Blasphemy [Finan the Agile]

CHAPTER xi. 'Dagda Mór, Lord of Lords'

ﾟ❁ུ۪ °ₒ 𓂂 ˚ 𓂂 ₒ ° ₒ 𓂂 ˚˖⋆

CHAPTER xi. 'Dagda Mór, Lord of Lords'

—

             The next morning, Uhtred awoke the sleeping warriors with a splash of cold water. Freydis took the brunt of the water seeing as Finan was asleep head-first in her lap. She sputtered in surprise, her head throbbing at the sudden jump that trailed her rude awakening. Uhtred grinned, looking at the Irish royalty and then grinned in equal sadism toward his right-hand who startled awake simultaneously to his human pillow. "We're leaving for Saltwic," Lord Uhtred mused, "I want the two of you to lead with me."

"Couldn't you have... I don't know... shook us awake?" Freydis inquired, adding the last part when she noticed Sihtric standing behind the Dane-slayer. So much for the kindness she showed waking him up the night before.

Uhtred shrugged, "Not as fun." He looked to the Irishman, "Sober up, Finan. You will lead the line of prisoners."

"Yes, Lord," The Irishman tiredly gruffed, taking a final swig of the leftover ale from the night before. When he finished, Freydis took the cup from his hand and stood up, splashing the last few drops in Sihtrics face.

The Dane laughed, "Your hair is a rat's nest."

"Says the bastard Beocca calls 'young man with rat-hair'," Scoffed Finan, standing up and stretching. "Lord, can we leave Sihtric behind?"

Uhtred rolled his eyes, re-positioning his cloak on his shoulders, "No, Finan. You two hurry up now, it's cold so take your furs."

"Aye, Lord," Finan said, saluting the man as he danced around the rest of Uhtred's sleeping men. Freydis followed behind him, making less of a spectacle as she graciously moved around the bodies without a single trip. As they climbed the stairs Uhtred and Sihtric left, and Finan and Freydis were left with their purchased inn bedroom cluttered with blood bandages and ale stains.

 She frowned, "We should clean this up."

Finan shook his head, carefully placing his armor over his shoulders without unraveling the knot that protected his chest wound. "I paid extra, the innkeeper will clean it up. Take the fur blankets too, we can use them on the ride to Saltwic. Tis' cold."

Reluctantly, Freydis dressed into her discarded armor and hooked her weapon belt to her waist. She then moved over to the bed, taking the top layer of furs and tying it around her neck like a cloak, she handed the other blanket to Finan, to which he did the same but with the blanket covering his head as well. When they returned outside Freydis was hit with a cool breeze that soothed the ale-induced ache in her head, nevertheless, the cold did not stay comforting as she climbed onto her dreadful horse Ogna and was pelted by the new wintery mixture of freezing rain and sleet patches. Moments later, Osferth was carted to the head of the line in a wagon, and Finan was handed the chains that aligned the Danish prisoners to one another. And then they left, crossing the gates of Beomfleot and entering the trail that would bring them to Saltwic.