The Dragon Hammer (Wulf's Saga Book 1) (18 page)

Chapter Twenty-Four:
The Village

It was at least two watches until the buffalo-clan warriors returned from hunting and killing Sandhaveners. They brought with them as many of the horses as they could find. They also rescued several wounded of the Raukenrose gentry and servants either on horses or walking. Some were hurt. Some were obviously near the gates of Helheim and would be crossing soon.

All of them were seen to by a group of buffalo wise women. Cuts were cleaned and bound with poultices that smelled sharply of mustard and comfrey. More than one bone was set while the patient cried in agony.

Wulf’s father had been taken immediately to the wigwam of the wise woman who Dirty Coat told him was the best of them all. She was also Dirty Coat’s mother, he added. Her name was Puidenlehdet.

Another wise woman came and stitched up Wulf’s ear. He’d forgotten. Nagel had bitten through it to get him to run.

Wulf was barred from entering the wigwam, but Ravenelle insisted she herself be allowed in, and the wise woman let her. Wulf figured there was nothing he could do but get in the way, so he went to the village’s central fire pit and paced around it, waiting for word of his father. Grim brought him water in a skin canteen, and Wulf gulped it down to the last drop.

Grim also gave him a leg of smoked wild turkey. He gnawed most of the meat off it, then fed the rest to two of the castle hunting dogs that had found the camp and straggled in. Wulf recognized them from the kennels and from hunting, but couldn’t remember their names.

The buffalo people had a musky odor. It wasn’t a
bad
smell, necessarily, but it was strong. The closest thing Wulf could think of to it was being in a wardrobe full of coats, but that wasn’t it, either, because a wardrobe was stuffy, and the buffalo people had the definite scent of the
outdoors
to them.

Grim didn’t like them much. He could tell by the faun’s stiff way of standing. He did not let any of them get closer than two paces if he could help it.

Buffalo Camp was a collection of wigwams, some small, some huge, made of—what else—buffalo hides. They sloped up in the center where there was a smoke hole to vent the inside fire. The camp was deep in a valley surrounded to the north, east, and south in a semicircle of the Dragonback Range. A creek burbled nearby, supplying the water. This was carried around in buckets the size of a half-barrel. The buffalo people, even the children, didn’t have any trouble carrying the buckets, but Wulf tried to lift one that was filled with water and barely got it off the ground.

At one point while he was standing near the village fire pit, Wulf heard a flutter of feathers, and Nagel landed on his shoulder. She had returned from wherever she had gone during his run. The sight of a man with an owl on his shoulder very much interested several of the buffalo children nearby. They gathered around and peeked at Nagel in curiosity. The children had heads like buffalo calves, with big brown eyes and little, twitchy ears.

“They’re really cute, aren’t they, Grim?” Wulf said. “You have to admit it.”

“Only when compared with their parents, m’lord,” Grim replied.

The tall buffalo herder from the clearing was one of the last to return. He saw Wulf and strode up to him as if he were a soldier set to deliver a report. When he got to Wulf, he bent a quick knee to Wulf, then rose back up. “M’lord,” he said.

Wulf was surprised, but he nodded.

It should be Father he is bending knee to, he thought.

The other stood silently, and Wulf realized the buffalo man was waiting for him to speak.

“What is your name?” Wulf asked.

“Sinisekslöödudsilm,” said the buffalo man. “Your people call me Black Eye.”

“I could learn to say it right.”

“It is no matter.”

“What happened in the woods, Black Eye?”

“The herd took many of the raiders down, and we finished the ones who were left alive. We tracked those who escaped trampling and hunted them, one by one. Many have twisted under my spear today. I believe we got them all.”

“How many?”

“Fifty-two, m’lord.”

“And your casualties?”

“Two hurt. No one killed.”

Wulf nodded. “Good,” he said. “That’s great. You did well.”

“Thank you, m’lord.”

“Are you the
sotajohtaja
of your clan?” The term didn’t exactly mean “leader,” Tolas had taught Wulf. The buffalo people had different leaders for different functions. It was more like “war chief.”

“The
sotajohtaja
is my cousin, Tupakkalaatu.”

Wulf recognized the word. “That means ‘tobacco,’ doesn’t it?” he said.

Black Eye tilted his head to the side. He seemed to be surprised Wulf would know this. “Yes, m’lord, it does. Tupakkalaatu fought in the Little War for your father.”

“I would like to talk with him,” Wulf said.

Black Eye bowed his head slightly, then pointed toward a large wigwam near the central fire pit. “He is meeting with a messenger who just came in from Bear Hall. Follow me, m’lord.”

“All right.” Wulf turned to Grim. “Stay near Father. The moment you hear anything from the wise woman, come and get me.”

Grim nodded, and with a sidelong, distrustful glance at Black Eye, he strode away.

Nagel, who had been flitting between Wulf’s shoulder and a nearby branch, flew back down and landed on Wulf’s shoulder just as he was turning to follow the buffalo man. The movement startled Black Eye, and he let out a small bellow.

“This is a
person
,” he said.

“Yeah, I found that out not long ago,” Wulf said. “How can you tell?”

Black Eye didn’t answer. “I have never heard of an owl person,” he said.

“Well, the owl’s with me.” Wulf motioned toward the wigwam. “Let’s go, Black Eye.”

If Black Eye was tall, Tupakkalaatu was enormous. He was at least a hand and a half bigger than his cousin. At the moment, he was standing and talking with another buffalo man who was shorter, not much taller than Wulf, in fact. There were no chairs in the wigwam. You either stood or sat on the floor. There was a fire in the middle, kept very small, that warmed the place and provided what light there was. Around the fire, but not too close to it, buffalo skin rugs carpeted the floor. The wood staves of the walls curved up to form a dome.

The buffalo men had been speaking in their own thick-sounding language, but switched to Kaltish when Wulf arrived.

The
sotajohtaja
turned to Wulf.

“Sinisekslöödudsilm has said that the raiding party that attacked you and your father has been trampled into the ground like bad acorns.” The war leader’s voice was as low as a rumble, but Wulf could understand him well enough.

“They were all men of Sandhaven?”

“So far as we can tell from the remnants of their clothing and the splinters of their shields, m’lord,” Black Eye put in.

“Why did they do this?”

“We may have an answer,” said the war leader. “This is Nopeaveden. He has been sent from Bear Hall to deliver a message to the clans.”

Nopeaveden did not volunteer an easier way to say his name.

“What kind of message?” Wulf said.

“An invasion, m’lord,” Nopeaveden answered. “Earl Keiler has word from a patrol on the northeast side of the Dragonbacks just before Dornstadt Gap. The bear people are very concerned with their territories, you know. They have taken a prisoner, a Sandhaven deserter wandering in the woods.”

“My father needs to hear about this,” Wulf said. “Maybe he’s conscious.”

The war leader shook his huge head. “The wise woman says not.”

“Then my brother in Raukenrose.”

“We are cut off from the town,” Nopeaveden said. “When we killed the raiders, we drove as far north as we could. There are men guarding the southern entrance. Many, many men. They wore Sandhavener coats of arms. We could not fight that many, so we came back.”

“This is crazy. Sandhaven is our ally.”

“It is surprising to me also. We were hoping…well, that you might be able to explain what is happening. We were hoping that you would have commands for us to follow.”

“Me?” Wulf said. The idea startled him. He didn’t like it at all. “It’s my father or my brother’s place to command.”

“You are the son of Duke Otto, m’lord. You are von Dunstig, yes?”

“Yeah, but I’m the
third
son,” Wulf said. “I have nothing to do with ruling. My brothers—
they
are in line to inherit the care of the mark. I’m
sixteen
, for Sturmer’s sake! The only wars I know anything about are from the sagas. I’m planning to be a border ranger if they’ll have me, or a librarian!”

The buffalo man grunted. It might have been a chuckle. “Your brother Otto is cut off from us. We cannot reach him.”

“Well, Adelbert then,” Wulf said with exasperation.

“You have killed a man today.”

“It was desperation.”

Nopeaveden turned his big, brown buffalo eyes away from Wulf, as if he were avoiding looking at him. He shuffled on his feet, began to speak, then grew silent, as if he needed to say something and wasn’t sure how.

“What is it?” Wulf asked. “Tell me.”

“It is your brother, Lord Adelbert,” said the messenger. “There is a story. It is from the deserter, and so must be checked. But he said that Lord Adelbert von Dunstig has been beheaded.”

“What?”

“He was captured in a Sandhaven ambush.”

“That’s a lie.”

“The man swears he saw it. Lord Adelbert and all his men slaughtered by the Sandhaveners.”

Wulf’s legs got weak, and he sank to his knees.

But Adelbert
loves
Krehennest, Wulf thought. It leads to the sea.

Adelbert
.

Wulf pulled himself back to his feet and looked around for a chair to sit down in. Nothing but the rug on the floor.

Adelbert killed?

No. Murdered.

A fog seemed to form in Wulf’s vision, and he thought he might collapse again.

That’s the smoke in here. They keep the fires small, but that hole in the roof doesn’t work nearly as well as a chimney.

He tensed his legs to remain standing. He rubbed his eyes, and his fingers came away damp.

“No. My brother wants to go to sea,” Wulf said. “He is going to be a sailor.”

“I’m sorry, m’lord,” said Tupakkalaatu.

“You don’t understand. He didn’t get to
go to the sea
yet. It isn’t fair if he never gets to go—”

Wulf stopped himself from saying more. He squeezed his eyes tightly shut. He didn’t want to see. He didn’t want to be here. Then there was a tug on his earlobe—right on his new stitches. Not incredibly painful, but firm. Another tug. Nagel had taken it in her beak.

Wulf opened his eyes. “All right, owl,” he said. “Let go of me. I’m okay.”

Although he knew he wasn’t. Terrible things were happening, and he was obviously smack-dab in the middle of them.

“M’lord, we need to plan,” Tupakkalaatu said softly. His soft boom of a voice sounded like distant thunder.

“Plan for what?”

“A march to Raukenrose. If you want to attack.”

“If
I
want to attack? Did you hear anything I said?”

“We have heard…that the duke is not always thinking his best these days.”

“My father is
fine
,” Wulf said defiantly. Then he softened his tone. “Anyway, he is the duke. Not me.”

“My people are sworn vassals of the von Dunstig family,” Tupakkalaatu said. “Our loyalty does not end with the duke.
You
are von Dunstig.”

“But—”

“We are
your
men, Lord Wulfgang. Tell us what you want us to do, and we will do it.”

Adelbert had been assassinated. Otto was evidently cut off, maybe surrounded. His father might die.

It was too much. Like something out of a saga, like—

Yes, it
was
. Like
Sigurth’s Saga
, as a matter of fact. Well, the details weren’t exactly the same. Sigurth Hakisson wasn’t the heir of the king or a duke, but only a cousin. His father Haki was the best warrior in all of Freiland.

That was why the attacking Saxehalter had locked Haki into his own mead hall along with his family, including his older sons, and burned it down. Sigurth, the fourth son, had escaped his family’s fate because he was off secretly visiting a miller’s daughter in the village.

Then the Saxehalter warriors had marched off to attack the king at Arnul. They didn’t fear Sigurth in the slightest. He was known to be a party boy who was more interested in drinking and chasing girls than in farming or fighting.

But Sigurth fooled them all. He covered himself in ashes from the mead hall and swore an oath of revenge:

I have heard the Horn of Haki cry forth from the flames

I swear upon that mighty soul-stirrer

I will break the shields of the Saxehalter

Beat those bright knives from their hands

Dull my blade against the bones of cowards

Stuff their mouths with mead hall ash

And make their eyes a meal for ravens.

Then he led his father’s surviving war band to Arnul, and

Sigurth’s bright reaper dripped red with battle sweat.