“That there is no immediate danger to our woodland friends is indeed a welcome tiding. I must say that it is very good just to see you once again… in these times we must celebrate all such meetings between friends,” he warmly replied, appearing to relax once again at Ayenwatha’s words.
His voice had a certain roughness to it, which fairly complimented his tough appearance. His piercing gaze then swept towards the seven foreigners with Ayenwatha.
“So these are your visitors?” he asked pointedly, nodding towards Logan and the others.
Ayenwatha likewise inclined his head towards the seven, who were now standing with the rest of the tribal warriors just a couple of paces behind the war sachem.
“Yes. And before you departed to other lands for the trading season, I wanted for you to meet them,” Ayenwatha replied. “I desire to hear your words about them. I have not provided them with new clothes, so that you may see with your own eyes what manner of clothing that they wear. They have said that this clothing is from their own lands. I cannot place the clothing in any land that I know of.”
Eirik nodded slowly, his countenance stern as his eyes continued to rest upon the seven. “I am glad that you reached me before I took to the seas for trade. Gunnar will be very interested in this discovery as well.”
“I believe that your brother will indeed,” Ayenwatha responded.
Ayenwatha then proceeded to explain the incredible amulets that had been given to the otherworlders by the Wanderer, and how the amulets enabled the understanding of languages. Logan took note that Eirik looked very surprised at the mention of the Wanderer, but the warrior held whatever thoughts he might have had to himself.
Eirik then walked past Ayenwatha to come to stand close to where Logan was situated at the forefront of the seven exiles. Having a closer look at Eirik’s two pendants, Logan noticed that one was in the shape of a spear, its point oriented upward, and the second was in the distinct shape of a hammer. Logan wondered what the two silver symbols represented as he regarded the bearded warrior before him.
Eirik smiled again, in a genuine expression of greeting, his encompassing gaze taking in Logan and the others.
“I hear tidings that you are not in allegiance to the Unifier, and that you are possibly from another world,” he said to them. “It is hard to believe that one can come from another world. But in these very strange and uncertain times, I have come to be surprised by very little. Hopefully, the All-Father has reasons for your presence here. If not, perhaps our patron gods do. I am called Eirik, son of Atli, and I am of the people of Midragard.”
As Logan was the one standing right before the Midragardan warrior, he was the first to respond to Eirik’s introduction.
“My name is Logan, and yes, this is definitely a new world for all of us,” Logan stated, looking straight into the steady, cerulean gaze of the Midragardan.
There was no threat lurking in the man’s eyes, but there was an unwavering scrutiny seated in his gaze. Despite the lack of hostility in that look, Logan deemed it wise to be careful not to say anything to offend the Midragardan.
“It is very good to meet you Logan,” Eirik responded, his large hand firmly clasping Logan’s arm in a friendly manner, just below his left shoulder.
Before Logan had time to worry about the appropriate return gesture, Eirik released his grip upon his arm. The Midragardan gently brushed past Logan and moved in amongst his companions.
Now in their direct midst, the Midragardan’s face could not hide his obvious fascination. More than once, Eirik lingered for several moments as he stared closely at some particular aspect of their unfamiliar clothing.
Logan quietly watched Eirik proceed with his inspection, equally fascinated with the Midragardan.
AYENWATHA
Ayenwatha knew from the Midragardan’s reactions that Eirik had never seen or heard of anything like the type of clothes that the otherworlders wore.
He watched with keen interest as the helmed warrior passed onward from Logan, and drew to a halt before Erika. The striking, dark-haired woman briefly introduced herself, as Logan had, though unlike her companion she elicited a slight inclination of his head.
“Your clothes may be strange… and you may not be from our lands, but your mere look threatens to slay me where I stand,” Eirik gently commented to her in reply. “Beautiful and strong… one of the Twelve Sisters you could well be.”
Erika’s face reddened a little in embarrassment at the sincere compliment, though Ayenwatha was all but certain that she had no idea as to who the Twelve Sisters were.
If she had known, Ayenwatha was confident that the shade of red now flushing her skin would have been even deeper. It was a very high compliment to be compared by a Midragardan leader to the deeply revered female Wizards, patrons of Eirik’s homelands for ages.
Erika had no verbal reply for the stout warrior, but Ayenwatha could sense that she was flattered and understood the genuine nature, if not the particulars, of the warrior’s words.
Eirik smiled softly, and moved past her to stand near to Mershad. He then regarded Mershad closely for several moments after the latter had formally introduced himself. Mershad looked very uncomfortable under the close individual inspection, his eyes glancing downward and staunchly averting the appraising gaze of the Midragardan.
“Like those from Saljuka… you are indeed like a Sunlander,” Eirik commented, after a few more moments had passed.
Ayenwatha understood the reference.
The Midragardan was comparing Mershad to a certain kind of people that Eirik had encountered during his many foreign travels, ones that he had shared several tales about with Ayenwatha. Judging by those engaging and highly descriptive stories, Ayenwatha believed that he could see where Eirik found a resemblance in Mershad to the Sunlanders that lived in the far north.
“Mostly a good people, at least as I have found them to be,” Eirik continued. “They have long enjoyed much trade with Midragard, and with those of our kin who settled long ago in Kiruva. I have not met many Saljukans in my life, but the ones that I have met have been fair enough in their dealings with me.”
As if perceiving the signs of increasing discomfort in Mershad that Ayenwatha was seeing, the Midragardan quickly added, “Know that they are well spoken of among my people, and take my words favorably.”
Mershad merely nodded at Eirik’s assurances and mustered a nervous grin, though his eyes continued to remain downward.
“I have heard it said that silver flows in rivers deep in their lands,” Eirik then continued. “Their reputation as bold and capable warriors is also oft spoken of. I know that they are very zealous when it comes to matters of their Great Prophet. And they must have courage in their blood, for their people have spread to a great many lands upon the face of this world. Maybe you hold some of their qualities, Sunlander. It would not be a bad thing.”
Ayenwatha noticed that Mershad’s eyes widened at the open mention of the Great Prophet. Ayenwatha took the distinct response carefully to mind. There was something to be learned about Mershad and his homeland, or world, within that spontaneous reaction.
Mershad looked as if he greatly desired to ask some further questions of the Midragardan. Ayenwatha wished that Mershad had, as he wanted to see if something more could be learned about Mershad in an exchange with Eirik, but such an interaction would have to take place at some other time. By the time that Mershad appeared to have finally mustered himself up enough to venture a query forward, Eirik had turned his attention away towards another of the group.
Eirik strolled a couple of steps to the right, coming to face Derek. Ayenwatha could see something similar in the presence of the two men, from their stout postures to the iron looks held in their eyes.