A Barbarian's Life for Me by VampireNaomi

Index

Chapter 1: Chapter 1
Chapter 2: Chapter 2
Chapter 3: Chapter 3
Chapter 4: Chapter 4
Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Chapter 1: Chapter 1

Author's Notes: Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.

Aladdin and company won't appear in this fic; this about Odiferian barbarians only.

It was impossible to say who was more surprised, the guard or Runtar, when a fellow barbarian crashed through the prison roof.

"Torin! What's going on?" the young guard asked, rushing to his friend's side and helping him stand up.

The older warrior looked unharmed, only a little dizzy. He shook his bearded head to clear his thoughts and stepped out of the small crater his fall had created on the floor. Then his expression grew very grim.

"We're under attack!" he announced.

"What? By who?" Runtar asked from his cell. Never in his life would he have thought that he'd see the day when someone attacked Odiferous. They were known for responding to violence with violence and not listening to reason once the fighting started. Nobody wanted to pick a bone with them.

Torin ignored his question and didn't even turn to glance at him. Instead, he grabbed a battle axe and shoved it into the young guard's hands. "Follow me, lad! Join us as we defend our country!" With that he took his own weapon and rushed out of the prison. The guard followed the example, eager to be of service.

Runtar was left alone to wonder just what was going on. He was too short to see through the barred window, so all he could do was sit back and wait for whatever would happen next.

Uncouthma had to admit that these strangers were tough. Not as tough as his men, but with their bulging muscles and strong weapons they were an impressive sight.

They had appeared out of nowhere and attacked the capital before anyone even knew of their presence. There had been no attempts to solve the problem by negotiations. The fact that someone had sent their army to attack their capital was enough for him and his men. This was an attempted take-over, and they would do everything in their power to stop it.

He brought down his axe to block a blow that would have cracked his skull. The man he was fighting was big and strong, but other than that he didn't look anything like the barbarians. His skin was tanned, he was completely bald and he was wearing light armour that wasn't the best protection but allowed him to move more swiftly than Uncouthma.

"Why have you come here?" Uncouthma asked as he brought down his weapon again. The other warrior dodged nimbly and didn't answer. Unlike Uncouthma, he was too out of breath to talk in the middle of the battle.

One glance around told Uncouthma that his men were fairing well. The attack had caught them off guard, but his people were strong warriors and difficult to defeat. Everywhere he looked, he could see his men having little to no trouble pushing back the strange invaders. Nobody seemed to be seriously injured, but he thought he had heard General Gouda scream earlier. It must have been just a battle cry.

"We're going to have a great victory feast tonight," he remarked happily to himself before turning his attention back to his opponent. Using his superior strength and bigger body, he charged at the man, trusting that his armour would protect him from any attack.

He was right. The enemy, surprised by this bold act, barely had the time to lift his sword before he had been tackled to the ground. His weapon flew from his hands. He tried to rush to it, but Uncouthma stepped in the way and stopped the attempt.

"Now, why are you attacking my kingdom?" he asked, looming over the fallen enemy. If the bald man was afraid, he didn't show it. His face twisted into an expression of contempt.

"I have nothing to tell you, you filthy barbarian!" he said and spat at Uncouthma's feet.

"And yet you grace our city with a gesture like that?" Uncouthma asked in confusion. Spitting to the ground was an old tradition that showed that the guest was feeling at home. It was the highest honour a host could receive.

"What?" the enemy asked, feeling just as confused as Uncouthma.

"Never mind," Uncouthma said. He decided he wouldn't kill this warrior. The bright colours of his armour indicated that he was a high officer and would make for a good prisoner. They would have to start preparing for war as soon as this battle and the victory feast were over.

He grabbed the warrior by the front of his armour and lifted him with ease. A few cheers around him told him that his men had had equal success. Of the dozens of enemy warriors, only a handful was still standing. The rest had been beaten to the ground by his men. While most were still alive, they wouldn't be able to continue fighting.

"Fellow Odiferians!" Uncouthma announced with a victorious grin. "We have defeated this wicked enemy!"

Suddenly, the ground started shaking. Uncouthma almost lost his balance because of the surprise but managed to remain standing. Some of his men weren't that lucky and the remaining enemy warriors instantly used that to their advantage. They hadn't been affected by the sudden earthquake, as if they had been expecting it.

"What's going on?" Uncouthma asked, glancing around.

"Oh, you'll see soon enough," the man he was holding remarked with a grin.

Uncouthma frowned and resisted the urge to punch the man, throwing him on his shoulder like a rag doll instead. The shaking slowed down and stopped, and the battle continued.

Or rather, it would have continued if everyone hadn't stopped to stare at a man who had suddenly appeared on top of the highest building, excluding the royal castle. He was tall and had a powerful stature, though he was not very impressive compared to any of the warriors. He was dressed in a dark brown vest and travelling trousers, like any common man.

Uncouthma watched in fascination how the man waved his hand once. At first nothing happened, but then a lighting bolt struck out of nowhere and hit one of his strongest warriors. The tall barbarian fell instantly.

Most people who were friends with the barbarians knew that they could be some of the friendliest people in the world. Cruelty wasn't a common character trait among them, and they were always cheerful and ready to welcome any guests. However, everyone also knew that angering a barbarian was not a wise thing to do. Once they thought they had been wronged, they never gave up until justice had prevailed.

This was the case even now. Even before the fallen barbarian had properly hit the ground, some of his fellow men had grabbed their weapons and rushed at the mysterious man. To his slight surprise, Uncouthma realised that he wasn't among them. He was still carrying his prisoner. With a frustrated growl, he threw the man away and prepared to join the others.

This action brought the wizard's attention to him. The distance between them was too long for Uncouthma to see the expression on the man's face, but he could clearly see him wave his hand again.

Uncouthma knew he would be the next target.

Brawnhilda bit her lip in frustration. She couldn't remember when had been the last time she had been this angry. Everyone was out there, fighting to protect their country, but she had to remain safe in the castle! It wasn't that she was a woman, since there were quite a few capable female warriors in Odiferous. No, the problem was that according to an old tradition, a pregnant woman shouldn't leave her home before the child was born.

As much as she respected her elders, she sometimes wanted to curse them for making life so difficult. Her precious Uncouthma was out there, and her place should have been by his side! Her fingers bit into the stone edge of the wall, crushing it into dust. She was standing in the highest tower and watching the battle, hoping to catch at least one glimpse of her husband.

They had been married for three months now and their life was perfect. She was pregnant with their first child and things were well in Odiferous. The yaks were healthy, the cheese was the best in years, and they had had no trouble with other kingdoms.

Until now, it seems, she thought grimly. She had no idea where these people had come from. Even from her tower she could see that they weren't locals. The question was, why would someone from a far away land want to have a war with them?

She let out a surprised yelp as the ground started shaking all of sudden. She grabbed the wall for balance, never tearing her eyes from the city. Earthquakes never took place in Odiferous, so she was certain that this wasn't a natural occurrence. That, in turn, could only mean that the enemy had some kind of magic on their side.

An uncharacteristic fear threatened to take over her heart. She knew how strong her people were and had full trust in their abilities, but that only mattered in physical battles. The barbarians weren't much good against magic.

"That's it," she said to herself. She was not going to just stand here like some fragile flower while her husband and people were facing dangerous enemies. With a determined huff, she started running downstairs.

One of her female servants rushed to her the minute she got down. "My lady, you shouldn't run around like that," she said.

Brawnhilda resisted the urge to roll her eyes. As much as she loved Uncouthma and her life with him, she knew she would never get used to having servants do things for her. She had been working with the yaks since her early childhood and had taken care of others her entire life. She hated how the servants made her feel spoiled and like she couldn't lift a finger on her own anymore.

"Stop that. I'm fine!" she snapped and kept going towards the large double doors.

"Where are you going, my lady? There is a battle out there! And you can't leave the castle in your condition," the servant said in a shrill voice and followed her mistress.

Brawnhilda turned around with an angry glare. "I don't care, Sigyn," she said. "I'm not staying here when I'm needed out there!"

Sigyn placed her hands on her hips. "I know how you feel, but we must obey the tradition. We wouldn't have it in the first place if our ancestors hadn't thought it necessary. As Prince Uncouthma's wife you must show how the ideal wife should act like."

Brawnhilda only frowned. Her life had been so much simpler when she had only been in charge of taking care of the yaks and making cheese. These new responsibilities were making her feel like a prisoner in her own life.

She was just about to tell Sigyn that at times like this there were more important things than traditions, but she only managed to get one word out when the double doors flew open and men started marching in.

To both women's surprise and shock, they weren't men from Odiferous. Their body build and appearance were too thin and the armour they wore was foreign. The men were being led by some sort of officer with brighter colours on him.

Brawnhilda didn't hesitate. She grabbed an axe that was hanging on the wall. No matter what, she would defend her home against these invaders. One glance at Sigyn told her that the maid had done the exact same thing.

"Not one step further!" she ordered and lifted the weapon. If the foreign warriors were surprised to see a woman show such strength, their faces didn't betray them.

"Put down your weapon," came a voice from behind the warriors. A man stepped into the hall. His steps were confident and the way everyone bowed to him as he passed them told Brawnhilda that this man was the leader of the invaders. She noted that he had been hiding behind his men as they had entered the castle, like a common coward.

"Give me one good reason," she responded.

"As you wish," the man said. He clapped his hands together and more men entered the castle. They were carrying the unconscious Uncouthma between them. At their leader's command, they threw him on the floor.

"Uncouthma!" Brawnhilda exclaimed. She dropped her weapon and ran to her husband, kneeling by his side. She took his head into her hands and tried to get him to wake up. When that didn't happen, she turned her angry eyes to the enemy leader.

"What have you done to him?" she asked.

"Don't worry, he'll live. I had to knock him unconscious so that I could use him to stop the others. You barbarians have no idea when to quit," he said.

"You?" Brawnhilda asked. She couldn't believe that someone could have defeated her precious Uncouthma. He was the strongest man in the kingdom.

"Don't look so surprised." Then he clapped his hands again. His men heaved Uncouthma from the floor and pushed Brawnhilda back before she could try to stop them.

"I won't let you hurt him!" she snapped. She would protect her husband to the end. With an angry growl, she grabbed the nearest enemy warrior, lifted him above her head and threw him against the wall. She was just about to move to the next warrior when the leader's voice stopped her.

You do realise that we could just kill him while you trash around, don't you?" he asked. To put his point across, he ordered one of his men to press a sword at Uncouthma's throat.

"No! Don't do it!" Brawnhilda shouted and backed away from the warriors. Fighting wasn't an option now if she wanted to keep her husband alive.

"Glad to see we understand each other," the stranger said. "Take him away!" he then told his men who began to leave with Uncouthma.

Brawnhilda could only grit her teeth and promise herself that she would do something about this sooner or later. Right now, however, she had to find out what these people wanted and how to best protect her people.

"And now?" she asked, crossing her arms on her chest.

"Ah, forgive me. I'm Chadrik the Traveller, the new ruler of Odiferous," the stranger said with a self-satisfied grin.

Uncouthma is the ruler!" Brawnhilda snapped.

"You seem to have forgotten that he's my prisoner. As are you. This kingdom is mine now." Chadrik put his hands on his hips and looked around the great hall. "Horribly vulgar, of course, but that's to be expected. Once I get around re-designing everything, the changes will start rolling in."

Brawnhilda didn't know what to think. How could this man have taken over the kingdom that easily and fast? It was embarrassing to even think about it. Even more importantly, why had he chosen Odiferous and what were his plans for everyone?

Runtar turned to look when the prison door opened. Several barbarians entered. They all looked grim and most of them had black eyes, cuts and other signs of battle. The small man watched in surprise and confusion how a foreign-looking man opened the cell and pushed the barbarians inside.

"What happened?" he asked once they were left alone.

Both Torin and the young guard were among the new prisoners. The older warrior shot a glare at Runtar.

"We were defeated," he admitted.

Runtar blinked. That kind of bomb of information was difficult to digest. For all his life he had been certain that his people were the strongest warriors in the world. Everyone else in Odiferous believed the same, and losing in battle was simply something that didn't happen.

He noted that while the other barbarians were hurt, their injuries were very minor. They should have been able to continue fighting. It could only mean that they had had to surrender. He knew it was impossible, and his mind refused to wrap around the fact.

Torin probably saw the confusion on his face because he continued, "They got Uncouthma."

"Is he dead?" Runtar asked at once. He didn't know what to think. Three months ago he had gone through so much trouble to get rid of the ruler, and now someone else might have done it with ease. It hurt his pride a little.

"Don't get too excited. He was only captured. We couldn't keep fighting because they would have killed him," Torin said. His voice turned into an angry growl and he smashed his fist into the prison wall.

"So, what's going to happen now?" the young guard asked. Runtar noted that he looked oddly timid on this side of the bars.

"I don't know, Sighard," Torin told the other man.

"The enemy is probably going to take over the entire kingdom. That's going to be difficult. Our people aren't used to giving up and we won't settle with a weak foreigner ruling us," one of the other barbarians said.

"You forget that they have Uncouthma. As long as they keep him alive and imprisoned, few will have the courage to oppose them," Torin pointed out.

"Uncouthma wouldn't want us to give up because of him! We should have kept fighting!" a barbarian named Barnak said.

"What did the enemy leader look like?" Runtar asked. He was completely ignored by the other barbarians who were now getting into a heated argument about what they really should have done.

"What about Brawnhilda? They could have hurt her if we hadn't stopped!"

"They could still hurt her!"

"Hello?" Runtar asked and waved his hands at the others. "I asked you a question!"

"What?" Torin asked, finally turning to look at him.

"Finally," Runtar said. "I asked what their leader looked like."

"Why do you want to know?" Sighard asked sceptically.

Runtar snorted. "You forget that I was Uncouthma's advisor for years. I know everyone who's something in the surrounding kingdoms. I might recognise the man," he said and lifted his head with pride.

"It would be the first time you’d be useful," Torin muttered.

"Don't be so gloomy. Maybe he can help," Sighard said. He turned his attention to Runtar. "I didn't see him well, but he was tall and wasn't wearing any kind of armour."

"That doesn't help very much," Runtar pointed out.

"Well, no..." Sighard admitted sheepishly.

"How about the warriors? They were all bald, tanned and wore strange armour. It was so thin you could have punched through it!" one of the other barbarians said.

"No, that's not true. I tried. It's tougher than it looks," Barnak pointed out. He was a blacksmith and owned a weapon shop, so everyone trusted his opinion.

Well?" Torin lifted a brow as he looked at Runtar. "Do you know them?"

To his annoyance, Runtar had to admit that he didn't. That description didn't fit any nation he had ever heard of. It could only mean one thing.

"No," he said. "They must be from very far away."

"The leader could do magic. He defeated Uncouthma by calling thunder to his aid!" Sighard said.

Runtar rubbed his chin. It sounded like these new people were a very strange bunch. It would be interesting to see what happened next and how it would affect his life.

"We need to get out of here. We can't just sit here when our Prince needs us!" one of the other barbarians said.

"Break the bars!" someone agreed.

"You can't do that. They've been made of special iron so that they can keep a barbarian at bay. Believe me, I used to be a guard here," Sighard said. He looked miserable. The expression was mirrored on everyone else's face, until Torin came up with an idea.

"Hey, you're small! You can slip through the bars and get the keys!" he said to Runtar.

"I can't do that! I'd never fit!" Runtar pointed at the bars. "Why do you think I'm still here?"

"Oh."

Chadrik sat back on the throne with a self-satisfied grin. Everything had gone exactly as he had planned. He had known these simple-minded barbarians would surrender if he threatened their prince. There were few things he knew about Odiferous, but one of them was that the people were pathetically loyal to their ruler.

"Your men did well today," he said to his second in command, General Daunus.

The bald man bowed. "Prince Uncouthma was a worthy opponent in battle."

"Indeed, but he even he couldn't be a match for my tricks," Chadrik chuckled. "These people have no magic, so now they are afraid of me and what I can do to their prince. It shouldn't be too difficult to control them, and eventually they will get used to a new set of orders."

Daunus frowned in worry. "But what if they learn that you aren't gifted in magic? If someone discovers where your power truly comes from, we could be in trouble. My men can't hold back the barbarians if they decide to rebel," he said.

"You needn't worry about that, my friend. I have thought it through. I will keep Uncouthma and his wife as my prisoners and tell the barbarians that as long as they obey me, their former rulers won't be harmed," Chadrik said.

"Will that be enough?"

"Of course not!" Chadrik shook his head and ran his fingers through his thick, black hair. "I will re-organize everything in Odiferous. Perhaps even change the name. Once everything these barbarians hold dear changes, their will to fight will wither. In a few years nobody will want to oppose me."

He frowned thoughtfully. Of course, there was the problem that he didn't know this land as well as he would have liked to. It was risky to start ruling when he didn't even know the basic customs. He would have to find someone to help him. Maybe someone from the neighbour kingdoms?

"Do we have any foreigners here? I need someone who can tell me about this kingdom and how to break the barbarians' spirit," he said.

"I don't know. These people look all the same to me," Daunus said. Then his dark eyes brightened. "There was already someone in the cell where I took some of the prisoners. He looked like he was a local. I don't know what his crime is, but it shouldn't be difficult to convince him to switch sides and betray his people in exchange for his freedom."

Chadrik smiled. "Sounds most excellent. Have him brought to me at once. I have a feeling I may soon have a valuable ally by my side."

To be continued...

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Chapter 2: Chapter 2

When Mildburh learnt that she was pregnant, she was the happiest young woman in Odiferous. It felt like the day had suddenly brightened and even the dull chores she usually detested couldn't ruin it for her.

Mildburh wanted to believe him, but she had seen the woman's eyes. She knew that something was going to go wrong.

Every barbarian lifted their head when the door to the prison was opened. One of the enemy warriors stepped inside. His face betrayed no emotion as he looked at his prisoners, but the barbarians threw insults at him, growled and waved their fists in the air.

"You," Daunus said and pointed at Runtar. "I have come for you."

"Me? What do you want with me?" the small man asked. He glanced at the others, but they could offer him no answer.

The door was opened and he stepped outside for the first time in months. It didn't feel like anything special, and he was a little disappointed. He had been expecting some sort of sudden joy for his freedom.

Daunus gestured for him to follow and Runtar had no choice. He turned back to look at the other barbarians who remained in the cell.

"Be brave, Runtar! If they torture you, don't tell them anything!" someone shouted at him. It was probably meant to encourage him, but it only helped to turn his thoughts to subjects he didn't want to think about.

"Where are we going?" he asked nervously as he hurried along the tanned warrior. He had to run to keep up with the taller man's long steps.

"My lord wants to see you," was all Daunus said.

Runtar frowned to himself. So, he would soon meet the mysterious enemy leader who could use magic and who had defeated Uncouthma. The mere thought made him feel a little restless. Someone who had won Uncouthma in battle had to be a fearsome warrior.

The royal castle had changed little from how he remembered it. The only difference he could see was that there were no Odiferian men guarding the entrance. They had been replaced with these dark-skinned foreigners.

The two guards saluted Daunus as he and Runtar made their way past them. Other than that they didn't move or show any sort of emotion. Runtar considered it surprisingly efficient. When it came to barbarians, you could read them like an open book. He had always been able to tell if a guard was having a bad day just by looking at his face.

Daunus led him to the great hall where the throne was. A tall man was sitting on it, resting his hands on the bone armrests. The throne had been made for Uncouthma, so the stranger looked small, almost childlike, on it.

"Excellent, General," the man said. He clapped his hands twice. "You may leave us."

"As you wish," Daunus said with a bow and retreated.

Runtar observed the man sitting in front of him. The man wasn't quite as tall as most barbarians, nor did he have the strongest build in the world. He reminded Runtar of that cursed Aladdin who had foiled his perfect plan, except that this man's skin was a tad darker. He was dressed in a brown vest and traveller's trousers.

"I'm surprised. You don't look like an Odiferian. Half-breed?" the man asked.

"No," Runtar snapped, slitting his eyes and crossing his arms on his chest. He hated it when strangers assumed that.

"Ah, well. It is of no importance. Let me introduce myself. I am Chadrik the Traveller. I have come here to take over this land and I've succeeded," the man stated matter-of-factly.

"Why Odiferous?" Runtar asked. It couldn't be just power. Wherever this man was coming from, there had to be places closer to his home to be taken over.

"Why not?" Chadrik threw back. "As I'm sure you know, it's a prospering country with a great future. Who wouldn't want to rule it?"

Yes, indeed, Runtar thought to himself. He still hadn't given up his dream of rising to power one day. With him it was different, though. He had no desire to rule anything else, especially something that was very far a way. Odiferous was enough.

Chadrik caressed the yak bone that the throne was made of. "I didn't call you here to talk about my motives," he said.

"Then why did you? I didn't even take part in the battle," Runtar said. He suspected that this Chadrik fellow wanted something of him. Once he found out what it was, it was time to start thinking how to best use it to his advantage.

"Ah, impatient, are we?" Chadrik asked.

Runtar was ready to admit that he did not like this man. He was treating him with the kind of superiority that he couldn't tolerate. To show his displeasure, he straightened his small form and brought a hand to his chest.

"I am Runtar, former advisor of Prince Uncouthma and highly educated in how this country works. Being called here to play verbal games is not what I'd like to do with my time," he said, using all his arrogance to present himself.

Chadrik smiled a little at that, but it was not a mocking gesture. "Exactly," he said and sounded like a very pleased man. "That is why I wanted to see you." He took in the confused expression on Runtar's face and continued, "You see, even though I have this country under my control, I realise that it won't last long. I need to strengthen my hold and for that I need someone who knows the local culture."

"And why would I help you?" Runtar asked. He had to admit that the stranger wasn't stupid. If anyone wanted to keep the hot-headed barbarians at bay, they had to break their spirit and make sure there was nothing for them to fight for.

"If you accept a post as my advisor for the time being, you will of course be given your freedom and full liberties at everything. You would be one of my highest officials and have the kind of power that you've never even dreamed of," Chadrik said.

Runtar snorted at that. If Chadrik knew that he had wanted -- and tried -- to take over Odiferous himself, he wouldn't have tried such cheap talk with him. Still, under the cliché glamour there was actually a point. If he refused, he would go right back to the cell, or worse, and never accomplish any of the things he had wanted from his life.

"You do realise that you're asking me to betray my people and home country?" he asked. Not that he hadn't done that already.

"Don't make it sound that bad. What I'm planning to do with this country will be better for everyone in the long run. Look at this." Chadrik sniffed to himself and pointed at the hall. The stone walls and floor were rough, and one could easily see hammer marks in them. The furniture was made of old wood, some of which was splintering and darkened by countless years of use. Weapons and stuffed animal heads, mainly yaks and wild goats, decorated the walls.

Runtar didn't see anything wrong with the interior. "Your point?" he asked.

"This is the most uncivilized place I have seen in my life! In my country even the filthiest bars don't look like this, and this is supposed to be the royal throne room!" Chadrik snapped. "What I'm going to do is to change everything. I will make Odiferous a country where senseless violence is no longer looked up to, where art and science will be appreciated, and where people will be judged by their intelligence, not by brutal strength!"

Alright, Runtar was surprised by that. Having grown up as a barbarian among barbarians, he knew exactly how impossible such a task would be to finish. Yet, wasn't that what he had wanted, minus the art and science nonsense? Part of the reason why he had attempted his takeover was that he had wanted to show everyone that he could do things other than talk big and hand out advice that was often overlooked.

"That is not going to work," he announced. Odiferians had traditions dating back centuries and they were some of the most stubborn people in the world. They would not just stand by and watch how their entire culture was twisted into something different.

Chadrik chuckled at that. "Don't be so sure. I am not going to just announce that things are changing. I will twist the barbarians' minds so that they will go happily along with me. For that I need you. You know these people, their customs, and how their minds work."

In Runtar's opinion, it was useless to even attempt changing the way Odiferians were. Still, he mused, some minor changes might be possible. Anything was better than the brutal society they had now and if he could get power in the process of changing some of that, who was he to argue?

"Alright," he agreed with a wicked grin. "Count me in."

Surprisingly enough, Chadrik didn't want to start plotting their plan right away. According to his own words, he wanted to see to that his quarters were furnished in a way that didn't make him want to claw his eyes out.

Runtar couldn't understand what was wrong with a stuffed goat head, but he was happy about the turn of events in any case. It gave him time to do something that he had wanted to do ever since he had been imprisoned.

He headed out to the fields outside the city. It was where the herds of yaks pastured. The big and hairy animals were the most respected creatures Odiferians could think of, and it was a tradition that every family had to have at least one. For a man of any social class it was almost a responsibility to own one of the mighty animals.

Runtar looked around in the grassy fields. It looked like the swift battle hadn't affected the yaks at all. They were animals that didn't get scared easily (if one didn't count spiders) and Runtar suspected they would remain at their spot even if the rest of Odiferous went down.

"Zebu!" he called for his yak. One of the guards at the prison had told him that the small yak had been taken to live with a little herd. In any other country the companion of a traitor would have been slaughtered, but Odiferians felt too strongly about the bond between a barbarian and his yak to do that.

One of the other yaks lifted their head to glance at him. Then it returned to eating, obviously deciding that this little man was of no interest. Other yaks didn't even do that as Runtar walked among them, looking for his friend.

There was a shrill moo somewhere behind him, and he turned around. It was impossible for him to see over the tall animals, so all he could do was to wait for Zebu to find him. It didn't take long for the yak to locate the whereabouts of his master.

Zebu let out another happy moo and jumped at him. For a moment they were a mixed heap of limbs, black fur and hooves. Zebu managed to give Runtar one lick to the face before the barbarian pushed the yak off.

"Control yourself, Zebu," he said sternly as he stood up and brushed dust off his tunic. The yak mooed at him, and Runtar stroked the animal's head. "Alright, I'm happy to see you, too."

They started getting back to the city, Runtar telling Zebu what had happened and the yak happily jumping along. The closer to the city they got, the more obvious it became that things were not well in Odiferous. The people they passed were grim and silent, and many looked ready to kill anyone who dared to cross their path. Even the yaks they met looked like the world was about to end.

It must be because of Uncouthma, Runtar realised. He remembered how helpless the barbarians in the prison had felt due to their inability to do anything without risking the life of their ruler. Odiferians were proud people and just sitting back and watching how their country was taken over had to be painful. Still, their loyalty to their Prince and his life were valued more.

"Things will start changing now," he told Zebu. He was still having doubts about Chadrik's plans, but he was ready to see what would happen.

"Moo?" Zebu asked in confusion and Runtar smiled at the yak.

"Oh, just wait and see. At least this time there are no annoying foreigners to foil the plan," he said, thinking back to how Aladdin and friends had ruined his well-plotted scheme. He had lost because of magic, but this time the only magic-user was on his side.

His house was on the edges of the city. From outside it was impossible to tell that it belonged to the smallest man in Odiferous, as it was the same size than all the surrounding buildings. It was built of rough stone and dark wood. Nobody had been living in it during his imprisonment, and the thatched roof looked like it was in need of repairs. He decided to do something about it once he had more time.

"Hey, Runtar!" someone called before they had time to enter. Runtar turned around to face Garean, one of his neighbours.

"Yes?" he asked, not sure what the old blacksmith's intentions were.

"I thought you were in prison. What happened?" Garean asked and scratched his bare chin.

"Oh, that. The new ruler let me go, probably to make more room for our warriors," Runtar replied.

"Yes, I can see why he wouldn't think it would be worth the trouble to keep you locked up," the old blacksmith said. "Have you already heard about Uncouthma?"

Runtar frowned a little at the comment about him. "I heard he went down, but not much else," he said.

Garean shook his head to himself and sighed. "It wouldn't be such a bad thing if he hadn't been defeated by magic. You at least tried to use mortal ways to do that, but this new fellow is a coward who hides behind magic," he said. "Such a shame to see someone like Prince Uncouthma defeated like that. There was no fair battle."

In Runtar's opinion it didn't matter how one destroyed their enemies, as long as the job got done. However, he wasn't about to start an argument with a man who had seen him grow up and was more set in his ways than anyone else in the country.

"What's going to happen to him now?" he asked.

"I don't know. For now Uncouthma is alive and that is the only thing stopping us from barging in there and driving that filth out," Garean said, pointing at the royal castle. His face brightened a little as he turned his attention to Zebu. "Hey, haven't seen you in a while. Here, catch!" He pulled out an onion out of his pocket and threw it at the yak that instantly caught and ate it.

"Don't feed him. Onions give him insomnia," Runtar commented.

"Bah, lighten up a little," Garean remarked.

With that the old blacksmith turned around and entered his house. Runtar snorted and shrugged to himself before doing the same.

"Stupid old man…Come, Zebu," he said before he stepped inside.

To be continued...

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Chapter 3: Chapter 3

Everything in this story belongs to Disney. I have nothing to do with them and this story is in no way used to make any money.

A BARBARIAN'S LIFE FOR ME

Chapter 3

When Osred and Mildburh's son was born, it was obvious that he was different from every other child in Odiferous. His skin had a pale, almost sickly tone and he was smaller than any child the parents could ever remember seeing. He looked like a doll in Mildburh's arms.

Other than that, there was nothing wrong with him. He had no deformities and was by no means an ill child. He had inherited his mother's eyes and his father's raven hair, and they both agreed that he looked very much like his late grandfather.

"He will grow," Osred said in determination as he looked at his child. "He has to."

Mildburh smiled. "I'm sure he will," she assured, though she didn't feel that certain. The old woman's words had been echoing in her head for the past months, and she was positive that their child would have a dark future. Messing with magical people never turned out well.

She handed their son to Osred. The child looked awfully small in the barbarian's enormous hands, and Osred frowned in worry.

"He's so little. I feel like he might break if I'm not careful enough," he said.

"I'm sure every new father feels that way," Mildburh said with a gentle smile.

They named their son Runtar to honour Osred's father who had been a skilled warrior. Maybe they also hoped that the name would give the child good fortune and help him along in life. If the old woman's threat became reality, the child would need it.

Time flew fast when you were a new parent. Mildburh's days were filled with caring for their son, keeping the house in order and feeding her husband. She had never been that busy in her life, and yet she couldn't recall happier days. Every day was the same, and her life was in perfect order.

Runtar turned out to be an easy child to look after. He wasn't cranky, ate well, and rarely woke up at night. He was like a dream and Mildburh couldn't have wished for a lovelier child. She hadn't forgotten about the old woman, but had grown to think of the event as if it had happened to someone else. She was too happy to worry about it anymore.

"I saw Antav today. A son was born to him and his wife two days ago," Osred said one night after returning from the mountains.

"Really? How wonderful. They’ve been waiting for this for years," Mildburh remarked. Antav, who was her husband's close friend, already had four daughters. Everyone knew how much the warrior wanted a male successor to take over his weapon shop.

Osred nodded. "He said the boy is healthy and strong. For a moment they thought Irnil would give birth to twins," he said. His eyes shifted to the wooden cradle he had made. Mildburh knew what her husband had to be thinking, and she bit her lip.

Their son hadn't grown much in the past months nor had he started looking better. He was happy and curious about everything new, but he hadn't shown any signs of starting to look like a barbarian child. Mildburh knew that there were newborn babies who were bigger than her Runtar was at his five months. She didn't mind -- even if there were people who wondered if Osred really could be the father of such a small child -- but sometimes she caught her husband looking at the child with a thoughtful expression on his face, like at the very moment.

"He'll be fine," she assured him.

"Will he? He doesn't look like he'll ever make a decent warrior. Or a blacksmith. Or a hunter. He has to be strong to survive in Odiferous. I'm afraid he doesn't have what it takes," Osred said. He walked over to the child who was sleeping peacefully.

"Rubbish! He's only five months old. Anything could still happen," Mildburh said. She didn't like having to defend a child to his own father. It made her feel like Osred wasn't pleased with his son, and that was something that almost broke her heart, and would do so to Runtar when he grew a little older.

Osred didn't say anything to that, merely turned away.

- - -

The next few years brought along no change. Runtar was the smallest child in Odiferous and didn't grow, no matter what they tried. They had taken him to the local healer, given him the best cheese in the kingdom, and shown such care that nobody else in Odiferous could claim the same.

At the same time, all other children prospered, grew strong and loud with a healthy blush on their cheeks. They were the apples of their parents' eyes.

Osred knew that some of his fellow men and women pitied him and his wife. Having a weakling of a son was the worst nightmare of every barbarian. There were times when he wanted to punch his friends for talking the way they did and remind them that his son had been the quickest to learn his first words. Runtar had also taken his first steps sooner than most other children.

Still, he had to admit that the others had a point. Runtar would not grow to become a man fit to survive in the Odiferian society. He wouldn't be anything without physical strength, or at least he wouldn't gain a high social status. The idea of his son having to do petty chores and dirty work for the others made Osred's heart ache.

He wanted to see his son grow up to be a man who could take care of himself. He wanted to be proud of Runtar. How could he ever do that when his son had no future at all? Also, it would bring shame to the family if their oldest son didn't make a name for himself. While that was something that didn't matter that much to him, he was worried about how Runtar would take it when he got older.

His life will be one big disappointment, he thought to himself as he sat in front of the fireplace. It was an early morning, but he wasn't going hunting today. Everyone else was still asleep, so he had time to ponder to himself in the dim house.

Maybe it was the lack of light and sound that was making him feel that way. It was as if time had stopped. Remains of a fire were still smouldering in the ashes. Osred found himself staring at them. He was playing with his beard in thought.

He hadn't really paid much attention to the old woman, but now he couldn't stop thinking about her. She had put on the curse because he had lost his temper. He hadn't believed it back then, but what else could have caused this? It only meant one thing. He was to blame for any future suffering of his son.

"Arrh!" he let out a sudden growl and jumped to his feet. Why couldn't his son be big and strong like everyone else's? Why was he suffering for something his father had done? Why had something that had been supposed to be the greatest thing in his life turned into the biggest disappointment he could imagine?

He ran his fingers through his black hair and drew a deep breath, closing his eyes from the world. Why could he not help but feel disappointed in his own son? Every time he saw Antav's son or heard his friend tell about how his child was already able to pick up one of his axes, he felt a hot wave of emotions inside him. Jealousy, anger, and frustration.

I can't take this anymore, he thought. He had to get out.

It was wrong, he knew it, and it only made it worse. There was nothing more disrespectful than a father who couldn't appreciate his own son. He really wanted to feel the right thing, but there were too many things reminding him of the harsh reality. No matter what happened, Runtar was unlikely to ever do anything to make him proud.

Fresh morning air greeted him as he rushed outside, careful not to make too much noise. It was quite cold for that time of the year, but Osred knew that the first rays of the sun, already peeking at him behind the eastern mountains, would make everything pleasantly warm in a few hours.

The sight of the mountains told him what he had to do, what he wanted to do. If it hadn’t been for Mildburh, he would have spent all his time in the wilderness. There was nothing he loved more than wandering around the rocky paths, climbing to reach dangerous tops, and simply observing the wildlife. The smell and sounds of pure, untamed nature always helped to soothe his soul when he was feeling distraught.

With most of the city still asleep, it wasn’t difficult to find his way undisturbed to its edges. When he reached the yaks, most of them still dreaming as well, he was finally able to let out a sigh of relief. Here, with the morning sky of different shades of dark blue and orange and the smell of humid grass, it felt like a great weight had been lifted off his shoulders.

He passed the yaks and headed for the path to the mountains. He had left his weapons home, so it was a stupid thing to do alone. At that moment that was the last thought in Osred’s mind, however. In fact, he wasn’t thinking about anything. His steps became longer and longer until he was running, not knowing where he was going.

It didn’t take long before he was gasping for breath. His fur clothes felt hot and wet on him and sweat dripped down his beard. He was in good shape, but running in the mountains was a heavy exercise for anyone. Finally, when he was unable to go on anymore, he collapsed against a large rock and closed his eyes.

Perhaps he was being stupid, but he felt like the only way to clear his thoughts was to get away from everything and use all useless energy. Both were ways of making sure he wouldn’t hit anyone when his thoughts became too heavy for him to bear.

Osred wiped sweat off his brow and opened his eyes. The sun was dawning and painting the sky with brilliant orange, yellow, and blue. The view from the mountains was breathtaking. The city and yaks looked like small dots and it was easy to think that they didn’t really exist.

I wonder if I can ever bring the boy to see this, Osred thought to himself. Runtar would have trouble climbing this high. Osred recalled his father had brought him along when he had been just five. They had wandered together for hours, looked for goat tracks, and his father had taught him how to handle a bow. The thought of not sharing that kind of bond with his son saddened him, though even now he was doing his best at not letting it show.

Antav would have a great time with his son. His friend didn’t have to worry about anything. Osred ran his fingers through his thick hair. What should he do? He didn’t want his son to lead a miserable life.

While the rays of the sun kept growing stronger, the expression on Osred’s face became darker and darker, until he was scowling to himself. Maybe it would have been the best if Runtar had never been born at all. At least then he wouldn’t have to watch how his son struggled to live in a society he didn’t belong to.

The more he thought about it, the more sense it made. If his son was going to have a miserable life, wouldn’t it be better if had none at all? He wouldn’t have to suffer and everyone’s life would return to normal. The problem was, there was no way to achieve that.

A sudden, shrill sound caught his attention and woke him up from his grim thoughts. Osred jumped to his feet and looked around, ready to face anything. He had instantly recognised the voice as a wild goat’s, but there was no telling what else could be there.

There was another baa which he started following. The path grew narrow and steep; it was hard to keep walking. Small rocks were sent flying over the rocky edge when he almost slipped. The higher he got, the harder it was to keep going, even for an experienced hunter like him.

After a few minutes, he finally saw the source of the noise. A wild goat lay on the ground with its leg caught between two fallen boulders. The animal eyed him warily and tried to get up and run away, but it was unable to move. It let out a helpless baa when Osred took another step closer.

“Shh, don’t worry,” the hunter said. One look at the goat told him that the animal was still very young, probably spending its first weeks without mother’s guidance. He took one more step towards it, hoping to get close enough to take a look at the leg.

“I’m not going to hurt you,” he murmured softly. It always worked to soothe tame animals, but he wasn’t sure if it would have the same effect on animals not used to people. The goat baaed in panic and tried to escape again, but Osred quickly caught a hold of the thick fur and held the animal down. The goat struggled, but it was not much of a fight with one leg trapped.

“Now, let me take a look,” Osred said. He moved one of the rocks as gently as he could and examined the damage. The goat flinched in fright and pain as he touched the leg. He stroked its shaking form.

It didn’t look good. The bone was clearly broken. It was a clean fracture and would heal on its own in time, but Osred doubted the goat could survive in the wild using only three legs. He couldn’t take it back home with him either because he knew its spirit would never be tamed.

I wish I had brought my weapons, he thought. The goat wouldn’t survive and it was a shame to let the meat go to waste. He pondered if it would be a good idea to wring the animal’s neck with his bare hands.

“Baa!” The goat caught his attention. It was trying to get up again, and he hurried to move the boulders away.

“That’s not going to work. You’re too weak,” he said, as if the animal might listen. The goat stopped to look at him for a moment and then continued the struggle. Finally, it got to its shaky feet and tried taking a few steps. At first it stumbled and almost fell back down, and Osred looked at it, shaking his head. Then, to his amazement, the goat managed to skip a little, using only three of its feet. After only a few seconds it was gone, having disappeared down the path.

Osred had always known that wild goats were able to adapt to almost any situation up in the mountains, but he hadn’t thought they could be that skilled. He had clearly underestimated the little goat and considered it doomed too early.

Still, it was impossible to say if the little one would survive. Knowing what dangers it would face in the mountains, Osred couldn’t help but feel impressed by the animal’s determination and will to live.

Then his smile froze on his face. Suddenly, he realised what a complete fool he had been. This was exactly how he was supposed to feel about his son. His responsibilities were down there, giving Runtar support and all the help he’d need in life.

Nothing had ever seemed that clear to him before. Osred turned around on his heels and started a mad run back to the city.

- - -

“Now, now, be patient, Runtar,” Mildburh advised her son.

“I want it now,” was the child’s reply. He was sitting on the floor and playing with a little wooden yak. His black hair was a mess, the result of a struggle they had fought when Mildburh had tried to get him dressed up.

“I’ll send your father to buy cheese when he gets back,” she sighed. It seemed to her like Runtar was becoming more demanding with every day. They’d have to be careful before he became too rude.

“When?”

Mildburh wished she knew the answer. She knew that Antav’s son was already learning to ride a yak and that it had made Osred very upset. Runtar was far from being able to control the mighty animals. She couldn’t help thinking that this might be the reason why her husband was gone.

She couldn’t really say a bad word about him. Osred had been a good father to Runtar. He had never got angry when the boy failed to accomplish the same as others and hadn’t hit him. On the other hand, sometimes Mildburh thought that was part of the problem. Osred never encouraged Runtar to improve. It was as if her husband had already learnt to accept the fact that their son would never grow to become anything.

“When?” Runtar asked again, sounding a lot more impatient this time. His little brows were burrowed, and he glared at his mother with an expression that demanded everything right now.

Mildburh opened her mouth to reply, but just then the door opened and Osred stepped in. He looked exhausted; he was panting hard, there was a deep flush on his face and sweat trickled down his forehead.

“What happened? Are you alright?” Mildburh asked in alarm. Something had to be wrong. She rushed to him and looked at him with worry in her dark eyes.

Osred merely patted her arm and smiled. It didn’t quite have the effect he wanted because it only caused his wife to get more concerned. Anyone could have seen that something had shaken the hunter.

“I’m fine, I’m fine,” Osred said in a hurry. Then he turned to look at Runtar who had paused his play to look at his father. “Ah, there you are, my boy.”

Mildburh watched how Osred scooped Runtar into his arms and lifted him easily on his shoulders. It was the first time she saw her husband smile like that around their son. Little Runtar seemed to be just as confused as his mother, as Osred had never been a very active father. However, he was able to look past it and embrace the change with childish enthusiasm.

Whatever had happened, Mildburh was glad about it.

- - -

General Gouda gritted his teeth in pain, but incredibly remained silent when the hot iron was pressed against the wound in his side. The horrible stench of burning flesh filled the small room, but nobody complained. The barbarians were hardened warriors and used to much worse than that.

“There,” the barbarian with the iron said as he put it away. “It should be fine now, but you still have to lie down for at least a week. You’ve lost a lot of blood,” he said.

“I don’t have time to hide here like a weak coward! There is a battle to be fought outside!” Gouda said, though he didn’t attempt to get up. He knew just as well how bad his condition was, but that didn’t mean he had to like it.

Antav shook his head sadly. “It doesn’t look good. The enemy has taken over the castle and imprisoned Uncouthma. They also have Brawnhilda. Nobody has the courage to attack them because of what might happen to them,” he said.

“Cowards!” Gouda spat. “Uncouthma would be ashamed! He’d want us to defend our honour no matter the cost!” He couldn’t believe what he was hearing. In his eyes, the only option they had was gathering all men and marching against the enemy to destroy them, or to die with honour in the process.

“Yes, but we have to think beyond that! What good will it be to any of us if Uncouthma and Brawnhilda are killed? The enemy leader has strange magic, and our weapons are no match for him. We have to be careful,” Tanrid said. The former tavern owner was getting old, but his hair and beard showed no signs of turning grey. He didn’t look a day older than his two sons.

Gouda cursed to himself. He had been wounded early on in the battle and had missed most of the action. His friends had brought him to safety, so he hadn’t been imprisoned. From what he had heard, the enemy had thrown the best Odiferian warriors to prison in order to keep the situation under control.

“Anything else?” he asked.

“They have closed down all weapon shops and are forbidding smiths from forging any new weapons, unless it’s for the enemy’s use. There has been no news about what they’re going to do about the imprisoned,” Antav said.

Gouda recalled someone telling him that Antav’s only son, Barnak, was among the captured men. The old barbarian was holding himself together very well; nothing in his behaviour betrayed the worry he had to be feeling.

“This doesn’t look good,” he had to admit. Already he was thinking about gathering his best men, or what was left of them, and taking the enemy by surprise. No matter what the others said, that was the only good way of solving the matter.

“There’s still one thing,” Antav said.

“What?” Gouda didn’t think there was much that could have made the situation any worse.

“The traitor, Runtar, has joined the enemy and is selling his services to them,” Antav explained. Now he couldn’t conceal his feelings anymore and the disgust in his voice was evident. Gouda couldn’t really blame him. Runtar was the only son of Antav’s late best friend, and seeing what a pathetic, weak traitor the man was had to be painful.

“That’s not a surprise,” he snorted. “Runtar has been rotten for as long as I can remember. But what does he matter? He is weak.”

Tanrid frowned at that. “It is true that he is no warrior, but he is cunning. We should not forget that he used to be the royal advisor. He knows things the enemy can use,” he said.

“True,” Gouda admitted. He hadn’t thought of that. He still didn’t think Runtar possessed a threat, but the man was a despicable enemy and would have to be dealt with. That wouldn’t be a problem, though. Runtar was so weak that he wouldn’t stand a chance in any fight. “Runtar is not important at the moment. We can deal with him later. This time prison won’t be enough for his crimes.”

- - -

The next morning, Runtar got up early and headed for the royal castle. He wasn’t entirely sure what kind of advice Chadrik was expecting of him, but he was certain he’d have it ready. If he didn’t know something, he’d lie. That had always been a good way to get out of tricky situations.

The rest of Odiferous was also awake, though everyone still looked like they were walking in a dream. Faces were twisted in anger, and eyes revealed the flaming anger in the barbarians’ hearts, but nobody was taking action. Several enemy warriors were keeping an eye on the scene and reminding everyone of that Odiferous was no longer a free country.

“I’ll take two pounds of onions,” a woman said in a strained voice as Runtar walked through the marketplace. A few people glanced at him, but nobody was curious about why a traitor was walking free again. Everyone had more urgent things in their minds. While Runtar was happy about being left alone, he couldn’t help feeling a little ignored. He had almost killed Prince Uncouthma and yet he was still treated like a common nobody!

Someone bumped into him and sent him flying to the ground. He got up and ran after the other barbarian who hadn’t even bothered to stop.

“Hey, watch where you’re going!” he snapped.

“Sorry, I didn’t — Hey, it’s you!” the barbarian said. He brushed thick locks of grey hair from his eyes and eyed Runtar warily. The significantly smaller man realised that he had just collided with Antav, one of his late father’s old friends.

“What do you want?” he asked, already putting up his defences. He had never liked Antav very much, not even when he had been a child.

“I think it was you who called out to me. I thought they put you behind bars,” the older barbarian said.

“The new ruler let me go,” Runtar replied. That was a mistake he realised a split second too late when Antav threw his axe to the ground and grabbed Runtar by his tunic.

“You call that wimp a ruler? He is nothing but a dirty coward who would have never defeated Prince Uncouthma in a fair battle! Calling him our ruler is like striking Uncouthma down yourself!” Antav raged, face read with anger.

“Isn’t that exactly what he tried to do?” a brown-haired barbarian remarked. Antav’s outburst had attracted the attention of many and a small crowd was gathering around them.

“He’s just as bad as the foreigners! He should have never been let go!” someone else offered. Cheers and shouts of agreement grew louder by every second. It was like the barbarians had finally found a way to express their stress and frustrations about the situation. Or maybe they had always wanted to get Runtar for what he had done. Either way, the small barbarian was starting to get enough of the sudden attention.

“Osred would be so ashamed if he were still alive. It’s hard to believe that such a good man could have raised the worst kind of traitor. After all Uncouthma did for you, you still weren’t satisfied and had to stab him in the back!” Antav snapped.

“Well, haha, it’s not quite as bad as you think…” Runtar offered weakly, hoping to be able to get away from the other barbarian’s grip and find his way to safety. Unfortunately, the only way to distract these people was to awe them with physical strength, so his chances didn’t look very promising.

“Really? Maybe you could tell us the real story, then?” one of the oldest barbarians in the crowd suggested.

“Umm…” Runtar didn’t have any idea what to say. Usually he was able to worm his way out of any situation, but the only way to make the situation look favourable to him was to make Uncouthma look bad. He wasn’t stupid enough to even consider that; one bad word about the beloved prince would send him right away to an early grave.

Thankfully, he never had to come up with a clever reply. The foreign warriors had been following the scene’s development for a few minutes and had finally had enough. Three of them approached, led by the same man who had taken Runtar from his cell the day before. The barbarian recalled his name to be Daunus, but that was it.

“Stop this uncivilized banter and let the man go. He hasn’t done anything wrong,” Daunus said in a deep voice.

“Nothing wrong? He betrayed his people and tried to kill Prince Uncouthma!” Antav snapped. Then he seemed to realise who he was talking to and shut up.

“According to the new laws, opposing the former ruler is not considered a crime anymore,” Daunus announced. “Now, let him go before I arrest you for harassing an innocent citizen. Or maybe I should inform our new king and propose him to make a decision about Uncouthma’s execution?”

Antav looked from Daunus to Runtar and back. Then he snorted in disgust and threw Runtar to the ground. “Pathetic,” he muttered. “I have better things to do than waste my time on any of you.”

“Oww…” Runtar muttered as he picked himself up and rubbed his sore knee. He looked up to Daunus. The man had sent his warriors away and was currently glaring at Runtar with an unreadable expression on his tanned face.

“Thanks, I guess,” Runtar offered. He figured he’d better learn to get along with this man if he wanted to have a high position in the new society.

Daunus nodded briefly. “I believe the king is waiting for you,” he informed. Then he turned on his heels and marched back to his men. Runtar frowned angrily at being ignored again. Perhaps he should try to find a way to get rid of that arrogant fool instead of making friends with him.

He pushed that thought to the back of his mind. Right now he was in a hurry to meet Chadrik so that they could discuss their next move. He doubted the man was the patient type, so he resumed his trip towards the castle.

It took a while before he arrived there. The new guards at the gate were suspicious of him, but once he told them that he was expected, they let him in. He made his way to the throne room where Chadrik was already waiting for him.

“You’re late,” was he first thing the main said. There was a deep scowl on his face and he looked a little paler than on the previous day. He lifted his hand to cover his mouth when he couldn’t suppress a yawn.

“Bad dreams?” Runtar dared to ask.

Chadrik shot a glare at him. “That is none of your business,” he snapped. He brought his fingers together and leaned back on the throne. “Now, what can you tell me about your society? What is the best way of showing everyone that I am indeed the true ruler of this land?”

That was a question Runtar didn’t have to think about. It was one of the first things every barbarian learned in their lives. “He who controls the cheese, controls Odiferous,” he announced proudly, straightening his short form and lifting his head.

It was a pity that Chadrik didn’t look very impressed. “Excuse me?” he asked with a blank stare in his dark eyes. “What does cheese have to do with anything?”

Looks like I have the upper hand now. He knows nothing about the country he has chosen to rule, Runtar thought. All the better for him. “Cheese is the spine of Odiferous. We not only eat it, but also worship the ancient lords of cheese and our everyday lives revolve around it,” he said.

“That is the stupidest thing I have ever heard of in my life! Are you telling me that the stinking filth they tried to pass off as food is the be and all of everything around here?” Chadrik rubbed his eyes tiredly. “That’s the first thing I’m going to change.”

Runtar couldn’t help it, but he foreigner’s contempt for cheese was annoying him. He had never been one to treat the old traditions as some sort of holy law, but this was cheese they were talking about! Only foreign wimps could say that it stank or didn’t taste good.

“I doubt that’s a very good idea. These barbarians love their cheese and taking it away from them is the fastest way to get them to riot. Instead, you should take control of cheese and eventually gain their respect,” he said. He didn’t want to make Chadrik think that he liked cheese just as much as everyone else. That might have lessened the man’s opinion of him. If he wanted to remain as the wizard’s advisor -- the highest position he’d probably be able to get in the near future --, he’d have to make clear that he was different from the barbarians he despised.

Chadrik’s mouth was twisted like he had just tasted sour milk. It was obvious that he hated the mere idea of having anything to do with cheese. He let out a sigh.

“The cheese will have to go,” he insisted. “Maybe not now, but eventually. It will be replaced by some of the fineries from my land.” He stopped to ponder for a moment before speaking again. “Tell me, how do I control the cheese?”

This conversation was making Runtar think back to the time he had tried taking over Odiferous. If one really wanted to lead the country, there was only one way to go.

“You need to marry one of the maidens who are in control of taking care of the yaks and making cheese. Like Brawnhilda. By marrying her, Uncouthma secured his claim for the throne,” he said.

“No. That’s completely out of the question,” Chadrik decided. The unhappy frown on his face told Runtar that the wizard was growing severely sick with Odiferian customs.

“Why?” he had to ask. “They are the most beautiful women in Odiferous. Brawnhilda was regarded the purest of them,” Runtar said.

“Your women look like country girls compared to the ladies in my land. This Brawnhilda showed the kind of arrogance and defiance that doesn’t suit a woman of her status. I have no interest in such… creatures,” Chadrik snorted.

“Then you should step down and give up the throne,” Runtar muttered. This was impossible. Someone who obviously despised everything Odiferian would never be able to have the kingdom under his control.

“What was that?” Chadrik asked.

“Uh, just that we need another plan, then,” Runtar said quickly.

“What do you propose?”

“We could throw a party!” Alright, he was making things up now. Yet that was, he realised, a particularly clever idea. He hurried to explain more, “These barbarians love parties! It would take their minds off the current situation and if we use the opportunity well, it might make some of them more accepting towards your… our cause.”

Chadrik frowned and tapped the armrest with his finger. “That might work,” he admitted. “I will arrange food and entertainment from my country to show everyone what this land could be like. Once they see the glory of Anzara, they will want to forget their old customs.”

Runtar quickly memorized the name of Chadrik’s home country. He had never heard of it before and his curiosity began to stir. He should have heard of it because he had been required to know everything about every possible country when working as Uncouthma’s advisor.

It was a difficult task without a proper library, so mistakes were understandable. He could still remember how Uncouthma had returned from Agrabah and told him that all of Runtar’s advice had been useless.

“And you told me throwing wine on the host would be bad! Haha, tried to trick me, friend?” had been the Prince’s comment.

“Is there a problem?” Chadrik’s voice broke through his thoughts.

“No, not at all!” Runtar said quickly. “Where did you say Anzara was located again? I need to know, so that I’ll have an idea about what we could serve.”

A crooked smirk crossed Chadrik’s face. “You don’t have to worry about that. I will send some of my men to bring everything I need. What I want you to do is to organize everything here and spread the word. Make everyone enthusiastic about this,” he said.

Harder than you think, Runtar thought.

“Is there anything else you need?” he asked with a small bow.

Chadrik gave him a negative answer, so the little barbarian left the throne room. He had a lot of planning to do if he wanted to have even slight success.

When he was making his way out of the castle, a familiar voice called out to him. He froze and turned around on his heels, only to find himself face to face with Brawnhilda.

The woman had changed little since he had last seen her. She was the perfect image of what every Odiferian wanted a woman to be; tall, strong, and independent with lovely golden hair and blue eyes. Even Runtar had to admit that he found her attractive, though he didn’t love her. He had only wanted to marry her to get the throne.

He noticed that she had tied her hair with red and white ribbons, the traditional way to show that a woman was with child. It didn’t surprise him, but it felt strange to think that there would be a little Uncouthma running around eventually.

“I thought we had locked you away,” the woman stated warily. Runtar didn’t even want to count how many times that had been said to him already.

He waved his hand like the matter was utterly irrelevant to him. “Yes, yes, yes. The new ruler let me go,” he said.

Brawnhilda frowned and a flush rose to her cheeks. “Uncouthma is the only ruler around here! That pathetic impostor is going to get what’s coming to him!” she snapped.

“Shouldn’t you be imprisoned somewhere?” Runtar asked, ignoring her outburst. He hadn’t thought Chadrik would be stupid enough to let someone as spirited as Brawnhilda walk around freely.

The comment made the woman drew a long breath. “I am. In this castle,” she said, though she sounded like talking about it was a great struggle. Runtar realised that she was too terrified to do anything as long as Uncouthma was being held captive. Also, treating Brawnhilda relatively well was a good way of not angering the barbarians any further.

“But what are you doing here?” Brawnhilda asked. She didn’t sound suspicious anymore, merely curious. It was amazing how she could keep her cool when talking with the man who had tried to murder her husband.

“Oh, I’m Lord Chadrik’s local advisor,” Runtar announced proudly. He knew it was stupid to admit it, but he couldn’t help himself. Gloating whenever possible had always been one of his weaknesses.

The only visible change in Brawnhilda was the slitting of her eyes. “Excuse me?” she asked much too sweetly for Runtar’s liking.

The barbarian took a quick step back and glanced at the doors, happy to find them open in case he had to flee fast. “It’s not quite as bad as it sounds. I’m only helping him around a little. And you have to understand that being an advisor is the only thing I know and --”

“How dare you do that? I thought trying to kill your Prince and friend was the worst anyone could do, but you have sunk even lower! You have betrayed everyone!” Brawnhilda snapped.

“But I --” Runtar tried to explain, but shut up when Brawnhilda flashed an utterly disgusted glare at him. Nobody had ever looked at him like that and the realization made Runtar froze for a second.

“I don’t want to hear it,” Brawnhilda snapped, turned her back on him, and marched off to her rooms.

Runtar blinked, then frowned. He brushed imaginary dust off his tunic and snorted to himself.

“Stupid woman.”

- - -

Daunus tapped his chin in thought. He was standing tall and proud on the square that served as a marketplace in Odiferous. The goods looked, smelled, and tasted foreign to him, and he had no desire to learn to know them better. With a sigh, he recalled the lovely wines they had back at home.

Even the air smelled different here. It was much colder and there was a horrible odour floating around everywhere. He couldn’t quite put his finger on the smell, but he suspected it was caused by those horrible creatures the locals loved.

A mess of swear words and yells reached his ears, and he turned to look. Yet another fight between these savages. Thankfully, his men handled the situation and Daunus didn’t have to leave his post. There had been a dozen similar fights within the past few hours only. The barbarians were getting more and more restless and Daunus could sense the danger.

He didn’t like this at all. It was dangerous to invade a country with such a small army as theirs. He knew that the only thing that stopped the enemy from crushing them was the fear for their leader and his wife. He could only guess how long it would take before even that wasn’t enough to hold them at bay.

Then there was the little local man. Something in him bothered Daunus greatly. Runtar might act like he was on their side, but something in those little black eyes told him that the man couldn’t be trusted. In his opinion, Chadrik was a fool to have someone like that by his side.

“There will be trouble,” he murmured to himself and decided to keep his eyes open, just in case.

- - -

Uncouthma groaned to himself. He felt too tired to even open his eyes and thinking straight was almost an impossible task. A wave of pain went through his head as he tried to move, and his entire body was sore, as if he had pushed all his muscles to their limit.

He tried to roll over to his side, only to discover that he was unable to move more than a few inches. Sudden panic took over him and he opened his eyes. There was only darkness.

“Hello?” he called out, but nobody replied.

He struggled to remember what had happened. At first everything was blank, but then things started coming back to him. He remembered the battle, the invaders, and their strange leader. The last thing he could recall was the realization that magic was being used against him, the sharp pain, and then nothing.

Where was he now? What had happened? Worry for his comrades, country, and most of all, Brawnhilda, filled his heart. The rational part of him knew that everyone in Odiferous was capable of taking care of themselves, but that did little to calm down his fears. He had to get free and help everyone!

“Nngn!” he growled as he tried to break free. Sadly, he had to give up after a while. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get himself free. He could feel the chains that tied him to the floor and knew that they had to be made of the legendary mythril. Nothing else would have been strong enough to hold him down.

With a sigh, Uncouthma gave up and rested his head against the cold floor. It was difficult for the barbarian, but he realised that he could do nothing until someone came to see him. Maybe then he would get answers and even better yet, his chance to escape.

To be continued…

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Chapter 4: Chapter 4

Brawnhilda was fuming. She stared out the window, high in the tower, and didn’t even notice that she was chewing on her lip. It felt like her heart had been shut inside an iron cage, and she desperately wanted to break free.

I know I could do it, she thought to herself. She only lacked the courage. The mere idea of what Chadrik might do to Uncouthma chilled her blood and made her unable to raise a finger against the man.

She put her hand on her stomach and wondered if she was doing the right thing. Was it selfish of her to keep Uncouthma alive if it meant that her people would have to live under a foreign rule? The royal bloodline was secured, so they didn’t really need Uncouthma anymore…

No. That wasn’t true. Uncouthma was the only person who could rule the barbarians and help them get over this. Everyone looked up to him and was ready to die for his cause. The Prince represented the spirit of the people, and as long as he was alive, the barbarians would survive.

Not only that, but he was also her husband. Brawnhilda couldn’t imagine a life without him. She wanted him to lie next to her, vulnerable after a hard battle. It was what she loved the most in him; that he could let his guard down near her and admit that even he wasn’t invincible. She had never seen another Odiferian man do that.

“I have to be patient,” she muttered to herself. “One way or another, I will free my people and my husband.”

Her thoughts drifted back to the little man she had met earlier. She could remember that day in their past like it had just passed. It was the day when she had finally realised whom she loved and then almost lost him in the process.

If it had been up to her, she would have kicked the little traitor out of the country and be done with it, but Uncouthma had decided otherwise. He had no mean bone in his body and hadn’t been able to send a childhood friend away, even after he had almost killed him.

Runtar would be trouble. She was sure of it. He was already worming his way into the enemy’s favour and would do anything to remain there. Being a former advisor, he had knowledge on how Odiferous was ruled and what the people were like. The mere idea of Runtar selling his people made Brawnhilda want to throttle him.

She knew she couldn’t get rid of him now. He was Chadrik’s new advisor, so she had to be careful around him. One wrong move could mean harm to Uncouthma or her people. An unfortunate accident was always a possibility, but Brawnhilda didn’t think twice about it. It was exactly the kind of plot Runtar was capable of, and she didn’t want to be like the man she despised.

There was a knock on the door, and Sigyn entered. The maid had a tired look in her eyes, and her brown hair was unusually messy. She was carrying a plate of food and placed it in front of Brawnhilda.

“My lady, you have to eat,” she said.

Brawnhilda knew that. She had the baby to think about, so she forced herself to take a slice of cheese.

“Do you have any news?” she asked. Though she didn’t voice it, both women knew that she was asking about Uncouthma.

Sigyn shook her head. “Nothing. I haven’t seen anyone apart from the kitchen staff and the enemy warriors. They are guarding the castle like they are afraid of someone taking over it.”

“Hmm,” Brawnhilda said. She was certain that there were barbarians who wanted to do that, but she hoped that they wouldn’t do anything stupid. First they had to get Uncouthma out, then they could attack.

She didn’t know where they were holding her husband. She suspected the cellars, but there were so many and some of them ancient and forgotten, so it was impossible to tell.

“What is Chadrik doing right now?” she asked. Maybe she could do a little sneaking around if the enemy was busy.

“I passed the throne room when I came. He’s having a meeting with one of his generals,” Sigyn said.

Brawnhilda almost smiled. “Good. This is my chance.” She put the food away and stood up.

“Where are you going?” Sigyn asked with worry in her voice and eyes. She took a step towards the door, as if she was ready to stop her lady if she decided to do something stupid.

“I need to see Uncouthma. I have to know if he’s alright,” Brawnhilda said. She marched past her maid and started taking the stairs down the tower. Her fists were clenched in determination and the confident sound of her steps was like music to her ears. Finally, she was doing something.

“But there will be guards!” Sigyn exclaimed and rushed after her.

“I know, but they wouldn’t dare hurt me without an order. I’ll just ask them to show Uncouthma to me,” Brawnhilda said. “My puddy-wuddy needs me.”

A few guards glanced at her when she strolled past them, but nobody raised a finger to stop her. Or rather, that’s how it was until she got to the doors that led to the cellars.

A tanned, bald warrior was standing there. Not a muscle on his face moved when he glanced at Brawnhilda.

“Nobody is allowed in,” he stated.

“I want to see my husband,” Brawnhilda said in a commanding tone.

“Nobody is allowed in,” the guard repeated.

Brawnhilda was ready to grab the man by this throat and smash him against the wall. She knew she could do it. These foreigners were no real match for her in a fair battle. Being aware of this fact only made it worse. She could feel the anger and frustration bubble inside her and she had to bite her lip until it bled to stop herself from doing anything stupid.

“Step aside,” she tried once more, but she already knew it wouldn’t work. It was like she was a child again and trying to convince her father of something. There was no way she could ever get what she wanted, and at the same time she knew she would only get in trouble if she raised her hand.

With an angry growl, she turned on her heels and marched away. She wasn’t going to give up, though. One way or another, she was going to find a way to save Uncouthma.

“Go to the city and find out what you can. I’ll say I sent you to run errands for me. I want to speak to Gouda if you can find him,” she said to Sigyn.

The maid nodded with a grim expression in her dark eyes. She, too, knew that something had to be done soon.

Daunus couldn’t believe what he was hearing. What Chadrik was proposing was the stupidest thing anyone could do in this situation. Yet, he had no choice and had to follow every order, no matter how idiotic.

“Do you think that is wise?” he asked, praying that he might be able to pound some sense into the other man.

“There is nothing to worry about. My magic will make your journey back home safe,” Chadrik replied.

“But my men will only listen to me. If something happens when I’m not here to lead them, we may lose everything,” Daunus pointed out. The comment made Chadrik frown; the man obviously didn’t like to be reminded of that it wasn’t him who truly commanded the troops. In any other situation, Daunus would have kept that remark to himself, but this was getting too serious to his liking.

“We have yet to get this country under our control. The barbarians have rebellion in their eyes, and I am certain that some of them are already planning something in secret. Having me leave now would be a suicide,” he continued.

Chadrik leaned back on the throne and let out a deep sigh. “I know,” he said finally, “but what choice do I have? Time is running out; I must have this country under control fast so that I can show everyone! You of all people should understand that!” he snapped.

“I do,” Daunus muttered. “I wouldn’t have agreed to help if I didn’t know I was doing the right thing, but… is it really worth it to risk everything, even your life?” he asked. Chadrik ran his fingers through his hair and turned to look away. “It’s worth more than that,” he said.

“As you say,” Daunus finally agreed. The plan was stupid, nothing would change his mind about that, but it was obvious that Chadrik wasn’t about to give up. He almost snorted to himself at that.

Men in love had the tendency to be idiots.

Runtar was walking around the city deep in thought. Chadrik wanted him to plan and organize a huge party that would make the barbarians realise that a new ruler would be the beginning of something better. He had felt enthusiastic about the project at first, but now he was starting to realise how difficult it would be.

Every occasion the Odiferians celebrated, it involved food, drinking, and games of pure strength. Anything else would be boring for them. Organizing the kind of event that they liked would only remind them of their own culture and habits, but nothing else would impress them.

“They are pathetic. Does everything have to circle around brute strength around here?” he muttered to himself with a frown. He was truly starting to grow sick of the fact that a man could be nothing in Odiferous if he wasn’t strong. To reflect that, the biggest idiots could reach incredible heights just for having enough muscles.

Like that Uncouthma. The man was nothing but a moronic clown who couldn’t appreciate anything that wasn’t able to win a wrestling match. If only his plan had worked last time, he would have shown the Prince…

He shook his head to himself to clear his thoughts. He couldn’t afford losing focus right now. His new position depended on the outcome of this plan. If everything went well, he’d finally have the power and respect he had always wanted.

“Do you know where Gouda is?”

Runtar stopped on his tracks when he heard a whisper from somewhere in the crowd. He glanced around and soon saw a young woman who was talking quietly with someone. They hadn’t noticed him yet.

Well, my size does come handy sometimes, Runtar thought as he crept closer. He knew Gouda hadn’t been arrested and that the General was the biggest threat the barbarians possessed at the moment. Locating him and bringing him to Chadrik was exactly the kind of thing that would help him rise in ranks.

He eyed the young woman. She was slim for a barbarian and had braided her long brown hair. He thought he recognised her from somewhere, but pushed the thought aside. It wasn’t important.

“I have a message from Brawnhilda,” the woman was saying.

The other barbarian, a tall man Runtar identified as Tanrid, frowned and stroked his beard. “I’ll show you where he is,” he said finally. “But we have to be careful. We don’t want the enemy finding out where we’re hiding him.”

“Of course,” the woman said quickly.

The two of them looked around to make sure nobody was paying attention to them and then slipped behind a corner. Runtar followed as quickly as he could. The two barbarians were moving fast, but that was fine with him. He didn’t want to catch them, only see where they were going, and this way they’d be less likely to notice him.

Seeing the expression on Gouda’s face when he was exposed brought a smirk to Runtar’s face. If there was someone in Odiferous he hated more than Uncouthma, it was the arrogant General. Gouda was even more obsessed with strength than the Prince and let everyone see what he thought of those who didn’t meet his standards. Uncouthma at least had been civil with him sometimes, but Gouda had always made it obvious that he thought Runtar was a pathetic weakling who didn’t deserve to be in the position of an advisor.

Not only that, but Runtar couldn’t stand the fact that Gouda had such a high rank despite that he was nothing but a violent idiot. The man had no sense of strategy. Yet another reason why he despised the Odiferian society and way of thinking.

Suddenly, he noticed that Tanrid and the woman entered a building. At first he felt triumphant, but then he noticed that it was a tavern. Surely they wouldn’t be holding Gouda in such an open and obvious place.

Curious, Runtar thought. He would have to investigate this.

“Runtar is following us,” Sigyn whispered to the older man. Tanrid glanced behind his shoulder and nodded.

“He must have realised that we’re going somewhere important. We have to distract him somehow,” he said.

“How about we just stop him? He’s no match for you,” the woman suggested. Her irritated tone revealed how little patience she had for the little traitor. Tanrid agreed, but he had a little more sense than that.

“Then he would know that we’re trying to hide something. Chadrik would have his men interrogating us in a minute. No, we have to make it seem like we aren’t up to anything,” he said.

“How?” Sigyn brushed a few loose strands of brown hair from her eyes and looked at the red-haired barbarian with questioning eyes.

“My son’s tavern is close up, but he’s not there are the moment. Let’s go there and pretend that you’re looking for him. When Runtar enters, we’ll have someone keep him busy while we supposedly go to look for my son,” Tanrid replied.

Sigyn didn’t look convinced, but didn’t argue. It was a trait Tanrid appreciated in women and for a moment he wished that she really was trying to find his son. Maybe he’d have him court her once they had restored order in Odiferous.

They entered the tavern and instantly Tanrid spotted the right man for their purpose. One of his old friends was sitting in the corner, sipping his ale with a grim scowl on his face and stroking his grey beard absent-mindedly. He was one of the unlucky ones and had not one but two sons in prison after the battle. He also knew about Gouda, so it was safe to trust him.

“Hey, do you want to help us a little?” Tanrid asked.

The old barbarian glanced at them, mostly at Sigyn, and grinned. “Why, Tanrid, I didn’t know you still had it in you. Does your wife know?” he joked. Then he saw the serious expressions on the duo’s faces and stopped with a cough.

“We’re going to see Gouda, but we think we’re being followed,” Tanrid said.

“By the enemy?” Ulof, the older barbarian, asked.

“Worse. A traitor.”

Nothing else had to be said. Everyone knew how Runtar had betrayed Uncouthma’s trust.

“Don’t tell me he’s conspiring with them,” Ulof said, but one glance at Tanrid was enough of a reply. He sighed. “Good thing Osred is not alive to see this.”

“True, but we have no time for that. You have to help us. When Runtar comes in, corner him and start asking him about your sons in prison. Keep him busy for at least fifteen minutes. That should give us enough time to go to Gouda unnoticed,” Tanrid said.

Ulof nodded. “I’ll do it,” he said.

Tanrid and Sigyn positioned themselves close to the door so that they would be able to slip back outside when Runtar wasn’t looking. After a few minutes, the small man appeared and stopped at the door to glance around. He didn’t look too comfortable being there, and Tanrid couldn’t really blame him. Everyone had noticed the traitor was around, but they mostly turned their backs on him or glared at him with the kind of hatred that it was a wonder Runtar didn’t turn on his heels and run outside.

True to his word, Ulof walked over to Runtar. “Hey, Runtar! You’re just the person I wanted to see!” he bellowed.

Surprise and shock were expressions not often seen on Runtar’s face, but now Tanrid had the pleasure of viewing it.

“I am?” Runtar asked, as if nobody had ever sought his company on purpose.

“Yes! Come over here so that I can buy you some ale! Then we’ll talk!” Ulof said.

“Err… thanks, but I’m rather busy. Maybe some other time,” Runtar said and started to back away, but the other barbarian quickly grabbed him and pushed him down on a chair with ease. It was like watching a grown man handle a doll.

“Nonsense! There’s always time for a drink!”

With Runtar occupied with Ulof, Tanrid and Sigyn slipped out the door and hurried down the street. They slowed down only when they were sure they were a good distance away from the tavern and nobody was following them.

“It’s a good think Ulof was there,” Sigyn sighed with relief.

“True. He’s a great actor. I almost believed he was happy to see Runtar.”

They reached the building where Gouda was hiding and entered. It was small and on the edges of the city where there weren’t that many enemy warriors. It was safe to hide someone there.

“What is it?” Gouda asked when they entered. He was lying down on the bed, but it looked like it was the most uncomfortable thing in the world. The warrior’s muscles were tense, his face covered in a scowl, his voice clearly irritated and even his blond hair looked like it was withering. Gouda acted and looked like a caged wild animal.

“Sigyn is Brawnhilda’s maid. She brings a message from the castle,” Tanrid explained.

At once, Gouda tried to sit up and managed to do so, though it took a great deal of effort and was obviously painful. Still, he didn’t complain but turned the stare of his piercing eyes to the young woman.

“What does she say?” he asked.

“Brawnhilda is worried that you may try to drive the enemy out of Odiferous. She knows you’re a brave warrior and expects no less. However, she will only give her blessing to these plans if Uncouthma is freed first. If anything is attempted before and it results in harm being done to Uncouthma, she will make sure that every barbarian involved will be punished,” Sigyn said.

Gouda obviously wasn’t very happy to hear this, but Tanrid was relieved. Just like Antav, he didn’t think a direct attack would accomplish much. Saying that to the hot-headed Gouda, however, had been a task neither of them had fancied tackling.

“Women are weak fools,” the General muttered, but Tanrid was certain that he would follow Brawnhilda’s command. No punishment she could inflict could be worse than disobeying the rulers’ word and betraying their trust.

“Our next task is therefore freeing Uncouthma,” Tanrid stated.

Gouda nodded to that. “You can go back to Brawnhilda and tell her that we will first release Uncouthma and then follow him in battle,” he said, addressing Sigyn.

The maid nodded with a relieved smile on her face. “Brawnhilda will be happy to hear that, General.”

Runtar stepped out of the tavern with only a slightly noticeable stammer. He hadn’t meant to drink at all, but Ulof had been very persistent and hadn’t given him much of a chance. Unfortunately for him, even small amounts of alcohol usually had an effect on him due to his size.

It had turned out that Ulof had only wanted information about his two sons, both of whom Runtar had met in prison. In fact, Ulof’s younger son was Sighard, the former prison guard. He had told the old man what he knew, merely because he wanted to get away from him as soon as possible, not because he actually cared.

He didn’t know if the man had distracted him on purpose, but one thing was for sure. Ulof hadn’t really been that happy to see him. It was just an act to learn more about his sons. Runtar was too much of a sceptic to believe for a second that someone might still like him, especially after he had tried to murder Uncouthma.

“Hello, Zebu,” he greeted his yak when he got inside. He let the animal live inside with him most of the time. Zebu was so small and the house was more than enough for the both of them.

“Moo!” Zebu said happily from his corner.

It wasn’t late and Runtar didn’t feel like going upstairs just yet, so he sat down in front of the empty fireplace for a while. His day had been completely wasted. He hadn’t developed his plans at all and had instead been forced to listen to someone lie to his face about how nice it was to see him.

Still, Ulof’s behaviour back in the tavern had been the friendliest way anyone had treated him for as long as he could remember. Had he been a little more naïve, he might have wanted to pretend that he actually had a friend.

To be continued…

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Chapter 5: Chapter 5

Daunus peered at the clear blue sky above him and took a deep breath. He was home, finally away from the stench that hung forever over Odiferous. He didn’t think returning to the capital and homeland had ever been such a relief.

Gone were the harsh cottages and castles of the barbarians. Here everything was built of white marble and the towers and bridges that loomed over the massive city in swirling spirals were slender and beautiful; unlike anything any barbarian could even imagine.

Even plants seemed to follow this pattern of circles and almost every building was covered in vines that crawled along the stone to the heights. Trees were tall and spread their branches to every direction, creating vast areas of shade around every corner. The streets were filled with their leaves but that was something nobody cared about.

Chadrik had ordered him to go straight to the marketplace to get everything they needed, but Daunus had other plans. He was bound to the other man and would follow him to the grave, but there was something he had to do first now that he was back at home.

He headed straight to one of the highest towers and showed his pendant to the guard at the door. He was let in with no further questions and he didn’t stop until he reached the small garden around the tall building.

A woman was sitting under a large tree with a thick book on her lap. Her skin was dark brown and her long, wavy hair blacker than midnight sky. She had covered her slim form in a white dress to keep the sun’s scorching rays away.

“Asenia,” Daunus called out to her.

She lifted her gaze in surprise and put her book away. “My brother,” she whispered. “I didn’t expect you back this soon.”

Daunus nodded and walked over to her, but he didn’t sit down. She was older than him and in their society the eldest sister was to be respected by all her siblings for all her life. He bowed slightly.

“Chadrik has sent me on errands,” he replied.

This caused the smile on Asenia’s face to turn into a bitter grimace. She gestured for him to sit down and pressed her hands between her knees.

“What does that fool want?” she asked.

“The finest Anzarian food and wine for our victory feast,” Daunus replied. He tried to keep his voice and expression controlled, but he couldn’t quite keep a sad smile from playing on his lips. He knew how much these news would upset his sister.

“Victory feast? You can’t mean that he actually succeeded?” Asenia almost shrieked. She looked panicked and sudden fear had appeared in her brown eyes. Daunus felt the sudden desire to protect her, and the fact that he was technically on an opposing side made his heart ache.

He nodded grimly. “He has taken over a distant kingdom called Odiferous. In theory, he could already claim what is his, but he is vain. He wants to have the entire kingdom under his control. Right now he’s in power only because of my men,” he said.

Asenia’s lips formed a thin line. “Then you must leave him. As your sister, I command you to do that! Chadrik must fail!” she snapped.

“You know just as well as I do that I cannot do that. I am bound to him by my word, and everyone in father’s hall heard of the agreement you had with him. If he is triumphant, you have no choice but to marry him if you don’t want to ruin the family honour,” her brother said. It was then that he noted the blue bracelet on Asenia’s wrist.

“You’re already engaged to someone?” he questioned in surprise.

“Yes. Thenzen of Nayan from the upper city,” Asenia replied quietly.

“A fine choice. He’ll be a powerful politician one day,” Daunus said. He didn’t know what to make of this. He had always known that his sister didn’t love Chadrik and was merely toying with him, counting on that the poor fool would never be able to keep his promise.

“Yes, a fine choice indeed,” his sister muttered. Her eyes were cast down and she was playing with the bracelet, obviously upset over the news Daunus had brought. He didn’t blame her. Chadrik came from a poor family with no social status, so the mere fact that he had had the courage to ask for Asenia’s hand in marriage was outrageous. They had all expected her to kick him out with the malicious laughter she was infamous for.

She had surprised them. With a sly smile splitting her face, she had challenged him. If Chadrik could take over a foreign kingdom, prove his worth and become someone important, she would marry him, no questions asked. She had been so certain of his failure that she had even given him a sacred pendant into which one could store spells. Anyone could use it, even without any magical talents.

“May this show my love for you,” she had taunted him and kissed the pendant before pressing it into his hands.

Daunus shook his head to himself. “He thinks you’re in love with him,” he pointed out.

Asenia almost spat to the ground. “I could never love that pathetic weakling! He is nothing but dirt!” she snapped. Then she turned back to her brother, her eyes blazing with fury. “Somehow, you will have to make sure that he fails! No, I want him to die! See to that it happens!”

There was no point in arguing with her. They both knew that Daunus had vowed that he and his men would do everything to assist Chadrik in his attempt, and there was nothing they could do about that. If he betrayed his master now, he’d lose all his honour as a warrior and would not be allowed to lead an army anymore.

“I will see what I can do,” he promised. “Now, if I may be allowed to leave, I would like to have a word with our father.”

Asenia gave him the permission to go. She returned to reading her book, but when he glanced behind his shoulder, Daunus could see that she was staring blindly into space and not turning the pages.

He sighed to himself. His life had suddenly become an endless line of responsibilities he hadn’t wanted for himself.

Maybe father can tell me what to do, he thought as he made his way into their family tower. After that he would have to buy everything Chadrik requested and then return. The magical pendant the man had loaned to him felt hot against his chest.

The temptation to lose it by accident and this way destroy all of Chadrik’s dreams became very strong all of a sudden.

Runtar was in a foul mood. After sleeping over the night, it had become obvious to him that he had been fooled the previous day. Ulof’s distraction had been a tad too convenient to be a coincidence.

“I can’t believe I let him keep me that long,” he muttered to himself as he walked down the street towards the royal castle. “I should have learnt not to meddle with these people after all these years.”

He received nothing but suspicious glances on his way. Some barbarians looked even murderous, and Runtar wondered whether it was because of his earlier betrayal, or that he was socializing with the enemy now. In any case, they had no reason to complain. They had brought all this on themselves and had nobody else to blame.

Zebu was with the other yaks for a change. It was obvious that Chadrik didn’t like the animal, and Runtar didn’t want to keep his friend locked up in his house the entire day, so he had decided to let him out in the fields. He didn’t need the yak for anything right now.

“How are things in the castle, Runtar?” someone asked him all of sudden.

Runtar stopped and looked around, but he could not see the source of the voice. Nobody looked suspicious and he had to give the person some credit. Few barbarians were clever enough to hide like that.

“Stupid bullies,” he muttered. This was one other thing he hated in the Odiferian community. He had decided that enough was enough, and he wasn’t going to stand for the brutal society anymore. It was his choice and it didn’t give anyone the right to judge him.

He reached the castle and was shown in by two of the foreign warriors. Again he had to wonder their origin. He hadn’t had the time to visit the library which, though small and in a serious need of an update, had some books about other cultures and nations.

Chadrik was sitting on the throne again, but this time he had covered it with a large red blanket. Runtar didn’t like the change; it made the throne look like a common chair. All impressiveness was lost now that one couldn’t see the bones and skulls.

“Ah, my friend,” Chadrik greeted him. He seemed to be in a good mood and was smiling brightly.

“You wanted to see me,” Runtar replied. He didn’t like to be called every time this foreign idiot desired it, but he had decided to tolerate it for now. If he played his cards right, things would change in the future.

“Oh, yes. I need to go over some details of the party with you,” Chadrik said.

“Ehe, yes, about that…” Runtar started with a small laugh. He wasn’t that happy about having to tell Chadrik that he had no ideas at all. He was just about to mention their little problem, when the new ruler spoke again.

“But that can wait for now,” he said. “I have talked to the horrible creature you call a woman, and she has told me some interesting stories about you.”

“Me?” Runtar repeated in surprise. The woman had to be Brawnhilda, and he could just imagine what she would have to say about him.

“Mm, yes. It seems to me like you’ve forgotten to mention one little detail about your past. Namely, the one about trying to murder Uncouthma and taking over Odiferous,” Chadrik said. His tone turned darker with each word and by the end of the sentence he was scowling in annoyance and playing with the tip of his dark hair.

“I didn’t think that was important!” Runtar said quickly.

“And why not? You have already betrayed one ruler. How can I know that you won’t do the same to me?” Chadrik asked.

Runtar’s mind was racing to come up with a good answer. What could he say? There wasn’t really anything to stop him from betraying Chadrik as well; he felt no loyalty for him and thought he was actually quite annoying. He had everything to gain if Chadrik died all of sudden. Or did he?

“That would be really stupid,” he started, a plan forming slowly. “Everyone knows I betrayed Uncouthma, so I can never be safe here again. If it wasn’t for you, I would go back to prison or worse.”

He hadn’t even realised that before he said it. Now that he thought about it, he felt like slapping himself. He was completely dependant on Chadrik and his men; without them the other barbarians would have no reason to hold back and would take their revenge on him. The idea that he would never again be able to walk the streets like a common man felt very final all of a sudden, scary even.

Chadrik smiled. “That is a good point,” he admitted. He then leaned to his side and rested his chin on his hand. “But tell me, why did you betray Uncouthma in the first place? He seems like the kind of man that you barbarians would love to have as a ruler.”

Runtar grimaced. “Uncouthma is a pathetic bully of a man whose thoughts never extend beyond his next meal, or the next fight. Having someone like him ruling anything is a disgrace,” he said sourly.

“Sounds like someone was jealous,” Chadrik commented.

“I could say the same about you. Why would you take over a kingdom if you weren’t lacking something?” Runtar snapped before he could stop himself.

Chadrik’s eyes slit dangerously. “I wouldn’t use that tone with me if I were you. You have no idea what my reasons are,” he growled.

“About the party?” Runtar reminded and tried to change the subject. He really wasn’t that interested in talking about killing Uncouthma. He knew what his motives had been, and that was enough as far as he was concerned.

Chadrik stared at him for a while before he nodded. “Right. I have sent Daunus to retrieve wine and food from my homeland. They should make an impression on your people,” he said.

“He will never be back in time,” Runtar pointed out. If the name of the kingdom really was Anzara, he had never heard of it. It had to be somewhere far away, and it would take months before Daunus got there and back.

The man on the throne chuckled. “Fear not. I have sent him there with my magic. He will return later today,” he said.

“Magic,” Runtar repeated. The mere word left a sour taste to his mouth. If there was one thing he agreed on with the other barbarians, it was that magic was useless, unstable and dangerous. Using it always resulted in some sort of catastrophe. Naturally, the fact that Aladdin had had magic on his side hadn’t improved his opinion.

“Yes, and now I would like to hear your ideas. What have you planned?”

“Well, there is this little problem… If you want to impress the barbarians, you need to have wrestling, cheese eating and yak throwing competitions, and traditional folk songs. Anything else and they will be bored or angry, but giving them old Odiferian entertainment is not going to change anyone’s opinion about you,” Runtar said.

Chadrik pondered that. “You’re right. They would never buy that. Besides, all those brutal activities you mentioned disgust me. No, I will introduce some games from my homeland. They might like them,” he said.

Runtar highly doubted that. “As you wish,” he said instead. He was not going to get into trouble again by voicing his real opinion.

They talked about the party for the next hour, making plans and time tables and deciding where and when it would be held. Chadrik was impatient to get Odiferous under his control as soon as possible, so he decided that a few days were enough to organize anything. Runtar didn’t agree because he knew he would be doing most of the work, but Chadrik’s opinion was not to be changed.

When he was leaving, his thoughts drifted back to their earlier conversation. He recalled the time over three months ago when he had finally put his plan to motion and had tried to murder the man who had called him a friend. It hadn’t bothered him back and it didn’t bother him now, but for some reason he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

He had had two reasons to do that. The first was his thirst for power and fame and the second that he hadn’t been able to get them any other way. Sure, he had been the royal advisor, but everyone had still treated him the same as always; calling him weak and making fun of him. It was obvious nobody had really thought that much of him, so he had taken what in his mind was the most natural course of action.

After all, they couldn’t expect a man to simply sit back and watch how his entire life was wasted, right?

“I just had the most amusing conversation with someone you know,” Chadrik said from the door.

Brawnhilda didn’t turn around to face the man. As far as she was concerned, she had nothing to say to him.

Chadrik obviously didn’t agree because he came to sit at the opposite side of the large wooden table. He placed his hands on it and casually pressed his fingertips together.

“That Runtar really is an interesting fellow,” he continued and Brawnhilda couldn’t stop the hot wave of anger that went through her at the name.

“Well, I’m not surprised you two are making friends,” she said calmly.

Chadrik laughed, and the sound sent shivers down Brawnhilda’s back. It wasn’t that the man had a bad voice. Quite the contrary, his laughter was warm and happy, not at all fitting for a man that horrible.

“I asked him about the event you mentioned, and he said some really bad things about your husband. What was it again? Oh yes, he said that Uncouthma is a pathetic bully with nothing but food and violence in his head. I have to say, that sounds like quite a reasonable description,” Chadrik continued.

“What do you think you know about Uncouthma? He is a fine man and the best ruler any barbarian could ever ask for!” Brawnhilda snapped. Just listening to Chadrik speak made her want to go down to the city and strangle that little traitor with her own hands. How could anyone be so ungrateful?

“Uncouthma gave Runtar everything a man could ask for; a high position in the society and his true friendship, but that little creep just had to have more! He’s always been like that, lurking in the shadows and complaining about not having what he wants when he could just go and get it with a little effort. But no, he always had to blame it on someone else!” she ranted, feeling like a barrier had just been broken inside her.

She had never liked Runtar very much and had mostly tolerated him because Uncouthma trusted and liked him. She had known something was wrong with the little man, and the only thing she regretted was that she hadn’t noticed it sooner.

“In his defence,” Chadrik said, “he thought he would have been a better ruler than Uncouthma.”

Brawnhilda felt like laughing at his face. “Better? What does he know? Better for him, maybe, but not for anyone else. My people love Uncouthma and he has always been fair and brave, two qualities that a good ruler needs but Runtar doesn’t have. Uncouthma understands his people and is always doing things with their best interest in mind, and that is what makes him a better ruler than either of you two could ever be,” she said.

Chadrik wasn’t smiling anymore and his tone was far from amused when he said, “Watch what you’re saying, woman. Soon, I will have these lands under my complete control, and then I no longer have any use for you, or your husband,” he threatened.

He got up and strolled out of the room, leaving Brawnhilda alone with her thoughts. She pressed her hand protectively on her stomach and prayed that Gouda and others would free Uncouthma soon.

“Alright, how many men do we have?” Gouda asked as he tried to lift himself up from the bed.

“Everyone we have talked to has volunteered, so that means there are at least fifty barbarians ready to pick up their weapons and attack,” Antav said.

Gouda grinned with pride. “Excellent! With so many men, we can easily take over the castle and free Uncouthma!” he said. To his annoyance, he noticed that nobody else looked very triumphant. “What is the problem?”

“Brawnhilda specifically requested that Uncouthma has to be free before we charge. If we attack openly, the enemy will have time to hurt either Uncouthma or Brawnhilda, or maybe both,” Antav explained.

“Bah! That is a risk we have to take! How else can we expect to do anything?” Gouda asked. What had happened to his men? What had turned them into such cowards? Was he the only one who knew that the honourable course of action was to attack right now, not just talk about it?

“Well… I know this is unusual, but we have voted about it and agreed that Uncouthma probably wouldn’t want us to risk Brawnhilda’s life. We think we should send a spy into the castle to find out where Uncouthma is and how to get him out before anyone notices anything,” Antav said with a grimace.

“A spy? What kind of plan is that? When did we turn into cowards who are afraid of a fair fight! Spies! Spies are for the weak!” Gouda snapped. In his anger, he completely forgot about his injury and jumped out of bed, then doubled over when the pain suddenly hit him. He fell back to the bed, panting but never letting the anger in his eyes subside.

“I’m sorry, Gouda, but we want to be careful. Nothing is worth having Uncouthma or Brawnhilda killed,” Antav said. The older barbarian couldn’t look at the General straight to the eyes, which told Gouda just how little Antav liked the plan as well.

“If I could get up, I would show all of you traitors…” he muttered, but this time he sounded more tired and frustrated than downright angry.

“I’m sorry,” Antav said again.

“I’m not!” Gouda snapped.

The other barbarian exited the room, leaving Gouda alone. He felt defeated all of sudden, for he knew his people had already lost the most important battle to their enemy. They had lost their courage and will to fight for what they believed in.

To be continued…

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