Year 102 A.C.
POV: Denovan
Sten looked at my axe, then at me, and let out a tired sigh, but with a clear depth of respect.
"You fight like a demon, Thenn boy..."
"Denovan... that is my name," I said, removing the blade from his neck and extending my free hand to him.
Sten stared at my hand for a second, measuring my sincerity, and finally accepted it, using me as support to pull himself up. He brushed the snow off the furs he wore and whistled for the Shadow-cat, which was still recovering from the blow to its ribs.
"I will take you to the tribe," the old man declared.
"Thank you," I replied sincerely. I walked over to where Sigrid's sword had fallen and picked it up, feeling the balanced weight of the Thenn steel. I walked back toward Breu, where my sister was staring at me with a mixture of relief and contained anger.
I handed the weapon to her by the hilt. "Thanks, Sig. I don't intend to do that again."
"You'd better not!" she grumbled, grabbing the sword forcefully and shearing it into its scabbard. "You're an idiot, Denovan. What if the cat had jumped at your throat while you were playing at being invincible?"
"I wasn't playing, Sig. I knew exactly where its paw was," I said with a half-smile, mounting Breu. "And it worked, didn't it? Now everything will be much easier."
We began to follow Sten and his warriors through the colossal pines. On the way, a tall man, almost my height and with broad shoulders, paired his pace with my horse. He had fresh war paint and a defiant gaze.
"How old are you, black boy?" the man asked. "And you have many skins, boy; I've never heard of anyone with more than three. How did you do it?"
Black boy? Is this guy sane? I looked at him with strangeness and said through my teeth:
"Black boy? Don't call me that... My name is Denovan, didn't you hear it before? And I have twelve years," I replied, looking down at him. "And as for how I got them... consider that the gods bless me."
The man let out a boisterous laugh. "HAHAHA! Twelve years? You lie like the bards in stories. I am Jorik, and I would be the next to lead the Nightrunners if you hadn't arrived first. Later, when we are in the village, I want to see if that axe of yours is as fast against someone who still has all their teeth in their mouth."
"Humm... even after everything, you still challenge me?" I said, feeling somewhat amused. "You don't seem like a good leader to me; I hope you're at least a good warrior. And don't expect me to be as kind as I was with the old man... Jorik." I felt Orion growl low at my side, as if he understood the man's audacity.
The man looked half-strange and half-scared at Orion and nodded to me as he stepped back.
Sten, who was leading the way, turned his head back. "Denovan... you know that if my people follow you to Hardhome, we will die of cold and hunger on the way, don't you? That place is cursed for a reason."
"I don't plan to take them now, Sten. And now it's our people, not yours..."
"I only want a few warriors; I don't need more. I will return for the rest of you in a while, once the base at Hardhome is ready."
"Humm... Then what is the point of challenging me? If you don't want us to follow you there?"
"I know that if we all set out together, we won't have food on the way. But I need people willing to follow me when everything is ready. I need people; I can't do everything alone. That's why I'll visit several clans and recruit them for Hardhome..."
"Do you plan to become a king on this side of the Wall?" came a voice from further back; a somewhat young warrior asked the question.
"I plan to make a kingdom for us..." I said, looking deep into the eyes of the boy, who looked at me with a bit more admiration than before.
Maybe I'll take him. I liked him.
"And speaking of which... how many people do you think are in your tribe?"
"Well... I'm not very good with numbers..." said the old man, but just as I began to regret the question, he continued, "every warrior here must have another pair of people waiting in the village, and the warriors who stayed behind as well... they are very numerous. We are the largest clan in the region," the old man said with pride.
I looked around. There were about 20. If the village had double the warriors, that would be 60 warriors in total. That would give around 240 people. It was less than I expected, but I have to check; I can't trust the old man for this.
I sighed.
"They aren't as many as I expected... but six men won't be missed now, will they? I'm thinking of taking a few who are hungry for battle and glory... after all, not all clans will be as fair and as warriors as you are." I said, complimenting them, and I noticed they even stood straighter and prouder after the praise.
"Humm... you may be a warg and a powerful warrior, Black Knight, but my people won't follow you to their death just because you beat me in a duel."
"Our people... I won't repeat it again. And they will follow me. I will make them follow me. I can forge good weapons for you, I can dress you in better clothes, I can give you more food, I can make you live longer... why wouldn't they follow me?" I said in the most arrogant tone I possessed. I didn't even know I could be like that.
"Until you prove it to us, those are nothing but words," Sten growled.
"I won't stay here for long... but I will teach you a few things..."
"I hope you are grateful after that, and await my return. I may take a few years, but I will return to take what is mine by right... but for now, prepare a large cabin. Somewhere my sister and I can sleep peacefully with my beasts," I said, pointing behind me.
We arrived at the village, a collection of camouflaged huts and excavated caves. The smell of smoke and dried meat permeated the air.
I looked around, and they definitely had more than 300 people. I thought of Horus and began to communicate through the bond: 'Do me a favor, friend. You are smarter than them. Count how many people are in the village; I'll give you a succulent piece of meat later.'
Without a second thought, the falcon hopped and flew off across the village.
As soon as we settled into the indicated cabin, Sigrid looked at me impatiently.
"You will explain everything to me properly later; I want to know word for word what you said to them," she said, sounding a bit irritated. Without giving me time to answer, she continued hurriedly: "And you better teach me their language. I hate not understanding anything they say."
"And I'm going out there to handle a 'necessity'... don't you dare follow me," she said, stomping out into the snow.
"Sigh..."
I nodded, but as soon as she crossed the entrance, I closed my eyes for a brief moment. I sent a mental command to the small owl: "Go. Follow her from above. If anything happens, warn me immediately."
I wouldn't enter her eyes out of respect for my sister's privacy, but in that village full of wildlings, I wouldn't be negligent. Perhaps I was being a bit prejudiced, but the customs of the First Men were somewhat dangerous.
Minutes later, I felt an agitation coming from the owl. A pulse of alert.
"Holy shit... already?" I grumbled, standing up and grabbing my axe.
I connected to the owl's mind and saw a scene that was, to say the least, peculiar. They were at the side entrance of the tribe. Jorik was standing in front of Sigrid, blocking her path. He was speaking excitedly, gesturing toward his tribe, while Sigrid stared at him with the biggest face of confusion and hatred I had ever seen.
"I already told you I don't understand what you're barking, you painted idiot!" Sigrid shouted in the Old Tongue.
Jorik, who only spoke the Common Tongue (my English), continued: "You are strong! Skinchanger blood! You will give great hunters to the Nightrunners! I steal you now, Thenn woman!"
I didn't leave the owl's vision, but I began to walk toward where they were. Orion and Kali came with me.
I stopped at a safe distance, crossing my arms and watching. The custom of "stealing women" was common among the Free Folk, but seeing Jorik try to do it with Sig, who had a fuse shorter than a dry twig, was top-quality entertainment.
This is going to be fun, I thought, suppressing a laugh.
Obviously, as a brother, I should intervene. But I knew Sigrid. Her hand was on the hilt of her sword, and Wind Wing was positioned on a branch just above, ready to dive for Jorik's eyes if he tried a sudden move.
If she wins, he learns his lesson. If she loses, I'll break his teeth and show him why nobody touches my blood, I decided calmly.
"Denovan! Help here! What does this retard want?" Sigrid shouted upon seeing me, without taking her eyes off Jorik.
"He says you're very beautiful, Sig!" I shouted back, enjoying the situation. "I think he wants to give you a tour of the village!"
Jorik looked at me and smiled, thinking I was encouraging him. "See? Even your brother agrees! You're coming with me!"
He tried to grab her arm. Fatal mistake.
"Tour my ass!" Sigrid roared, unsheathing her sword in a fluid motion.
"Hehe." I was having a blast, but I couldn't help but egg them both on.
"Even if you beat her, don't consider her yours... Thenn custom is different. You would need my father's approval, but since he isn't here, you'd need mine. So, afterwards you'd have to beat me, or I'd have to see if you're worthy of her," I said in a serious tone, though inside I was cackling.
"Denovan, you bastard! What are you saying? I know that look of amusement of yours! I'm going to kill both of you!" Sigrid shouted, her face red with fury.
"She seems excited, Black Beast," Jorik said in a respectful, almost admiring tone. He seemed truly decided on being Sig's husband. "I will follow the Thenn customs this time, out of respect for you," he added, pulling a bone axe from his hip.
"Sigggg, if I were you, I wouldn't lose... have you ever heard of the custom of stealing wives?" I teased, crossing my arms.
She didn't answer. She just growled and lunged.
Sigrid was fast, much faster than the average wildling. She delivered a lateral slash that Jorik parried with the bone handle of his axe. The sound of metal against bone echoed through the clearing. Jorik was strong; he pushed her blade aside and tried a front kick, which Sig dodged by a hair.
The fight was even. Jorik had the experience of a forest hunter, moving erratically and low, while Sigrid used the refined technique we practiced in the Vale. She spun her sword in an upward arc, cutting part of the wolf skin Jorik wore on his chest.
"Not bad, woman!" Jorik roared, advancing with a series of heavy blows that forced Sigrid to retreat into the snow.
I watched it all, noticing that Jorik was starting to gain ground through brute force. But he forgot one fundamental detail. Sigrid wasn't just a warrior; she was a skinchanger.
From above, a sharp cry cut the air.
Wind Wing dove like an arrow of feathers and talons. Jorik felt the shadow and, out of pure survival instinct, threw his head to the side at the last millisecond. It was enough to save his eyes, but not his face. The falcon's talons tore a bloody trail that began between his eyebrows and ended near his ear.
"AAARGH!" the wildling screamed, clutching his face as hot blood gushed, blinding him momentarily.
It was the opening Sig needed.
She didn't use the edge of the sword. In a swift, brutal movement, she flipped the weapon and delivered a blow with the flat of the blade directly to Jorik's ribs. The sound of snapping bone was clear. Before he could fall, Sigrid already had the tip of the Thenn steel pressed firmly against his Adam's apple.
"Try to steal me again and I'll cut that thing of yours off and feed it to the dogs!" she hissed, slightly out of breath.
I walked calmly over to them, the snow crunching under my boots. The few who were watching fell silent; the Nightrunners looked stunned at their future leader defeated by a girl.
"What was going through your head?" I said, stopping beside them. "Trying to steal a Thenn woman... if this were in the Vale, you'd be killed. We stopped that custom a long time ago. Nowadays, the approval of the head of the family is all that matters."
I looked at Jorik, who was on his knees, clutching his side and with his face bathed in blood. Wind Wing's wound would leave a nasty, permanent scar—an eternal reminder of his arrogance.
"Now..." I continued, my voice dropping in pitch and gaining a guttural resonance. "You wanted a duel before, didn't you? Tomorrow, we shall have it."
A fierce and predatory smile formed on my face. Thanks to the mutations I felt seething in my blood, my fangs were slightly larger and sharper than normal, giving my smile a purely bestial air under the dim afternoon light.
Kali and Orion circled him, growling softly; at that moment they were without armor, but they were no less terrifying.
"But remember, Jorik... it won't be a duel," I said playfully, but with eyes fixed on his, which were overflowing with affliction. "It will be a punishment. Try to touch my blood again and I won't be as nice as my sister. I'll use you as an example, sorry about that."
I turned my back and signaled to Sigrid.
"Let's go, Sig. The fun is over for today. We need to rest... tomorrow I have an appointment with our new 'friend'."
"Hum," she nodded arrogantly and followed by my side.
"Why didn't you intervene sooner? What did you want with that?"
"Well... besides having fun..."
Sigrid gave me a hard punch. "I'm serious, Denovan..." she said sternly through her teeth.
I looked at her, my tone shifting from playful to serious.
"I have two reasons... Jorik has a good reputation here in the village, I want to use it to boost mine, as the villagers don't know who I am; I want to use the duel to make myself known. The other reason is the customs—some customs bother me deeply, and I intend to change them. Wildlings respect and fear the strong, and I will make them respect me, and if I can't, they will fear me."
"It will be one way or another."
-/-/-
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