“You want me take his head?” He asked me as he swung his axes loosely in his hands. “This traitor serve false god!”
“No, we’ll be keeping his head on his shoulders. For now. He wants to talk to you.”
“What traitor have to say to me? I no want listen to traitor.”
Rollar switched to the native tongue of the northern barbarians. He and Drok had a quick, somewhat heated exchange that became calmer toward the end. I didn’t understand a word of what they said to each other. Eventually, Drok turned to me and spoke.
“He want to serve you now, and to prove he loyal to you, he swear blood oath.”
“A blood oath?” I asked, not sure I liked the sound of it.
“He mix your blood with his blood. That way, if he ever hurt you, he hurt himself 10 times harder. If he kill you, his soul go to seventh hell.”
“And how exactly are we supposed to ‘mix our blood’?”
Rollar took over here. “We cut each other’s palms open, then shake hands, allowing our blood to mix. That way, I am bound to you, and my oath becomes sacred. As your comrade Drok here has explained, if I break this oath and visit harm upon you, harm will be visited upon me 10 times worse than whatever I do to you. And if I should kill you, my soul will be damned to the seventh level of hell. It is the most sacred oath we of the far north can swear.”
I looked at Rami and Isu, and neither seemed like they had opinions to share, which seemed strange given their penchant for putting in a word or two whenever the opportunity arose.
Maybe they knew more about blood oaths than I did? It certainly seemed like it was a very serious matter. I almost wanted to make a joke but figured this wasn’t the best time for one.
“You’re prepared to risk all of that—your very soul?” I asked Rollar.
“As I said, this is my fate, written since before I was born. The wise woman foretold this. I am simply a vessel carried by destiny. I must do this.”
“So be it,” I said with all the formality I could muster. Mixing blood wasn’t exactly the kind of exchange of fluids I enjoyed, but if this would bind Rollar to me, then I was happy to oblige. After all, he would likely prove a much more useful ally alive than as an undead minion.
“Put your dagger in your left hand and show me your right palm,” Rollar said, “and I will do the same.”
“Maybe not this dagger,” I said. While it might have been interesting to hoodwink Rollar and cut his palm with Grave Oath, I figured he might be useful on my side and didn’t want to remove his soul. At least not quite yet.
I went to one of Rollar’s soldiers. “Mind if I borrow this?” I gestured at the knife attached to his belt.
“N-n-no,” he stammered as he took the dagger and thrust it handle-first into my palm.
“Much appreciated,” I said before I returned to Rollar. “This one will work better. Will it be fine for the blood oath?”
Rollar shrugged. “The dagger used to cut doesn’t matter. It’s the person wielding it who swears the oath.”
We stood in front of each other, daggers in our left hands and our palms open.
“Now, we cut,” he said.
We each leaned across and cut open the other’s palm. Blood began to flow from each of the wounds.
“Now we shake, and I swear my oath to you.” Rollar gripped my hand tightly and dropped down onto one knee. “By the eternal light of the Celestial Bear, and by your blood in my veins, and my blood in your veins, I swear an oath on my soul. I will serve you faithfully, Vance Chauzec, God of Death, from this day until the end of my days. Should I ever break this oath, my soul will be forfeit and damned to the seventh level of hell. Any harm that I visit upon you will be returned to me tenfold. By my blood and your blood, I swear this.”
“I, uh, accept this oath,” I said, not really knowing what else to say.
Rollar pumped my hand one last time, smiled, and stood up.
“My remaining troops and I are now yours to command, Vance Chauzec, God of Death. From this day until the end of their days too.”
“How is it that they’re so loyal to you?” I asked. “It’s almost like, well, like you’re exerting some sort of mind control over them.”
“I have been using something that perhaps some would consider… unethical,” Rollar admitted. “I purchased a magical potion that allows a degree of mind control over others. Initially, it worked wonders. When I first planned my desertion from the Splendorous Army, I slipped a hefty dose in the soldiers’ food. They all deserted alongside me without question. They didn’t care that my quest seemed like a fool’s errand. Their loyalty to me was the only thing that counted. But as time passed, I began to run out of the potion. I had to lower the dose, and when I did, the effect started to wear off. That’s when the more strong-willed soldiers were able to overcome the potion’s effect. They deserted me to go off raiding and pillaging. These were doubtless the troops of mine you encountered before.”
“That does explain a few things,” I said. “You used a map to locate relics. Do you still have it?”
He nodded. “Yes, but all I’ve found so far are empty crypts and abandoned temples. A few relics still have traces of power in them, though. But such items have been few and far between.”
“Your helm and that hammer: they still have power, it would seem.”
“Yes. The helmet I
