The Breath of God (6 page)

But Liv squeezed him hard enough to make the air leave his lungs in a startled
Oof!
“You did! You did!” she said, and her eyes glowed. “Couldn't you feel your blade cutting through the links between me and my pursuers? What wise shaman taught you to do that?”

“I couldn't feel anything. Nobody taught me. I didn't even know if I was helping,” he answered honestly. “I wanted to do
something
, that's all.”

She kissed him. “You were wonderful!” Then she smiled at Audun Gilli and Odovacar. “And so were you, both of you.”

You were wonderful
. Had Gudrid ever said anything like that to him, in all the time they spent together? If she had, he couldn't remember it. That made him wonder why he'd loved her so fiercely, and why he'd felt so lost and damned when she played him false. Only one thing occurred to him:
I was a fool, and I didn't know any better
.

“Now—what I saw,” Liv said in tones that brooked no argument. Hamnet Thyssen saluted her with clenched fist over his heart, as if she were a Raumsdalian general. He wasn't sure she understood precisely the honor he was giving her, but she did understand it was an honor. With a smile aimed his way, she went on, “The Rulers muster for war. They have a host
of mammoths and those riding deer they used gathered together at the place we call the Four Breasts.”

“Yes, you said so as you, uh, flew,” Hamnet reminded her. He wondered how she'd recognized it before the thaw set in and exposed the landscape beneath the blanket of snow. He supposed Bizogots marveled that Raumsdalians could find their way through Nidaros' winding streets and alleys.
All what you're used to
, he thought.

“The Four Breasts aren't far north of the Red Dire Wolves' grazing grounds,” Liv said. To Hamnet and Audun, she added, “We went almost that far before we found out the Rulers had set on the Three Tusk clan. So it seems likely they plan to come south, and the Red Dire Wolves stand in their way.”

“What's that?” Odovacar asked. Liv repeated it louder, then louder still. At last, the shaman nodded, though Count Hamnet still wasn't sure he understood.

“How many warriors do the Rulers have?” Hamnet asked. “A Bizogot clan's worth? Three? Ten? Could you tell?”

Liv frowned. “I'm not sure, not when you put it like that. They had many mammoths and many deer—more, I think, than we could keep in one place for very long.”

“Did they have men there, too, to move straight to the attack?” Hamnet persisted.

“Some, at least,” Liv replied. “I'm not sure how many. Their magic tried to keep me from seeing anything at all, but it failed, it failed. That is my land, and it knew me.” Pride filled her voice, and with reason—she'd defied the enemy and got away with it.

“What do we do now?” Audun Gilli asked.

“Talk to Totila.” That wasn't Liv—it was Odovacar. Somehow or other, he'd understood Audun just fine. And he seemed to have found the right answer, too.

 

T
HE JARL OF
the Red Dire Wolves plucked at his graying beard. “They muster in great numbers, you say?” Totila asked Liv.

“They do, Your Ferocity,” she said.

“We have no great numbers here. How could we?” Totila said. “The Red Dire Wolves are what we are—one clan. We also have some of your Three Tusk Bizogots, but not many—and even those we have trouble feeding.
How can we hope to stand against a great host of foes, with strong magic? Would we not be wiser to move aside and let these enemies pass through?”

“This is a coward's counsel!” Trasamund cried.

Totila eyed him. “You are in a poor position to tell me what is best for my clan when you think on what happened to yours.”

Trasamund turned red. “We were taken unawares. We would not have been if I were with the clansfolk and not down in the Empire.”

“And whose fault was that? Did someone steal you and drag you down to Nidaros?” Totila could be as sarcastic as a Raumsdalian.

To Hamnet Thyssen's mind, though, the Red Dire Wolves' jarl asked the wrong question. The right one was,
Even if you were there, even if the Three Tusk Bizogots were alert, how much difference would it have made?
Hamnet feared he knew the answer, which wouldn't have gladdened Trasamund's heart.
Not much. Not much at all
.

“I was trying to get help for us,” Trasamund said. “I did my best to bring the Bizogots together and warn them there was danger coming down out of the north. We stopped here on our way to the southlands, by God. Did you want to listen?” He laughed. “Not likely!”

“Well, who would have listened to a mad, wild tale like the one you were spinning?” Totila retorted. “I thought you were lying through your teeth. Anybody else in his right mind would have, too.”

“And he would have been wrong, and he would have paid for it,” Trasamund said. “And you were wrong, and you are wrong, and you cursed well will pay for it. So what the demon is being in your right mind worth?”

They scowled at each other. They both squared off into positions from which they could easily grab for their swords. With Bizogots, quarrels often ended in blood, not words. A fight here, though, would throw the Red Dire Wolves against what was left of the Three Tusk Bizogots and the Raumsdalians who'd ridden north to help them. Neither Trasamund nor Totila seemed to care.

“Have they both gone crazy?” Ulric Skakki whispered to Count Hamnet. “Crazier, I mean? They sure act like it.”

“They do,” Hamnet agreed. Then he raised his voice to a shout: “Hold, both of you! I can tell this is the Rulers' deviltry, not your own will. This is one of the things they try to do. They pit our leaders against each other, and then swarm through after our quarrels leave no one who can stand up against them.”

“By God, he's right,” Liv said. “Despite all we can do, their wizards must
be working on you. Why else would you fight when danger to both of you and to all your folk builds just to the north?”

Ulric translated in a low voice for Audun Gilli. The Raumsdalian wizard said, “I feel no enemy magic.” Ulric kicked him in the ankle. For a wonder, Audun caught on. Hastily, he continued, “That only proves how subtle the spell is. Will you let it seduce you?”

Trasamund and Totila looked at each other. Then they both looked shamefaced, and a shamefaced Bizogot was as rare as a white woolly mammoth. “No!” they said loudly. Trasamund drew his sword, but only to brandish it in the direction of the Rulers. Totila shook his big, hard fist towards the north.

“We fight together!” he cried.

“Side by side, till we slay them all!” Trasamund roared. They embraced each other like brothers. All the watching Bizogots cheered. They too aimed weapons and clenched fists at the invaders from beyond the Glacier.

In a low voice, Ulric Skakki said, “You're sneakier than I gave you credit for, Thyssen.”

“Nothing sneaky about it,” Hamnet answered. “For all I know, I was telling the truth. Even for Bizogots, that fight between Trasamund and Totila was stupid.”

“Even for Bizogots.” An ironic smile played across Ulric's lips. “Well, you said it—I didn't. But don't expect me to tell you you're wrong.”

“I'm just glad Liv and Audun went along with me,” Count Hamnet said. “And thanks for giving Audun a hand—er, a foot. I saw, even if neither jarl did.”

“Sometimes he's too innocent for his own good. I helped him along a little,” Ulric said. “And now all we have to do is beat the Rulers. Should be easy, right?” He laughed. So did Hamnet Thyssen. A moment later, he wondered why.

 

 

 

 

 

 

T
HE SUN SHONE
warm in a bright blue sky—not merely above freezing, but
warm
. Just as the Breath of God could reach past Nidaros in the wintertime, southerly breezes came up onto the Bizogot steppe, even up to the edge of the Glacier itself, when days lengthened. After only a few hours of such weather, the snow started looking threadbare. Drips and puddles were everywhere.

“Mosquitoes any day now,” Ulric Skakki said mournfully. “We go straight from the scratching season to the slapping season. Isn't it grand?”

“Maybe, but maybe not,” Hamnet Thyssen said. “There'll be another blizzard or two before winter says good-bye for the year. And the birds are coming north to eat the bugs.”

He was right about that. Even so early in the season, the air was murmurous with the sound of fluttering wings. Birds of every size, from larkspurs and flycatchers up to swans, came to the Bizogot plains to breed and to feast upon the brief bounty they offered when they thawed out.

Ulric Skakki only shrugged. “They don't eat all the bugs. They don't even eat enough of them. Plenty of bloodsuckers left alive. Anybody who comes up here when the sun shines has reason to know about that.” He mimed smacking at himself.

Count Hamnet nodded. “Not just bloodsuckers on the plains these days,” he said. “We've got bloodspillers, too.” As usual, his gaze turned to the north.

“We've done everything we could,” Ulric said. “We've got scouts out. They'll warn us when the Rulers move. The Red Dire Wolves are as ready to
fight as they ever will be. And we've sent messengers to the clans close by. Maybe we'll get reinforcements.”

“Yes, maybe we will.” Hamnet didn't sound as if he believed it. And he didn't. “We can't
make
the other Bizogots join us. Since we can't, chances are they won't.”

“Well, why should they?” As it often did, acid rode Ulric Skakki's voice. “They're free. If you don't believe me, just ask them. They can do whatever they choose, whatever they please—no matter how idiotic it is.”

They spoke Raumsdalian, which kept most of the mammoth-herders around them from following what they said. Trasamund, though, was an exception. “You don't understand my folk,” he told Ulric.

“By God, Your Ferocity, I hope I don't,” the adventurer answered.

“You Raumsdalians are a servile people. You need people to tell you what to do,” said the jarl of the Three Tusk clan.

Both Ulric and Hamnet Thyssen burst out laughing. Trasamund scowled first at one, then at the other, then at both of them together. “Oh, yes, Your Ferocity, I obey orders like any other slave,” Hamnet said. “When Sigvat commanded me to come back to Nidaros, I turned around and went. That's why I'm sleeping in silk sheets on a feather bed in the capital now, instead of up here getting ready to fight the Rulers.”

“And everyone down in Raumsdalia told me how smart I was to come north again,” Ulric Skakki added. “Everyone there knows how important this fight is. Everyone cheered me on.”

Trasamund's scowl darkened. “You make fun of me.”

“Wouldn't you say that's the chance you take when you come out with something funny?” Ulric said.

“But you are not like most of your folk,” the Bizogot said.

“Then why talk about us as if we were?” Hamnet Thyssen asked.

They might have gone on bickering, but someone at the northern edge of the encampment raised a shout: “Scout coming in!”

Hamnet Thyssen tensed. He could think of only one reason a scout would come back to the Red Dire Wolves' camp—to warn that the Rulers were on the move at last. He hurried forward, wondering what the man would say. Several Bizogots waved to the scout. “Is it war?” they cried.

“It's war!” the scout yelled back, and hope and fear went to war inside Count Hamnet. The rider went on, “Where are the others? Haven't you heard before me? I'm the third one who set out with the news.”

“You're the first who got here,” Totila said, and Hamnet's fear jeered at
his hope. What had the Rulers done to the other scouts? Reached out with their dark magic? He couldn't think of anything else likely. Totila, meanwhile, continued, “You have seen the Rulers face-to-face. What do you make of them?”

“What we heard before from the strangers and foreigners seems to be true, Your Ferocity,” the scout replied. “They have lancers and archers on mammoths. The rest of their warriors ride deer. They keep in straight lines where we would ride in groups.”

Discipline
, Hamnet Thyssen thought, not for the first time. The Rulers had it—had, perhaps, even more of it than the Empire's soldiers. The Bizogots? The Bizogots didn't even have a word for it, and had to talk around it when they saw it.

But the Bizogots were fierce. Totila shook his fist. “Straight lines, is it? Well, we'll put some kinks in them, by God! See if we don't!” His clansmen bawled their approval. “To horse!” he roared, and they ran for their mounts.

Liv asked the scout, “Did you see anything of their magics? Did you feel as if something passed close to you but didn't strike?”

“No, lady shaman.” The man touched his right fist to his forehead in token of respect. “But may the teratorns take me if I know what happened to the other two men who rode south with the news.”

“How lucky are we that even one got through?” Ulric Skakki murmured to Count Hamnet. “And what will we be riding into when we go against those devils?”

“We beat them once, up in Three Tusk country,” Hamnet said.

“Yes? And so? A raid. And we caught them by surprise,” Ulric said. “This time, they'll know we're coming. And they'll be ready.”

“If you don't think we have a chance, maybe you'd better not come along,” Hamnet said.

“Oh, no. I might be wrong. I don't think so, but I might.” Ulric grinned a crooked grin. “And if admitting that doesn't prove I'm no Bizogot, demons take me if I know what would.”

“Well, we'll know pretty soon,” Hamnet said. “Sometimes finding out is better than waiting.”

“So it is. And sometimes it's worse, too,” Ulric said, which, unfortunately, was also true. Instead of answering, Hamnet went to mount. So did Ulric Skakki. The smile on the adventurer's face might have meant anything.