She Wolf

by Dan Smith

  ‘We’ve been looking for you.’ The second half-skull appeared, this one still mounted. He also wore a full helmet to cover his face, and carried a short spear.

  ‘Call the others,’ said the man on foot.

  The rider paused, shifting in the saddle as he watched Cathryn. He nodded and put back his head, letting out a terrible warbling scream that echoed around the forest.

  The sound cut deep into Ylva’s bones. It shuddered in her teeth and made her heart tremble. But that awful wailing vibration came to an abrupt, burbling stop when something appeared in the rider’s neck.

  Before Ylva had time to register that it was an arrow, she heard a rush of wind, a thump, and whipped her head around to see that the man on foot had also grown an arrow from his neck. He turned on the spot, dropped his sword into Cathryn’s lap, then fell to his knees, grasping at the arrow.

  The man on horseback slipped sideways in the saddle until he was resting his head against the tree. His horse stepped forward and the man slipped further, coming out of the saddle and falling. One foot was still caught in the stirrup, and he lay with his leg twisted, his head buried in the snow. When his animal took another disinterested step forward, the rider was dragged alongside it.

  Cathryn snatched up the sword that had fallen into her lap. She raised it to point beyond Ylva, but when Ylva turned, she saw the dark-skinned boy creeping from the trees as if he were part of the night. He came crouched and silent, bow held ready. He turned his head from side to side as he scanned the forest.

  ‘Bron.’ Cathryn lowered her weapon.

  When the boy reached Cathryn’s side, he grabbed her sword arm to pull her to her feet.

  ‘Careful,’ Cathryn said. ‘I think my right arm’s broken.’

  Bron eased off as he helped her up, but as soon as she was standing, he pointed to the flames flickering through the trees.

  ‘I see them,’ Cathryn said. ‘We have to go.’ She looked around, eyes finally settling on Ylva. ‘You know how to ride?’

  ‘Of course. But we should stay here. Fight them.’

  ‘Fight them? You want to fight a horde of battle-hardened warriors?’

  ‘But Bron’s already killed . . .’ Ylva counted in her head. ‘Five. How many more are there?’

  ‘Too many. And the only reason Bron had to kill those men was to save your scrawny bones. Mine too. No, we’re not staying here to die.’

  ‘Then you go. I’ll wait for them. Give me a—’

  ‘Don’t make me angry, child.’

  ‘I’m not a child.’

  ‘Well whatever you are, I never met an animal as stubborn as you. All you have to show for your day is a cut across your cheek, five dead men, and me with a broken arm. And I lost my horse. I’d say that’s enough for one day, wouldn’t you? Now, I’m not going to stay here, and I’m not going let you stay here either. You have to know when you’re beaten, child. Admit it and move on. A good warrior knows when to retreat and live to fight another day.’

  Cathryn turned to Bron. ‘My horse is gone. You still have yours?’

  Bron nodded.

  ‘So this is what we’re going to do. Get back on your horse and head north-east for an hour or two before turning north. We’ll take these –’ she gestured at the animals belonging to the two dead men ‘– and head north-west.’

  Bron made the throwing-away gesture with his right hand by his waist. He did it several times before he pointed at Cathryn, then at himself. After that, his hands moved so quickly Ylva hardly saw the signs he was making.

  ‘No.’ Cathryn stopped him. The tightness of her voice betrayed her pain. ‘We can’t ride together. It’s impossible to cover our tracks in this snow.’

  Bron’s expression darkened and he continued to sign.

  ‘You’re wrong.’ Cathryn shook her head. ‘If we split up, they’ll have to split up too. We double our chances. Leave false trails, run circles around them. With luck it’ll snow again before morning and cover our tracks. That’ll make it even harder for them.’ As she spoke, she shoved the sword into her belt, picked up her axe, and trudged over to grab the reins of the horse with the dead man still tangled in the stirrups. She held the horse steady. ‘Bron. Get him loose.’

  Bron sighed and threw his hands down.

  ‘Now, Bron. We have to go.’

  The boy made it clear he disagreed, but came over and freed the body anyway. When that was done, he hurried off to grab the other man’s horse. He brought it back to Ylva and held the reins towards her.

  Ylva looked at them hanging over his open hand. If she took them, it meant leaving the three-fingered man behind.

  The boy stared her in the eye and pushed his hand towards her.

  ‘You didn’t have to come after me,’ Ylva said. ‘This isn’t my fault.’

  Bron dropped the reins and turned his back on her.

  ‘Leave with me and live,’ Cathryn said. ‘Or stay here and die. It’s your choice.’

  Ugh. More choices. Ylva looked around, wishing Geri was there for her to put words in his mouth. Where was he? It was so much easier when she had him to—

  Even as she wished for him, Geri appeared from the bracken and trotted to her side, pressing his muzzle into her open hand. He brought with him a wave of relief and comfort that flooded through her.

  This time we should go with her. Please.

  Ylva glanced back at the flames moving to and fro among the trees.

  There are too many of them to fight.

  Ylva looked down at Geri’s dark, pleading eyes then let out a sigh. ‘You’re right.’ She took the reins and climbed up, speaking softly to the horse. The animal settled to her quickly and Ylva brought it round to where Cathryn was struggling to hoist herself into the saddle. She was in a lot of pain, but Bron came to her aid, giving her enough support to climb up.

  Cathryn took a moment to catch her breath, then looked down at Bron. ‘The girl will come with me. We’ll make our way to Seatun; it’s probably safest that way. We’ll be a day, maybe two; depends how long it takes to shake them off. We’ll meet there.’

  Bron wasn’t happy about it; that much was clear from his expression.

  ‘Seatun,’ Cathryn repeated. ‘Show me you heard.’

  Bron nodded and touched his ear. Yes, I heard.

  ‘Good. And mess up your tracks. Change direction. Confuse them. You know how to do it better than anyone.’ Cathryn turned her horse north-west and nudged it forward as Bron melted back into the forest.

  Ylva took one last look behind her at the flames flickering through the trees before she followed.

  The three-fingered man was out there somewhere.

  17

  Wild Music

  They rode until the flames were no longer visible. When it was safe, they slowed down and the only sounds were the steady swish and thump of hooves and the huff, huff, huff of the horses’ breathing.

  Ylva looked down at Geri, then back at the unmistakeable trail they were leaving through the woods. ‘Even a blind man would be able to follow us,’ she said.

  ‘They’ll be moving slower than us,’ Cathryn told her. ‘They’ll be wondering if we have anything planned for them.’

  ‘Planned for them?’ Ylva asked.’ Like what?’

  ‘A nasty surprise.’

  ‘What kind of nasty surprise?’

  ‘An ambush, maybe.’

  ‘So why didn’t you just say that?’

  ‘I thought I did.’

  ‘Oh.’ Ylva touched the cut on her face, feeling where the blood had already hardened along it. ‘But we’re not going to ambush them?’

  ‘The best thing we can do is put as much distance between them and us as we can.’ With the reins in her left hand, Cathryn held her right arm close to her chest for support, but every time she moved in the saddle, she winced with the pain of it.

  ‘Why?’ Ylva asked. ‘Why don’t we ambush them? We could lie in wait for them and—’

  ‘And what? Attack them with ba
d language? Or maybe we could throw snowballs at them, how about that?’

  ‘I don’t think snowballs would do much good.’

  ‘I didn’t actually mean . . . oh never mind.’

  ‘I have an axe and a knife,’ Ylva said. ‘And you have the sword and your axe.’

  ‘Do you have any idea how many raiders are back there? There might be twenty or thirty of them. Strong and battle-hardened warriors. Do you really want to face that?’

  ‘There might only be three,’ Ylva said.

  ‘We still wouldn’t have a chance. Things almost never go how you plan them.’ Cathryn shook her head. ‘I can’t decide if your head’s empty north of your mouth or if you’re just one tough little girl. Or maybe you’re both.’

  ‘I’m not little. And I have to be tough.’

  ‘Well, maybe that’s true, but sometimes we have to know when it’s time to stop being tough and start being smart. And this is one of those times, child. It’s hard to lay an ambush when you don’t know how many fighters are on your trail, and it’s hard to hide when you have a trail as wide as the Tine River leading to where you’re hiding. Add the fact that my fighting abilities were halved the moment my right arm broke, and you’ve never killed a man before—’

  ‘How difficult can it be?’

  ‘How difficult can it be?’ Cathryn said it like she couldn’t believe it. ‘Child, there’s no chance of us laying an ambush and not coming out of it dead. A wise warrior chooses her battles carefully. Don’t go into a fight you can’t win. Our best hope is to confuse our tracks, pray for more snow, and get as far away from those men as we can.’

  ‘You mean go to Seatun.’

  ‘Yes, child. We go to Seatun.’

  ‘But isn’t it a Saxon village? Is that safe for me? I’m a Dane.’

  ‘There’s no one in Seatun to hurt you.’

  ‘You’re sure of that?’

  ‘As sure as my arm is broken.’

  Ylva watched Cathryn and chewed her lip as she tried to contain her frustration. She considered pressing the idea of an ambush, but could see that Cathryn wasn’t going to budge on it. And she was probably right, anyway. Maybe it was a bad idea.

  She would just have to wait. Her time would come.

  They didn’t talk for a long while. There wasn’t much to say, so they kept on riding through the night. If they found rocky ground, they used it, and they changed direction often, doing what they could to disguise their tracks. But the longer they stayed on horseback, the more uncomfortable Cathryn looked. For the first time since their escape, Ylva really took notice of how bad she was; the way she grimaced every time her horse moved, the way she cradled one arm with the other. The way she hung her head and her face glistened with sweat, despite the cold.

  ‘She looks bad,’ Ylva said to Geri, who was still trotting alongside the horse. His mouth was open, his tongue lolling to one side.

  You need her. You should do something to help her.

  Geri was right; she did need Cathryn. Ylva knew something about living wild, but she didn’t know this country. She didn’t know how to navigate the land like Cathryn did. If she wanted to survive the forest and find her way to Seatun, she needed Cathryn to get her there. For now, she was on the run from the three-fingered man, but that would change. And if she couldn’t persuade Cathryn to help her kill him, maybe there was someone in Seatun who would help her.

  ‘We need to do something with that arm,’ Ylva said.

  ‘Huh?’ Cathryn raised her head. ‘What’s that?’

  ‘Your arm. We need to do something about it.’

  ‘Broken is broken, child. There’s nothing can be done for it.’

  ‘Broken or not,’ Ylva said, ‘we can make it more comfortable.’

  Cathryn grunted as if to say nothing would make it better.

  ‘One time at home, I fell from a tree and hurt my arm,’ Ylva said. ‘I was trying to pick an apple for Mother, pretending they were Idun’s apples, and I wanted to get the juiciest one I could find so she could live for ever. Only thing is, the best apples grow on Ragnar Olavson’s tree, and the juiciest of them was right at the very top. Ragnar is a mean old farmer who lives close to our village. He always leaves his dogs to guard his trees, but they never growl at me. Dogs like me. So I climbed the tree, all the way up, and I had my hand on the best apple when Ragnar saw me. He shouted at me for stealing, and it gave me such a surprise I slipped and fell. Hit every branch on the way down.’ Ylva couldn’t remember the pain exactly – your body has a way of making you forget pain like that – but she could imagine it. ‘I thought I was going to die,’ she said. ‘And maybe if Ragnar Olavson had his way, I would’ve done.’

  ‘Good story,’ Cathryn said. ‘But it hasn’t helped me.’

  Mother had checked Ylva’s arm and told her it wasn’t broken. It had hurt, though, so she put it in a sling to take the weight off it and let it rest. Having it supported like that had been a big relief. Perhaps it would be the same for Cathryn.

  Ylva turned to check the contents of the goatskin bags that hung over the saddle behind her. One was stuffed with cloth-wrapped provisions, so she pulled out a bundle and unwrapped it.

  ‘Salted fish will be good for my empty stomach, but not so good for my arm,’ Cathryn said.

  Ylva ignored her and shook the shrivelled strips of dry, salted fish into the goatskin bag. She refastened the ties then opened out the cloth and decided it was big enough. Trusting the horse to keep moving on, she let go of the reins and knotted two corners of the cloth together.

  ‘A sling,’ Cathryn said. ‘Maybe you’re not so empty-headed after all. Smart and tough is a good combination for a young warrior, you should work harder at it.’

  Ylva leant over and passed the sling to Cathryn, who struggled to put it over her neck and tuck her right arm inside.

  ‘Not bad.’ Cathryn was out of breath by the time she was finished. ‘But you didn’t tell me; did you get the apple? For your mother?’

  ‘No.’ Ylva reached to her belt and unfastened the small pouch she had taken from the hut. ‘I have henbane seeds. If we stop, I can make a paste to put on your arm and—’

  ‘We can’t stop here.’ Cathryn shook her head. ‘Anyway, I’ve seen people go mad from that stuff. The sling will be enough for now.’

  ‘But I know how. Mother taught me.’

  ‘Save it for another time.’

  ‘Fine.’ She refastened the pouch to her belt and took the reins once more.

  ‘The sling is good though,’ Cathryn told her. ‘Your mother would be proud of you.’

  Ylva began to feel that if they kept riding and riding until the end of time, all she would see was trees and snow in the never-ending night.

  ‘It’s like Fimbulvetr has arrived,’ she said. ‘The endless winter before Ragnarök. That’s when all the worlds will face their final battles, you know; when Fenrir will swallow Odin, and Thor will kill the World Serpent, just like I’ll kill the three-fingered man.’

  ‘As I remember it, Thor dies,’ Cathryn said.

  ‘I don’t care.’ Ylva rolled with the movement of the horse as she watched Cathryn. ‘You know our gods, but you look and sound like a Saxon. What are you? A Saxon or a Dane?’

  ‘Why can’t we just be people?’

  ‘Because I’m a Dane. A Viking.’

  ‘Of course you are.’ Cathryn brought her horse to a stop.

  ‘And you’re a Saxon.’ Ylva stopped beside her.

  Cathryn closed her eyes and turned her head slowly from side to side.

  ‘What are you doing?’ Ylva asked. ‘Why have you stopped?’

  Cathryn held up a hand, telling Ylva to hush.

  ‘But—’

  ‘Shh! I’m listening.’

  Ylva frowned and they sat in silence. The horses nickered, and chewed the bits between their teeth. Ylva watched her own breath and hugged herself to keep warm. Geri sat patiently beside her horse, panting and licking his lips to catch his drool.

/>   ‘All right.’ Cathryn opened her eyes. ‘It’s time to do some more work. We need to split up and confuse the tracks.’

  ‘Split up?’ Ylva scanned the never-ending darkness of the forest.

  ‘It’s just for a short time,’ Cathryn said. ‘You ride that way.’ She pointed to her right. ‘I’ll go the other.’

  Ylva looked into the trees and dug one hand into her long hair. She gripped a handful and tightened her fist. The hair pulled at her scalp.

  ‘Don’t be afraid, child.’

  ‘I’m not afraid. I’m . . . concerned.’

  ‘I’m pleased to hear it.’ Cathryn touched a finger to her ear. ‘Hush now and listen.’

  Ylva waited in silence but when Cathryn didn’t speak again she said, ‘Listen to what?’

  ‘To the forest. To the world. I want you to take your hand out of your hair and listen to it all. Start here,’ she tapped her chest, ‘and work your way outwards.’

  ‘How can I listen from here?’ Ylva lowered her hand and put it over her heart. ‘That doesn’t make any sense.’

  ‘Just do it, child. Close your eyes and do as I say. For once in your life do something without questioning it.’

  ‘Are you serious?’ Ylva stared at Cathryn for a long moment but when the woman didn’t reply, she sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. They were wasting time; the riders chasing them might have followed them this far and could be close by. ‘I don’t hear anything.’

  ‘That’s because you’re afraid. Listen through your fear.’

  ‘I told you, I’m not afraid. I’m concerned.’

  ‘Just do it. I’m trying to teach you something. Your dog can do it too, if it makes you feel safer.’

  ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Nothing, I just . . .’ Cathryn shook her head. ‘Nothing.’

  Do it. Close your eyes and I’ll do it too.

  Ylva glanced at Geri sitting beside the horse. ‘All right.’ She took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

  ‘Good. What do you hear?’ Cathryn asked.