Year 102 A.C.
POV: Denovan
The next morning, as soon as I opened my eyes, the first thing I noticed was the discomfort. The dim light filtering through the pine canopies felt strangely sharp. My eyes were dry, fragile, and sensitive to light, throbbing slightly in their sockets. The genetic mutation process induced by the bond had already begun.
I closed my eyes and entered the mental world to check on my "family." I swapped bodies quickly, visiting each of my bonds through those golden cords.
As expected, everyone was feeling the effects. Entering Horus's mind, the morning sun bothered him more than usual. Breu, Orion, and Kali were also blinking excessively, feeling the same stinging and discomfort in their vision as their eyeballs adapted to see in absolute darkness.
But when I reached the mind of the newly acquired little owl, the situation was almost reversed. Her large golden eyes had no discomfort with the light, but they were dry; as great as her vision was, it didn't compare to the distance Horus could see. However, her small body trembled and ached deeply. This was how my 'magic' worked. The owl was receiving the counterpart of the bond: Breu's brute strength, the muscular density and predatory instinct of Orion and Kali, and the intelligence I possessed along with the power of Horus's vision. The little bird was being reconstructed from the inside out.
The bonds worked together. They fed back into each other, mixing our best characteristics and improving us little by little. It was a shared evolution that raised us to a biological level impossible to reach naturally.
As I returned to my own body, my thoughts wandered to my final goal in the East. The giant ice serpent.
If a simple owl already caused this incredible change in our biology, how impactful would it be to bond with a creature the size of a whale, or larger? I felt a warm spark of anxiety in my chest, a predatory desire. I wanted to find it soon. The power it would bring to me and my pack would be something out of legends.
"Wake up, Sig," I called out, tossing a piece of a twig at her. "Let's break camp. The sun is already rising, even if we can barely see it through these trees."
She grumbled, crawling out from under the thick furs, her black hair a complete mess.
As we took down the tent and tied the supplies onto Breu, I looked at Sigrid. She wore her leather armor and had her sword at her waist, but her head was completely unprotected. In this dense forest, any attack would come from above or the flanks. One well-placed blow and her adventure would end right there.
I grabbed my Thenn steel helmet, the one inspired by the warriors of the past from my old life, and walked over to her.
"Take it. Put this on," I said, holding out the helm.
Sig blinked in surprise, looking from the helmet to my face.
"This is yours, Denovan. And it's too big for my head. It will wobble and block my vision."
"We'll manage," I said, tearing a piece of fabric from a spare blanket and handing it to her. "Wrap this around your head like a thick cap and put the helmet over it. It will stay firm."
"I don't need..."
"Put it on, Sigrid. That's an order," I cut her off, my voice brook no argument. "I am much faster and more resistant than you. My skull can take a hit that would crush yours. At least with this, you have some chance if they shoot an arrow or throw a stone from up there."
She swallowed hard, clearly irritated, but remembered the promise she made me. With a resigned sigh, she wrapped the cloth around her head and donned the helmet. It looked a bit comical, making her seem smaller than she actually was, but the solid steel now covered her skull and the nasal guard hid part of her face. She was safe.
"Great. Now mount your horse and stay close to me. Orion, Kali, flank us."
The little owl sat silently on the pommel of my saddle, resting and recovering from the very recent effects of the body enhancement, while Horus took flight to try and find gaps in the canopy to see from above.
We began to ride deeper into the Haunted Forest. The journey passed in a tense silence. The air felt denser, and the sound of hooves on the snow was the only thing breaking the morbid stillness of the place.
That's when Horus, who after a while decided to fly further inside the trees accompanying us, sent a sharp pulse of alert directly to my mind.
I pulled Breu's reins abruptly. The giant black horse stopped in its tracks, snorting hot air from its nostrils.
"What is it?" Sig whispered, her hand flying to the hilt of her sword.
"We're surrounded," I murmured back, my eyes sweeping the shadows between the pines.
They didn't scream. They didn't attack all at once with wild fury, as most wildlings usually did in ambushes. They simply appeared.
Stepping silently from behind trunks and snow-covered bushes, about twenty men revealed themselves. They were different from the Thenns. They wore raw leather clothing, filled with hanging animal furs. What impressed me most was looking down: they were all completely barefoot. They walked on the frozen snow as if it were warm summer grass, showing not the slightest sign of pain or cold.
Their faces were painted with black and white stripes, camouflaging them perfectly with the bark of the surrounding trees. In their calloused hands, they held long spears made of dark wood with chipped stone tips, sharp enough to pierce leather.
They formed a circle around us, spears pointed our way, but kept a cautious distance from Orion and Kali, who were now hissing fiercely, baring their massive saber-teeth.
The crowd of painted warriors parted at a point to my right. And from there, walking with the grace of an arrogant lord, emerged the gigantic Shadow-cat that had attacked me the night before. The feline stopped beside an older man, whose face was almost entirely covered in black dye. The man rested his hand casually on the Shadow-cat's head. The warg.
The tension in the air was thick enough to be cut with my axe. Sigrid already had her sword partially drawn, the metallic sound ringing loud in the forest's silence.
The man with the painted face stepped forward, looking directly at me. He opened his mouth and spoke in a harsh tone, asking a question.
I was momentarily stunned. I blinked a few times, processing the sounds that had just come out of his mouth.
I was expecting the Old Tongue or the Common Tongue. But the words that came out surprised me greatly. I was already mentally preparing myself to have to use mimicry or drawings in the snow in case they spoke Common, or hoping that one of them knew the Old Tongue and that would be enough to negotiate.
But the man's words didn't sound like the Old Norse I was so familiar with. They sounded even more familiar. Too familiar.
He was speaking the Common Tongue. The English of my past life.
"Who are you, black knight? And why do you bring these beasts into our forests?"
A predatory and genuinely relieved smile began to form on my face, pulling at the fresh scar at the corner of my mouth. This instantly lifted my spirits. The communication barrier, which I feared would be my biggest problem in subduing and unifying the smaller clans, didn't exist here. Most of the Free Folk learned the Common Tongue to trade or raid beyond the Wall. And if they spoke my mother tongue from my other life, I had the advantage of the argument.
"This," I whispered low to Sigrid, without taking my eyes off their leader, "is going to be much easier than I expected."
"I am Denovan of the valley of the Thenns, and I am looking for you..." I let my words settle in their ears. "I want to make a deal, we can talk more calmly, I don't want a bloody battle between us... I swear by the Old Gods..."
"The way you speak reminds me of the crows on the Wall... why should we believe you?" the old man countered. "That weapon you and this woman have, those are not the weapons the Thenns use."
"The Thenns are not as they were; we have reached the age of steel. Our weapons and armor are no worse than those of the crows. Believe me, I only want to talk."
I saw a look of surprise on the man's painted face.
"We can talk here, say what you seek... I am the chief of the Nightrunners. We gave you a warning yesterday, and we expected you to leave, but you didn't."
"What is this bastard saying, Denovan? I don't like his tone of voice, and why do you speak their tongue?" Sig asked.
"I'll explain later, Sig, just stay ready in case something goes wrong."
I dismounted from Breu and stood at the front of the group. Orion and Kali approached me, one on each side. Their exaggerated size, black fur, and bronze armor made for a very intimidating scene.
"Chief of the Nightrunners, have you heard of Hardhome?"
I was taller than the old leader of the Nightrunners. The old man still showed signs of strength, but age was leaving its mark. My height, armor, bearing, and the various black animals surrounding me painted a terrifying image for those men.
I kept Horus ready for an attack; he was perched, watching the whole situation unfold.
"Hardhome? The cursed place of legends?" he asked, confused.
"It is not a cursed place, it is a way for us to leave this frozen wilderness. I am going there and I am inviting you..." I replied calmly.
"I refuse. You may go your way now..." the man said abruptly, pointing towards what I assumed was the exit of the forest.
A spark of irritation appeared in me. The man didn't even let me finish speaking, but I continued nonetheless:
"You attack the crows' Wall, all in search of escaping this place. Your children and women die of cold and hunger here... I am offering an opportunity. If we go there, we can build ships that will cross the sea to the warmth of the lands of Essos, on the other side. We won't have to kill each other trying to get past the Wall."
"A dream, boy. I already understand what you want. You can leave now, I and my people refuse."
This stubborn old man...
"I'm trying to be a nice guy," I say, clenching my teeth.
I pull the axe from my back and point it toward him. "Come, old man. You are the leader, aren't you? Come, fight me before your men as witnesses. I won't use my beasts, but you can use that Shadow-cat of yours."
"Are you calling me weak, brat? I've fought more battles than you've heard stories. You don't even have a hair of a beard on that face of yours and you dare to be this arrogant?"
"Old man, just come. Let the winner take all, as the ancient custom dictates... or are you nothing but a coward?"
The old man looks at me with anger, but still, I see restraint in his attitude. I know he is in doubt about the outcome. An idea crosses my mind; wildlings value fair combat, and the more advantage I give the old man, the more legitimate my victory will be.
"Sig, give me your sword," I say without looking at her.
"Why you—"
"Sig," I say firmly.
"Tsk," she grumbles, but tosses me her sword. I look at the blade briefly before speaking to the warrior. I throw the weapon at his feet.
"I will not accept an unfair victory. Use this sword of my sister's, it is made of the best Thenn steel, by our best blacksmith. Come. May the Old Gods bless the winner."
The men, who before looked on with apprehension, now had a different glint in their eyes. They seemed curious and somewhat excited.
"You won't refuse, will you... Sten?" a deep voice came from a tall warrior, likely very close to my own height.
"Don't take me for a coward, Jorik," he says, dropping his stone axe and picking up Sig's sword.
The old man analyzes the sword with admiration.
Seeing that he accepted, I unbutton the bear-fur cloak on my back, revealing the polished leather armor with steel reinforcements. I approach slowly. Behind me, Orion and Kali begin to move forward, but I look back slightly, diving into Kali's eyes for a second; she stops and stays where she is, eyes fixed on the warriors around. The same happens with Orion, without me having to say a word.
"What a strong bond," I hear one of the warriors comment. He might be a warg. I keep the man's appearance in mind and focus ahead.
"Use everything you have, old Sten... and don't underestimate me, or you'll lose."
The man calls the Shadow-cat, which begins to approach him. Noticing the beast closely, it looks like a snow leopard from my past life, only much larger and with black tracks instead of spots.
"Will you really fight alone?" Sten said, pointing to the saber-tooths with visible doubt in his eyes.
"It would be unfair."
"A true skinchanger and his beasts are but one, why would you fight without your two skins?" the old man says bravely. I liked his attitude; he may be stubborn, but he doesn't seem like a bad person.
"It's what I said before, and they aren't just two, old man, I have a few more."
My bonds react to my words: the owl, Horus, Breu, Orion, and Kali—all of them make a sound at once, all showing their presence.
"The boy has many skins," a warrior speaks, looking between the trees trying to find Horus, who was nearby.
"How many are there? Can anyone have that many?" another says, half-incredulous.
I feel the excitement pulse. "Come!"
I start running toward him. I am not afraid of being flanked by the Shadow-cat; my bonds would warn me. Furthermore, in recent years, I've trained at a disadvantage almost always. Two against one will not be strange to me.
Sten roars and commands the feline. The Shadow-cat leaps first, a mass of muscles and claws coming straight for my neck. I don't back down. At the last millisecond, I pivot my body to the side, feeling the displacement of air from the claws passing by me. In the same movement, I reverse the grip on my axe and use the sharp point on the blunt side, which has a small metal spike.
The blow grazes the animal's back, merely startling it and making it move away momentarily.
Sten takes advantage of the opening and advances with Sig's sword. He is fast for his age, and the Thenn steel gleams under the filtered light. He tries a direct thrust, but I parry with the handle of the axe, feeling the vibration of the metal. The old man is skillful; he rotates the blade seeking my arm, but my perception is accelerated by my bonds. I see his movement and anticipate it.
I step into his guard, using my shoulder like a ram. The impact throws him back, unbalancing him in the soft snow. Before he can recover, I spin the axe, and just as I am about to pin his sword blade against the ground, I feel a shiver—one of my bonds warning me.
In that moment, the image of the Shadow-cat pouncing toward me appears in my mind, and knowing its location, I swing the axe with everything I have, hitting the animal's ribs with the other side of the axe with a dry thud of impact. The beast lets out a sharp yelp and rolls in the snow, instantly losing its breath. It tries to get up, but its legs falter; the blow was precise enough to incapacitate it without permanently breaking its bones.
I turn immediately after to see the old man already on his feet again. He looks away from me toward the Shadow-cat; seeing that it's still alive, he charges toward me.
The sword came down toward me. I bring the axe with all my strength and speed to meet the blade. The old warrior's arm is thrown back, but the old man didn't drop the sword.
I am surprised; after all, I went all out. The man's arm must be shaking by now.
With a quick foot movement, I kick his chest, making him lose his balance, and taking advantage, I strike the sword again and this time it flies away. In the blink of an eye, the tip of my axe is pressed against Sten's black-painted throat.
The silence in the forest is absolute. The only sound is the old man's heavy breathing and the low growl of the fallen Shadow-cat beside him.
I stare fixedly at him, giving a wide, lupine grin, until I feel discomfort from the scar and close the smile.
"The Shadow-cat still lives, Sten. And so do you," I say, my voice echoing among the warriors. "Now... let's talk about the future of your people as civilized men, or will I have to prove my strength to each and every one of you? and this time I won't be merciful."
Sten looks at the axe, then at me, and lets out a tired sigh, but with a hint of respect.
"You fight like a demon, Thenn boy..."
"Denovan... that is my name," I say, removing the axe from his neck and extending my hand.
-/-/-
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