Curth: Part 1 of The Northlands Read online

  Curth:

  Part 1 of

  The Northlands

  Ed Campbell

  This book is dedicated to the land and people of Caithness.

  “Right between the powers of East and West, there lies a fair green land,

  Where the hill and dale and heathered crest, sweep down into the sand.

  And the people there are warm and bright, a light in this dark world.

  I will travel there this very night, over Northern sea and sky.”

  A lonely figure climbed up on top of the stone that stuck straight up from the crest of the hill. He was a young man, dressed in white bearskins, one layer on top of the other to keep out the bitter cold of the driving wind. A broad sword hung loosely by his side, his right arm resting on the hilt. A bow and quiver full of arrows was slung lightly over his left shoulder. His hair hung shoulder length and his beard betrayed the sparsity of youth. He breathed lightly, hardly affected by the long climb to the summit and the final effort of scaling the mossy stone.

  He looked round from the 360 degrees viewpoint trying to see if his pursuers were in sight. He felt more confident now; there was no trace of them. Before him lay a land he’d never set eyes on before. It was a barren, lonely place. Heather covered everything, small patches of dry grass interspersed with rocks rising above the soil was the only break to the dominance of the heather. In the distance, to the south, he could just make out the outline of a great forest. The North East wind cut through his clothing and he shivered momentarily, before stepping off the stone and dropping lightly the six-foot to the soft heather below. He had traveled for five days, only sleeping for a few hours after midday, before continuing through the evening, night and morning, by foot.

  He fed himself on berries and had feasted on a rabbit two days before he climbed the summit. So on catching sight of the deer feeding in the valley below him, his mouth watered in anticipation. It was a small herd in comparison to some he’d seen. Two stag and about ten doe. He spotted a medium sized doe at the edge of the herd. Even as he watched, the herd moved away from her, slowly but surely. She was busy munching on some very green grass with her back to the herd. Young and immature, she had probably never seen a human before. The north east wind favored the young man so he made his way down the hillside, unconcerned with hiding his presence at first but as he came within smelling distance he fell flat on his stomach and crawled his way closer to the hungry female.

  She lifted her head and turned to look for the herd, they were further away from her than she thought and she flipped round to face them. The young man stopped flat against the damp moss and lowered his head, barely daring to breathe. After a minute he raised his head. The doe was still looking at the herd. One of the stags trotted toward her briefly then dipped his head and started feeding. This encouraged the young doe and she dropped her head once again to pluck the ripe, fresh heather shoots. The young man immediately started forward again on his belly until he could smell the rest of the herd.

  He very slowly took out his bow and placed an arrow on the pig gut slung between the two ends. Holding the bow sideways, he rolled on his side and took aim.

  At the full extent of the bow, the beech wood of which it consisted creaked under the strain. The unnatural noise, though quiet rang out like an alarm bell in this barren wilderness. The doe lifted her head and braced to run. The rest of the herd hadn’t heard the unusual sound and fed on happily, which confused the young doe. She hesitated. The young man aimed carefully behind the young doe’s front left leg and consciously remaining as still as possible, he let go of the gut. At exactly the same time the doe bounded off. The arrow caught her back flank and sank in deep. She clawed at the ground with her front legs desperately trying to drag her paralyzed back end toward the startled herd. The young man came to his feet quickly and sprinted toward the injured deer. The herd jumped and led by the stags, ran up the opposite side of the valley. The injured doe called out, a hollow painful sound, causing the leading stag to stop and look back. The rest of the herd kept going but he remained. As the young man got closer to the deer its call became more urgent and it began to make some progress in pulling itself forward. His heart dipped momentarily as he saw the agony in its eyes. This, more than anything, made him push himself for one final leap onto the back of the doe. He heard something crack underneath him and the young doe’s call stopped. He gripped its head in his strong arms and twisted.

  He stood up from the deer, warm blood soaking his legs. It was no more than ten seconds from the deer feeding happily until it now lay dead on the ground before him. The stag still stood watching and the young man felt guilty under its gaze.

  “Go!” he shouted.

  As if it understood, the stag turned and fled up the hill only to stop on the summit and give a call that echoed through the valley long after it had disappeared over the far side.

  Curth feasted well on the venison. He had roasted the carcass on an open fire and stuffed the black meat into his mouth before it hardly smelt of smoke. A new land lay before him. A country so raw and untamed that his blood roared in his ears and his eyes filled with tears at its beauty as he surveyed his surroundings.

  His sleep that night was long but not untroubled.

  Far behind him fifteen men were landing their boat on the rocky shore of the North Coast. Thick fog enveloped them, but they ploughed on relentlessly, securing the boat and unloading their belongings. Each knew that they might never see their homeland again. The native people of this new land were infamous for their savagery. Myth and legends about them were all they knew. Their quest however was more important than any and all of their lives: the capture and return of a criminal. Each of the fifteen men was tall and broad, battle worn and scarred. Dressed in much the same fashion as Curth, they each had bearskins draped over their ample figures. Still even among this imposing company the leader stood out above them all. His name was Elich, son of the chieftain Radoch. He stood 6’ 9’’ in his bare feet and his long blonde hair contrasted sharply with his dark eyes and skin. Although only twenty-five, Elich was born for leadership and so even the older men in his company would bow easily to his will. He spoke his orders briefly and firmly, pitched so all could hear but not so loud that his calls would penetrate the fresh haar. Within fifteen minutes the men were secured with their swords and bows, and belongings that they would defend with their lives. Elich lead the way from the beach, knowing instinctively that the country inland would offer better grounds for defence and for sleep. The cold of the haar would steal the energy from his hardy company. Inland lay warmer air. Elich could already smell the sweet warm heather. Not a smell he was altogether used too, nor one that he felt uncomfortable with.

  Curth’s sleep was deep and long. The venison lay heavy on his stomach. He dreamt of his homeland, his father and his brothers. The bow he had used to kill the young doe was the focus of his dream. A reenactment of his sixteenth birthday. His father demonstrating the art of craftsmanship, the creation of the bow. The transformation from inert wood to flexible, killing mechanism. The images and sounds were imprinted on his mind. He would never forget the technique, and yet he had never used it again after that day. The bow that lay beside his now resting body was the same bow that he dreamt of creating. Six years had past since that day. Six years that would change his existence forever.

  His dream swept from his fathers unforgettable lesson to the moment he had taken a life with the bow for the first time. He had impaled a seal on a cold morning in October. He cried openly as he prepared the meat.

  His dream now moved to him washing his hands in the fresh water of the everlasting burn not a mile from his home. He wiped the tears from his eyes and tried to c
ompose himself and, on standing and turning for home, faced his father.

  Curth looked deeply into his father’s eyes, searching for something, he knew not what. What he found, surprised him, no, shocked him! His father was proud of him! He said nothing but turned, and led the way home.

  Curth’s dream now changed. His father walking in front of him became Elich, his childhood friend. They were running through the forests together, chasing each other, wrestling and tumbling along to the echoes of their childish laughter.

  Elich was always taller than Curth. His blond hair danced in the flickering sunlight. Suddenly he grew until he was a twenty-five year old Elich. His smiled turned to hatred, harsh lines crawling across his face as he thrust his sword at Curth’s throat. Curth stumbled backwards, he was still sixteen, and the fight was unfair! Unfair!

  The sword penetrated his neck, everything went black and Curth screamed.

  The sun was peeping up from behind the hills as Curth sat up and roared to it. His dream still stealing his sanity, he grabbed for his sword and sat lifeless staring at his hand on the hilt.

  “Just a dream,” he reinforced to himself.

  He let go of his sword, stood up, walked six paces from his makeshift bed and vomited half digested venison onto the soil of his new home.

  He knelt there shivering from the morning breeze with sweat dripping from his brow, and stared up at the standing stone. How far was Elich behind him? His friend. His enemy.

  He cleaned himself in a nearby burn, momentarily emotional because it was as sweet and refreshing as the everlasting burn that he had washed in and drank all his life, so far away to the North. The sun sat proudly above the valley walls, searing the threatening clouds, at least for the moment.

  Feeling renewed and hungry he collected his gear and set off for the other side of the valley. He would follow the stag.

  He knew not north, south or any points of compass. What Curth knew was that he would head towards the warmer air and away from his home.

  He followed the stag and, in remembering his recent past, recognized the difference in temperature in the air. The great forest loomed ever closer when he saw the first signs of human settlement. He had been walking without care, smiling to himself about his great feast the night before and how he’d wasted half of it on the ground the next morning. Suddenly he smelt something strange. He dropped onto his belly and stayed very still while scanning his limited horizon. The moist heather threatened to make his warm body lose its precious heat, so he gathered himself into a crouch. Nearby a burned carcass was attended too by large black flies and tiny midges. It was a stag. He could tell even from this distance.

  Only humans kill and burn their meat. Curth’s blood pounded in his ears. Could Elich have overtaken him? Is it possible?

  No, it can’t be. Six days now since he made shore on this new land. He had moved as quickly as his body would allow him. He was ahead of them, he was sure of it. “This must be the native people’s leftovers,” he reasoned.

  He crawled to the carcass and ate freely from the ample meat left behind by the wasteful natives. Looking around all the time, Curth ate his fill and felt sure that this meal would not be wasted on the wet Earth.

  He stayed by the carcass for an hour while the sun moved across the heavens. Listening, watching, chewing.

  He took out his sword and watched the suns light reflect off it as he moved it to and fro. He looked at his reflection in it; his beard was growing. His hair was too long! He set his sword down by his side and examined his bow and the remaining arrows he had left. The bow was as strong and sturdy as the day it was built. The arrows were lacking. His firm eyebrows furrowed as he contemplated the forest in the distance, wondering if he would make it there to create new arrows for his own protection and for killing his food.

  He looked at the clouds and the blue sky. It was a lovely day. As good as anything Curth had experienced at his home, so far away to the north.

  He removed the top layer of bearskin. And replaced his sword and bow to their place. “Time for a wash,” he thought to himself.

  In his listening and watching he had heard a nearby burn tinkle and splash in the sun. He moved carefully toward the sound and, to his surprise, found that it was larger than just a burn. He removed all his bearskins and washed in the small river. As he lay naked in the warm sun, trying to dry off, he thought about the risk he was taking. Every moment that he paused, they gained ground on him. It meant his very life to stay ahead of the formidable men that were seeking him.

  Elich made camp two miles inland. His company of hard fighting men had never set foot in a foreign land. This warmer climate made them restless, Elich sensed they were unsettled and thus vulnerable.

  “Men!” Elich interrupted several conversations, “you are without equal!”

  He paused for a moment, all the while staring proudly at them.

  “Tomorrow we will set out in earnest to capture the renegade, the criminal! Tonight, rest. This land is not our land, but it is a challenge we must meet with the entire rigor that our forefathers have given to us! The renegade cannot escape the justice that this company of brothers will bring to his cowardly door!”

  The men stirred in anticipation.

  “The man that you once knew as Curth is dead. He lives now in Val Halla, the place to which we all will go, to greet him and drink and fight with him as we once did. The man we now chase into this foreign, warm land is a traitor, and deserves none of the respect that Curth the man deserved!”

  The company’s noise grew.

  “Tomorrow, the job we have come for really begins! All you have fought for, all your training since you were young will be required from tomorrow until we bring the renegade to justice!”

  The men now roared their approval, “To Elich we follow!” they bellowed.

  “Sleep now, and soon we shall feast and indulge in all that you desire!”

  Laughter and sneering came from the company before him. Elich smiled easily at them, making his meaning very clear.

  He sat down beside his second in command, signaling the end of the speech. The company settled down and their sleep was marked by snores of contentment.

  Curth followed the course of the river carefully concealing his tracks and making sure he wouldn’t be seen by any watchful natives.

  He came to a crest of a hill where the land dropped sharply off the escarpment and the river tumbled down in a waterfall over the edge. He was surprised to see in the distance the sun glinting off the deep blue of the eastern sea. The river fell down the waterfall and continued its journey towards the sea being joined by several streams along the way. At the junction where one of these larger streams joined the river lay a village. Curth crouched low against a rock on the edge of the escarpment. In between him and the village there was a group of about twenty men. They were talking and laughing loudly and carrying two large stags between them. Food for the village.

  Curth dropped down the escarpment quickly and set off after them. He followed at a distance dropping flat if any of the men stopped or turned in his direction.

  As they approached the village Curth circled round to their side, always staying just far enough away that he could drop out of sight at the first sign of anyone looking towards him. As the men entered the village the children came out running and clapping, hanging on to their father’s coats skipping along beside them, singing. The women came out of their huts and chattered excitedly together. The two stags were dumped in the center of the village, the men laughed and slapped each other on the back, and they lifted their kids high in the air and swung them back down so that they could run back to their mothers. The tallest of the men in the hunting group called the village to attention. Curth scrambled closer trying to make out what was being said. He ran quickly to the back of one of the huts and crawled on his belly round to the side so he could just see part of the scene.

  The tallest man shouted again, the smile broad on his face. Curth didn’t understand the
words he was saying. He had never heard another language before and it confused him. Everyone stood silent, the women holding their hands over the children’s mouths if the excitement got too much for them. The other men stood with hands on hips looking at the stags and winking at the children.

  “We are blest again!” he bellowed, “Food for our children! Bring out the ale and let our feast begin!,” he said with a laugh as he slapped the back of the man nearest him, nearly knocking him off his feet.

  The men set about the meat, spilling the steaming innards on the ground and hacking at the meat, the dogs of the village swallowed the offal whole, the meat was piled high and the dogs knew not to touch it or they would receive a kick that could injure for life. The women made a fire and began cooking the meat and passing it out to the children then the men. Before long all the men had carved grails in their hands full of the strong ale that increased the volume from the village. The smell of the burning meat made Curth’s stomach rumble loudly, though no one could hear it in the feast. Apart from one of the dogs. It had eaten its fill of offal and now lay in front of its owners hut. On hearing the strange noise it cautiously moved round the side of the hut until it smelt Curth. It’s full stomach no longer a disability it barked and growled uncontrollably.

  Curth recognized the danger and stood to his full height in front of the dog. This further infuriated the hound and it jumped at Curth trying to get its long teeth at his throat. Curth easily sidestepped the dog and sliced its throat clean through with one swipe of his small knife.

  It howled once then lay on the ground writhing trying to breathe. A young child had trotted over to look for his beloved dog and had just seen this strange man slice its throat! The kid screamed and ran to his mother. The child’s father looked over to where Curth was finished the dog, putting it out of is misery. He roused the whole company with one long shout and the men were on Curth before he could make a retreat.