Men of the Mark

On the afternoon of our fourth day under Northgyth’s roof, she called me to speak with her in her own rooms at the back of the shop. Waelden had gone out for a walk along the track he had found that led to the lake, likely taking time to think on his own. Ethel had been playing with Herne and her papa’s goat. Both were safe, in my mind. No harm would befall them while they were out of my sight...I hoped.

The War-Horn

Over hills and meadows,
Under sun and azure skies,
Through rain and rushing wind;
Ready men on leather saddles
Riding lightly armored horses,
Steered on by leather reins.
Men holding bearded axes,
Some holding hilts of swords,
Others holding steel-tipped spears,
And shields with painted suns.
Green and brown their garments,
Leather belts around their waists,

The following morning saw us all still in something of a shock. Ethel laid in bed for some hours, until Ymma brought a midday meal to the bottom of the stairs to tempt all of our empty stomachs. Even then, Ethel was not her usually hungry self. She picked at the bacon, eggs and mushrooms without her usual passion. But she spoke with us. She was ‘alright’ she said, and just glad we and the animals were safe.

(This story follows from A Deadly Dance of Fire and Smoke  by Waelden )

This story takes place a few days after When the dust has settled, when the family has just returned to their home again.

My hands rummage through the drawers of my former home in Floodwend. It isn’t much, but it’s still home. We travelled here once again, to finally bring all of our belongings and ourselves to the farm where we’ll live henceforth, Ethel, Yllfa, and I. It’s not an easy thing to have so many memories thrown back in your face, simply by opening a wooden drawer.

An oath is not something to be lightly made. Not if you have any honour, any integrity. Not if you have any doubt you can keep it. And oaths once made are held most highly among our people. Aye, oaths and promises alike can rule your life, can cost your life...can take your freedom from you.

I was never one for oath making. 

 

How could I not have known? How could I have failed him? I had kept watch from a distance most evenings since he left, but the last few days I had been so tired, I had not called upon Isa. 

Continued from The wolf of my dreams