Rebirth and Second Chances

Balfour set out on one of the Mongol horses after the camp had been destroyed and the last person had been slaughtered. We knew where Ogedei and his army were, the Azi-fey that had been shadowing him, stopping to send reports at specific intervals. I could have had the Azi-fey use illusion and pretend to come from the camp, but I wanted Balfour there. We had a history together, and I trusted his experience and skills. If something did go wrong, he could respond in a manner I had come to expect and rely on.

It would take him hours of hard riding to reach them, which gave me enough time to finish staging the scene. The bodies of the Norse and the horses that I had stored were removed and scattered. Wounds were made, arrows of Mongol making added to reflect they died from Mongol attacks.

The weapons collected when they were killed were placed near discarded bodies- weapons of obvious Viking manufacture and design. The saddlebags for the dead horses were left intact, any insignia that would identify the company they were a part of or the Lord they served artfully planted.

The stage set, we retreated with the sleeping children, slaughtered livestock glamoured to make it seem even the children had been murdered, their bodies desecrated. The battle site became eerily quiet as we left. That was until the scavenging birds noticed the feast before them and flocked to partake of the choicest morsels. They feasted with abandon before the surrounding forest wildlife could claim the bodies.

The Sidhe that had participated in the attack returned to wherever they had come from. The portals that connected the Sitherns and Underhill made escape easy. I didn't mind the emptiness of this Underhill. Caraid, Ag, and Meala were with me, so I was never truly alone.

It took three days for Ogedei and his army to return. Time enough for the dead to begin to rot and the smell of decomposition to set in. The bodies of man and horse alike had begun to swell and bloat with trapped gas, the summer sun hastening the process.

The camp was swarming with flies as they took the opportunity to feed and lay eggs, and the flocks of vultures and other scavengers had only increased as time passed. Three days was enough time for larvae to have hatched, adding additional horror to the scene that greeted Ogedei.

The surrounding animals that had joined the birds in scavenging were able to open bellies and pluck out eyes. The tableau of half-eaten and desecrated bodies, riddled with tunneling maggots, swarming with flies, had the desired effect.

Ogedei's bellow of outrage scattered the birds and animals. The animals abandoned their feasts, responding to the aura of killing intent that he released with fear. That aura was impressive and surprising, something that was seldom possible coming from a human.

He commanded his army to wait outside the encampment, entering with just a score of men. They were meticulous in their examination, finding the Viking bodies, finding their people riddled with arrows.

Most of the fires had faded, the camp burning quickly. But there were a few embers, a few wisps of smoke remaining even days after our massacre. One of the men had dashed to the yurts that held the camp followers only to find that the women and children that had risked their lives to follow their husbands were dead. Those hoping to attract the attention of men that might prove themselves in war and elevate them from whore to wife had gambled and lost.

His pain at what he found echoed across the field as he screamed and wailed in fury and loss. There were a few scattered bones left, the only evidence that even the woman and children had been butchered.

Once the battle had ended, I had concentrated my fire on that area, destroying almost everything. A small mercy, but I didn't want the Mongols to think that the children had survived. Ogedei would act now that he had seen. He would attack the Norsemen; his honor would demand it. But he would also send messengers to inform the Khan what had happened.

It was better if they thought everyone killed. I wanted the two people at war. If the Mongols thought the children had been captured, they might agree to negotiate to reclaim what had been stolen.

I thought it unlikely the Norsemen could convince the Mongols that they had not been responsible for the attack, but it was possible if both sides talked. So, I'd done what I could to set the stage and make any attempts at parlay unlikely.

The Mongols were known for their ferocity. Once Ogedei discovered the scattered Vikings left dead and abandoned, there would be no quarter given. Proof of who and what had happened here.

I hid in illusion and glamour to walk within the camp without being seen, heard, or smelled. The illusion was comprehensive enough to conceal any footprints I might make while accounting for any debris I might dislodge.

I wanted to hear what Ogedei was saying, and my [Domain], my control over [Illusion] and [Glamour] was absolute, powerful enough to allow me to walk in his shadow.

"Who?" Ogedei demanded as the first of his men returned to report.

"The bodies we found belong to the Norsemen," a Cherbi reported. The Cherbi was the commander of the bodyguards assigned to Ogedei. He was both a part of the military structure and outside. He would fight and obey orders during an actual battle, but aside from that, his primary duty was to see to his charge's safety.

He and his Kheshig were exempt from everyday activities. They would not dig latrines, set up tents, hunt for food, patrol, or guard the perimeter. Ogedei was a son of Khan as well as a Boyan, a general assigned to lead an Ordu. And even though he could command his Cherbi during battle, the Cherbi and Kheshig would act as they deemed necessary when it came to their duties as guards, ignoring any commands that might conflict with their sworn duty.

"Are there any survivors?" Ogedei asked.

"None, Boyan," the Cherbi reported regretfully. He had not been the man so lost to grief as to scream in pain, but the pain from discovering the camp besieged and destroyed was evident in his voice.

"Set some of our trackers on their trail," Ogedei commanded. "I would know who among the Norse was brave enough to test the will of Khan.

"Send an arrow messenger to the nearest yam. The Khan must be informed."

The fastest of the Mongols acted as messengers. They were named arrow messengers because of their dedication and talents as horsemen. They rode fast, without rest, their path forward unerring as any arrow. They only stopped to exchange horses when necessary. The man sent would ride to the nearest yam, a Mongol relay station where the next messenger would take up the task to deliver the message to the next yam.

It was an effective means of communication that worked without technology or magic. The problem with this type of relay station communication chain was distance. I wasn't sure where Khan was located, but it was certain to take months for word to be sent and orders returned.

If I were human, I might have been impatient during that wait- tempted to use illusion and glamour to bait Ogedei into crossing the river that separated the camp his people had established with the Norse. But I wasn't. I was immortal, and a few months as the Mongols organized and planned would have little impact on my plans, nor could the wait change the strategy I had in mind.

It would have been satisfying if Ogedei had attacked in anger immediately, but I had considered and accounted for the possibility that he wouldn't. Ogedei was a war veteran, and he wouldn't be ruled by his emotions.

The Mongols would attack. I had had the foresight to leave tracks to be followed- tracks that lead to a Viking encampment of troops. The war that I had initiated and orchestrated would begin. It was just a matter of time.

And time for the immortal Sidhe was a commodity we had to spare.