DECKER

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

This would be a lonely place to die, thought Decker, wondering if one could even be buried here.

There were no bushes or shrubs, no greenery at all save the occasional spiny weed, and the only trees in sight were solitary pines with more dead branches than needles. No birds sang, and no tree rats protested their presence. The scree and small rocks they were accustomed to had been replaced by boulders so immense a shadow cast could eclipse their entire party, and the foggy mist that clung to their ankles only added to the ominous nature of this cold, desolate land.

Decker and his brother had led their party on a southwestern march for several days, the trip thus far uneventful. The terrain was more easily navigated than the more direct southerly route would have been, but as this was the first raid for the majority of the men, there was no appreciation for the difference. Some began to grow dour, muttering under their breath about their various discomforts.

He and Titon continued to push the pace. It was important that they did not exhaust their supplies before reaching the Dogmen, and unbeknownst to the other men, Titon had predicted they would have hit their first landmark by now. If they did not find it by nightfall they may have made a grievous error.

“Titon,” Decker began. There was no privacy, but when keeping their voices low they were able to speak without much of their conversation being heard. The men were like to assume they were just discussing some minutiae of battle strategy, and being the young fools that they were—eager for battle and assuming certain victory—they had visibly bored of Titon’s tactical musings. “You should take the first woman.”

Decker looked at his older brother to see if he understood, but Titon had on the same expressionless mask he’d worn since having awoken that morning.

“Or at the very least, the first bitch attractive enough to rouse you to action,” Decker added. Of all you must accomplish on this epic raid, this should be by far the easiest. He shot Titon a brotherly grin to make him feel as though they were both of like mind and equal experience.

But they were not. It was known that Decker, in spite of his age, had already shared a bed with several women from their clan. Decker did not need to boast of it either. When it came to talking among themselves about their carnal mischiefs, the girls of the North were no different from those of the South, ill-reputed for their gossipy nature. Inexperienced girls with no reference of comparison soon spread tales of Decker’s more prominent characteristics, earning him both respect and lighthearted ridicule from the other young men.

“Of course. Yes.” When Titon finally spoke it was as if it had been his plan all along.

As with most things related to virility, Titon lagged behind him. He had not yet been with a woman as far as Decker knew, though Titon certainly made it obvious enough that he would not turn down the opportunity, so long as it was with Red. Decker wondered if Titon had a notion that remaining chaste until he won her affections would make their eventual encounter that much more meaningful to her, and he hoped for Titon’s sake that he did not. Aware of Titon’s infatuation, Decker made it a point to stay away from Red, who to her credit, at least did not share the lascivious reputation of her mother. He did this solely out of respect for his brother. Decker no longer believed Red to be a cunt of a whore. It had been impossible to deny the dark-haired beauty she’d become.

“I shall bestride the first bitch that I find appealing.”

Decker winced at his brother’s words. And stop speaking like that.

Whereas most Galatai had little use for books taken from the Dogmen except as trophies, Titon would have his nose in one at every opportunity—even during the nightfall camps of this journey, further distancing himself from the men. It made little sense to Decker, having never found the humor or wisdom the elders claimed hid between their many pages. His several attempts to enjoy Titon’s favorites had resulted in the same mind-numbing boredom he was accustomed to when forced to read by their father.

“Do you know if it is customary to do…as such…with an audience?” Titon’s voice had been lowered to such an extent that it was hard to make out his words.

Decker could not help but laugh, then wish he hadn’t. “I am sure that some do, but I know that I will be taking my women behind closed doors. The things I will do to them might be unsettling, even to the older men in our company.” It took Titon longer than it should have to respond to Decker’s joke with appropriate laughter. Some things cannot be learned from books.

“How ’bout a rest?” The sour voice belonged to Galinn, a lank boy of similar age to Decker. “I’m hungry, and my knees ache from walking atop boulders all day.”

“Aye,” chimed in Galinn’s elder cousin, Griss. “We’re overdue for a stop. We don’t even walk toward the Dogmen. What’s the hurry?” Griss’s every word seemed spat with lye.

“It is crucial we maintain our pace,” Titon yelled back to them, not slowing his stride.

“We’d walk faster after a rest,” argued Griss.

Decker and Titon exchanged glances and shook their heads in disbelief.

We should not have let him come, thought Decker. Griss was irritable and grubby for his age, a thing forgiven by most only because his mother had lost her husband in a raid just prior to Griss’s birth. Decker had suggested to Titon that they not take him, but Titon had pointed out that refusing him would mean they would also lose Galinn, one whose axe they could use. Decker had begrudgingly conceded.

“Yeah, just a short rest,” agreed Galinn.

“If your knees hurt, walk softer. If you hunger, then eat,” said Decker. “And give your scraps to Griss. He prefers the leavings of others.” The comment elicited some chuckles from the group, all knowing Decker spoke of Anna.

“You act like you were the son of the Mountain,” Griss snapped. “But your father is the reason I’m forced to come with a group of boys. To do what men should have done months ago.”

“Funny that the men did not think you fit to join them on their raids,” Decker said.

“No funnier than your father having gone as stupid as your mother.” Both Titon and Decker slowed to a walk at Griss’s mention of their mother. “How is it that he can still call himself leader and not lead a single raid? He’s become an elder, but without any of their wisdom. He’s like an old woman. You’re not the son of a—”

“My father took food off our plates during winters and gave it to you and your ugly mother,” Decker yelled, having turned to face his adversary. “To your family of vultures.”

“Food we threw to our goats!” Griss raged. “You think we’d eat your trash?”

“Do you give Anna to the goats as well? You don’t just eat my trash. You call it wife.”

Filled with the satisfaction of having delivered a mortal blow with words—a thing Decker was not known for doing—he still hoped Griss would escalate the fight to combat. Decker had never killed a man, nor had he ever wanted to as much as he did now, but his father would not forgive him for killing a brother without just cause. The laughter Decker thought he’d earned never came, though. The men were still and silent, all eyes on Griss.

Griss eventually responded, but only with the most bitter of grins. Then he turned and walked to the back of the group, taking with him not only Galinn, but all Decker’s exultation.

“Let’s move,” Decker said to the group which was eager to oblige.

I should not have said that, Decker realized after he'd cooled. It would be Anna who would suffer when Griss returned, and Decker had already been the cause of enough pain for the girl. If there was a more difficult thing a man could do than explain to a girl how she’d taken a simple coupling to mean more than it did, Decker did not yet know of it. Building the courage to make clear her misunderstanding was hard enough, but watching the girl’s glee turn to anguish had devastated him far worse than any punishment he’d suffered at the hands of his father.

A distant sound soon drew Decker’s attention. The men exchanged looks of concern as they too noticed the foreboding wail that continued to grow in strength.

“Is that what I think it is?” Decker asked, but his brother only shrugged and walked faster.

What had first appeared to be no more than a violent wind sounded more like a giant beast breathing with rage and hurling boulders at the side of a mountain. Titans and dragons were the stuff of children’s tales, but the will of some of the men looked to waver as the noise built without end.

Decker gave a great guffaw and taunted, “You call yourselves Galatai warriors? Look how you tremble at the most welcome of greetings.” It was enough to keep them moving.

Finally, Decker and Titon came to a highpoint that gave them view of what they had been hoping so desperately to see. Immense waves carrying white boulders of ice barraged the rocky cliffs that made up the shore. The dark blue sea stretched out endlessly, packed with the jagged caps of snow-covered bergs. The other men stared in amazement when they reached the two brothers and shared in the vista.

“There it is, Titon, as you said it would be.” Decker slapped his brother on the back, sharing in the triumph. “The Frozen Sea!”