Snow crunched in the night. Aga froze beside a scrub pine, hand on his sword hilt, and swallowed hard.
“Hwar?” he hissed. He wasn’t in the mood to get stabbed. Worst luck, me an’ Hwar pulling watch together. Hwar had all the wits of a newborn frost-vole.
“I know no Hwar, land-hugger.” The unfamiliar voice, low with a tundra accent, came from the creek side of the pine.
Aga exhaled slowly. Too far from the tents to be sure they’d hear my cry. “What’re you doing up so late, ice muncher?” he asked with forced lightness.
“I fish, of course.”
Aga cracked a smile. “I’m afraid the creek is frozen, friend. You might as well be gettin’ back to bed.”
“I could hunt for land-huggers instead, ya?” The Nordling picket’s musing held a subtle edge.
“That you could,” Aga replied steadily. He inched his blade halfway out of its scabbard. “Or I suppose you could be getting shut-eye first and hunting on the morrow.”
“There’s an idea.” The other man went silent for long enough that Aga drew his sword fully. He left his scute-shield slung on his back. In case he—or a friend—gets the drop on me.
The Nordling’s nasal intonation broke the tension. “What brings you so far from camp, land-hugger?” He’s in the same spot, more or less. Thank the Wright.
“I can’t sleep.” Aga’s answer was true, as far as it went.
“Drink mammoth milk,” the Nordling advised. “You’ll sleep like a babe.”
Aga snorted. “An’ wreck m’bowels for a seven-day.”
“As you say, land-hugger. But if you don’t sleep, you’ll be too weary to lift your little shield when my oar-mates and I come for you.”
The sincerity in the Nordling’s words drove an icicle into Aga’s veins. “And when should we be expecting you and your crew?”
“Maybe on the morrow.” A lengthy pause ensued. “Or maybe no. I would rest well, on the off chance.”
Is he for true? ”I’d best be going.”
“Where to, land-hugger?” This time, there was nothing subtle about the warning in the man’s question.
“I’ll walk a bit,” Aga told him in what he hoped to be an assuaging tone. “Minding my affairs till sleep finds me.” He trod warily west, farther from his regiment, to prove his point. “Fare well, ice muncher.”
“As you say. Good night, land-hugger.” Snow-crunching steps moved away from Aga, who continued his patrol in solitude.
I’ll head back, by a roundabout route. Why hurry? A war might start tomorrow, but surely not tonight.
Brilliant