The Midragardan and the otherworlder both had the confident aura and subtle wariness of experienced warriors. The scrutiny was mutual. Ayenwatha had a strong sense that each man was left with a respectful impression of the other.
Eirik’s eyes continued to meet those of the one that Ayenwatha considered as the most stalwart of the newcomers.
The Midragardan warrior remarked, “Many in the Sunlands have a likeness such as yours, ones with the darker skin and a different appearance from that of your friend here. I have heard tales of places even farther away to the northern reaches of the Sunlands, far to the west. It is said that great tribes of brave warriors, with the darker skin and a similar look to you, live in lands of ferocious beasts and a blazing sun.
“The look in your eye is that of a warrior, even if I have not yet witnessed your skill at arms. If you are from another world, I am certain that men would be the same there as in ours, and that one who is not a warrior could not easily deceive one who is.”
Ayenwatha could see the briefest flickers of curiosity and agreement in Derek’s eyes.
Eirik then turned towards Janus, Kent, and Antonio, regarding each of the last three without much comment, other than to share a brief greeting and introduction with them.
He did linger a little longer before Janus, and the hint of a frown briefly crossed his face. Ayenwatha found the Midragardan’s reaction strange, as it was one of perplexity, rather than one born of any discomfort or annoyance.
Finished, Eirik walked back towards Ayenwatha and slowly shook his head. The two of them strode several paces away from the others, so that they could speak together in confidence.
“I cannot say anything for certain,” Eirik stated in a low voice, when they had walked far enough to assume that they could not be overheard.
“Then you can tell me nothing?” Ayenwatha asked, speaking in the Midragardan tongue, a look of disappointment rising to his face. He had hoped dearly that the well-traveled Eirik would have some sort of insight or a few answers regarding the party of seven strangers. Eirik’s inconclusive reaction only deepened the mystery.
“I know of nothing like this, from any of my travels,” Eirik replied in a low voice. “In the color of their skin, and in appearance, a few of them are akin to the people of distant lands to the north. But I do not think that these people came from those kingdoms. It may indeed be that they are, as they have claimed, from another world.”
“Then what do you counsel, my friend?” Ayenwatha asked Eirik pensively, looking past him towards the outsiders. He wondered what Eirik’s brother Gunnar would be thinking, as Gunnar was more inclined towards the prophetic tales that so intrigued Ayenwatha. “Could they be the ones that are spoken of?”
“Who can say that they are not? Protect them, and keep them with you, if you think that there is a chance that they are these people,” Eirik stated. His eyes then narrowed, “And these amulets from the Wanderer? What of these gifts? Do these guests of yours truly not speak our tongues?”
“There is no doubt about these gifts of the Wanderer. Without the amulets they understand nothing, and without them I cannot understand a word that they say,” Ayenwatha said.
“The Wanderer… in the Five Realms, giving gifts to otherworlders,” Eirik stated with a contemplative look.
Ayenwatha then fixed Eirik with an unwavering gaze, and his voice carried certitude in its even tone. “These seven know nothing of the things of our world. I have watched them very closely in all manner of things. They are truly strangers to all the things of this world. I can see it in their eyes, in their words, and in their great discomfort with the most simple of matters. I am certain of this. Everything is a wonder to them.”
“So I noticed when I first set my eyes upon them. The look that they gave my men and ship was one of sheer amazement, like it was something they could hardly believe they were seeing. Can seven people falsely imitate such a sincere reaction?” Eirik replied with a shrug. “If they are from another world, then there is some true purpose with them being here. And for what it may be worth, I also share your view that they are not of the Unifier.”
“Then what should we do while we shelter them?”” Ayenwatha asked.
“I would teach them the ways of this world, as much as you can, if I were you. Time is a luxury that none of us have, so I would not delay,” Eirik advised him firmly.
There was no sense of doubt in the Midragardan’s voice. His words were filled with conviction, and Ayenwatha knew that did not come carelessly with Eirik, the son of Atli.
“As for the ways of this world, I will help you get them started now,” Eirik said, casting a quick glance off in the direction of his ship, River Wolf. “I think that the things of Midragard might be a little more comfortable for them than the things of your tribes.”
Ayenwatha wondered as to what Eirik was getting at, as the Midragardan then turned, took a few strides away, and called out to a few of his men. The men hustled up to Eirik, receiving some rapid instructions from him before continuing on to the longship. They strode up to the interior of the vessel via a long gangplank, which ran from the shore to the top strake about mid-ship.
A few moments later, a couple of the men were carefully moving back down the gangplank, carrying a large, rectangular wooden chest with them. Two others followed behind with a second, similar chest. The small group carried the chests on over to where Eirik and Ayenwatha stood.
At a nod from Eirik, the warriors placed the iron-banded chests upon the ground, unlocked them, and opened them up. Inside of the chests were some of the colorful, brocaded tunics that the Midragardans typically wore.
“Do not attract attention, when you do not have to, Ayenwatha. Clothes similar to these are worn in many lands,” Eirik stated to his friend, who immediately understood the gesture. “The differences are much less with these, than with clothes fashioned of buckskin with quill decoration. Certainly much less than what they have on their bodies.”
The sight of men and women in woolen tunics was a lot more common across the surface of Ave, especially regarding a group whose members represented many different ethnic heritages. A group of non-tribal people wearing the manner of clothing highly particular to the Five Realms would definitely be peculiar, and would ultimately invite unwanted attention.
“A good suggestion,” Ayenwatha remarked.
“Do I not always have good suggestions?” Eirik responded with a light chuckle.
“Then I have one for you,” Ayenwatha said, pausing for a moment as his lips turned in a grin, before adding, “Can you and your men join us for a feast in the village?”
Eirik gave a long, wistful sigh.
“Ah, you would beckon to me with this. It is such misfortune that I must return immediately to attend to our trading goods,” Eirik exclaimed, shaking his head resignedly. “I do not have to ask my men to know that we all would love a feast in your village. For my own part, I would very much like to visit with your new guests some more. I cannot accept what you offer, but not because I do not wish to. Perhaps on my return, we can feast and share further tales together.”
Ayenwatha looked at his friend and nodded, understanding that Eirik had already spared valuable time to heed Ayenwatha’s summons.
“I was told that you were already trading in these lands when our messengers found you. Did trading go well on this visit?” Ayenwatha asked him, raising an eyebrow.
Smiling, Erik gestured back towards his ship. “We have some trading vessels, which are waiting for our return at the mouth of this river before we continue onward. They are full, and we are forced to use space on my ship for the overflow. Yes, it has gone well for both parties, Midragardans and the tribes alike. Many useful goods of iron have passed into the possession of your people, and more furs coveted in lands to the east and north will be going along with us.”