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"Warrior?" Ted laughed. "I'm no warrior. I don't know what I am now, but I was a baker. Dying in bed, old and fat sounds damn good to me."
"I've seen battles lost, Ragnar, that's about all I've seen." Emiel said grimly.
Ragnar looked at them both sadly. "You talk like thralls." then he shook his head. "I can tell you this. You only lose a fight when it is in here." and he thumped his fist against his chest. "You only lose when you let yourself lose. Your enemy can kill you but he cannot defeat you, you can only defeat yourself. I can tell you this, but when you think like a thrall, I cannot make you understand."
Ted just turned away. "I'm going to go get the horses!" he called over his shoulder as he left through the front door.
"So what now?" Ragnar asked.
Emiel did not answer for a moment. He was busy searching through the ragged and soiled piles of cloth and debris scattered around the room. He had pocketed an item here and there, placed a large jagged-bladed dagger in his empty sword sheath and several small knives in his belt.
Ragnar leaned against the frame of the open front door. He kept an eye out for Ted and the horses.
Emiel came over holding a torn length of green cloth, stained, but freshly so. "This was his I believe." he said and stretched it between his hands. "Hold this." he offered the cloth to Ragnar.
Ragnar reached out his hand to grab it, but Emiel stopped him.
"No, hold it like I am, with both hands."
With the cloth held taut, Emiel examined it closely, bunching up one part in his hands then moving to the next. He did this for a few moments then stopped. He drew a dagger from his belt, tested its edge against the nail on his thumb, frowned at its dullness, then drew another. He tsk'd, a small clicking sound from the back of his throat, these blades, they had no edge. "Needs must." he mumbled and began working at a portion of the cloth.
"What madness is this?" Ragnar asked, but Emiel ignored him.
The dull knife tore, rather than cut, at the threads of the cloth. Emiel forced the weave apart and sawed till he had opened a hidden pocket. He pulled from it a sheet of a silvery material.
"This.." said Emiel holding up the square of silver, "is no madness. But it may be a great deal of help later."
"What is it?" Ragnar asked.
"It is a key." Emiel answered.
"Strange looking key." Ragnar tossed the cloth to the side.
Outside of the house they could hear the clomp of the horses. Ted had returned.
* * *
"Gather what's useful." Emiel said to them. "Throw the rest into the fire."
"We should just burn the whole place." Ragnar said looking around at the ruined interior. His eyes passed over the litter and refuse, the bodies of gnoll and goblin, and came to rest on the corpse of the man. "We should make it a pyre."
"And attract more attention." snorted Ted. "Besides, we use this place ourselves."
"This is a loathsome den." Ragnar said, appalled.
"It has a roof, walls, and a solid floor." Ted snapped back. "Better than sleeping on the ground, out in the wet and cold."
"It smells like a pit in hell. Give me the open air instead of this place anytime." Ragnar tested the balance and line of several spears which lay against the wall as he talked. Picking the best out of the lot he tossed it over to Ted. "Here, yours is no good broken."
Ted snatched it out of the air and weighed it in his hands. He looked at Ragnar and nodded.
The fire blazed away, fed with sword, shield and spear. Better burnt and warped than left for the hands of the goblins to retrieve.
"And him." Ragnar said, looking at the corpse.
"He's too big for the fire." Ted said matter-of-factly
Emiel looked at Ragnar with a set expression on his face and a stiff determined manner. "I don't like leaving him either, but we don't have time to bury him and we are not burning the house."
Ragnar walked over to the table. He reached down and lifted the man carefully, grabbing him under the arms and setting him down gently with his back against the wall. He had to stop and let the pain from his ribs subside, then braced himself.
The table was large and sturdy. Its edges were rough, hacked and scarred by countless knives. Its top gouged with crude pictures and random marks of violence. Ragnar bent and put his shoulder against it. He grunted with the effort, and with a painful scraping, pushed it flush against the wall.
"What the hell are you doing?" Ted asked.
"If he cannot be set to lie in peace, then let him be lord over the place of his death." Ragnar said between ragged breaths. He lifted the man's body once again and set him upon the table like a king upon a crude throne. "You who died beneath the blades of your enemies." he said to the corpse. "Let this be your domain in death."
Ragnar walked over to the body of a goblin. With one hand he lifted it and set it upon the table, laying it upon its back, its eyes staring blindly upward. "Let this be your thrall to serve you till Vatun calls the heroes of the Oerth."
Ted and Emiel simply watched in amazement and said nothing.
Ragnar walked past them and grabbed the body of the gnoll. He dragged it over the floor and with a heave flung it under the table.
"Let this dog watch over you..." He paused, then went quickly to the fire. Wrapping a rag around his hand, he drew a great curved sword from the blaze. Its metal was blackened but unbent and the leather around the hilt danced with flames.
He smothered the hilt with rags and took it, still smoking, then pressed it into the stiffening grip of the dead man." ... and the souls of all the accursed and unshriven dead be sworn to the steel of Vatun's heart, by the steel in your hand and under your dominion. If you cannot find rest in Vatun's hall, let you wield a sword upon the Oerth in Vatun's name till the final horn sounds."
"What barbaric nonsense was that?" Ted demanded
A cold sweat ran down Ragnar's face. He staggered by them both and left the house. Emiel and Ted looked at each other, their skin prickled and they quickly followed Ragnar outside.
* * *
(To Be Continued)