Ongist’s eyes flashed in recognition. The boy was the lad Asbidag had speared at the gates of Ateris. He bit his lip and said nothing. His brother Tostig had told them all how the boy had crawled to the mountains and been rescued by twenty clansmen. It had worried Asbidag.
‘Would you like to kill him, Gaelen?’
Ongist felt the hatred in the boy’s gaze, and he stared back without fear. ‘I see we made our mark upon you boy,’ he sneered. ‘Do they call you Blood-eye, or Scar-face?’
The boy said nothing, but the cold gaze remained. ‘Did someone cut your tongue out?’ hissed Ongist.
Gaelen turned to his father. ‘Yes, I want to kill him,’ he said. ‘But not today.’
The man and the boy left the clearing without a backward glance and Ongist settled back to wait for his brother and the others. It was nearing midday when the Aenir found him; they cut him loose and hauled him to his feet. His brothers Tostig and Drada supported him, for his head was dizzy and his vision blurred as he stood.
‘What happened?’ asked Drada, his elder by three years.
The clansman tricked us. He killed Karis and Asta.’
‘I know. We found the bodies.’
‘He told me to leave Farlain lands. He says he will alert their hunters.”
‘Good advice,’ said Drada.
‘Asbidag will be angry,’ muttered Tostig. Ongist rubbed at his bruised temple and scowled. Tostig was the largest of the brothers, a towering brute of a man with braided yellow hair and broken teeth. But he was also the most cautious – some would say cowardly. Ongist despised him.
‘What was he like?’ asked Drada.
Ongist shrugged. ‘Tall. Moved well. Fought well. Confident.’
Then we’ll take his advice. Did you talk to him, try to bait him?’
‘Yes.’
‘And?’
‘No reaction, he just smiled. I told him the Aenir would sweep his people away. I advised him to come to Asbidag and beg for peace. He just said he would take my words of wisdom to the Council.’
‘Damn,’ said Drada.’I don’t like the sound of that. Men who don’t get angry make the worst enemies.’
Ongist grinned, draping his arm over Drada’s shoulder. ‘Always the thinker, brother. By the way, the boy he claimed was his son is the same lad Father speared at the city gates.’
Drada swore. ‘And still he didn’t get angry? That does make me shiver.’
‘I thought you’d enjoy that,’ said Ongist. ‘By the way, Tostig, how many men did you say rescued the boy?’
‘I couldn’t see them all. They were hidden in the bushes.’
‘How many could you see?’ asked Drada, his interest caught by Ongist’s question.
‘I could see only the leader clearly. Why? How many men did he say he had?’
‘He didn’t say,’ answered Ongist, ‘but I know.’
‘A curse on you!’ shouted Tostig, storming to the other side of the clearing.
Drada took Ongist by the arm and led him to the fallen trunk where Caswallon had made their fire. The two men sat down and Drada rubbed his eyes. ‘What was the point of all that?’ he asked.
‘There were no twenty clansmen,’ sneered Ongist. ‘Just the one -the same man, I’d stake my life on it.’
‘You are probably right,’ Drada agreed. ‘Did he give a name?’
‘Caswallon of the Farlain.’
‘Caswallon. Let’s hope there are not too many like him among the clans.’
‘It won’t matter if there are. Who can stand against thirty thousand Aenir warriors?’
‘That is true,’ agreed Drada, ‘but they remain an unknown quantity. Who knows how many there are? Our estimate is less than seven thousand fighting men if all the clans muster. But suppose we are wrong?”
‘What do you suggest?’
‘I think we ought to deal with them gently. Trade first and earn a welcome among them. Then we’ll see.”
‘You think they’ll be foolish enough to allow us into the mountains?’ asked Ongist.
‘Why not? Every other conquered nation has given us the same facility. And there must be those among the clans who are disenchanted, overlooked or despised. They will come to us, and they will learn.’
‘I thought Father wanted to attack in the summer?’