SFL 3 - Defiant Heart - Chapter 4

Chapter 4

Contrary to Gunnar’s expectations, the patrol-captain insisted that he speak with Casey that night, now that the healer had seen to him.

It turned out that Lucas, despite being a ‘sensible man’ was still firm in his insistence that he needed to debrief Casey. Though, from the way Gunnar was growling, Casey felt it was going to be more along the lines of an interrogation, for which he honestly couldn’t fault the man.

The only concession that the patrol-captain had made was that Casey would be allowed to rest for a few hours to ensure the healer’s poultice took, but he was expected to report before dinner that night.

It shouldn’t matter that you showed up at the ‘suspiciously correct time’ to save people, or that you have no history with the Oaken Horde or someone to vouch for you, Maude grumbled in his mind as Casey stood stiffly with Vibeke’s help. The fact that you rode into the camp the other day doesn’t mean you are well enough to be walking right now, either!

It’s fine, Maude. I’ve had sergeants and commanding officers before that were equally set in their ways and suspicious of anything. I’ve got Magnus and Vibeke helping me right now, and this isn’t even the worst that I’ve been injured and had to walk, Casey replied mentally as he caught his balance.

Vibeke had helped him get his boots on before helping him stand, leaving Casey in just his still-bloody and tattered pants from the fight, as Gunnar had told him not to try and change his clothes yet, since it would require too much bending and twisting to do so. Casey’s bare chest showed the small collection of scars that he’d managed to collect since coming to this world, but the large bandage over his side obscured most of them.

The one thing that he refused to let Vibeke help him with was buckling Maude in her seax form onto his hip. The familiar weight of the leather belt and the wooden sheath put more iron in Casey’s spine, and he straightened up. His side throbbed dully, but he had refused the golia leaves to dull the pain when Gunnar had offered them to him.

Magnus made a grumbling huff behind Casey, and he turned his neck to glance back at the big elk. The Gladewalker Elk had been stripped of his riding gear, the saddle, bridle, and other riding gear lying in a pile beside the bed Casey was using. He'd been debating trying to ride Magnus to the other man’s tent, but didn’t want to deal with the pain of mounting and dismounting if he wasn’t supposed to be bending.

Gently, the elk shifted and bumped Casey’s shoulder with his thick forehead. The spreading rack of antlers—with their still-living berry-vine winding amongst the tines—enveloped him for a moment as the normally testy animal gave his support to Casey.

“We got this, buddy,” Casey said quietly, getting a grunt from the elk in response.

“I’ll be right there to support you if it’s needed,” Vibeke insisted from her spot by the door. “I’m still nowhere near done repaying the life-debts I owe you, Casey.”

“I told you before, Vibeke. You don’t have to worry about those. I just did what was needed,” Casey replied as he turned back to her. But Vibeke scowled at him, her forehead wrinkled in annoyance.

“Then you should understand that I need to do this. We are both drengr, and I will repay my debts to you. I’m surprised that more of the aspirants aren’t clamoring to do the same.”

Likely because they are still dealing with the shock of the situation. Vibeke is stronger emotionally than they are, Maude suggested to him. Casey took that idea and repeated it for her, getting a faint blush from Vibeke before the spearwoman led him outside the tent.

Before, he’d been too injured to appreciate the impromptu camp along the border and the speed at which it had been set up. Now, Casey studied the sprawling cluster of tents that housed not only the patrols, but the aspirants they had rescued as well as the captives that had been taken. More than two dozen of the rounded tents sprawled outwards, encircling campfires where people talked, tended their equipment, or cooked.

A large, cleared area to one side of the camp was filled with pairs of warriors sparring, and Casey was again treated to the sight of dozens of spirit beasts roaming peacefully amongst the groups.

A bear the size of a Volkswagen Beetle filched scraps from one of the women cooking, while a trio of massive hawks perched on reinforced logs while their riders carefully preened their feathers. More of the bears slept in a big pile in the sun on the far side of the sparring ring, while the distant shadows high in the sky indicated that the other birds were on watch at the moment.

On the side opposite the sparring area, over half a dozen of the flying longships were moored with their sails furled and waiting while several drengr stood guard or puttered about on their decks.

Everyone in the camp was a drengr—Casey could tell from the varying pressures of power that had been pushing down on him this entire time. Every person he looked at had the confidence and build of someone who knew the craft of combat or a skill related to battle. Even the people stirring large pots of stews or tending to baking loaves of bread by the fires.

“Impressive, isn’t it?” Vibeke murmured as she fell in beside him, their walk slow to account for Casey’s injury. Moving jarred it, but he was careful and had Magnus on his other side if he fell for some reason.

“Yes. I think the last time that I saw this many drengr in one spot, it was back when I visited with the Silver Hammer clan before my first Fomori hunt,” Casey said while studying the people moving back and forth.

He spotted the Oaken Horde aspirants, all clumped together at a trio of tents towards the center of the circle. They were obvious from their tattered clothes, bandaged wounds, and the lack of quality equipment, but even they had an upbeat air about them.

Wonder how long that excitement will last, Casey thought idly, hooking the thumb of his left hand behind Maude’s hilt out of habit to ensure she could hear his thoughts.

Probably until the testing begins and they realize that they still have to strive for a position in the clan. But for now, it will help them recover from their wounds. Hopefully, they will not let this excitement overcome them, Maude replied blandly. I see several that are more reserved, but those were also the ones who fought when we were attacked so I expect nothing less.

“You mentioned that before,” Vibeke continued, ignorant of the conversation going on between Casey and his partner. “You also mentioned that your friend was aiming to join the Roaring Mountain, too. Most times, clans would be upset if their strongest left the clan to seek their fortunes elsewhere. But the Roaring Mountain has a very specific skill and mindset that it needs, so many aspirants end up returning to their former clans regardless.”

“That is something I’ve wondered about: how they are treated when they come back. Are they looked down on because they attempted to leave the clan, or simply accepted back in?” Casey asked while they navigated between two tents.

With Magnus alongside him, they were beginning to draw stares, but Casey ignored them. The elk could have the attention. He just needed to make this report and then he could rest and have dinner.

It would have been nice to appreciate the chance to sleep in a cot rather than on the ground, but his previous bout of unconsciousness had been disrupted by the vision with Loki and his family. So Casey looked forward to being able to rest properly tonight and savor the comfort.

“Most are still respected, though I wouldn’t be surprised if some are derided for the failure. It is human nature to judge others, regardless of whether it is right to do so,” Vibeke replied thoughtfully, gesturing to one side to guide him towards the tent the patrol-captain was waiting in. “The Roaring Mountain has a very specific set of duties and goals, so those who dare to join it are often the best of the best. The opportunities and resources here are many, but so are the dangers. So it takes a brave drengr to rise to the risk of even attempting it.”

“Or a desperate one,” Casey sighed, biting back a grimace as his side pinched when his footing shifted over a thick tuft of grass. He didn’t need to catch himself on Magnus or Vibeke, but it still ached.

“There is that, but those tend not to make it to the meeting. It is held at the center of the Windsong Valley, and unless you can find passage on one of the airships, you have to travel on foot,” Vibeke explained. “Thankfully, you should have no trouble with that since you are with us. If they try and make trouble, then I’m sure Harald, Toric, and the others will all take issue with that.”

The weight of the camp’s stares was beginning to pile onto Casey’s back, but they were nearly to the tent that Vibeke had indicated, so he kept his back straight and walked with as much confidence and poise as he could muster. It helped having Maude whispering encouragements into his mind and Magnus trotting along with his normal, jaunty irreverence of his surroundings.

Vibeke skipped ahead of him when they got within ten feet of the rounded tent and rapped on the post that marked the doorway with her spear haft.

“Enter,” barked a man’s voice from inside. Vibeke held the tent flap for Casey, which he thanked her for with a nod before ducking inside.

The hand that sat on Maude’s hilt tightened, just in case this supposed debrief was some kind of elaborate ruse, but his eyes adjusted rapidly from the bright exterior to the still-bright interior. Several baldrsteinn hung from ropes strung over the center of the tent to illuminate it, the glowing stones a milky white and shedding steady light over the desk and the man who sat just off center of the room.

“Casey Sullivan, reporting as requested,” Casey said when the man looked up at him. He took three steps into the tent and came to a stiff stop, both thumbs hooked into his belt and back straight.

Behind him, Casey heard the thump of Magnus’ hooves as the elk followed him in. The large animal’s antlers entered his vision from the left moments before Vibeke came to a stop to his right, spear leaning against her chest as she waited. Casey noted that she had a far more relaxed stance than he was locked in and wondered at that.

Drengr are not treated with the same protocol as your old officers were expected to be, Maude explained to him while Casey studied the patrol-captain.

The man at the desk was broad-shouldered with a shock of sandy blond hair draped over his shoulders. His big hands looked like they would be more comfortable wrapped around the hilt of the greatsword leaning against his chair rather than the quill pen he was wielding currently. A leather tunic dyed dark green wrapped his shoulders tightly, with the symbol of the Roaring Mountain embroidered on the breast.

As the seconds stretched out, Casey let his awareness wander and took in the details of the tent in order to get a better feeling for the man in front of him.

The cot was made, blankets and furs laid neatly at the foot. A traveling bag sat at the head of the cot while a simple armor rack behind it held a suit of chain intermixed with iron plates that radiated qi, telling Casey that the man in front of him was clearly well off enough to afford such protections.

“Sullivan… I don’t recognize that name,” the man he assumed to be Lucas said, his tone curious and demanding at the same time.

“I came from quite a long way off,” Casey answered simply. He couldn’t tell this man that he’d been brought to this world by Loptr—not if he expected to be believed, which would be impossible without proof.

“What lands do you come from?” Lucas asked, pulling a fresh sheet of yellowed parchment from a bundle at his side and making note of something on it.

“Distant ones,” Casey said. When the man turned a hard look at him, he elaborated. “I’ve traveled a great distance, and I don’t know the names of all the lands I passed through. But I made contact with the Silver Hammer and they directed me to the Roaring Mountain as the best place to go to grow my strength. I recently passed through both the lands of the Bronze Fist and the Oaken Horde. I was unaware of the feud between them, or else I might have taken a different route.”

“But your goal was Windsong Valley?”

“Yes. A man I trusted directed me here.”

“His name?”

“Einar Riggsson.” Casey wasn’t sure if dropping Einar’s name would matter or mean anything. The big man hadn’t put on any airs or appeared to be someone of note in the clan, but he figured it wouldn’t hurt.

Lucas made another note of something before looking back up at Casey. His hard eyes drifted to the Gladewalker Elk that stood calmly beside Casey before moving back to him.

“Your name tells me that you are not of the Nation.” The man’s words were not a question, and Casey fought back the urge to growl at the suspicion in his tone.

He knew that people of the Nation used ‘-son’ or ‘-dottir’ depending on their gender to honor their parents, but he was proud of his name. It was the one thing he had of his parents, since it’d been written on the forms at the orphanage. But he couldn’t remember or find records of his parents' actual names, just that they’d written his family name on those forms as ‘Sullivan.’

“I am an orphan,” Casey said stiffly, anger still finding its way into his tone. “I have been alone for nearly two decades.”

That statement, coupled with the angry huff from Magnus, made the man’s stern visage crack, and the ghost of sorrow passed behind his eyes. Lucas nodded silently and wrote something else down.

When he looked up at Casey, there was a new respect in his eyes, and his voice was gentler when he asked the next question, explaining things better as his suspicious attitude faded.

“Explain to me how you came into the company of the animal beside you, and what events led up to you meeting with our people and assisting them. I need all of the details you can give me about the altercation between our people and the Bronze Fist, as this is part of an urgent report I’m sending on to my superiors.”

If it was urgent, why did he demand you come to him instead of just taking the report from your bedside without risking further injury to you? Maude hissed acidly inside his mind. He could tell that his lover was not swayed by the more contrite attitude of the commander, but Casey had a feeling that he understood.

He probably suspected me of being a plant, or maybe an agent from another clan with a vested interest in furthering this conflict. Why he’d think that, I’m not sure. There are enough people who would corroborate the story already among the survivors and his own people.

A low growl from Maude echoed in his mind before he felt her restrain her anger and then respond with a more thoughtful tone to her irritation.

That is possible, and it is also probable that this isn’t the first time something like that has happened which has led to him being jaded. But a commander should know better than to let such biases cloud his mind.

“Excuse me, sir?” Vibeke interjected while Casey was arguing with Maude. The spear-woman twitched when the man’s stern gaze turned to her, but she continued confidently when he gestured for her. “Has Healer Gunnar already told you of the supposed holmgang?”

“He has, and I want Drengr Casey’s account of that as well,” Lucas said with his upper lip twisting in a disdainful snarl. “I have already made a note of it from the reports of my drengr who saw the aftermath, but many of the captives are too injured to question at this time. We will be sending them with the report to the clan enclave, but his recounting will be helpful in discerning fact from falsity.”

“And I expect I’ll be asked to report on what happened when we get there as well?” Casey asked dryly. This statement was rewarded with an amused snort from the patrol-captain, who squinted at Casey before answering.

“Yes. It is good that you know the way of things. It shows you understand the expectations of the command structure.”

The unspoken question was easy enough to spot, and Casey decided he could hedge an answer to it.

“Before I set off down the Drengr’s Road, I did train to become a guard. That training has helped me survive thus far—as well as the knowledge that to stop growing is to begin dying.”

Huh… Maude mumbled in his mind. I like that phrasing. Maybe I’ll use it to prod at my uncle when he’s next found in a mead-soaked haze. His wife would know when to best apply that motivation, and Auntie Sif would definitely appreciate the stick with which to prod him.

Casey had to smother a laugh, imagining how her ‘Uncle Thor’ might react to such encouragement. Maude’s teachings on the gods were helping him recognize her idle references, and he could only hope that Thor’s attitude would be friendly.

The last thing I need is one of the gods angry at me, Casey thought before setting that idea on the back-burner. He took a moment to order his thoughts to handle what was in front of him, using the techniques his lieutenant had taught him to organize the report before he began speaking, starting at the beginning of the ‘trouble area.’

“I had passed through the edge of the Bronze Fist territory and been directed to follow the road that paralleled the river and head towards the Roaring Mountain territory when a massive storm blew in, forcing me to take shelter in a cave…”