The Valley Of Shadows - Ivar and Igor [Vikings]

Bloodied and mangled

"Get up, get up my child." The urgency yet gentleness in his voice stirred young Igor from his slumber. Ivar knelt over him, waking him gently. When the child fluttered his eyes open the pagan left to throw dirt into the fire to dim it.

"What's going on?" Igor asked, his voice still groggy as he looked around to check for danger.

"I have something I must do." Hushed the cripple, staggering over to the horses who were already tacked and ready.

Igor quickly got up and put his jacket and shoes on. Packing up his sleeping roll and stowing it on the horse. "Is it going to be dangerous?"

"Yes, ást." His voice a gentle whisper. "I cannot leave without my brother." There was pain in his voice, Ivar's intense blue gaze showed tear staines and sadness. It was clear he had kept himself awake thinking on what he should do next, saving his brother from Oleg's rage was the only thing that came to mind in the immediate future.

No more words had been said, the two mounted their animals and headed for the unknown journey back, both uncertain of what they were walking into.

It was a four day ride, Ivar made it three as he rode a day without rest.

Now, a grim afternoon, clouds veiling the sun as fog settled along the open terrain. The turning of the wagon's wheels and echoing of hooves filled the empty streets.

Blue eyes scanned the merchant tents, empty and abandoned. Igor's horse tossed his head, pulling the pagan's gaze toward the child.

Worry sunk deep within the boneless, a crippling fear shadowed his eyes, he felt as though his heart was beating in his stomach. Clenching the reins tight until his knuckles turned white.

Ivar nor Igor dared to speak, not right now in fear they would trigger something, stir something or perhaps wake something up.

Slowly and cautiously they trudged along the merchants' tents, coming up to the large silver gates into the main town.

"Something doesn't feel right." Hushed the pagan king, looking to his opposite, the Christian prince. He noticed the child trembling, still not wanting to speak.

The two made their way into the town, Ivar noticed right away that there were no guards, where were the guards? Where are they now?

The streets were bare, empty, left behind, it appeared abandoned, forgotten. Not even a dog feeding on scraps.

"Something is wrong." Repeated the cripple. Looking to the Prince.

Igor saw the deep blue within his eyes, something was very wrong.

They got closer to the castle, something caught their gaze. It was swinging, swaying gently from side to side, but there was no wind, no breeze to move the object.

Ivar raised his hand to hold Igor back, the child fell behind to obey.

They inched closer, the fog began to settle, the clouds revealed the sun and the sun shone on the object above. Strung up to a post in the middle of the streets, a bloodied and mangled body. Warm blood dripped from the neck, trickling down the arms and pooling on the ground, the body had most of its limbs attached, say for a missing hand, broken bones, the ankle twisted in terrible unnatural ways. The head bent to the side, eyes wide open, the face forever frozen in pain and fear.

Ivar pulled his horse to a halt. His gasp became a weeping scream. "Hvitserk!!" He cried.

Igor could only whimper in response to the horrible sight of the boy that swung before him. No words could leave his lips, even if he tried.

Suddenly, before any of them could say words of comfort or dare utter a question within the slaughter, a Rus knight rushed to Igor's horse and began pulling him off as he shouted in his language.

Igor screamed, struggling to break free from the man's grasp. "Ivar!" The boy cried, but no answer, nor did the ruthless pagan come to his side to help defend the Prince. "Ivar!!" He tried again, with the same result.

Ivar froze, his eyes couldn't pull away from his brother, just hanging there, still so young, so much potential, he had only hoped he made his way into Valhalla, even without grasping a weapon.

Not even Oleg appearing on the balcony nor the screams of the child pulled the cripple away from his grief stricken state. He was frozen and trembling.

Once Igor realized Ivar was trapped in a state of shock and couldn't respond to his commands, the young Prince did all he could to fight the man off. He was now on the ground while the man dragged his feet toward the building. The boy was struggling but he remained as ruthless as Ivar taught him.

The edge of a knife glistened within the sun as the man got Igor to his feet. That's when he remembered the knife Ivar gave him, which was holstered in his pocket. The young Prince took out the knife and drove it into the man's chest. Their eyes met once the struggle stopped, both looked equally terrified. The man let out a painful gasp of air before Igor pulled the knife out, allowing the man to fall to the ground, bleeding out from his wound.

"Turn back!" A panicked voice echoed within the streets, in a heavy accent that was unmistakable to be anyone else. Ivar. "Fall back! Fall back!!"

Oleg laughed as he saw the cripple flee, his laugh carried and rang loud in Igor's ears, that damned menacing laugh.

Their trap was set in motion, the Rus had the advantage. Oleg's army came out from the shadows and charged the two.

Igor heeded Ivar's command and ran toward him, Ivar already had his horse in a trot as the child leaped onto the wagon.

Odin was watching, the gods were watching, this Ivar knew. Ragnar would be very disappointed in Ivar's retreat.

Igor clung to Ivar to help steady himself as the horse went in a full speed gallop now, Rus men galloping their war horses in pursuit, Hvitserk's lifeless body hung behind Ivar.

As they fled, Igor could hear the soft prayers from Ivar; "Let the gods rescue him now if they want him." It didn't take long for Igor to riddle out he wasn't talking about Hvitserk.. He was talking about Igor.

***