Chapter 2 - Ride of the Red Wolves

Gann hummed hoarsely along with the the catchy melody for few moments but it trailed off his mind. Riding by the rear flank, he kept looking over his shoulder aware it has taken Magan and the others too long for a scouting pass. They should have studied the enemy and returned unseen unless the enemy had drawn them further away in the forests. His horse nickered to disagree with his qualms and Gann patted its neck, returning to the present moment.

Seeing the battle turn in their favour, Magan digs his heals into Ealing. "I commanded you to surrender, not run!" He lashes out with his axe as they swing past, giving a vicious slice, deep into the mans armour. Wheeling around in front of him, he clatters him around the head with his shield the strike rings out true against the man and Ealing continues the run away, taking a reflexive strike from the axe of the man as she goes. It digs deep into her armour at her haunches, but only spurs her to move faster.

Goewyn kicks her heels into the flanks of her horse to close the distance between her and the fleeing men. Once close enough she stops and takes a deep, steadying breath before letting one of her arrows loose. The projectile whistles through the air followed by a hollow thunk sound as the arrow penetrates through the man's skull, the head protruding from his ruined eye! He stumbles mid-stride as he tries to scream in pain, but he just collapses to the ground as blood and fluid began to seep from his wounds. Goewyn wastes no time in kicking her heels to the horse's flanks once more as she rides hard to work on closing off any escape route for the remaining warrior!

One more fallen, and now only one remains. Guthric was intent to stop his one, he needed to know how foolish he was before he died. The Pict rode hard and cut him off, swinging his blade down. The man was ready, though, and brought his shield high. Guthric responded with a kick to the shield, but the man held firm to his footing. " Your friends, what were their names?!" He shouted down to the lone survivor.

"You'll never know!" The man snarls back, lunging at Guthric with unexpected speed. This warrior is clearly a veteran of many battles. He feints right, before, in fact, attacking on the left. The first swing of the axe thunks deep into Guthric's gut. The Pict raises his blade to block the strike, but it barely takes the edge off of the impact. Before the Guthric can react again, the blade has been wrenched free again in a spray of gore. With a roar of exertion from the Pict's attacker, the haft falls across his sword arm, severing it below the elbow. Staring in shock at his severed stump, Guthric topples from the saddle as the rapid blood loss sends him cascading into darkness. Guthric takes 32 points of slashing damage, reduced to 30 by parry, reduced to 22 by DR -> 0/16 Wounds, 0/35 Vigour. Magan's action.

Magan edges Ealing closer. "Guthric!" He points to the man, "We are on horseback and have bows. Lay down your weapon and let me heal him, and I will not kill you this day. A fairer deal than you deserve. Surrender." 

The man spits, hefting his shield in Goewyn's direction while he brandishes his axe at Magan. "You, you who fall upon us like wolves while we rest, would talk of fairness and what I deserve? Fight me man on man and we will see who deserves the fairer deal. Or will you hide behind your bitch on her horse?"

"We have bested you in combat already, and I speak for the gods. You are noone and do not have the right to challenge me. Drop your weapons or be cut down."

The man laughs raggedly. "I would sooner have you bleed and watch your friend die before you send me to valhalla."

Goewyn draws her bowstring back and spits towards the man as she sights down at his crotch... As it becomes abundantly clear this man would not be surrendering, she narrows her eyes and releases the arrow. The projectile streaks towards the warrior's manhood and he barely has enough time to block it with his shield as the head pushes partly through the shield. "Leave him be, or the next will take off your cock! If you touch him I swear you shall not see Valhalla!"

The man laughs manically, knowing that these moments are his last. He glances between Magan and Goewyn, looking each of them in the eyes as he hefts his axe and brings it down through Guthric's neck with a dull thunk .

"I, Magan Aethling speak for the gods and I curse you here and now, to never have a seat in Valhalla. Your afterlife is to be one of eternal torture and torment." Magan's voice is steely cold and emotionless. "Your head shall be buried with your face in your buttocks, and your eyes fed to the rats. So I decree it as hand of Vadir and as Prince of Wessex." He spurs Ealing into a slight trot, at an angle just past the man, stowing his axe and drawing his final handaxe, he flings it as he passes, one of the finest throws of his life, the axe finds the gap between shield and nan and sinks deep into the armour on his chest. He follows up with his shield as Ealing passes, ringing it off if his head.  "And so you will die as a coward, caught between two warriors and unable to find more blood for your axe."

Goewyn's heart drops into her stomach as Guthric's head rolls away from his shoulders. "Guthric!" She cries out releasing her arrow almost immediately as Magan's charge. The warrior is spun around perfectly with the blow of Magan's shield as the arrow head pierces deep into the warrior's groin, destroying his manhood! Blood begins to flow freely as he warrior looks up into the cold eyes of Goewyn before he topples over, dying. She immediately kicks the flanks of her horse into a full gallop and skidding to a halt next to the warrior. She takes his weapon and flings it away from his hand. "There shall be no honor for you, coward." She spits in his face. "You shall face an eternity in the cold halls." She yanks the arrow free to make the blood pump more freely. She then turns to the body of Guthric, feeling very numb. "Magan... he... What could we have done? We should have saved him... He must be given a warrior's fire."

Magan nods. "He fought with honour and the gods took him. Who is to say when we will earn the place reserved for us in the warriors halls." He looks up to the sky. "Only when our work here is done. Then may we enjoy the same honour that awaits him now." He takes a moment more in prayer before he sets about gathering the bodies of the fallen and checking the situation with the horses before seeing whether any of the men still breathe. 

"We should gather all the horses and their equipment. Should we bring Guthric with us? Or should we build his pyre here?" She stabs her seax into the heart of the warrior near Guthric to ensure he was truly dead before she moves over to assist Magan with checking the others. "Do we try to bring any back alive or just finish them?"

"We still need to question them, any that have survived we will bind ready for questioning." Magan ponders for a second. "These two were given a chance and denied it though, we'll take their heads and place them in their asses that they may never feast in Valhalla. I would not have them sully its halls." He looks at Guthric. "We should burn him here, amongst his vanquished foes, that is where he stands the best chance of being summoned. Tonight we feast and tell tales of his battles and victories, at least those we are aware of." 

Goewyn nods and immediately moves to task, quickly checking for any signs of life in the other four warriors; any that she finds still breathing will immediately be stripped of all weapons and tied tightly with any rope she can find. Moving through she finds only two have perished, the archer she felled and the bastard who killed Guthric. The rest she ties up, very tightly and calls out to Magan with her findings. "Magan, four yet live! Their breaths are weak, but I could likely rouse them with my skills should we need. You should save you magics for yourself." She nods towards his several wounds. "I am glad you still stand with me. Come, let us gather Fang and Claw, they should be honored with their master." She also starts to gather up the remaining horses and any equipment found upon the hilltop and making a pile near Guthric's body. " Once we have what we need, we should take their armor. It would be put to good use with our people. Especially this one..." she points at the fellow that once wielded the massive axe. "This is good armor."

"They were well equipped. Better than we ever expected." Magan works alongside Goewyn. Stripping the equipment, and sorting what can and can't be used,and what Guthric must have for his pyre. As they work through the possessions, a piece of paper falls out. Magan reads it, takes in the implications for a moment before holding up his hand to Goewyn to stop.  " This may not be quite as we thought. This man deserves his curse and the cowards burial, for how he stood in open defiance to the call of the gods and for his murder of Guthric after he was fallen. The others though, shall be given proper respect. They are not who we thought after all and they gave honourable battle."

Kara continues to ride and guide the caravan along, for the time Magan and the others have been gone some ground has been gained. Some, but not much. While she was a decent enough leader in the short term, without anyone who was local to guide, she was not wishing to over rush anything. She calls to Gann "You are from here yes? How much longer to this place we are heading? Many ship lengths ?"

Gann rides up his horse to align with Kara when he hears her address him. He is still looking around with a tensed look on his disheveled face, and he answers her with a delay. Magan and the others had delayed longer than he expected them to. "Nay. Ei come from the North." He pauses, scarce of detail but. He looks over the wide-open hills on the left, and the faint course of the Severn river past them and it's thinning and curving line like a snake. "Ei has known only of Caer Odor, but it was a mistake to go there. The other places across these lands, Ei know nothing. We ride for a while, we should soon come to clear land."

This makes Kara frown, her brow furrowing in thought. While they had no knowledge of the fate of the others, surely they could handle that few of men, cowards at that, in such a short time. Perhaps the delay is in part due to how far they had to chase them. However, they kept moving, though Kara did have some of the newer guards check back and forth a bit more. While not panicked, it was clear outside of the general direction she knew not where to go. "Do you think one of the new ones have this knowledge? The best way? Surely the road is not just straight there?"  She queries, unsure of who and what would answer that. Magan and the others would catch them faster due in part to being able to ride, the only limiting factors being Guthric and his hounds.

Goewyn works with Magan to quickly begin stripping the clothing, weapons, and armor from the warriors. Once they have been stripped and bound she begins to line them up and draws out her seax. She grabs hold forcefully on one of their manhoods and just as she is about to slice the appendage from his body Magan calls for her to stop. Goewyn looks at him with a frown. "Why?" She listens to his explanation, but the frown remains. "Who were these men, then, if not with the slavers? Did we just kill warriors that had nothing to do with our goals?"

"We killed warriors who were here to take one of our own. They were sent for Gann. Now, I need to go warn the others so they don't pass us by and continue up the road. I will return soon, will you be OK to continue here?" Magan takes several of the horses, loads them with the armour and weapons and silver they have recovered, and heads to intrrcept the caravan. 

Gann nods affirmatively to the Norse woman and turns to ask a few of the men in the cart, first in rough and chiseled Mercian, then in Northumbrian. He read the expressions among the slaves and whether they showed keen interest or knowledge of the region. He moves to Eadwyn's cart with the same question, gathering all information he could, even piecemeal.

It takes Magan less than half an hour to ride west towards the road. Ealing can be seen by those amongst the caravan as they crest the hills to the east.

Goewyn stops and looks at the dead and dying men, shrugs, but does as Magan asks. "You shall have it. Then it would seem we do not need them for questions. I shall end them cleanly then prepare them for a proper burial. Go, gather the others, I will be okay here." As Magan begins gathering the horses, Goewyn points to the horse she rode in the battle. "Leave that one for me, I claim that horse as mine now. We flew together." She smiles towards the beast. "You deserve a name."

Gann has been going from cart to cart, collecting what others knew of the region around them when he glances over the shoulders or a woman and his keep eyes recognize a fast approaching speck among the hilly terrain. He takes a deep breath to confirm his senses did not deceive him. A lonely returning horseman spelled a grim outcome that clenches on his stomach. "Kara!" He raises his voice with a hoarse lisp and without waiting for her more than calling for her attention in the same direction, he rides among the carts to intercept the lone rider. Only as he approaches he recognize Magan returning alone, and his dread boils down to drive the horse to gallop faster. "Magan-- what happened? Where are the rest?" Fearing the worst, Gann's eyes are wide open and focused, and his jaw open and nostrils flared, ready to hear the worst.

Magan greets Gann warmly, let us speak with Kara too. When they tide back to speak with Kara, he doesn't dismount nor hide the message from those who would listen.  "We met six who wished ill on members of our group up in the hills, we defeated them in glorious battle. 5 were cut down before Guthric was summoned to join the gods in Valhalla. Goewyn and I, defeated the final man, and now she prepares the funeral pyre. Tonight we feast on Guthrics honour, and tell tales of his battles that the gods be reminded of his worthiness." He hands the train of horses over. " Unload the supplies to the carts, there is a slight widening of the path up ahead, we will place the carts in a defensive circle, set a watch and send hunters to collect food for the feast. Those who knew Guthric can come to help the ritual, but we may not leave the wagons unattended."

Gann silently listens to the short digest and hardens when he learns of Guthric's dauntless fall. He had few memories of seeing the man in battle but the loss spoke of the ferocity of the skirmish more than anything else said by Magan. "Will be done." He nods to confirm Magan's orders and guides the horses towards the carts, leaving him with Kara. On the way back to the train of carts, he dismisses few inquisitive men among the group and leads the supplies to the cart where he brings news of Magan's wellbeing to Theli and Isolde. Then he passes the orders to the cart drivers and the outriders.

Kara looks at Magan darkly. She knew there was nothing to prevent the call of those into the halls of the honoured dead, but sometimes foolish moves made it so. The issue was that while she could be mad at Magan for this fools errand, at the end it may have been for the best. They had overcame a force twice their size, and one lose from that is a great victory. "We shall feast and make many joyous noises to Freya for the blessing among  us that was Guthric!" There was plenty to be learned from this, and more than anything blame would be ill placed and ill advised. Better to let it go, for even fools can be right.

Listening that one of their rescuers had joined the eternal sleep Eadwyng says. "I want to hear all about this battle Magan, so I can sing a song that make the valkiries come down for him to guide his path to Valhalla." 

Magan nods. "He deserves no less. I will tell you of the battle as we travel."

After a short ride east, Magan and the warriors accompanying him arrive back at the hilltop where Goewyn watches over Guthric's pyre.

Goewyn spots the riders before they spot her and she waves them over; by the time the group returns she has stripped all armor, weapons, and belongings from the dead men and finished off any that were still breathing when Magan left. The weapons of the men Guthric killed sit next to his body, now made relatively whole near a pile of wood she could best find to construct Guthric's pyre. The rest sits in its own pile. She turns to "You have returned, this is good. I ensured those who had earned a spot in Valhalla were given an honorable death with their weapons in their hands. This one..." She spits on the corpse of the dishonored warrior. "He shall have no such place of honor, he shall freeze in the halls of Hel. Come, I need help getting Guthric into his place of honor."

Gann repeats the instructions passed from Magan twice to those he trusted to carry them well, Hrothgar and Aldwulf among them. Fortunately, his solemn expression drew no questions from any of them. Then he rode back to the group waiting for Magan just as they turned to depart. When he overheard the freedwoman reach out to Magan with her genuine offer and he confirms it, Gann slows his horse by her and leans to offer a firm hand to pull her behind him. "Come ride with us." He glances at the others as they turn to ride east, keeping his thoughts and memories of Guthric to himself while others spoke of his battle glory on the road until they see the figure of Gloyn in the distance. The sight of Guthric's cold body matted with clotted black blood, the vicious cuts, and the dismembered arm placed by to complete his body by the pile of weapons to accompany him in greatness left a deep impression in him. He has faced death countless times - an ugly, mangled death that consumes you - but there was undeniable power in the departure of a great warrior honored by his kin, who had blazed a burning path of bravery and savagery that had earned him a place in the far, and led by the Great Stag beyond the veil of the night he would be welcomed among the god spirits in their grand halls. He had been witness to such honors carried only twice before, and every time the solemn, proud, satisfied face of the sleeping man who had lived a life of hardship and pain but also glory and honor-- finally awaiting his hard-earned glory. Such sight always had become etched into his memories, a simple treasure to be never lost and remind him to strive at all times. Gann jumps off his horse as she speaks, hurrying to help her set the pyre. He wished they could afford the time to prepare a higher pyre, so the pillar would elevate above the sky. "Gloyn, let us join you in preparing his chariot." Gann approached her, then looked back over his shoulder. He meets the looks of Magan and Kara before finally speaking his heart. "It pains me that I knew very little of Guthric. There was something in him that made me hear the call of old and the wild, the might of our ancestors lived in his blood. Ei raised a blade by him only once and I shall never have the honors to do that again. Your stories of his great deeds and brave triumphs will help me know him better, and remember him as he were... a true warrior, and a friend." The last word stung, for he remembered the moonlit night at Wansdyke and the warm shoulder that the large pict had offered to a limping dog of a man who stood by unable and unwanted. He clears his throat and gets to work.

Magan joins the others in helping construct the pyre. Telling the tales of the battle on the pirate ship, the battle at Wookey and beneath, the battle to free the slaves and the battle where his ultimate death came. When the time came to light the Pyre, he stands by solemnly for seceral minutes before declaring it time to celebrate the life by living it, and to send Guthric to Valhalla with the sounds of feasting and drinking and joy. He leads the way back to the rest of the caravan, hoping they have done well in their hunt, and to find Theli to celebrate life as only the living can. 

Gann frowns as Magan tells everyone of the ferocity and overwhelming power they had faced today, and the sacrifices made before the blood spilled satisfied the gods and turned in their favor. He feels the blunt guilt of an able man who had ridden aloof acres away unable to aid his kin in a defining moment but keeps respectfully quiet and only nods to affirm. He remembers the heft and the sheer quality of the equipment now safely stored in the chests at the carriage, and he tries to think of the implications of a formidable enemy and the logistics involved to avoid further skirmish before they had found their men missing. This consumes him during the last moments as Guthric's ashes succumb into the pyre and are carried high into the sky, and he blinks back only to hear Magan's call for festivities. He stares into the last of the smoke before quickly joins the others. On the way back, Gann rides by Gloyn's side. Out of pure instinct, Gann looks at her for any signs of injury rather than what men would rather find in a young woman. He can see an arrow tear in her clothes but little else. "Are you unharmed?"

Eadwyn rides with the others and solemnly helps them prepare the pyre. She takes from her bag something that she had been working on since they were freed with a dried pieces of a pig's skin, skretched around an old small barrel of ale. It wasn't the best quality or big enough drum but that will have to do when the ceremony begun. She waited there, ready to honor Guthric and help his soul enter Valhalla.

Goewyn listens to the speeches given about Guthric. She had not known the man long, beyond that he was a powerful and fearsome warrior. She was quiet during the ride back until Gann approaches. "Just a few bruises, maybe some cuts. I have not checked beneath my armor yet. Much better than, Guthric, thankfully. I was worried there for a time, these were very skilled warriors..." she trails off as she looks meaningfully at Gann and slows her horse, waiting for him to do the same to create distance between them and the others. Once the others were far enough away, she saddles up close to Gann. "Gann... these men, they were here for you. Why? Tell me no falsehoods. Do not dishonor me and Guthric. I must know the truth. I will keep your truths to myself should you require, but if you do not..." She gives him a dour look as she leaves her threat unspoken.

Gann nods relaxed, her words confirm what he saw. But when Glöyn slows her horse to half pace and she turns at him with a direct question, Gann's whole body tenses so sudden that the horse reads the wrong command and stops in place, shaking its mane. In a frigid moment of cold mindless clarity, Gann experienced the terror of waking from a nightmare and breathing relief in the cold of the night only to feel the night staring back at him and the immeasurable weight of another nightmare crush him beneath its weight. He whizzed through his busted nostrils, exhaling hard. Mouth agape, his lips traced a voiceless "Na." before the rush of throbbing blood flooded his head. He died because you didn't you mangy worthless cur!! Gann shook his head, beseeching release of the first tide of guilt. "Ei am a wanted man, Glöyn." He spoke with a dulled voice, only trembling once before he reaffirmed reign over his breath. He rode forth, keeping with her pace. Only now he could put in the context of his early apprehension the number of men and the equipment they shared. Six. Six! Last time they were only two, none heavily barded. "My Lord Ocg Eopping believes Ei am at fault of the death of his one appointed heir who Ei have sworn to protect with my life and will stop to nothing to see me split by steeds or have my head on a pike before madness claims him. Ei am running away for three seasons now, but My Lord's thirst does not quench." His voice runs out of air, even such a simple speech consumed all his composure. He felt no fear, the clear images of his fate held no meaning anymore, but only the clasp of guilt around his neck. You flea-ridden, twice-cursed pig-mastiff, he died because you had not half of man's cock to accept death when you deserved it. His eyes squint to slits, wrinkled, and suddenly very tired. "This is the truth, Glöyn. Do with it as you see. Magan should also know."

Goewyn watches Gann quietly for a few moments, weighing her words before she spoke. "Gann, we cannot control what others do... only what we can do. You did not kill, Guthric, those men did and our choice to attack without speaking first." She sighs. "I will not violate your trust, but you should speak openly to the others. We are together for a reason, the Aesir have seen to this. We will not abandon you to this man or any of his assassins. They will fall before us like these men did. They do need to know why though." She leans in close with her spear and pokes him with blunt wooden end. "Dread not on the past. We can only move forward, Gann. We have others relying on us. Without you and me, these souls are damned and lost." She grins.

Gann rode silently beside Glöyn. While she spoke softly the words echoed distantly in his head as if bounced between cliffs. The memory of Guthric's face, weathered but satisfied in his final ascension to glory was carved into the retinae of his eyes. "Ei will speak to all who'd listen tonight. They need to know why." He nods to her to confirm this, taking the blunt poke of the spear without reacting to it except the edge of his lips relate with a faint smile that quickly dissipates. He was left numb and without words. He made her quiet company until they had returned to the road and soon enough would reach the carts where the others must have set camp.

Kara awaits the return of those gathered, not unaware of the task ahead. As the one staying behind, she went ahead and waited until they had a decent enough stopping point, and had started the directing of setting up camp, along with a watch schedule. It would not hurt to be to cautious at this point, and if anymore awaited those warriors the rest of the company have slain, some warning is better than no warning. After ensuring everything was set and they had a defendable spot to stop at, she set about making it decent as could be had on the road, and had those who knew of campaign help out. Upon the return of the rest of the group, she would have set up at least a few fires for meals to be cooked over, along with checking any stores of wine they had. By any luck maybe someone has some proper beer, not this piss water they call it. A good ale would make the night better!  But after checking, Kara is unable to find any beer, but at least she had some honey left, so a few sweets could be made. 

When they approach the camp in a good location and busy with preparations for tonight's camp, Gann separated away from Gloyn without a word and dismounted. He let his horse find fresh grass for itself and then settled on the edge of the camp by the stump of one of several secluded birch trees. Gann collapsed down and rubbed his head against the warm texture of the tree bark, the langseax firmly posted like a pole between his two legs, then he rested his forehead on the little stump that served as the weapon's guard and tried to think. His rough wrinkled hands squeezed on the sharp blade so he could feel the sting of the blade through thick skin. He needed to put his mind in order for tonight was an important one and he had to be strong and honest with Magan and the others, and not dishonor the glory of Guthric. But he just couldn't slow down the race in his heart. Six. How many next time? A score? Two scores? He found such thought a path to madness, for he was no lord and no ruler to have war waged for his head. But he found it also revolting, the price of his weakness should not have been paid by worthy men, or even mere ceorls. He imagined villages burned in their path, ultimately unstoppable vengeance beyond his mere strength to lift that blade and dance to steal one more breath before his blood spills to mix with the mud and the worms feast,... and the twrch has its claim on him. His heart clenched at the last thought, and for the first time since he stared into the blue oceans of that boy's eyes, he felt fear. He knew that moment he should had slain that boy... slain that boy the very instant it spoke, before it had laid its foul curse on him.

The caravan is subdued as the sun finally falls below the horizon. A friend was lost this day, though many had not known him long. His memory is spoken of fondly, but many of the slaves are unsure how to behave in the situation. Once the evening meal is passed, most begin to head to their bedrolls to rest for the night.

As the camp livened up with hungry and tired people gathered to get their meal, Gann walked past them and joined the rest of the Red Wolves by the campfire. Like everyone else was looked tired, his leather jacket unbuckled and tilted on his shoulders. For the most part, he was silent, only joining occasional recent stories to confirm what part he remembered well. As the flames in the fire dulled their tongues, he stirred in a moment of silence. Gann leaned aside to draw something from under the wool tunic underneath. "The men we fought today, they were after me. Ei encountered the likes of them twice before, each time I had survived by the sharp of my teeth only, but never so many and well-armed. Last time in Caer Odor, they employed a mob. It was their beasts that had my leg and would drag me to the worms, if not for you." He spoke with a solemn and resigned voice. He looked down at the massive iron ring in his hand, his only belonging of significance. He rubbed off some grime off its surface with a broken nail, then offered it to Gloyn on his right, to pass around if needed. "They are hired by My Lord Orc Eopping of Bernwick, a true son of Great King Ida of Bernicia. Ei has been his thrall all my life. The spirits of the sky and the gusts directed my hand one day to save his son's life, and Lord Eopping was gracious to grant me a calling and send me to serve and learn from a master of the blade." Gann halted, skipping over the insignificance of his past. The truth mattered. "Ei served his son Aldheim to my best ability, protected his life, and his honor. The Lord's heir enjoyed a precarious life and made more enemies than allies, and there were too many of his blood in Bernwick and across the North." He runs out of air, inhaling deeply. "Ei was to be his judicial combatant in a dispute of insult with one of his cousins Aldric. He had a Welsh fighter, a very big one, too strong. Ei lost. But Aldric demanded my sword arm and the Welsh one wanted to make mocking of me, so he made a mistake..." Gann remains silent, reliving the cadence of events after that. "The mistake was mine, Ei was a coward and Ei couldn't accept the death that day. No way I could have known that this Aldric and the Welsh man shared their loins and bed, and the vengeance had blinded him beyond reason. Whilst I recovered out of the castle, Ei learned the news that Aldheim was gutted like a pig and the old Lord Ocg had fallen ill in bed by the news. I took the advice to leave that night and have been running ever since." He halted his hoarse speech, staring into the dance of the shadows by the waning fire.

Magan listens quietly to Gann's story. "And so it is that you know." He rises from the floor, reluctant to leave Theli's side, but the lessons of his childhood stuck with him and he knew this was a time he had to show strength and leadership. Though his muscles ached from the battle, things like these had to be met immediately and with power and grace, or division and discontent would rise in his followers. "I had hoped we could address this tomorrow and more quietly." He says in hushed tones to Gann as he passes. "And so it was also known to me." He raises his voice to address those listening to the story. "Indeed we chased 6 men today, believing them to be after all of you. As it came to pass, they were after just one of our number. But the action is the same. You ride with me. Magan Aethling. Hand of Vidarr. And you ride under my protection. The protection of all others here. I hearby publicly  pardon you of your past transgression Gann, with the blessing of the gods and the authority of the saxon lands and will hear no argument to you being returned to Lord Ocg." He looks upon Gann with sympathy and warmth before turning to the rest of the campfire, circling as he speaks. "And from the rest of you, I ask only for the same honesty, that we know who may come from you, that the errors of your past may be forgiven here in my camp, that when you travel with me you may also ride under my protection. That you aid in that protection of your other companions here. And finally that you pledge yourself to the cause, with no earlier endings in mind." He holds still, testing his command of the crowd, waiting in silence for several moments. "If you have mind to speak, step forward to do so to me tonight. I will be at the steps of my wagon to hear your pledges or admissions of your past guilt." He takes Theli and Isolde and leaves the circle of the campfire, taking a drink and some food to share with them at the steps of Branok's wagon.

Gann sat there exposed to everyone within hearing distance, beheld of memories and regret, and for the first time in many moons he had his story forced of him and it felt like a relief, even if an ill-advised one. Only when Magan stopped speaking and turned for the wagon he was sober enough to understand the wisdom that Magan had whispered to him but it was too late for that. He collected his ring and put it where it belonged, then reached for his untouched cold meal.

After a few minutes to see if anyone walks towards the wagon and Magan Eadwyng finish her ale, takes the bottle  and walks over there.  "That was a good speech Magan" she says after approacing him. "Don't you worry I am not here to confess any pass shame or crime, except to be so damn stupid to let that bloody slavers catch me unaware. " she offers the bottle to him " But what can I say? I took to many that night. I just wanted to say that I am really sorry for the death of your friend, and that I will like to join you one we reach our destination. You lot seems interesting enough and perhaps your history deserves to be tell in the proper way, not only by drunks in a tavern, but for someone who is able to really tell histories, right?"