"Ivar!" Haldor shouted as he ran toward him, while Ivar stood scanning the scattered corpses.
"Look." He held up the severed head in his hand. "Ain't this Thyra?"
Ivar narrowed his eyes as he studied the face, then gave a small nod. "Aye. It is."
So Yrsa's band fled to the Frostbornes to escape death at his hands… only to end up dead all the same. He hadn't even thought of killin' them all, only Thyra, who had irked him the most. The rest had only assumed he would. The clan was already so small to begin with, and he had planned to leave soon. He had wanted to leave it with hunters still alive, with at least a few capable fighters to keep the rest from starvin'.
He could only shake his head at their useless deaths.
"What d'ye want me t' do with it?" Haldor asked, knowing Ivar had still held some grudge against Thyra, who had blocked his path before together with Yrsa.
Ivar shot him a glare. "What d'ye think? She's already dead. Go burn the head with the rest o' the bodies."
Haldor looked at the head and could only nod in agreement. "Aye, ye're right."
With that said, he turned and headed toward the large fire, where the stench of burning bodies, thick and foul, like overcooked meat, filled the air.
Ivar couldn't help but sigh as he looked over the scattered corpses once more. He couldn't wait for Torren to return with the rest of the band to help him and Haldor clean up the bodies around the settlement. He had sent Torren back earlier to gather his band and the rest here, while Ulf had gone off with Karsi, the girl he had found hiding among the stones, to where the survivors were hiding.
According to the girl, not all had been killed and taken during the attack as some had managed to flee in the chaos, including her. One hunting band from their clan had also survived, having been away when it happened. Together, they were hiding not far from here, waiting for Jorund and his men to leave.
Karsi had slipped away from their hiding place to search for her Pa… only to end up finding Ivar instead. Fortunately for her, it had been him who found her. If it had been anyone else, he didn't bother finishing the thought.
Ulf had volunteered to escort the girl back after she found her Pa, his body the first to be burned, and Ivar had simply nodded. He would've preferred to let her go on her own, but he wasn't one to stop his companions from doing as they pleased, so long as it didn't hinder him.
Ivar picked up a corpse and followed Haldor to where the bodies had been gathered and set ablaze. As he neared the fire, he tossed it in, then turned back without a word, repeating the process again and again, collecting severed arms and legs scattered across the settlement.
If he had a choice, he would never do something like this again, cleaning up the aftermath of a fight he had no part in. But if he was right… if this place was truly what he believed it to be, and the lore still held from what he saw in his first life, then this was necessary.
Better to burn them now… than face more of the dead later.
"Ivar!" Haldor shouted again, waving his hands to get his attention.
Ivar could only sigh as he looked over and shouted back, "What?"
"I found Svala!" Haldor called again, louder this time, a hint of excitement in his voice, as if he had found something valuable among the dead.
Ivar shook his head and didn't bother replying. He made his way toward Haldor instead.
The girl hadn't known much when he had questioned her earlier about what had happened here. The more he asked, the more frightened she became, so he had stopped. And there was no point in pressing further either. He had already learned what mattered most.
Who the Frostborne's enemy was.
It didn't take long for him to arrive where Haldor stood, pointing at a body. Ivar stepped closer and crouched, brushing the snow and grime from the man's face. It took a moment, but he soon recognized him. Svala.
Four arrows were lodged in his body. His weapon, a large axe, if he remembered right, was nowhere to be seen. Likely taken and got looted. Perhaps by Jorund himself.
After checking him over, Ivar rose and looked at Haldor. "Burn the body with the rest."
Haldor nodded, letting out a quiet sigh. "Aye. What's takin' Torren so long? They should be here by now."
Ivar frowned, a flicker of unease rising in his chest. For a moment, he wondered if they had run into Jorund and his men. He was about to tell Haldor he'd go back and check when a voice carried from the distance.
"Oi! We're here!"
Ivar turned at once.
Torren was approaching, waving as he walked toward them. Behind him came Hilde, Asgeir, Eirik, and the rest of the band, along with those they had been escorting… now brought to a settlement reduced to ruin.
Ivar let out a quiet breath of relief.
Beside him, Haldor waved his arms back in greeting and shouted, "What took ye so long? Move! We've still got lots of bodies t' burn!"
"We're already walkin' faster!" Torren called back. "Ye just wait there!"
Yet despite his words, he continued at an easy pace. Behind him, the others mirrored his stride, some even slower, as they took in the sight before them: destroyed huts and tents, and bodies scattered across the settlement.
Ivar had hoped Torren had already explained what happened here so he wouldn't have to answer their questions himself. But seeing the shock on their faces, he knew there was no escaping the inevitable.
"What happened here?" Skapti asked loudly, her expression filled with horror as she looked around the ruined settlement.
Ivar could only sigh and shoot Torren a brief glare before turning back to them. He gave a short explanation of what had happened, just enough to satisfy them, then made it clear he didn't know the rest. Without wasting another breath, he ordered them to start cleaning up the bodies.
His band, along with Skapti and the others paused, and began to complain.
Ivar didn't even let them finish. He strode toward the nearest man who was also complaining and struck without warning, his fist and boot landing again and again, precise and deliberate, targeting the spots that would hurt the most. The man collapsed, howling in pain, unable to even raise his arms to defend himself.
Silence fell at once. No one dared speak after what they saw.
Without another word, they turned and began gathering the bodies. Seeing that, Ivar sighed in satisfaction as he finally handed the task of carrying and burning the corpses over to his band and the rest. Sometimes, they forgot what he was capable of, and he had made a habit of reminding them of it without warning. Action speaks louder than words, as most said in his first life, if he remembered the saying right.
—---
Ivar stared at the darkening horizon as he chewed on a strip of jerky, his shadowcats lying beside him, gnawing on the pieces he had prepared for their meal. Ulf still hadn't returned from escorting the girl back to what remained of her clan, but Ivar wasn't worried. He had already trained them to save themselves first if something went wrong, and if something truly had happened to Ulf, then he would simply accept it, and, if possible, take revenge. Death, he knew, couldn't be avoided if it had already set its sights on you. So he remained where he was, perched at a vantage point from which he could see for a league, perhaps more, watching for anyone who might wander too close or come with ill intent, while his band and the others ate inside the cave just below him.
He hadn't expected Jorund to attack the Frostbornes. Over the years, he hadn't bothered hunting the man down, as he was too focused on surviving the winter with his clan and advancing his cultivation. Jorund simply hadn't been worth the effort. He had planned to kill him only if they crossed paths or if it became convenient, but now, it seemed he had to reconsider his priorities. He might have decided to leave the clan, but he wouldn't leave them with a threat hanging over their heads, especially since that threat has history and debt with him.
The last he'd heard of Jorund Snowfox was that the man had angered someone called Sylas the Grim. That had been two years ago, in the middle of winter, when he had gone to other clans to trade. What had happened since, he didn't know, but now Jorund had grown bold enough to strike the Frostborne and win. The Frostborne had once outnumbered his clan three to one, perhaps more, when Bjorn was still around. If they had fallen, then Jorund must have built his strength in the years since.
Still, Ivar wasn't worried. No matter how many men Jorund had, he could always slip in and kill him in his sleep. With the level of security these people have in their settlements, he was confident he could at least manage that, and escape unnoticed.
The question now was how to find this Jorund. He still had to travel to the Howlers, two days away, to escort Skapti and the others now that the Frostborne were gone, or mostly gone, as there were still a few survivors left, according to the girl.
He was about to plan his next move, now that he had decided to delay his journey south and deal with this Jorund, when he noticed Hilde walking toward him. He paused his thoughts and turned his gaze to her. When she drew near, he asked, "What's it? Have ye finished eatin'?"
"Aye. Finished." Hilde sat beside him and continued, "Haldor and the others are done too, but they're still tired from all the cleaning ye had 'em do."
Ivar chuckled before replying, "That was some exercise fer their bodies. We haven't really done anythin' these past few days aside from walkin'."
Hilde stared at him for a moment, speechless, before rolling her eyes. "Aye. Exercise, ye said. As if ye haven't already had 'em do enough weird things."
Ivar smiled at her but said nothing more. He couldn't exactly explain that the dead might rise, could he? Not without sounding like he was spouting tales from thousands of years ago. Besides, it was customary to burn the dead here, it was just the amount of work that had made his band complain.
Seeing that he wasn't going to say anything further, Hilde continued, "So what's the plan now that th' Frostborne are pretty much gone?"
"We go t' the Howlers and see if they'll take Skapti and the rest," Ivar said, reaching down to pet the shadowcats, who had finished eating and were now resting beside him. "Why d'ye ask? That's always been the plan if we fail here."
Hilde sighed and looked out toward the horizon before replying, "Nothin'. Just wonderin'… what if Jorund's attacked the Howlers too? Wouldn't all this escortin' be for nothin'? Where d'we leave Skapti and the others then?"
Ivar looked at her, surprised. He hadn't thought of that. He fell silent for a moment, then let out a quiet sigh. "Then we ask Skapti what she wants t' do. Whether they still want t' join another clan… or go back."
He paused, recalling her expression earlier. "I've seen her face. That sight… it shook her. The rest too. If the Howlers are gone like the Frostborne… they might just turn back and try t' live with th' clan again."
Hilde shook her head. "Then I'm right. All this escortin' and travelin' for days… for nothin'."
"If the Howlers are gone too… then aye, I suppose ye are," Ivar replied.
A moon ago, he had given his word that he would escort those who wished to join other clans, and he wasn't one to go back on it. Credibility mattered. If he wanted his band to follow him for years to come, his word had to carry weight. Of course, that only held so long as the situation allowed it. If it came down to it, if he had to abandon everything to save himself, then he would do so without hesitation. He knew how precious life was, and he had no intention of wasting it for anything.
Ivar stopped petting his shadowcats and stood up abruptly as he spotted something in the distance. Hilde, beside him, was startled, and the shadowcats shook themselves awake, looking at him as if asking, what's the matter with you? We were sleeping, you stupid hooman.
Hilde rose slowly and scanned their surroundings. Finding nothing, she asked, "What's the matter? Ye see somethin'?" She looked at him, then followed his gaze, but still saw nothing.
Ivar narrowed his eyes, focusing on the distance where he had seen movement. He didn't reply. He wanted to be sure first whether the figure was someone he knew or not.
After a few seconds, he recognized the figure. Ulf.
He relaxed slightly, but a moment later, his eyes sharpened again as he noticed others trailing not far behind him.
Ivar didn't waste time. He turned to Hilde. "Tell everyone to be ready. We have company."
Then he looked at his shadowcats and gestured for them to stay hidden. Without another word, he broke into a run toward Ulf.
"What? Where ye goin'?" Hilde called after him.
"Just do what I said," Ivar replied just enough for her to hear, not even turning back.
As he ran, Ivar couldn't help but think that Ulf might have led enemies straight to them. But at the same time, it was impossible for Ulf not to notice people trailing behind him. No matter the answer, he would only know once he asked. He quickened his pace, wanting enough time to return to the cave and have his companions ready in case things turned for the worse. And it didn't take long before he closed the distance.
Ulf broke into a grin the moment he saw him and gave a wave. When Ivar reached him, he said, "Knew ye'd see me even from afar."
Ivar didn't even pause to catch his breath. "There's people followin' behind ye. Didn't ye notice 'em? Come, we'll run as we talk."
He turned and broke into a run, only to stop a few paces later when he realized Ulf hadn't followed. He looked back. "What?"
Ulf shook his head and pointed behind him. "They're Frostborne. They want t' speak with ye."
He paused a moment before continuing, "I told 'em I had t' reach our camp first and inform ye, else there might be misunderstandin's. That's why ye saw me walkin' ahead and them keepin' their distance. Ye know me, I wouldn't miss it if they were enemies."
With his explanation finished, he flashed a wide grin.
Ivar let out a slow breath, releasing the tension that had been building since he started his run. He knew his band was already tired from the work he had them do earlier, and a fight right now would not end well for them. So hearing Ulf's explanation lifted a heavy weight off his shoulders.
Still, he shot Ulf a glare. "Why didn't ye say so earlier?"
Ulf shrugged. "Was about to. But ye were in a hurry. Didn't I explain everythin' just now?"
Ivar rubbed his forehead, glancing at the approaching Frostborne before looking back at Ulf. "Don't let 'em go all the way to the cave. Stop 'em just below it, where we've got the advantage if a fight breaks out."
With that, he turned and left to inform his band of the situation.
"What? They just want to talk!" Ulf called after him.
Ivar waved a hand without looking back. "Do as I said… or else."
He didn't bother finishing the sentence. Ulf would understand well enough. The Frostborne might have come only to talk, but Ivar knew how easily talks could turn into blood. He had been here for years now and he would be a fool if he didn't learn anything about how quick to anger these people could be. Better to be prepared than regret it later.
—-----
"Why'd he leave?" Alfyn asked the moment he reached Ulf. He glanced at Ivar's back as the boy walked away, the same one he had seen just moons ago, trading salt with their clan.
Back then, he hadn't thought much of this Ivar. The boy had looked like a harmless kitten, lean and tall but without hair on his face. But now, it seemed he would have to rethink that impression. One did not become a chieftain at such a young age without capability. If what this Ulf had shared was right.
Alfyn had not lived this long by being careless, unlike his brother, Svala, whose decisions had brought ruin upon their clan not long ago.
He couldn't help but wonder… if he had been there, leading his own band when the attack came, would things have been different? Would they have stood a chance? Or would he have perished alongside the others… just like his brother?
He shook his head and turned his gaze toward the brat who had brought them here. It hadn't been an impulsive decision to seek out this Ivar, their chieftain, according to the brat beside him. He simply wanted to see for himself if this Ivar was capable of fighting. And if he was, then he intended to travel with them to the Howlers, to seek help and shelter, at least for the time being.
Alfyn planned to bide his time, recover his strength, and take revenge later. And if his daughters were still alive in Jorund's hands, he would take them back. That, he swore to the Old Gods.
Ulf smiled at Alfyn and said, "He has t' prepare a welcome fer ye. We'll have t' wait here though. Ye can meet him when he's ready."
Alfyn frowned at that. "The sky's gettin' darker. What're we waitin' fer? We risked ourselves t' come here, and this is how yer chieftain treats us?"
"Careful now, Alfyn." Ulf crossed his arms, staring straight into his eyes. "I didn't tell ye t' follow me here. Ye insisted, and I only allowed it since we've traded with yer clan before. If ye don't like the treatment, then go back."
He paused, his tone turning colder.
"Ivar, our chieftain, doesn't even need t' speak with ye in the first place. He even let me escort yer granddaughter back t' ye. Me think that's more than enough payment fer all those years o' tradin'."
Alfyn couldn't refute the brat in front of him and could only growl, trying to intimidate him with his glare and towering presence. But after a long moment, he realized the brat didn't even flinch, nor did he look the least bit afraid.
His band had already moved in, surrounding Ulf, yet the boy showed no reaction. He simply met Alfyn's gaze without backing down.
Seeing that his display had no effect, Alfyn let out a low breath and relented. He signaled his men to stand down and disperse, then said to the brat, "This better not take long…"
Ulf didn't reply and simply turned his gaze toward where Ivar had gone. He let out a quiet breath of relief and mentally patted himself on the back. Good job, Ulf, for not backing down.
—-----
Ivar crossed his arms as he stared at Alfyn standing before him. He hadn't expected to see the man again, the same one who had nearly had his band wiped out all those years ago, alongside Svala, when he and his band had first visited their clan to trade. But he supposed it was inevitable, as he hadn't seen the man among the bodies they had burned earlier.
"What d'ye want, Alfyn?" he began, breaking the staring contest that had dragged on too long. The sky had already darkened.
Alfyn glanced past Ivar, taking in the warriors positioned behind him, ready to strike at a moment's notice. Then his gaze returned to the red-haired brat before him.
"What a welcome ye've prepared fer us, Ivar," he said. "I almost thought ye meant to slaughter my men here."
Ivar shrugged. "Just a precaution, as ye can see." He gestured toward the warriors behind Alfyn before continuing, "Ye brought yer own men with ye, an' plenty of 'em. I thought ye only came to talk. For a moment, I almost thought ye meant to slaughter my small band."
"Just a precaution as well, in case we run into Jorund and his lot on the road," Alfyn shot back. He paused for a moment before continuing, "Thought yer clan hadn't had a chieftain for years. Surprisin' to see ye become one at yer age."
Ivar frowned at that and couldn't help but shoot Ulf a glare before turning back to Alfyn. "Just fer a while, till I finish escortin' some o' my clansmen."
Alfyn tilted his head. "What d'ye mean?"
"Nothin'." Ivar waved a hand dismissively. "Why've ye come here, Alfyn? Just so ye know, we took it upon ourselves t' burn yer dead."
"Heard about it." Alfyn nodded and glanced at Ulf for a moment before looking back at Ivar. "Fer that, ye have me thanks."
Ivar only nodded in response, then let out a wide yawn, just enough to show the man that he was already bored.
Seeing that, Alfyn felt a flicker of irritation. For a moment, he considered cutting the brat down where he stood, but he forced himself to calm, drawing in a slow breath.
"I came here t' fight ye," he said.
Ivar raised a brow at that. If the man thought to humiliate him in front of his band, then he was sorely mistaken. A grin spread across his face.
"With weapons or nay?" he asked.
Alfyn dropped his axe a short distance away. "Nay. We've had enough deaths among us."
Ivar nodded. "Aye. Ye have."
He turned to his warriors and motioned for them to stand down. Alfyn did the same with his own. Once both sides had pulled back, leaving space between them, Ivar lifted a hand and gestured for Alfyn to strike first.
Alfyn had had enough of the brat's antics. So he struck first, just as the boy wanted. He surged forward as fast as he could, raising his fist, and when he closed the distance, he threw a punch, meant to put the brat to sleep and wipe that grin off his face. But his fist met nothing but air.
Ivar evaded effortlessly, and before Alfyn could pull his arm back, he drove a punch into the man's stomach. Alfyn buckled but managed to stay on his feet as he staggered back a few steps.
Ivar didn't press the advantage. He didn't want the match to end so quickly, others might think it a fluke. Besides, it was better for everyone to see his skill now, so they would stop looking down on him and start taking him seriously, now that he no longer intended to hide behind his age and youthful appearance.
He waited for Alfyn to steady his breathing before making his move. This time, he chose to attack first. He closed the distance in a blink of an eye and saw Alfyn raise his arms in defense, but Ivar wasn't aiming for vital spots.
He shifted to Alfyn's left and struck. The punch landed cleanly against the man's side. Before Alfyn could recover, Ivar slipped to his right and struck again, another clean hit. He repeated the motion several times, each blow precise and controlled while avoiding the man's counter attack, until Alfyn's body hunched forward, as if trying to shield his stomach.
Ivar delivered one last punch before stepping back. He could have continued, but he chose not to. It wasn't time to end the fight yet. He wanted to give Alfyn room to recover.
When he saw that Alfyn had recovered and was now circling him, Ivar didn't hesitate. He moved again, this time aiming for the man's face. He didn't even bother with Alfyn raising his hands to guard; he struck through the defense all the same.
Alfyn tried to punch back, but Ivar evaded effortlessly. More importantly, it left Alfyn's face open, and Ivar took it, landing a clean blow to his eye.
Ivar didn't know how long the exchange lasted, but eventually he saw Alfyn shout, abandoning all defense as he charged forward, intent on tackling him to the ground.
But Ivar wouldn't allow it. He waited just a heartbeat, long enough for Alfyn to close the distance, then leapt and drove a horizontal kick into the side of the man's head. The strike landed cleanly, sending Alfyn staggering before he dropped.
Ivar exhaled slowly, then said, "Well fought, Alfyn."
Alfyn shook his head, trying to stop the world from spinning, then looked at Ivar with wide eyes, shocked that he hadn't managed to land a single punch on the brat. Meanwhile, his band behind him mirrored his expression.
Ivar chuckled at their expression before asking, "Now, why've ye really come here, Alfyn? An' don't tell me ye came just to take that beatin'." He paused and gestured to the man still lying on the ground. "This is not talkin' but fightin'!"
---------
A/N: Thank you. Your supports are deeply appreciated. For those who still hadn't checked yet. You can read ahead on my p%tr^*n/ImperatorXCV.