laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Once the letter was away, he joined his guard as they hefted the longship out of the water and would've carried on their own shoulders had he not commanded them to allow the horses to help. Strong mounts were bred not only for battle, but also doubled as draft horses when needed.
As he bowed his back and wrapped his arms around the beam, he walked with his men as farmers of Brynmar along with the soldiers and nobles looked on in awe as the last of the Varangian army left them behind. Several other crews and their ships followed behind and down the highway. He felt for the merchant caravans that had to try and make a path through the grass alongside the caravan of ported ships heading in the opposite direction. One boy peeking out from underneath a tarp and behind barrels made Jilahd laugh aloud. His father or uncle looked on, wide-eyed as he held the reins to the team of horses now pulling his own wagon. Local kids followed them for some time that day, until getting too far from their homes and they turned back. He only hoped the Varangian example didn't end up getting some of them hurt trying to be as heroic.

As the sun arced in the sky, they soon took a break and hefted the weight from their horses as well. He turned to Haakon now stretching his back. "Give the order down the line to make camp and get some rest."

"Aye, milord."

As his captain moved down the length of the caravan, Jilahd moved to his own massive, smoke grey horse and removed the tack and harness. "You did well this day, old friend. Many more days ahead though." The snort as the massive head nodded forcefully, long black hair swaying wildly as he stomped into the packed road meant the horse was ready for more. An act that made Jilahd laugh and forget his sore shoulders for a while.

Soon, he heard his royal guard in the forest, grunting with exertion which prompted the king to lead his horse around the ship's bow and soon notice the berserker's wrestling against the large oak throughout the woodline. He shook his head knowing the men were only teased with today's exercise and left them alone while he moved beyond them in search of fresh water.
It wasn't long before a large pond came into view and he moved through the dense foliage to it and noticed several others leading their horses here as well. Once at it's bank, he stripped off his shirt and knelt down to wash. Hands together, he splashed several times on his face and neck which matted his long beard and hair to his face. Lowering his right hand to drink, he noticed a scene in the lapping water. A city burned. It's homes up the side of a mountain spouted flames from every window and through their rooves as black armored demons raced through, tearing down everything in their path until reaching a large castle resting on a small island. They leaped from the moat's bank and onto the walls, killing everyone that stood in their way, then jumped inside to claim the keep itself and open the gate for the rest. Screams in the night mixed with the rising dark smoke and the sight gave him chills.
Backing from the scene as darkness faded into shades of blue, he had finally been given some clue as to his destination. And the revelation made him sick. Sobered, he resumed filling his waterskin, then returned to the ship and his men.

* * *

After seven days, they finally reached the Linder River and put their longships within, then loaded their horses and gear and rowed southward towards the Valga Sea. Keeping his shield nearby, Jilahd retained his post at the bow and kept a sharp eye on both banks, waiting for bowmen to spring out of the forest at any moment, but none came. Sailing narrow, shallow rivers was the only time a fleet would be vulnerable to attack.

Torchlight soon emerged beyond on the left bank and he straightened as he moved to the port side of the large dragon's head commanding the prow. Soon, a group of five armored men stood before their horses and seemed to be waiting for him.

"Haakon, closer to the port shore. As close as you dare."

"Aye, Sire." He relayed the command, then walked up to the king's side. "Welcoming us to their land, perhaps?"

"Possibly." He hoped that his sons and the forward ships weren't being ambushed, but saw no signal arrow and dismissed the concern. Once within shouting distance, he leaned out. "Hail!"

"You be King Jilahd?"

"I am. Who wishes to know?"

"Lord Anders, of the duke's court in Anderlues. What brings the Varangians to our kingdom?"

"Just passing through, friend. I'm on my way to the Valga and south from there."

The noble scanned further to his right and the other longships coming into view from the darkness. "To sack Davos, perhaps? Or the Kuzomen cities?"

"Neither. To visit a friend and help them."

The knight and his entourage walked along the bank to keep in range of his ship. "Quite an entourage for a visit, Sire. I hope these friends aren't elven."

A comment that caught Jilahd offguard. "Why do you say that? I thought Astara and Kevelaer were friends."

"No longer. The queen of Kevelaer has gained an appetite for war lately. Three of our cities burned in the Midlands. The Empress has sent her armies south to meet them."

He remained stunned for a long moment, the news seeming a lie. It didn't make sense. "What prompted the elves to attack you? That hasn't happened since the First Dark Age."

"Not sure. Perhaps they missed their old cities."

Jilahd nodded. "Thank you for the news." He waved and the knight bowed to him, then turned and led his men back to their mounts, then rode away. "This doesn't make sense to me."

"Perhaps we'll discover more once we reach our destination, Sire."