Ragnar smiled patiently, but the smile never reached those calm blue eyes, and it never fooled the man.
He quickly rushed to clarify.
“Wildling.
Is what them folk south of the Wall call us.”
The definition did not seem to strike much relevance among the Vikings, but Thorson followed the man’s explanation carefully without interrupting.
Ragnar stared at the man as if judging his honesty.
“So these people south of the Wall,” Ragnar asked slowly “they built this Wall to keep you…
these wildlings, away from them?”
The look the man gave them told Thorson they were still asking a question he considered foolish, but he was far too frightened to say so to the man holding his life at axe point.
“Aye, it keeps us out.
But that’s not why it was raised.”
Ragnar exchanged an amused smile with Rollo before looking back at the man.
“Giants then?
Was it built to keep out giants?”
The man looked at him uncertainly.
“You truly don’t know, do you?”
Rollo quickly grabbed him and brought the axe dangerously close to his throat.
“Do you really want to keep answering our questions with your questions?”
“The Wall was raised for them Others.”
“The Others?” It was Thorson who stepped closer this time.
“Aye.” the man said eying him coldly “Southrons call them White Walkers.
Pray you never lay eyes on one.
It’s often the last thing a wildling sees before he rises with them.”
The group exchanged confused looks.
“These White Walkers,” Thorson pressed, “they are not human?”
The man shook his head profusely, almost trembling at the thought of having to explain them.
“Them ain’t living, They ain’t dead neither.”
He turned and looked at the bodies scattered around the clearing.
“They raise them dead.
Every man they take rises with them.
Burn them bodies.
Burn every one.”
Ragnar did not need to threaten the man.
They all knew he was telling the truth simply from the way he trembled.
He shook not because he feared Ragnar, but because he feared what he was describing.
Rollo, however, did not seem convinced.
“Forget your Others and your Wall.
That is none of our concern .
Tell us, is there a way to the sea or a river nearby?”
The man seemed a little calmer as he turned to look at the direction the Vikings had come from.
It was like he expected to find something.
“You’ve a ship?”
Rollo did not answer, but the look in his eyes reminded the man about answering questions with questions.
“There’s a feeder, runs down from the Frostfangs.
Joins the Milkwater…
But not much good will that do you”
“What do you mean?” Ragnar asked.
He had become noticeably more interested at the mention of a river.
“The Frostfangs is rough ain’t it?
and The Milkwater runs right through the Gorge and beneath the bridge of skulls”
“and” Rollo urged.
“and you will be walking right into them crow’s hands, the shadow tower seats right at the top of the cliff,
“The fortress we saw?” Ragnar asked.
“Aye The same.
You’ll not get ten paces from that tower before the crows feather you.
And that’s if you’re lucky and Frostfangs hasn’t broken your ship.”
Ragnar nodded and smiled.
“Let us worry about our luck.
You just show us the way.”
“Me?” the man said, trembling.
“Might as well kill me now.”
Despite Rollo pressing the tip of his axe harder against the man’s neck, the wildling did not flinch.
“Whether you kill me or them crows do, what difference does it make?
Halfhand will slaughter every one of you before you even halfway through the Frostfangs.”
“The Halfhand?” Ragnar asked, seeking clarification.
“Aye, Qhorin Halfhand.You have heard of him, have you not?”
“I’m afraid not,” Ragnar replied with the same easy smile still on his face.
It did nothing to reassure the man.
“Halfhand leads the ranger crows at the Shadow Tower.
You won’t be them first fools to try the Frostfangs and make for the Bridge of Skulls.
Halfhand puts an arrow through them.
The ones that somehow get close enough, he cuts their throats before they ever see his shadow.”
“Sounds like quite a character,” Ragnar said.
The man saw nothing amusing in that.
“Aye, he’s real enough.
Better chance walking to the Wall’s front gate and begging the crow Lord Commander to let you through than meeting Halfhand in the Frostfangs.”
“This Halfhand,” Rollo asked, “does he truly have only half a hand?”
“Only them fingers of his left hand are gone.
Doesn’t seem to need them neither.”
“As I said,” Ragnar replied, “quite a character indeed.”
He smiled.
“But do not concern yourself with him.
We shall see when our paths cross.”
He nodded toward the trembling wildling.
“As for you, my friend, make your choice.
Die, or you show us the way to this feeder.”
Rollo pressed the edge of his axe forward until it pickled the skin of the man’s neck and a strick of blood began trickling dow the axe blade
The man immediately raised his hands.
“Aye.
I’ll show you.
Just don’t kill me.”
Rollo released him with a shove and he fell to frozen ground
The bodies were then gathered and counted.
Five of the wilding’s men had fallen during the Vikings’ surprise attack.
Three women had died as well.
None of the children had been harmed.
“Burn them bodies,” the man repeated, still visibly terrified.
Ragnar paid him no attention.
Thorson understood why.
It could easily be a trap.
To burn the bodies they would have to light a fire quite big than what the wildings had going
Fire meant smoke.
Smoke meant a signal.
If Qhorin Halfhand truly was the man the wildling claimed he was, then lighting a fire would be the easiest way of bringing him and his rangers straight to their position.
They searched the camp for supplies.
There was nothing of great value.
In fact, from the look of things, these people had been on the brink of starvation, just as badly as they themselves were, if not worse.
“What do you make of this story?” Rollo asked his brother once they had stepped away from the rest.
“It sounds like quite a story,” Ragnar replied, “but not entirely false.”
“He feared this Halfhand.”
“Aye,” Rollo agreed.
“He looked like a little boy hearing the tale of Ragnarok for the first time.”
“Maybe.”
Ragnar looked back toward the frightened captives.
“Or perhaps he has seen him with his own eyes.
The man is old enough.
And look at the others.
Not one of them questioned a single word he said.”
Rollo shrugged.
“Stories, when they are told long enough, can convince even the oldest minds.
That is the purpose of stories Ragnar, but this river, brother.
If what he says is true, then we have found our path.”
“We have found a path alright ” Ragnar agreed.
He looked toward the direction of the distant Wall.
“Beyond that Wall lie the southern lands.
And from the look of things, they must be rich indeed.
Otherwise why would men build such a mighty Wall merely to keep out these poor fellows?”
He gestured toward the captured wildlings.
“That is not my point, brother,” Rollo said.
“Forget the lands beyond the Wall.
We have no hope of laying siege to such a fortress.
I say we continue with our original plan and sail south.
If we find this river, we can explore and search for lands that are less fortified.”
Ragnar looked at his brother then nodded slowly.
“Yes.
That was our original plan.”
“So?” Rollo asked.
“So the man leads us to this river.”
Rollo smiled, clapped his brother on the shoulder, and headed back toward the rest of the Vikings.
Ragnar watched him leave.
Then he turned his sharp gaze toward Thorson, who was still seated beside the wildling, questioning him.