Chapter 10 - In night all wolves are black [1]

[a. D. 1179, 23. April]

Between thumb and forefinger, the Black Wolf had crushed the flickering flame of the candle. Now it was dark.

At first he still had to feel his way around with his hands, but soon his eyes got used to the darkness and he had found his way along the ramshackle wall out of the broken hut.

Satisfied, he closed the door and turned to Assar, who was waiting for him by a bush. Next to the animal, the boy was kicking up a pile of leaves with the toe of his boot. The Black Wolf had barely taken a few steps when he heard a creak. Looking over his shoulder, he could only watch as the just-closed door fell off its hinges and crashed to the floor with a dull thud. Shortly after, the cottage gave a relieved squeak and collapsed altogether.

"Wow", the boy commented waving his hand in front of his face after the dust had settled to some extent. "Destruction seems to follow you everywhere". The wanderer answered nothing to that, just rolled the reins off the bush and took the Friesian behind him. He set off at a brisk pace. For this had certainly woken up the whole neighbourhood. "See?", he asked the horse and then looked at the boy. "I told you I wasn't going to spend the whole night in there", his gaze went back to Assar, "And you looked at me as if I was going to leave you out there alone till morning - really. Apparently I am to be bludgeoned to death if I ever do that". The animal snorted and nudged his head gently forward.

The night bore a pleasant air. Winter was behind them. For that reason alone, every time he was outside at this time, he felt something like joy by now. At least, he believed that was what people called joy. Not only did he no longer have to worry about waking up as an icicle, he could also do without the fire much more often. The latter helped enormously making people lose one's track. He still wasn't quite sure if he was rid of the Consecrated Blade for now. For even though much of the king's force was concentrated in the south, Sankthor was still not without soldiers of the Consecrated Blade. Far too few to protect all the villages (where not even the militia was enough), but he hardly noticed the difference, as everyone seemed intent on carving a reputation out of the Black Wolf's hide anyway. However, he had to admit to himself, the armour of the Consecrated Blade that the boy had scammed for himself seemed to make a good impression on people and apparently he was even remotely lucky that some of it radiated onto him. Even if the boy made it sound like he was his simple henchman the last time out. But it helped, because they had just come from the Boar-Village where they thought their theft had gone undetected. But when they were confronted about it, the boy had pretended that he and his companion would look into the matter and get to the bottom of it.

The nights had become a little brighter again. At least if one stayed away from the forest. In winter, most of the trees had shed their crowns, but now leaves were growing again and only a little moonlight made it through the relatively dense canopy of greenery. It would have been a bone-breaking adventure to walk along there without a source of light. So the situation kept him more on roads when he didn't want to make a light for himself. Still, this did not worry him. He knew that when it was dark, most people usually preferred a place with four safe walls and a thick roof over their heads. This was exactly one reason why he felt safer in the darkness. As a lone wanderer here, carrying a torch, you didn't even need to be wanted to stand out. Suddenly he paused. Assar had also put up his left ear.

"You hear that too, don't you?", he whispered to the horse. "Hear what?", the boy asked, looking around. Somewhere in the distance, a scream could be heard. A tormented one.  And then at least one other. Full of anger. Or was it impatience? "Sounds like someone's in trouble!", the boy shouted, and had the wanderer's hand on his mouth straight away, who hissed angrily: "Thinker's voice! Not market crier!". The boy pushed the wanderer's hand away from him and was about to say something back when he noticed how he just kept walking along the path. "Aren't you going to do anything?", the wanderer heard the boy's voice ask. But he did not answer. Then the boy caught up with the wanderer, repeated his question and added: "Sounds like there's a woman in distress!".

"Why should I care...", no longer hearing the boy's footsteps, he paused and looked behind him. There he stood, with his hands clenched into fists. "I thought you were better than the others", he finally said. Then the wanderer let go of Assar's leash and stepped in front of the boy. He bent down to eye level and then replied: "Shall I tell you something?". The boy remained silent but held his gaze sternly. "Reach out your hand to the people and they will reach for it".

"Of course they'll reach for it! They need help!".

"And what will you do if they drag you down with them? Or take more from you than what you offered?".

"So what?!", he retorted defiantly. "Things have to start getting better somewhere, after all!".

"Is that what you told the bounty hunters before you killed them?".

"You know what? If you're too cowardly to help, then I'll do it alone! You don't have to come with me! Just go on your way!". Before the wanderer could say anything, the boy had started running. He had reached out his hand to him.

Then he clenched it into a fist and gritted his teeth. Just at that moment, a boy who had once thought not so dissimilar came to his mind. He sighed.

Finally he walked back to Assar, took the reins again and said: "Looks like it's just us two again, buddy".  Maybe it was for the best. After all, what should one learn from him? Besides, the bugger could take excellent care of himself. Not only would he be able to keep his own head above water, but hopefully he would also make something of it.

So he resumed his way. Towards the three moons. It was already long past time to find a suitable place to sleep.