The Song of the Ash Tree 03 - Already Comes Darkness

by T L Greylock

  By then a crowd had gathered and Raef sought out Lochauld’s face. “Start a search,” Raef said as he picked up his sword. The young man hurried off, calling other Vannheim warriors to him as he went. Raef seized Eiger’s thick hair and pulled, forcing him to scramble to his feet. “I am bringing you to meet the Crow, Eiger. We shall see how you like suffering then.”

  Leaving Eiger in Dvalarr’s capable hands and well guarded by Vannheim warriors, Raef saddled his horse and joined the search for the rest of Eiger’s victims.

  The bodies were spread out through the forest that lined the northern edge of the camp. With each new discovery, the hatred in Raef’s gut grew. They cut down eleven bodies, each as mutilated as the first, each bearing the Odin rune in blood upon his chest. Two were of Vannheim. The rest were men of Narvik. Raef knelt beside his men, one so young he had not yet fought his first battle, the other a farmer who had sought to win silver to bring back to his family.

  Reflexively, Raef reached for the hammer that no longer hung from his neck. His fingers grasped air, but Raef hoped Thor would still hear the plea for retribution.

  “Lord, come quickly.” Lochauld burst into the clearing where the bodies had been stretched out in the snow. “This one is still alive.”

  Raef followed Lochauld through the trees until they reached a large, gnarly oak. There, a twelfth man was tied spread-eagle against the trunk, his right arm bent at an excruciating angle, the rope around his neck so tight that Raef could not see how he was still alive. Raef’s men were working to cut him down and Raef stood underneath him as the ropes fell away, taking his weight bit by bit until the last restraints were severed and the warrior was freed.

  He was alive, though just. His eyes were slits in his bruised, puffy face. The Odin rune leaked blood onto Raef’s leather jerkin, but it was a surface wound, far less severe than the slashes that covered his flesh. His lips moved, though whether in prayer or in fear Raef could not know for nothing came out. Lochauld pressed a skin of mead to the man’s lips, wetting his tongue, and Raef drew his axe and tucked its handle into the man’s hand so that he might have a weapon and draw the eye of the Valkyries.

  He slipped into death so quietly that Raef could not be sure when life left him, but still the Vannheim warriors stood in silence under the spreading arms of the oak, still Raef held the man’s fingers in place around the axe, wondering if Odin was watching, if the Allfather could feel the depth of Raef’s anger toward Eiger.

  “His name was Fjorstark.”

  Raef had not heard Bryndis and her uncle approach, but it was Siv, standing just behind Bryndis, who Raef looked to and her gaze softened the rage that burned in his heart.

  “Eiger must answer for this.” Raef got to his feet and brushed past Bryndis, intent on finding the Great-Belly’s son.

  “We need Balmoran’s shields.”

  Raef stopped but did not turn until he knew he had mastered his face. “Do we? We sit and wait and let Fengar kill defenseless farmers and children. Balmoran’s shields make no difference.”

  Bryndis had applied fresh ink under her eyes. The bold black lines curved away from the outer corners and her pale irises were stark in comparison. “We need Balmoran’s shields if we are to ambush Fengar away from this valley.”

  Raef looked to Siv, hardly daring to hope that Bryndis had changed her mind, but Siv’s quiet nod told him everything he needed to know. And yet the thought of standing beside Eiger in the shield wall twisted Raef’s gut.

  “The Great-Belly commands the warriors of Balmoran, not this foul murderer,” Raef said. “Thorgrim will agree.” They were uncertain words, at best, for Raef did not know if the Balmoran warriors were loyal to the father or the son. But he meant to see Eiger undone for his crimes.

  “The Great-Belly rests in my hall, Skallagrim, and does not like to travel.”

  Raef was tempted to reveal Thorgrim’s secret, to tell Bryndis that the lord of Balmoran was not as weak as he pretended to be, but he held his tongue. And he was aware of the ears and eyes around them. This was not the place to discuss alliances, even among loyal men of Vannheim.

  Raef took a deep breath. “Let the order be given to break up the camp. I will bring word to Fengar of our departure. We will determine Eiger’s fate once the hostages are no longer threatened.”

  Bryndis nodded and swept from the clearing with her uncle at her side. Raef went to Siv and, smiling, took her face in his hands.

  “What did you say to her?”

  “The truth. I think Bryndis is capable of withstanding a great deal when it comes to her own person and to those she bears responsibility for. The world has molded her that way. She has grown hard and she takes refuge in her strength. But her heart is not so cold that she is deaf to a sister’s pleas.”

  Raef kissed Siv’s forehead as Lochauld and the other Vannheim warriors carried Fjorstark’s body from the trees. “I am glad.”

  “Will Fengar honor his promise?”

  “He has no reason not to. When he sees the valley empty, he will be glad to be rid of the burden of more mouths to feed. And he will be glad, I think, to be gone from this place. Narvik is not the quiet sanctuary he hoped it would be.”

  Siv nodded. “And Vakre?”

  “Vakre must know what he is doing.” It worried Raef that the son of Loki was so deep behind enemy lines. He would rather have Vakre at his side as they set a trap for Fengar, but Vakre had come to a decision about his uncle and Raef would not interfere.

  Taking Siv’s hand, they returned to the camp. Already shelters were being broken down, horses saddled and burdened, and fires dashed out with river water. Raef spoke with Njall, reversing the orders he had given the captain to prepare for a night assault on the fortress, then made certain Dvalarr had Eiger well in hand and gave strict orders that he was not to be released. The Crow would keep a heavy guard close to deter Balmoran warriors who might attempt to free Eiger. Then Raef saddled his horse and rode alone toward the cliff, the banner of Vannheim streaming behind him.

  He was left waiting for some time. His horse, sensing Raef’s mood, would not wait idly and Raef was content to let the grey mare pace the base of the cliff as he kept his gaze trained on the narrow footpath above him. At last a figure appeared, followed by three more, and the party of warriors began to make the descent. Fengar led the way, swathed in grey furs, his face newly gaunt, his eyes bloodshot. Stefnir was but a step behind him and Raef, as he watched them traverse the uneven path, wondered if the lord of Gornhald regretted turning Fengar into a king or harbored ambitions of taking his place. Raef had hoped for sight of Hauk of Ruderk, but if he had made it to Fengar, he did not show himself. Behind Stefnir walked Romarr, Vakre’s uncle and the lord of Finnmark, and his faithful dog. The sight of Ulthor Ten-blade, sour-faced, mouth filled with rotten teeth, wove a knot in Raef’s stomach, but he forced himself to look to Fengar as the four men followed the last switchback and then came to a standstill at the bottom of the cliff.

  “Release the hostages, Fengar,” Raef said. He kept his horse moving, turning in tight circles in front of the would-be king.

  “Not until you are gone from this valley, Skallagrim.” It was Stefnir who answered him, though Fengar had the will to maintain eye contact with Raef.

  “How will I know you mean to honor your word?” Raef addressed Fengar, hoping to wring a promise from him, but still Stefnir spoke as the king’s voice.

  “Ten-blade will accompany you out of good faith,” the lord of Gornhald said. “The hostages will be released when we are certain you have been true to your word. We will direct them north toward the lady of Narvik’s hall. When they reach it, you will allow Ten-blade to return to us.”

  Raef accepted the terms, though he knew Ten-blade’s part in it had nothing to do with good faith.

  “One more thing, lord,” Stefnir said. “We must have your assurance that you will not attempt to follow us.”

  “You have my word.” It was not entirely a lie. As they spoke, Brynd
is was already moving the warriors south, away from her hall, to cover the routes Fengar was most likely to take. They would not follow Fengar. They would be waiting for him.

  “An oath, Skallagrim.” They were Fengar’s first words.

  Raef grinned, showing his teeth. “Give me Hauk of Ruderk and I will swear whatever you wish.”

  Fengar scowled but it was enough to tell Raef that his father’s murderer was alive.

  “The lady Bryndis has no desire to dishonor her fathers. She will keep the terms.” Raef waited, hoping his assurances about Bryndis would be enough. He did not wish to make an oath before the gods, an oath he would have to break.

  But Fengar was not satisfied. “Swear upon your sword that you will not bring us harm.”

  Raef laughed. “Swear upon it? Or ride you down and cleave your head from your shoulders with it?” But Fengar had chosen his words poorly and Raef did not hesitate. Drawing his sword from its scabbard, he wrapped his gloved hands around the blade, gripping the cold steel. “I swear to Tyr, lord of battle, and to Odin Allfather, I will bring you no harm. Let Odin carve my heart from my chest and feed it to Fenrir if I lie.” Without taking his gaze from Fengar’s face, Raef raised the hilt of the sword to his lips and kissed it.

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  “You swore him an oath?”

  Raef smiled at Bryndis’s surprise. “Yes. But it changes nothing.”

  “You cannot mean that. An oath binds us from making the ambush.”

  They had retreated from the sightline of the cliff top ruins, working their way over the hills that lined the eastern edge of the valley. Raef had caught up to Bryndis before she reached the summit and she drew her horse to a halt in anger.

  “It binds me and me alone. Had Hauk of Ruderk been there, no doubt he would have chosen better words, but Fengar spoke for himself and the rest were not clever enough to see the mistake. I cannot harm Fengar. I cannot harm any of them. But the oath spoke of no one else. You are uncompromised, lady.”

  Bryndis nodded her understanding. “And your warriors?”

  “Free.”

  “Then we will proceed as planned. What will you do?”

  “Fengar will not leave before nightfall, and even then he will send out riders to be certain of our departure. These must be avoided and kept alive at all costs,” Raef said. Bryndis nodded, impatient. “While you stalk him and lay the trap, I will bring Eiger before his father.”

  Bryndis frowned. “The Balmoran warriors are restless.”

  “Then I will make a show of releasing him and let it be known that an urgent message has come from your hall. The Great-Belly has need of his son, you see.” The frown did not vanish right away, but Raef could see the lady of Narvik was warming to his notion. “I will keep Eiger close and Ten-blade closer.”

  Raef had left Ulthor Ten-blade among his own warriors at the rear of the host. He was unbound and free to ride as he pleased, for he was no prisoner, but Raef had made it clear to Njall and the other captains that he was to be watched and men should hold their tongues in his presence.

  “And when Ulthor Ten-blade understands the deception?”

  “By then it will be too late,” Raef said. “Now go. You must reach the ford before they do.” Fengar’s passage south would take him to a wide, lazy river in the farthest reaches of Narvik. If he hurried, Bryndis said he would reach it in a day’s travel, more if he lingered. There was no other easy crossing within two days ride and she knew the place well, knew how it might be used to trap Fengar’s larger force.

  Bryndis nodded. “To victory, Skallagrim.”

  “Your victory, lady. But if you find Hauk of Ruderk, spare him. My axe means to make a home in his skull.”

  Bryndis spurred her horse over the crest of the hill, reclaiming her place in the column. Raef watched until she disappeared, then turned his horse and rejoined the Vannheim warriors at the rear.

  When they had left the valley behind and it was time for Raef to turn north, Dvalarr pleaded once more with him.

  “Let me go with you, lord.”

  “Bryndis will have need of every man, Dvalarr.”

  “I do not trust Ten-blade.”

  Raef laughed. “Then you are a wise man, Crow.” He held up a hand as the big man began to protest once more. “I need you here, Dvalarr. Njall is clever and bold and the men like him well enough and will obey his commands, but you are the heart of Vannheim’s shield wall.” The Crow said nothing but Raef could see the argument had faded from him. Raef risked a glance toward Siv. “Keep her from harm, Crow.”

  “I will.”

  Raef clasped Dvalarr’s forearm, then brought his horse forward to where Njall rode with Ulthor Ten-blade at his side. The young captain had done his work well, for Ten-blade stared at Raef with a vacant expression, then tried to squeeze a final few drops from the mead skin he crushed within the palm of one dirty hand. The scent of mead was heavy on Ten-blade’s breath, the sweet brew chosen carefully from a reluctant warrior’s stash because it would hide the taste of the ground root that was already at work taming Ulthor’s mind and rendering him less aware of his surroundings. The effects would not last the length of Raef’s journey to Narvik’s hall, and Raef would not risk dosing Ulthor a second time, for the root powder was potent and had been known to kill men who used it too freely. Raef would not mourn Ten-blade, but he meant to keep his oath.

  Raef exchanged a glance with Njall. “Skuli?” Raef asked.

  “There,” the young captain said, pointing to where the blind warrior rode at the edge of the column. Skuli sat tall in his saddle and his hands held the reins loosely. He was armed as a warrior should be and Raef caught sight of a pair of arm rings at the edge of his sleeve. Were it not for the thick bandage that covered his eyes, he would have been a warrior like any other, content, eager, riding for war. “He screams in his sleep, lord.”

  Raef had heard. “He will recover in Bryndis’s hall.” Njall seemed to take comfort in that. The coming battle was no place for a blind man; taking Skuli with him as he went north had been an easy choice for Raef.

  Raef turned to Ten-blade, who sat his horse and stared ahead, content to let the beast follow the rest. “And now you come with me, you corpse-eating maggot.” Raef seized the reins and extracted Ten-blade from the column, angling their horses back past the warriors until they reached Eiger. Unlike Ten-blade, Eiger was all sullen anger and he stared at Raef with storm-edged eyes. He rode with hands bound before him, his horse led by another of Vannheim’s captains.

  “The Allfather will strengthen Fengar’s shields for this, Skallagrim. He will splinter the whore’s spears and fill the enemy hearts with battle-fury,” Eiger said as Raef approached. Raef held his tongue as he worked at the knot that held Eiger’s horse. “My death will only anger the Terrible One more.”

  “It is not your death you will face,” Raef snapped. With a sharp yank, he pulled Eiger’s horse forward, nearly unseating the fat man. There was no time to appease the warriors of Balmoran, who rode and marched ahead, no time to parade Eiger, unbound, before them as Raef had told Bryndis he would do. His men would spread the word that Eiger had gone north to answer a message from his dying father; Raef had to hope that alone would subdue any thoughts of treachery that simmered in the hearts of the Balmoran warriors.

  They were a strange party that separated from the rest. Raef at the head, belligerent Eiger tied to him, drugged Ulthor following with careless, lazy eyes, and blind Skuli, his horse tied to Ulthor’s to keep him from losing his way. Alone, Raef would have raced through the hills, but he set an easy pace and kept to the high ground so he might see anyone ahead or behind, friend or foe.

  “I offered you a place in the Allfather’s hall, Skallagrim,” Eiger said. They had passed beyond hearing distance of the host that moved south into the next valley.

  Raef grimaced. “Offered? That is not what I heard. When you spoke of your scheme before, we were to be partners, you and I. Have I been reduced so much?”

&
nbsp; Eiger was quiet for a moment and Raef did not need to turn in his saddle and face the other man to know that Eiger was uncertain if Raef spoke in jest. “Odin has need of me. You should not mock my purpose.” The uncertainty in Eiger’s voice was startling, but Raef was reminded of the strange, earnest vulnerability that had been about the Great-Belly’s son when Eiger had found him in the hot spring fueled bathhouse of Bryndis’s hall. It seemed strange that a man could contain two such different parts of himself, the cruel, savage man who committed atrocities, and the solemn, heartfelt man who dreamed of the gods. Raef could not like Eiger in either form, but he wondered which nature would hold true in the face of chaos and fear.

  They rode in silence as the sun slide across the sky, the light always shifting as banks of clouds drifted by. Cruel gusts of wind battered the hills, whipping Raef’s cloak forward under his arm and lashing the horse’s tail against his legs, but Raef would not retreat to more sheltered ground. It would not do to be caught unaware in the thick pines below, not when his were the only hands capable of wielding a sword should they need to defend themselves. And yet a chase across the open slopes of the higher ground would not go in his favor. He would lose Skuli and Ten-blade first. The drugged man’s horse, content to follow Raef’s, would grow frightened and bolt, dragging blind Skuli along. Neither man was fit for a hard gallop. But the land around them was empty and Raef tried to keep his mind on his task.

  Raef did not know what would become of Eiger, what the Great-Belly might say when told of his son’s offenses. He rode north out of necessity, out of the need to keep himself from the fighting and preserve an oath. Better this than watch the ambush from afar, his axe silent on his belt while the steel song filled the air, knowing he could do nothing.

  “Lord.” Skuli had not spoken, but now he called to Raef, his voice urgent. “Look south and tell me what you see.”

  Raef slid from his horse and scrambled up a slab of rock so he might have a better look. He lifted one hand to shield his gaze from the sun, which hung heavy in the western sky amid a sea of pink and purple clouds. To the south, the clouds were grey and blue, their edges lined with the sunset.