The silvery drops of morning dew slowly settled upon the green leaves of summer as the sun began its journey across the heavens. The coming dawn had painted the sky into a crimson splendour, and a gust of chilly wind blowing to eorling warrior's face.
Régnwald strode along a sheep trail, then crossed over a ridge to find a smoldering ruin of a hut, a few sheep about. Five rough-looking men were eating at a fire-pit. He edged forward, eyeing the smoke, and they eyed him warily.
''Wyrm came in the night.'' spoke the first man.
Régnwald arched a brow, playing surprise ''Wyrm.''
''Never heard of wyrms?''
''Oh, I've heard. And it left without the sheep.'' said Régnwald, glancing around.
''Just seems odd... from what I've heard of wyrms... to leave a sheep.'' he moved his gaze off.
They offered shrugs.
''So, who are you? I know most eorlings in these parts. And this being Eorlsmead--
''What's it to you?'' snapped then the first man.
Régnwald then spotted some movement further back behind a woodpile, his hand slid to the hilt of his sword.
The first man fixed on the magnificent hilt - a sword of some renown. He eyed Régnwald with more concern.
''That's some sword. You have a name?''
''I don't know yours, you likely won't know mine. Régnwald.''
The others reacted, looks shooting amongst them - a name they knew. And furtively, they reached for their own weapons.
''Maybe your wyrm came back.'' said Régnwald and edged up the slope toward a shed... till he spotted a man on the ground humping something. As he neared, he made out the limp arm of a woman, extended over the rock and only jerking with the thrust of the man. Thus the scenario became immediately clear to him: the burned hut, the dead woman.
He drew his sword, and directly advanced on the bandit group... all of whom now brandished their weapons, though defensively. The first man stumbled back, his movement putting the lie to his words.
''Go now, you can go with your life.''
''This is my life.'' an ironic mutter left the warrior's breath. ''A bloody madness.''
And he charged forward, swinging his blade... immediately slashing the first man to the ground.
A second man came and, after a couple of traded sword-strokes, Régnwald grabbed the other's sword-arm, and then cut him down too.
A third man came at him, who blocked his sword-swing, grabbed the wretch by the throat, and crushed it in his hand.
The last two from the fire-pit group now had clearly panicked expressions. Nonetheless, they came at him with their swords. Régnwald routinely met their strokes, then snatched hold of one, threw him into the other, then decapitated both in a stroke.
The headless clutching corpses then shuddered to the ground. Régnwald turned and marched up the slope.
The necrophile, having just secured his pants, started scrambling up the slope, whining fear.
Régnwald followed for a few beats - and gained ground - then heaved his sword into the air. It sailed some distance before descending and catching the necrophile in his leg. He tumbled to the ground, screaming.
Régnwald strode up to him, pulled his sword from the leg...
''She was dead!'' he spoke his plea.
''Yeah. She was.'' Régnwald lifted his sword, and took a breath to swing it down upon the wretch.
The man cried ''I know of the jailbreak!''
Régnwald paused, eyed him a beat with a grim look and hissed ''...Then you're coming with me.''
As the moment passed in the hut, Régnwald placed the dead woman - wrapped, with care, in a wool blanket - into a shallow grave. Blood was splattered over his face and clothes, but the wildness had left his eyes: now he looked only weary.
The crack of a branch came behind him, and Régnwald twisted about, ready to fight... but found a child, face tear-streaked, fear in his eyes.
''Are you a wyrm queller?''
Régnwald considered, shrugged...
''You quell children?''
Régnwald shook his head. The child eyed his mother.
''She might be scared here with these men.''
''Don't worry. Crows'll come for them.''
''Then she'll be alone.''
''Béma will watch over.''
''He didn't before.''
Régnwald couldn't argue. He continued gently covering the body, the child approaching and helping to pat down the earth on the grave.
After a while, Régnwald approached the man lying in blood, though still alive, his eyes glistened like iron. Without a word then, he began tying the man's hands with a rope - Hondscioh's handicraft - he found in his saddlebag. Gramlic twisted his head impatiently.
The man watched in silence until Régnwald tied the other end of the rope to Gramlic.
''What are you doing!''
''I'll drag you all the way to Stangard myself.'' he hissed, firming the knot.
Régnwald came up over a ridge on foot, leading a horse, on which the child slept, and the wretch was following behind. Régnwald smiled, his gaze finding a group of tents and several dozen eorlings, cooking fires and sending smoke to the skies...
