"Harik Eraldsen! What is the meaning of this?" King Balmir demanded as he stared at his vassal.
"I can't, Your Majesty. The raids were going as planned. The sand eaters ran at the first sign of our ships as always." Harik frowned as he shook his long, dark hair from his face. Making the scars of many battles visible. "However, recently they finally grew a spine. They started intercepting our warriors and met us in battle."
"That's not what I'm talking about! How have you lost so many men!" King Balmir roared in displeasure as he slammed his mug made from bone on the arm of his crude wooden throne.
Harik's frown deepened as he glanced around at the others in the tent. They were all Captains or Jarls in the King's army that had been gathered for the raids this season. However, all of them wore grim expressions. Harik was aware that many of them had encountered the same problems as he had.
"They fought with greater passion than we thought they were capable of," Harik replied, while he replayed the memories of the recent battles in his mind. "It was like they were possessed."
Silence descended in the tent at Harik's poor explanation. However, he was reluctant to go into detail about the things he had seen. Seasoned men had fallen on their own weapons. His own sword had suddenly swerved, failing to take the life of an enemy commander. The fish in the rivers avoided their nets, making supplies run low. These were all ill omens for the outcome of these raids.
They had barely gained anything when the problems started coming. Damaging the morale of the army. At this rate, they would be returning home empty-handed. Harik frowned when he thought about his daughter, Ania, back home. She was due to be wed on his return. With his position in the village, he would be expected to hand over quite a large bounty to her husband.
He grit his teeth when he thought about how this failure would affect his family. Many men and women from Eraldsfen had come on this raid. However, barely half of them remained. It would severely affect his image when he returned.
"Can anyone give me an explanation!" King Balmir growled through gritted teeth, making many of those gathered feel nervous.
"Gods..." Someone blurted out from the side and immediately regretted it.
"There are no gods!" King Balmir roared as he threw his mug at her. There was a dull thud as it slammed into her forehead and left a cut behind. "They must be using some kind of trick!"
"Or magic!" Someone else suddenly said in a low voice, causing the King to stare at him.
"Hm... Or magic..." King Balmir said in a low voice as he leaned back in his throne with a frown. He was more willing to believe that it was magic than gods. After all, that was something they had seen before. "The natives must be using magic to unnerve us! They've never used it before so we weren't prepared... But their tricks won't work anymore. We just have to find the witches and sorcerers responsible..."
There was a sigh of relief in the tent as the Captains and Jarls released their collectively held breath. They felt much more at ease with this explanation. After all, a magic-user was made of flesh and bone. But a God? What could they do to fight against such an existence?
Amongst the gathering, only Harik and two others had frowns remaining on their faces. They had fought witches and other things on other raids. But this did not seem to fit the bill to them. These things were happening in the heat of combat. There were none of the usual signs of a spell caster. Like a single person being heavily guarded away from the battlefield.
'Besides, they kept mumbling about their gods as we killed them...' Harik was already concerned when he first heard one of his enemies mention the gods. No man or woman would idly invoke that term. Even if there was a powerful spell caster, they would never claim them to be a god.
"Get some rest. Tomorrow... We launch one last raid! We'll strike the city at the heart of the river before returning home. We need the proper people to launch further raids now." King Balmir commanded as he sighed. The thought of how much gold he would have to pay to the few spell casters willing to join raids made his heart sink.
As they filed out of the tent, Harik watched the others walk away in a jovial mood. Obviously planning to share the King's thoughts with their men and throw some celebrations. 'It's not a bad idea. They need to lift their spirits before tomorrow.' Harik sighed as he wondered how many lives they would lose this time.
He could not shake the doubt that had settled in his heart. 'Have the gods returned? Are they punishing us for invading these lands? Why do these sand eaters get to have gods on their side! Where are our gods!' Harik felt anger burning in his heart as he stomped through the camp to join his own people.
There was silence amongst his people when he explained the King's plans. Unlike the other groups, Harik's people were of the same mind as him and did not believe it was something as simple as magic users. The tension was suddenly cut by one of the women.
"Maybe we should pray to the Gods? We're probably going to die tomorrow, anyway. What harm can it do?"
Harik frowned at her before everyone burst out into laughter. Sure, they were considering the idea that gods may be involved. But praying? That would mean accepting that it was definitely true!
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