By the time Thorson regained consciousness, Ragnar had slipped countless times and scraped his hands raw against broken ice.
They were bleeding, and he was sweating and panting despite the bitter cold that deepened as dawn drew nearer.
“Put me down!”
Thorson suddenly struggled against the shoulder of whoever was carrying him.
His hand instinctively went to his waist where he usually kept his axe.
It was gone.
His mind immediately assumed they had been ambushed, there could be no one carrying him but an enemy.
Had his axe been there, he would have struck first and asked questions later.
When the man finally lowered him to the ground, he was surprised to see it was Ragnar.
Ragnar looked at him.
“What happened?”
Ragnar took a moment to catch his breath.
“You fainted, boy.
How do you feel?”
He handed Thorson his waterskin.
Thorson was not thirsty, but he uncorked it and took a mouthful anyway.
His teeth rattled at the freezing water.
“I fainted?
How?
I did not feel anything.”
“is that not the nature of fainting?
,” Ragnar asked eyeing him carefully .
“You lose consciousness.
I would wager you remained inside that bird longer than your body could endure.”
He looked toward the brightening horizon.
“If you are able to walk, we should be moving.
Dawn is almost upon us.”
Thorson looked around.
Ragnar was right.
Already he could hear the birds and creatures that welcomed the morning.
The darkness had thinned considerably, and only the heavy mist rolling through the Frostfangs still offered them any concealment.
Ragnar handed back the boy’s axe and the bow he had been carrying.
“We have little time.”
For the next stretch of the journey they alternated between crimbing and jogging back up the mountain until they had climbed beyond the narrow gorge.
From there they returned to the place where the group had split
The descent after that proved easier.
There were only the two of them now, and they already knew the path they had opened the previous day.
Even so, it took the better part of the morning before they finally reached the foot of the Frostfangs.
Two of their own men were already waiting.
“Bjorn?”
Before Ragnar had finished speaking, Bjorn rushed forward and embraced him tightly.
“Father…
you’re back.”
Then he turned toward Thorson and laid a hand on his shoulders
“Thorson.
You look unwell”
“The boy is fine, why are you here…” Bjorn looked back uncomfortably at his father
“Torstein sent men in every direction to keep watch.”
“Torstein?” Ragnar frowned.
“Rollo was left in command.”
Thorson did not need to hear the rest.
One look at Bjorn’s face was enough to know something had gone terribly wrong.
Ragnar saw it too.
“What is it, boy?” he demanded.
“Speak.”
“Uncle was attacked by one of the wildlings.”
“Attacked?” Ragnar exclaimed.
“I thought they were bound and their weapons taken.”
Bjorn swallowed.
“Uncle was moving one of the men when the wildling produced an arrowhead.
Somehow he had worked himself free of his bindings.”
“He stabbed him with it.”
Ragnar froze.
“An arrowhead?”
Then understanding dawned upon him.
Thorson reached the same conclusion.
Poison.
It was the only explanation.
A wound from an arrowhead alone would never have brought Rollo so low on health as to hand over command .
Without another word, the three of them sprinted back toward the camp.
The mood there was grim.
Seceral vikings were beating captives yelling for answers, everything stopped at the sight of Ragnar’s arrival
Ragnar went straight to his brother, with Thorson close behind.
One glance was enough to know Rollo was on the brinks of dying
“Brother,” Ragnar called quietly placing Rollo’s head on his laps.
“Can you hear me?”
The man didn’t even seem to hear at all, he was turning and twisting like he was fighting of invisible enemies
“I’ll kill him…”
Rollo muttered without opening his eyes.
“I’ll all of them …”
White froth had begun gathering at the corners of his mouth.
His face and eyes were badly swollen, and even the skin of his hands had turned a sickly pale colour.
Ragnar slowly laid his brother’s head down and stood…
The man continued groaning in delirium.
“Who did this?” he asked.
Torstein stepped forward and pointed toward one of the bound wildlings who sat guarded by several men.
“Don’t harm him Ragnar, he is the only hope we have for an answer”.
Ragnar brushed past him.
“You take me for a fool?”
He walked straight to the captive.
Thorson had expected Ragnar to strike him.
Instead, he crouched before the man, lifted his chin, and stared silently into his eyes.
Neither man looked away.
There was neither fear nor remorse in the wildling’s face.
It was clear he had long accepted whatever fate awaited him but was proud of the pain he had delt them
“Is there a cure?”
Before the captive could answer, Torstein stepped forward.
“We found powders.”
Ragnar turned sharply.
“You found them?
Then why is my brother still in this condition?”
Torstein produced two small cloth bundles tied shut with cord.
He untied them carefully.
One contained a white powder, The other a black powder.
“There were two…”
Ragnar stared at them before looking back at the captive.
Then he seized the wildling by the front of his clothing.
“Which one is it?”
His hand tightened around the man’s throat.
A moment later Ragnar mastered himself and loosened his grip and forced his face to calm down
He pointed at the two bundles.
“Which one will save him?”
The wildling stared back without expression before spitting onto the ground.
“I already told your men.
The white one.”
Ragnar looked at Torstein.
“He told us the same,” Torstein confirmed .
The problem was suddenly plain for all to see.
They had to choose.
If they gave Rollo the wrong powder, and it was poison as most suspected, it would likely hasten his death instead of saving him.
Yet they had no way of knowing whether the wildling spoke the truth.
Logically, Thorson thought distrust was the wiser course.
Everything about the man’s manner suggested he had no desire to help them.
Yet he had answered immediately and without hesitation.
Was that itself the trick?…
Maybe that is what he intended all along, that the choice that eventually killed Rollo came from them, that way the pain be even more
That was the true problem.
Whatever choice they made would be a gamble.
And that gamble might cost Rollo’s life.
“Father, let me deal with him.”
Everyone turned.
It was Bjorn.
He was already walking toward the prisoner with an arrowhead in his hand.
Anger burned plainly across his face.
“I think he needs encouragement.”
He reached for the captive.
“Stop.” Ragnar said stepping towards his son
Bjorn froze.
“What are you doing, boy?” Ragnar asked.
“What does it look like?” Bjorn counterd stubbornly.
“I am giving him a taste of his own poison.
Perhaps then he will tell us which powder is the right one.”
“And if he does not?” Ragnar asked calmly.
“If he chooses death instead?”
“Then we do the same to the others until one of them speaks.”
“by which time your uncle will be long dead, Give me that.”
“Father…”
Ragnar tore the arrowhead from Bjorn’s grasp and gripped him firmly by the shoulder.
“Do not be foolish, boy.
Think.”
“I would wager they do not all use the same poison on their arrows.”
He said looking down to observe the captive
“they may not even know what poison another carries, much less its cure.”
“But Father…” Bjorn protested.
“Uncle is dying.
We have the cure, we only need to force him to tell us which powder is the right one ”
Ragnar slowly shook his head releasing his son
“And that is exactly what he wants.”
He looked around at the gathered men.
“Did you not hear what that wildling told us?…
They are at war with the crows, This poison was never meant for us.
It was meant for them.”
He looked back at Bjorn.
“If you were fighting an enemy who would kill you the moment they laid eyes on you, would you carry the cure for your own poison where they could simply take it from you and torture you for an answer?”
Silence settled over the camp.
Ragnar reached out and picked up the two bundles from Torstein’s hands.
“I do not believe either of these is an cure.”
He studied them for another moment before crouching back in front of the prisoner
“They are both poison.”