Red Axe, Black Sun

Wolf Pit Plains

CHAPTER TWO

WOLF PIT PLAINS

The lush fields of the Wolf Pit Plains were a two hour walk east of the crypt. Dryston saw the dark green, wind-whipped grassland mixed with an assortment of rocky hills before his eyes. Stream-fed wooden mills and straw-roofed farm buildings lay scattered across the plain, but these signs of civilization were few and far between.

Under normal circumstances, the plains were quiet and nearly empty, filled mostly by the howling wind. But for the past month, the center of the plains was occupied by the camp of Jarnsaxa Ornsdottir, a northern warlord, who had united several tribes and bands of mercenaries from Vacomany under a single banner to support King Tancred’s campaign.

The camp was a place of trampled and dug-out grass, improvised palisades and a colorful forest of standard army tents decked out in the heraldry of the different guilds and factions residing inside. Rising above the tent pennants was a tall flagpole bearing the standard of King Tancred, with Jarnsaxa’s colors flying beneath. Jarnsaxa always took great care to show that she was loyal to the Crown.

As the group advanced into the center of the camp, Jade uttered her disgust about having to leave her weapons with the guards.

“Talk about being overcautious. They call themselves Vacomani? They outnumber us a hundred-to-one and still are afraid. Bunch of cowards, is what they are.”

“You have enjoyed freedom too long,” Dryston said. “This is what will happen in every civilized place we go to.”

“Wasn’t that way before,” Cormack said. “But now everyone acts this way, ever since the Kolanthel started raiding watchtowers and assassinating the mages.”

Cormack paused to spit on the ground in disgust. “Now we are controlled by a few who claim the right to carry weapons. A few who use a position of power only to continue to expand their own might. Honestly, I feel safer when I have to look after myself. I feel more threatened by the guards than the non-human terrorists they are trying to protect us from. I mean, do I look like an orc to you? That's ridiculous. All it does is decrease everyone’s freedom.”

“One might even say the world isn’t free anymore,” a woman said to them, who awaited them with hands crossed.

Dryston took in the appearance of the warleader. She wore a wolf pelt around her shoulders and her skin was tanned from long hours spent in the sun. Her hair was twined with leather bands in the northern style of a warrior maiden. Clearly this woman held to the old ways. He thought at least Cormack would approve, even if she was the cause of the same security measures he had just been griping about.

“Far as I know,” Dryston said, “it never was.” He eyed the sickle-sword on Jarnsaxa’s back, curved and slender like its wielder. “We want our weapons back.”

Jarnsaxa chuckled. “There are two ways to do that. Work for me, or leave.”

“That makes things simple,” Cormack said. “Let’s discuss business, then.”

 “Fine,” Jarnsaxa said. “Come into my tent, and we will discuss business.”

Dryston, Cormack, Jade and Thaena followed Jarnsaxa into her tent.

Once the tent flap was sealed, she turned to the group and said, “Join my army and fight for me in the end-war.”

Dryston heard Cormack grunting with laughter beside him. The war at the end of time was a legend among the people of the north.

“We’re not going to fight your bloody war,” Thaena said, earning a raised brow from Jarnsaxa. “But we will hunt down lost souls and criminals that corrupt the innocent.”