Chapter 2 - Ride of the Red Wolves

The slow, inexorable creep of the sun up over the eastern horizon floods the rolling  Sumortūnsǣte hills with morning light and paints the sky red. Dawn has come to Wansdyke The distant sound of a cockerel crowing echoes about the village. Farmers creep from their hovels and the day begins. In the longhouse, Pen stirs, shakes out his fir and scratches himself. The mutt looks about, and sees Fang and Claw still snoring by the fading embers of the fire. He trots over to the door, stretches, and paws at it, whining for Gawen to let him out. The hall reeks of mead and ale after the events of the night before, leaving many in a haze that makes it almost feel like it was all just a drunken fever dream. However, the proof is plain for all to see: a thin white line that scores across the front of Theli's throat, where once it had been rent asunder, and the golden strands that intertwine her natural platinum blonde. For some, this is just the beginning. For the others, the woven strands of fate that have brought them here stretch far behind them. Magan, Gawen and Kara all go to level 4.

The cold morning air grips Magan as he quietly wakes Theli before lifting Isolde into the wagon, doing his best not to wake her. That night he had slept better than he had in a long time, the worry about Theli dissolved along with most of the guilt. His concern for the direction they should take had melted too. He found rest in conviction and purpose, even if it was with a sense of urgency. He stirs the others, declaring a cold breakfast of leftovers from the night before was all they would wait for. He is quickly atop his horse, leading the column as they depart the village. A little further down the road he drops back slightly to talk to Branok on the wagon. "Branok, I know you did not intend to venture much further with us, but I was hoping now that the events you saw yesterday may convince you to remain with our cause. I think there could be no holier pilgrimage you could make than to help us see this through. Gods know we benefit greatly from your companionship and experience."

Branok lets out a low chuckle, his breath misting in the cold morning air as he drives the carriage. "Magan, in the last week I've seen more wondrous things than in the last twenty years,"  the old man replies, before glancing back towards the carriage and its occupants. "I've also grown quite fond of the little one," Branok admits, "a child can never have too many people looking out for it." Returning his gaze to the horizon, the man sighs as he thinks the invitation over. "I would like nothing more than to accompany you on the road ahead. However, while  I am a free man, this carriage belongs in Tintagel. We should arrive in Caer Odor by mid-morning. Perhaps if I can find a trustworthy servant of the Gods, they can return it to its home."

"Is it not the property of the gods? To be taken to do their work? We can send the money back to Tintagel." He gestures at the chest of silver behind Branok.

Branok arches an attitude at the utilitarian perspective. "Perhaps," he answers with scepticism. "I fear the silver would be a more tempting prospect than the carriage itself, and even if it did reach Tintagel it would be some time before the new one was ready. They have already been without it for over a week. I cannot help but feel a little guilty."

Gann snaps awoken with the same coiled instinct as the day before, then he nods back to Magan and gets quickly on his feet to join the rest in their preparation to leave. Stretching his sore shoulders and neck at any opportunity, he also puts his leg to the test. While the combat stance holds firm and the foot braces well, even a short brisk pace to the horses to saddle the one offered to him and back, the throbbing pain starts to build up from the ankle joint above that prevents him from running. Gann checks on the wound and though it looks hideous he finds nothing wrong with it. He sighs and seeks a clean bandage from Glöyn, then goes to clean the used cloth at the back of the house. Ei should be grateful to the Moon for watching over me heal , he scolds his impatience, not whimper for I cannot run with the wind. If ròd cridhe deems me worthy to run, then I shall run again. He exchanges few nods with passing by locals and children who curiously observe a stranger from a distance, then joins the rest on a quiet breakfast. Before they leave, he helps clean and leaves the place as they had found it. When the carriage and the horses continue the well-trodden road north, Gann felt the weight on his past return and that voice crawling inside his skull. Last night he ended drunk from the sight of wonder and the stew of overwhelming feelings, many of them thought extinguished, faster than the thick residue of ale could. Yet as he sobered and the direction the group was heading was now clearer than morning dew it all caught to him at once, his heart sunk and his eyes darkened. You should tell them. See if they still welcome you with an open hand. Gann glanced over the shoulder at Magan busy with Branok, both discussing the road ahead. Not the time, Gann thought. It is never the time, but your time may be short. Tell them. Maybe they will change road, Gann argued. They won't, and you know it. He turned his attention back to the road and then he noticed the beautiful eyes of Isolde idly watching at him from the edge of the carriage. Gann froze caught in the innocence of the moment, then realizes his unsightly looks and turns away to put his mind at ease. You should tell them. Or your life is more precious than theirs, or than hers? Gann choked the voice and threw it to the depth of his conscience then looked up the overcast sky ahead, heavy with the burden of dark grey clouds that he knew all too well watched upon at him at this very moment.

I doubt they can have more holy a purpose for it than we do, but it is your decision." Magan shrugs. "We can easily buy another instead." Leaving Branok to consider, he rides back out to his place at the front of the group.

Gann overheard Magan's horse pick up speed behind him, and he knew the moment was ripe and no delay would bring peace to his mind or impel the inevitable. No more arguing with one's own shadow was needed to compel him. He felt the calm that only came as he held the weight of steel in hand.  "Magan." His gravel voice is quiet enough for Magan to hear. Gann loosens the reign to let the horse slow down, tilting head aside. "A word with you, mayhaps."

Pipping up on the walk, Kara calls to Magan "The old man is trying to do the holy thing, something we may soon be without. Let him have the peace he wants for now. Besides, have you mentioned to anyone the other places I alone need for our journey? WE have many stops yet my fearless leader."  Her tone was playful, but the message to Magan in Norse was clear. They had smaller stops before they could hope to compete against the invaders, and Magan knew that, or Kara prayed he did. Truthfully ever since that night she has been worried about what happens if she fails to reach those locations, not for her sake so much, but would it cause their whole mission to fail? Or is it a distraction in place to prevent them from timely reaching the coast? She did not have her answer yet.

Magan shakes his head at Kara. "He can do as he wishes, but it must not delay us, and we need the silver chest for men and arms." He does not stop to talk with her though, but looks to Gann, bringing his horse in line with his.  "Yes Gann, you have my ear." 

Gann waits for Kara and Magan to exchange pleasantries before raising his voice again. "We ride to Caer Odor , do we not?" Gann quietly asks Magan, eyes on the road ahead. He had probed before, but he knew too well he could not be trusted a moon ago. "It is unwise for me to set foot there. It shall be the death for me, and trouble for you and those you protect."

"The road takes us there, though I would avoid entering if we can. Cities cause us nothing but delay and I prefer to be in the wilds and moving. Once we cross the border I will look to begin recruiting from the saxon lands of my father." He shrugs. "Though in this it depends largely on the decision the priest arrives at."

Gann nods, finding welcome relief in Magain's plans as far as he understood them. "Ei see." He continues to ride silently, occasionally glancing at the carriage that judders on the uneasy road.

Guthric makes his way alongside the wagon with Gann. He whistles and waves his hounds to hop aboard, then waits patiently for Magan to break away naturally.  "Good news, eh? But you don't like towns, yes?" The Pict's words are slow, but deliberate, and accentuated by a bass tone contrary to his age. "I come from forests and like it there, but we found you dying in one, so it is not for you?" The last bit seems as much a statement as a question. "Maybe I am wrong, I am sorry, but why don't you like people?"

Magan who was just riding on ahead drops back again. "Guthric makes a good point. What do you fear in Caer Odor? It would be useful to know who may do us harm if we enter the city, or even if we venture close."

Gann's face hardens and few more wrinkles form at the ridge of his eyes. He could swear his words were meant to Magan but either his voice was too worn out to speak in private or the bulky Pict had the ears of a woodland stalker. "Lord-ruler Ocg Eopping of Bamburgh whom Ei has served for all my life blames me for the death of his firstborn heir Aldhelm whom Ei has been sworn to protect." Gann's voice is hollow, lacking any remnant of emotion. "M'lord had sent men of the black cloaks to right this wrong before old age and feeble mind claims him. Ei had encountered them twice since on the run, and it is a miracle I took their lives before they had mine. The third time they wisen and put silver bounty on my head and employed a mob in Caer Odor. They thought to drive me out like a fox out of its den. It should have worked, a poaching beast had my leg and I was lost in Wookey Hole. I made an oath to the spirits to do with my life what they will."

Magan nods, deep frown line on his face. "Thank you for telling me. We will keep an eye for suspicious people. I hope to avoid the city anyway."

Glöyn was one of the last and slowest to rise... cursing and grumbling at Magan when he roused her early. She stumbled to her feet and immediately emptied the contents of her stomach as the vile liquids inside danced and leapt in anger! It was several moments before she was fit to do anything but retch and while she felt better for it... her head throbbed with an awful vengeance of angered spirits or Gods... she suddenly recalled and regretted her words of witchcraft. She said nothing more the rest of the morning, subsiding on cool water as best she could and chewing on some leaves of peppermint and lavender while she rode quietly upon her horse. As the other spoke, she slowly moved her mount towards them looking pale and utterly miserable. "I could ride ahead and check into the city to get a feel of it's mood." It was the first time she had spoken and the act was poorly timed as her stomach lurched miserably and she bailed off the horse just in time to vomit once more. She wiped her mouth with a gasp of pained agony. "Never again will I anger the Aesir and the spirits...." Another dry heave. "Gods... who could enjoy this?" She slowly sips a small mouthful of water and pops more herbs into her mouth.

Guthric laughs loudly at Glöyn attempt to appear ready for a ride, "Stop that, you would only be good for falling off your horse and distracting them. Please, let me go instead. I can at least find a nice path around."

Gann reads Magan's expression with the white of his eye then says nothing. He maintains riding pace and occasionally turns around to survey the treeline by the road.

Kara claps Glöyn slightly to hard on the back, laughing while doing so. The taller wan seemed to enjoy the younger woman's pain, if only to mentioned "One should not drink with the men until they have partied before with them. Heard it is how many a child have been made. Sometimes our place is to not keep up with the men but enjoy it to our enjoyment"  The words were in the broken Saxon she knew, which was a bit halting and unsure sounding, different from her previous smooth words to Magan.

"Nobody rides ahead into the city. That action lost us Prasutagus, almost lost us Theli and Isolde, and though we did not separate by choice, Felix is still unaccounted for. Gloyn, Gawen, Guthric and I will take turns riding out in pairs in the wilds for food and to scout. Other than that we stay together. Today Gloyn, you stay with the wagon. Guthric and Gawen will take care of the foraging until we camp, ride ahead and see what you see. If you cannot find enough I will go again while you set up camp."  Magan's words a firm and decisive. No question that it is an idea up for debate. 

Gann saw himself useful in a few of the tasks ahead of them. "Ei will stay by Glöyn. Four eyes see wider than two."

Gawen nods, happy to let Magan's experience dictate the terms of their travel. The journey thus far had been more eventful than he had expected. A cautious approach was prudent. As he and Guthric ride ahead to forage for supplies, he asks his companion, "Guthric, do your people tell stories of skinchangers?"

The Pict smiled and gave a chuckle, "The first time I heard that word, I was gone from my people for weeks. We tell stories, yes, but like you would tell of the things your father did, and his father before. They are known and loved because their spirit runs with the Great Wolf." Guthric's hounds follow close, eager for the hunt. "My people have been kin with wolves for as long as we remember. It is why some are special as you say. There is no reason for why some are chosen. It is...common, but not too much."

Glöyn glances back at Kara's amusement, not quiet understanding some of the words she strange north-woman said in the Saxon tongue. She nods as she straightens her back, climbing back onto her horse, and quietly accepts Magan's instructions. She nods slowly to Gann as he takes a spot near her, offering a small smile at his assistance. She rides quietly for a time, allowing her herbal remedies to work on the nausea which continues to threaten to overtake her and drinks small sips of water to ease the burning in her throat.

The small convoy of riders passes a number of farms and small villages on their way north. The sky is grey and the weather damp, and few others are to be seen so soon after dawn. It's still early in the morning when the group reaches the top of Dundry hill and sees Caer Odor lain out before them. The city sprawls along the river Afon, a dense cluster of civilisation, surrounded by farmland for miles around. The ride downhill is easy going, and soon the carriage is rolling down the rutted track between buildings into the city proper. Branok guides the horses with an experienced hand, directing them towards the old Roman temple down by the river. Gann, on the other hand, can't shake the prickle on the back of his neck that says he is being watched.

Gawen rides most of the way in silence, still mulling on the events of the previous night. Sleep had not come easily, even after they had retired, and his dreams had been vivid - and were what had prompted his question to Guthric. As they start to enter the city, he keeps a close watch on the people they pass, Magan's misgivings having reminded him of the dangers that populated areas presented. "The temple there - that is where we're headed, Branok? Do you know much of this city?"

Gann has none of the peace of mind to appreciate the grandeur beauty of the open fields and quiet farmland. Since they crossed the last treelines of the Wookie woods, he had been surveying the distance and reining over his racing thoughts of his last time crossing these plains. His nervousness pass to the horse that lets an uneasy neigh. "Magan, Ei must have my blades back." He turns to the leader of the Red Wolves. Had he had the opportunity, he would have chosen a better time for such a request. "Ei am naked without them, and nothing but a burden to you all." He prods his horse to turn aside and then looks back at the carriage. "If any of you have a hooded cloak I may use as we pass by Caer Odor, I would owe you. Ei am not welcome in this land."

Magan nods, the thought of returning Gann's possessions hadn't occurred to him.  "Of course, when I offered for you to join us, standing side to side with us I meant it. Your weapons are in the carriage, there should be plenty if cloaks there too. I can help you to disguise yourself and evade notice if you like?"  He looks over to Branok. " Have you had more time to reflect on what I said before? I still think it safest to avoid the city, but if you insist then I ask we go direct to the temple, give them money to buy a wagon and send it back and be on our way. Nobody is separated or out of sight."

"All that needs to be done." Gann nods to Magan accepting his offer, then guides his horse towards the back of the carriage. He quickly hops off his horse and checks among the belongings there, nodding awkwardly to Theli and Isolde seated inside who may still regard him as a stranger. He finds his langseax first, the feel of the fur-wrapped blade reaffirming. It takes some time to find his hunting knife, and he picks one of the cloaks commonly used as bedclothes. He puts the strap of the sheath across his belt, listening to Magan address the priest. His eyes dart between the two, the idea of entering the city feeling ill-advised with him. 

Branok nods to Gawen with a smile as they ride. "Yes! I've been here many a time. It's a fine town. With a little luck we can find ourselves a wagon of some kind, and then this carriage can be returned to Tintagel." The old man glances across at Magan. "Of course, if we don't find anything, then we can simply leave the silver at the temple. If I can do the Gods' work, and do right by the people of Tintagel, then why wouldn't I? What makes you so fearful of people, Magan? Arthek is dead . Nobody is hunting you."

"Arthek worked for a man, with the ability to see things. And he was hunting those tokens. More will come." Magan whispers to Branok. "And besides, they were not the only misfortune to befall us. I prefer to risk nothing. I will take you into town, we'll bring Isolde and Gloyn too. Gawen would you prefer to join us?" He turns to the rest of the group. "Gann, you will stay here where you are safe. Kara will be with you, Guthric too. Keep Theli safe." He opens the chest in the wagon and scoops out handfuls of coin placing them in small bags and handing them to Branok and Gawen. "Branok, we do not take the wagon into town. Just horses. We will give the money to the temple to send a wagon back to Tintagel, we cannot linger longer to make the purchase ourselves."

Branok grumbles to himself, but nods in acquiescence. He pulls the wagon off the road near a small copse of trees alongside a field between two dwellings and calls Isolde out. The little girl hops down with a stretch and a yawn. She's slept most of the morning in the carriage. Pen also leaps down and starts dashing in circles around the horses, yapping frantically at anything in sight.

Fang and Claw perk up and rush after Pen to romp around. Guthric hops down and takes up his bow and quiver, "There is a thing I used to play. Does anyone want to try?" He takes aim at a tree fifteen paces away and fires an arrow at the trunk, "Hit mine, see?" The Pict fires another pair of arrows coming within a foot of the first. "Magan, I need things when you come back, please."

Kara looks at Magan before leaving, knowing she can not change his mind, but also understood the need for urgency. She watches Guthirc stay back at the wagon with her. She was not as skilled with an arrow like that, commenting "I have no good aim like that. Good skill to have. It is why carry big shield. Less of me to.. to..."  She then mimes the hitting of an arrow on to her armor. She then turns and starts digging into the cart. Upon being back with the others makes her think about the journey so far, and while reflecting, she starts to look at her own spare sets of armor, along with her two meager outfits. After a few moments, she calls out to those still gathered "Do cloths have holes? Sword?"  Grumbling to herself in Norse, still having not mastered this cursed Saxon language fully, for she was unsure if they got her point. She had a few holes in her changed armor, and while it was a backup suit, her previous armor was less effective if not everything worked properly, and she had no way of getting new.

Gawen nods in response to Magan's question. "I'll join you in the town... Pen can stay here with Guthric's hounds though, likely as not he'd just cause trouble if he comes with us."

Gann measures the distance from the Pict to the arrow he flew and is about to accept Guthric's challenge if none other would, but he notices Kara close in and steps aside. Though Magan's promise made slow headway, to stand within a mere foot away of the chosen of a god-spirit awakened his ingrained mentality of a servant. "Ei may be able to do some repair." He carefully voices an offer after Kara raises her concern about damaged armor, and after seeing the extent of the damage. He was certain they had none of the equipment that would have made it an easy task but this was not the first time he had used his calloused hands as pliers. It would take a long time and it was an evening worth of effort but possible. "Later Ei might move some edge rings on the damage if you let me."

Branok packs the silver into the saddlebags of one of the horses and helps Isolde up onto its back, before mounting up himself. "Ready to go, Magan?"

Magan nods.Mounting Ealing he gives final instruction to the others.  "Stay out of trouble and keep a low profile. We will be back before long."

Gann raises a hand to wish them well. "Rhwydd hynt." He waits for the group to ride off towards the sprawling city before the before scouting around the carriage. He then approaches Glöyn to see if he can help with the scouting. 

Isolde's eyes grow ever wider as the three riders make their way into the heart of the city, and the masses of people grow ever more dense. Bristol is a hub for trade between Wales, Breton Dumnonia, and the Saxon kingdoms to the east. This diversity is plain to see across the market place and especially closer to the docks. Men and women of all creeds and walks of life come together here to buy what they need and sell what they do not. Eventually Branok leads them up to a wooden building much like the temple of the Aesir in  Caerwysg , though significantly smaller. The old man pulls his horse to a halt outside and dismounts, before helping Isolde down and tying the beast up. "We are here," he says simply. "Do you care to join me, or will you wait outside?" Back with the others, Theli keeps to herself in the carriage for the most part, although she does lean out the window, watching Guthric's antics with interest.

"We will join you Branok. Please, lead the way."

Branok opens the door and wanders down the nave of the temple. It's dark inside, but for sparse candlelight, and appears to be empty. Decorative arches of wood stretch over the top of the pews. The old man heads towards the chancel in search of the vestry. "Theo?" He asks in Saxon as he sticks his head around the door. "Is that you?" "Branok?" Comes a surprised reply. "What are you doing this far east? I wasn't expecting visitors from Tintagel." "I'm taking my leave for a time," Branok explains. "The Gods call me east... and the errand demands a carriage. I have one - my temple's, by rights. They will need another. I have the coin for one too, but the carriage must reach them. Can you help?" Theo steps out of the vestry and gives Branok a sceptical look. He looks to be in his late 30s or early 40s with a greying beard and hair tied back in a pony tail. "You have the silver for a carriage ? Thor's beard, Branok, where did you get that?"

Magan stands half a pace back from Branok, allowing him to speak uninterrupted. 

"My friend Magan here sold his boat," Branok explains, in what is a very approximate, but socially acceptable summary of what happened in Caerwysg . Theo glances furtively over Branok's shoulder at the imposing Saxon, before shrugging. Coin is coin. "So... that bag of silver, is for a new carriage for Tintagel, and you want me to pay for one and get it there?" Branok nods and Theo nods back. "Sure. I can do that." Branok looks to Magan and Gawen for the silver and for confirmation that this is acceptable to them. As those watching the carriage talk and play games, a sizeable caravan of travellers can be seen heading down the road in their direction.

Magan gives Branok a nod of encouragement restless to continue the journey. He stands arms folded, most of his attention on Isolde, the rest glancing at the door, thinking on the bags of silver strapped to the horses. At the signal from Branok he steps back outside, removes the sacks and hefts them over his shoulder to bring them in for the priest. 

Gann's blood freezes in his veins as he becomes aware of the approaching group, counting five riders. Not again. He swiftly steps aside to put the carriage between him and the approaching group and hisses raspily at Kara and Guthric in order to draw their attention. He tilts his head over the edge of the carriage to communicate directly without words. Then he swiftly hops on the carriage and enters inside, giving ample time to Theli to accommodate to his proximity and move aside so he doesn't brush against her. Haven't spoken to her since he saw her wounded for the first time, he makes an open hand gesture that he has no intentions, then draws the same open hand to his face and touches the index finger to his lips. Then he crouches, hand almost certainly ready to go to the grip of the weapon and tries - through awkwardly - not to move to maintain the stillness of the carriage.

Kara sighs softly, more upset about the worn damage to her dresses than anything. It was hard to find long enough dresses as was, and now they were moving, who knew when they would have to play social again? She turns to answer Gann about repairing at least the little bit of damage done, and suddenly he is gone, replaced by riders coming in. Not being sure of their intent, nor if Magan had the group on a back road or not, Kara got her sword and shield at the ready, and then checked the surrounding area for signs of anyone having followed them, thankful that Guthric was close by at least. She would at least be ready to fight, but she did have the dresses and armor still out, so it would dampen suspensions.

Theo's eyes go wide when he sees the heavy sacks of coin being lugged into the temple. "Well, you weren't joking... I'll see it done, Branok. You have my word." The two men shake on the promise and briefly embrace one another. "Be well, Theo," Branok replies, before heading back out the door and towards the horses with Magan. "So, you're keen to keep moving, I assume?"

Gloyn remains near the back of the group with the girl Isolde. She keeps one eye trained on the little girl, but another on the people and town around them. She sometimes takes Isolde's hand and points out different herbs they notice around the area, explaining to her what they do and what ailments they are good for curing. She occasionally twirls her about like they were dancing whenever she seemed like she might be getting distracted by whatever sights or sounds or smells came from the city... She always kept a smile on her face, but her heart ached dearly for her little brother and whatever awful fate he was suffering... 'Will he be like this one? Forgetting how to speak after such horrors?'