Chapter 3 — Blood of the Thenns
POV — Barthogan
Three months passed quickly.
My father made a small bone hatchet for me. It was perfect for my size — a little heavy, but that was good. The heavier it was, the stronger I would become. Magnus helped me train with it, although I felt that, for him, it was more a game between father and son than real training. Still… it was something.
My archery training with Clea has also begun to show results. I can already draw the string a bit farther while keeping proper posture. I think that in about six months, I'll start training with real arrows. For now, my mother focuses only on strength and body positioning.
The dreams with the narwhal have not stopped.
On most recent nights, I am with him. Sometimes I can control him, just a little. I've seen through his eyes when he surfaced to breathe. I didn't recognize the land around, but by his size and behavior, I believe we're still relatively close to the coast.
To be honest… I've been thinking about telling my parents. Maybe they can help me find another creature. Preferably a strong bird.
Today, I'm going with my father to the Thenn village.
Magnus said that a man there owes him a favor and that he's going to collect it in the form of a bow — a bow for a tall and strong man… in this case, me. It probably won't be a child's bow, but that's fine. In about three years, I believe I'll already have the strength and skill to truly use it.
It was there that I discovered the Thenns practice a rudimentary form of trade. Lots of bartering. Favors for items. They forge bronze. Among the Free Folk, they are clearly the most advanced.
And there is more.
I am the grandson of the current Magnar of the Thenns.
My mother is the daughter of their leader.
I can't imagine why she left such a strong community to live almost isolated, near the coast. I never asked. It feels like a topic… too sensitive.
It took us twenty days to catch sight of the Valley of the Thenns.
All I wanted was to step inside a warm hut.
"Behave yourself, Barthogan," Magnus said, more serious than I had ever seen him. "First we will pay our respects. Your grandfather's men will come for us soon. Show no fear… but do not be disrespectful either."
I had never seen Magnus so severe.
It didn't seem like fear. He himself had told me he lost that long ago. Still… there was caution.
"Alright, father," I replied. "I'll show them the son of Magnus the Brave."
He laughed loudly.
"Hahaha! Very good, boy."
As we approached the first village, we were surrounded.
Large men, wrapped in thick furs, armed with spears and bronze axes. Their eyes studied us like prey… or threats.
"Who are you?" one of them growled. "And why do you walk on Thenn lands?"
Magnus stepped forward, posture firm.
"I am Magnus. Husband to Clea, daughter of the Magnar. I have come to pay my respects… and to collect what is owed to me."
My mother's name had an immediate effect.
The men exchanged glances and lowered their weapons slightly.
"Follow," one of them said. "The Magnar will decide."
We were escorted to the largest hut in the village, built of stone and thick timber, sturdier than any other around.
Inside, he was there.
Eivor, the Magnar of the Thenns.
Old. Very old. Too thin for a leader of the Free Folk. His eyes were sunken and heavy, but still sharp. Beside him stood his son — my uncle. A man with a hard, weary expression, relatively thin, and clearly displeased by our presence.
My father and I knelt slightly and greeted him. Magnus exchanged a brief glance with me, and we spoke together:
"We greet the Magnar."
Eivor raised a hand.
"Bring the boy."
I stepped forward.
He observed me in silence. Studied my posture, my arms, my face.
"Strong blood," he murmured. "The line has not weakened."
A faint smile appeared on his face.
"You may go, Magnus… and Barthogan."
My father gave a brief nod and turned away. As we reached the doorway, Eivor spoke again:
"Clea… is she well?"
Magnus stopped.
"She has never been stronger."
The old man nodded slowly.
"Next time, bring her. I would like to see her. She is her mother's image."
My uncle did not hide his discomfort. His gaze was cold. Hostile.
I did not like him.
We left and headed toward the hut of the man who owed my father a favor.
"His name is Crester," Magnus said as we walked. "The greatest tracker there is. If you ask him to find someone… he finds them."
"How?" I asked, curious. How could someone find anyone out of nothing?
"He's a warg," Magnus replied simply. "He controls a giant wolf."
That explained my doubts… and ignited something inside me.
I began bombarding my father with questions, like any child would:
"What is a warg?"
"Can he control more than one animal?"
"Is he strong?"
Magnus answered calmly and objectively, as always. Until I reached the most important question:
"Father… I have dreams. I dream that I'm a huge fish… with a horn on its snout. Every night. I feel the sea, the cold… the taste of food. I live in a pod," I said that part more quietly. "Could I be a warg too?"
Magnus stopped walking.
He looked at me… stunned.
"Do not tell this to anyone," he said seriously. "We'll talk once we leave the village."
We reached the hut.
A growl echoed.
From beneath the structure emerged a massive brown wolf. Green eyes, tense body, bristling fur. It approached slowly… then stopped. Turned its back.
The door opened.
A broad, muscular man, shorter than my mother, appeared holding a bow.
"It's been a while, Magnus," he said, his voice far too high for the body he had. "Come in. Don't stay out in the cold."
They embraced tightly, as is custom among the Free Folk. He gave my shoulder a heavy slap.
"Strong son," he said. "Well done."
He offered us wine.
Wine.
Here.
"What is that?" I asked, pointing at the drink.
Crester laughed.
"That's wine, boy. From south of the Wall. Took it off a crow from the Watch," he finished proudly.
The wine wasn't good… but after so long drinking only water, it was different. And welcome.
Magnus explained the reason for our visit: he wanted a bow for me.
"One bow alone doesn't pay my debt," Crester said. "If you need anything else, come back."
I asked what my father had done to deserve that.
Crester laughed.
"He saved me. On my second raid, I was caught by the Night's Watch. He killed twelve of them… and asked for nothing in return. Just a gulp of the wine they were carrying. I didn't yet have Vhaala as my companion."
I looked at Magnus with pride.
I asked about raids. About the wolf. About how he became a warg.
They answered everything.
"Stay three days," Crester said at last. "That's enough time to make the bow."
The next day, I was outside the hut, watching Vhaala's den. It was fascinating.
"Do you think I could have a wolf like that, father?"
Magnus, beside me, sharpening what looked like the tip of a bone arrow, replied:
"If you truly are a warg, the narwhal is already your companion. It's difficult to have more than one."
"Couldn't Crester help me? He owes you a favor, doesn't he?"
Magnus looked at me as if I were the greatest genius ever born on this side of the Wall.
He fell silent for a few seconds. The sound of blade scraping bone stopped.
"By the Old Gods, boy… how did I not think of that? I'll speak to him now. Come."
He stood and headed toward Crester's hut. I ran after him, trying to keep up with his long strides.
Vhaala was already awake when we approached. She emerged slowly from her den, watching us. Her green eyes fixed on me for a moment — there was no hatred there… only curiosity. She let us pass and lay down again.
Magnus knocked once, hard.
"Enter," came Crester's voice.
We went in.
Crester was sitting near the fire, shaving wood — perhaps for my bow. When he saw us, he raised an eyebrow.
"You came back early."
Magnus didn't waste time.
"I need to talk to you about the boy."
Crester looked at me, then at Magnus.
"What is it now?"
"He has dreams," Magnus said. "Real dreams. Every night."
Crester stopped what he was doing.
"What kind of dreams?"
"He sees through an animal's eyes. Feels the cold, the taste of food, the exhaustion. Lives in a group."
Crester stood slowly and approached me.
"What animal?"
"A big fish. From the sea. With a horn on its snout."
Crester was silent for a few seconds, staring at me as if trying to see beyond my skin.
"Narwhal," he finally said.
Magnus frowned.
"You believe him?"
"I don't believe," Crester replied. "I know."
He gave a crooked half-smile.
"Southern wargs dream of wolves, bears, ravens. The Free Folk, sometimes, are born bound to older things."
He turned to Magnus.
"The boy is a warg. I have no doubt."
My heart raced.
"Then you can help him?" Magnus asked.
Crester nodded slowly.
"I can. But not here."
Magnus stiffened.
"Explain."
"A warg learns through solitude. Through silence. Through distance from other people," Crester said. "If you want him to truly learn… the boy stays with me."
The air grew heavy.
"No," Magnus replied immediately.
Crester raised his hands.
"Then he learns slowly. Or learns wrong."
Magnus stepped forward.
"He will not stay away from me."
The fire crackled between us.
"Then come with me," Crester relented. "You and Clea. Stay for a time. I'll teach the basics. Control. Nothing deep."
Magnus thought for a few seconds.
"How long?"
"Long enough for him to understand what it is… and what it isn't. A year, maybe two, at most. After that, the rest comes on its own."
Magnus sighed.
"You won't try to take him from me."
"I'm not a thief of children," Crester replied. "Only of crow wine."
I couldn't hold myself back.
"Master Crester… the narwhal… is he strong?"
Crester looked at me with genuine attention.
"That depends on you," he said, lightly touching my chest.
He stepped back.
"The day after tomorrow, we begin. Now stop bothering me… I need to finish the bow."
Vhaala let out a low growl, as if agreeing.
And I knew, in that moment, that things were about to become interesting.