The Storm God's Gift (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 5)

by Jerry Autieri

  “Did he threaten you, my friends? He’s a slave who’s always trying to escape me. He hit me in the face a moment before you arrived.” Ulfrik looked up to see Gudrod displaying the red side of his face to Heidrek.

  “No, just wanted to join our crew.”

  Whatever else Gudrod and Heidrek said Ulfrik did not hear. As soon as Heidrek indicted him for an escape attempt, Eldrid howled as if she’d been speared. She leapt at him with staff overhead and began slamming his head and shoulders with force unexpected for her thin frame. “Unruly slave! Ungrateful cur!” Each strike landed with a new curse. “Faithless bastard! Uncaring pig!”

  “You bitch!” Ulfrik caught the staff and tore it out of her grip. Fire pumped through his body as he raised it overhead. His vision clouded and ears pounded. He imagined Eldrid’s eyes hanging out of her broken skull and the pink brains beneath. He roared.

  Then he stopped.

  He was surrounded, nearly half the village pinning him to the ribbon of surf. A few carried swords, but all carried a knife as matter of course. Eldrid cringed as if expecting the blow, but when it did not come she sprang back up like a sapling that had been stepped on.

  “Get him,” she screamed.

  Half a dozen hands seized him, tearing Eldrid’s staff away and forcing him to the ground. More crowded him so that he was lost in shadow, hands trying to force him down. He did not struggle. If Heidrek wasn’t already convinced he was mad, further resistance would just make him look worse. The group parted and Gudrod stood over him with sword drawn. His gloating smile made Ulfrik’s stomach burn with hate. “Stay still, slave. You’ve caused enough trouble for one day. Take him away.”

  Three men hoisted him up, forcing his arms behind his back. Eldrid stood with her head lifted in triumph and Audhild watched with her hand over her mouth. The man behind shoved and Ulfrik trudged forward.

  He wondered what punishment awaited the gift of the gods.

  Chapter 26

  “Make him drink it.” Eldrid hovered behind the two men holding Ulfrik down. Arms already bound behind his back, he had no leverage but fought with all the ferocity he possessed. The bed underneath him rocked as he bucked, kicking out as far as his tied legs allowed. Eldrid and her followers had been thorough with him, now wary of his strength after the day’s displays.

  “Hold his head steady,” said the third man. Ulfrik couldn’t see him. The two pinning him down were from Gudrod’s pack, one a long-faced man with sad eyes and curly hair who leaned in too far. Ulfrik head-butted him, hurting himself as much as his opponent. The long-faced man crashed into the wall of the small home, hands over his forehead.

  “Make him drink it,” Eldrid screamed again. Now he could see her, blind eyes somehow starting at him through the dirty blindfold. “It’ll calm him.”

  The last man pressing his shoulder down was thin and lumpy with puss-filled pimples, and young enough for Ulfrik to be his father. That this child held him down shamed Ulfrik. Had he his normal strength, all three of these fools would be in twisted heaps. Now his joints were inflamed with fatigue and his breath ragged. The third man finally appeared over him, bearing a clay bowl in two trembling hands. Unkempt red hair framed a white, freckled face.

  “Lini?” Ulfrik ceased struggling, staring at the inverted face appearing over him. “I thought we were friends?”

  “Just drink this and you’ll feel better.” His brow creased with worry as he extended the bowl and he appeared on the verge of tears.

  Ulfrik pitched up again, but the man he had head-butted threw himself over Ulfrik. Gray fluid that smelled like sweat splashed out of the bowl as Lini stepped back.

  “You’ll make me drop it,” said Lini.

  “Careful with that. I only have a bit of it left.” Eldrid reached out with a blind hand as if she could catch the foul brew.

  The pimple-scarred man draped himself over Ulfrik and now he was fully pinned. Lini grabbed Ulfrik’s face with a cold, hard hand and pinched open his mouth. “It’s for your own benefit. Don’t be such a—ow!”

  Ulfrik bit Lini’s finger. Whatever the concoction, he figured it was some sort of poison to render him senseless. He did not want to guess what Eldrid planned for him. Her humiliation had been great, and she did not brook the slightest challenge to her authority.

  “You goat-fucker!” Lini punched Ulfrik straight on his nose, bringing stinging tears to his eyes. In that moment, he shoved the bowl into Ulfrik’s lips and upended the contents. The bitter liquid ran out the sides of his mouth and pooled behind his head, but he swallowed more than he wanted. He began to choke and gag on it, but Lini had done his job. “Last favor I do you,” Lini said as he slammed the bowl beside Ulfrik’s head.

  The two men remained atop him until his vision began to haze and his arms grew heavy. They sensed his relaxation and peeled off, crouching back as if he were a wolf that might spring to the attack. Ulfrik was such a wolf, but only in his mind. His body was like lead, as dead to him as when he had been drugged in Audhild’s home after his fall from the tower.

  “I can’t stay for the rest of this.” The voice sounded as if it were underwater. Ulfrik recognized it as Lini’s. The other two shared looks, and the sad-faced man nodded. They seemed prepared to remain.

  “Go on, my son,” Eldrid said in her falsely concerned voice. “I will remember what you’ve done.”

  The fire in Ulfrik’s belly was the only thing he felt. Helpless before Eldrid, he recognized too late she planned to maim him. What else could she intend? he thought. I should’ve fought hard. Should’ve made them kill me, not cut me apart like a hog. You fool! He closed his eyes, having at least the power to do that much. Gudrod and his men had tied him up at sword point. He should have fled at that moment. Now he was tied down in someone’s house, on a strange bed, the sunlight fading and no hearth fire yet lit. The dark crept across the room, brushing his feet as if to caress them before devouring them.

  “Lini did insist we numb you for this,” Eldrid said, leaning on her staff at the foot of the bed. The door behind hung open to let in the light, casting her into shadow. “You should not have bit his hand. You should not have bit my hand, either. You are the ungrateful dog from the stories, biting his master’s hand.”

  The response that fell out of Ulfrik’s mouth was a jumbled mess. His tongue was like water-soaked leather. Instead he growled his anger.

  “If you’d have drunk all of the medicine you’d not feel a thing. But now I fear you’ll be awake for it.” She shrugged, twisting both bony hands on her staff. “Perhaps you will forget this. The brew has the effect, too.”

  The coolness of her voice was far more frightening than the insane ravings she normally spewed. She seemed normal and in control. She waved a hand at the sad-faced man as if shooing away the vile deed she had prepared for him. The man nodded and reached below the bed. The other man grabbed Ulfrik’s left leg and pulled it to the side.

  “I have to keep you from running, and punish you in the deal.” Eldrid reached down and pinched his big toe as if playing with a child. Ulfrik could not resist, only grunt his rage. “There’s only one way I know how. Boys, you know what to do.”

  The sad man brandished the stone-headed club Ulfrik had used to practice his sword form. He had lost the original one, or so he had thought. Now his enemy hefted it in two hands, the heavy stone head drooping in his grip. The man did not look at him, but touched the stone to Ulfrik’s thigh as if marking the spot he intended to smash.

  Ulfrik’s body twitched, the best response to the mental struggle he suffered. His body felt shrouded under a blanket of iron. His eyes were wide with fear and rage.

  The other man held Ulfrik’s leg steady, just like chopping a log.

  The stone club rose.

  Ulfrik closed his eyes, bracing himself for the smash.

  “Stop this!”

  Audhild was in the doorway. Ulfrik could not see her, only a shadow framed in the rectangle of bluish light, but her voice was a clear note
of sanity in this madness.

  “What are you doing here?” Eldrid leapt like a frightened cat.

  The stone did not fall, but hovered over the wielder’s head as he stared at the two women. Sweat rolled into Ulfrik’s eyes and his breath was short and hot.

  “You two. Out.” She swept into the room. When the man carrying the club did not lower it, she pushed aside Eldrid and forced the club down. “I told you to leave. This is not your concern.”

  “But Eldrid—”

  “Will talk this over with me. Now go, as I’ve already told you.”

  Ulfrik closed his eyes in relief, listening to the men leaving. His head swam and whatever had been forced into his mouth now made him unwilling to open his eyes. Sounds became dull and echoing, but even as his breathing slowed and head swam he still followed.

  “You would shame me more?” Eldrid said. “It’s not enough to be threatened with my own staff?”

  “He will pay, Sister. But not in this way. Does he sleep?”

  Ulfrik felt a cool, smooth hand pull around his eyes and for a moment a bright light filled his vision.

  “Most of the brew ended up on the floor,” Eldrid said. “He should be asleep.”

  Words faded in and out, Ulfrik unable to hold onto much. However, whole snatches of their exchanges blasted his ears. It was like the singing of a skald that goes from a mere whisper to a roaring crescendo. The identity of the voices were lost to the muddy echoes. It was all just words flying through the black.

  “He was to be mine. You promised.”

  “The vision was true. You know it.”

  “…Not a choice anymore. The gods have decided ….”

  “…is dangerous …will turn them …”

  “…worry not, if he does I will deal….”

  The words became ever more disconnected, and Ulfrik’s hearing ever weaker. At last nothing made sense and he felt his mind leaving him. Only one last phrase surfaced, bobbing up like a piece of cork released underwater.

  “He remains mine forever.”

  Then Ulfrik slept.

  Chapter 27

  Ulfrik awakened in darkness. For a moment he thought himself blind, but a thin bead of orange light edged a door frame. In the next instant his stomach flopped and vomit rushed into his mouth. He tried to flip to the side, but he was restrained. Turning his head, the watery vomit splashed onto the floor below. Spitting out the foul taste, he lay with his head to the side. Everything rocked and whirled, only settling after long moments of stillness.

  He strained to hear anything, but nothing more than silence greeted him. He could not recall what had led to him being restrained in the darkness, then the memories flooded back. A horrible brew that smelled like sweat had overpowered him, forced down his throat by man who he thought was at least friendly. Ulfrik realized he could not count a single friend among these crazed fools. They called him a gift from the gods, then treated him like a slave and threatened to break his legs.

  After what could have been an hour or only minutes, the light around the doorjamb flickered and then the door opened. Light rushed in, forcing him to squint, and Audhild entered with a candle in hand. With the darkness relieved, Ulfrik looked side to side and realized he was in the same room Audhild had lent him during his recovery. Nothing in the small cell had changed.

  She paused at the vomit on the floor, set the candle at the side of the bed, and pulled up a stool. She sat close to his head. He could smell her fresh scent, and Ulfrik felt himself stir at her proximity. His face grew hot.

  “You will have to eat lightly,” Audhild said, indicating the vomit. “The potion is hard on the stomach.”

  “Not as hard as a rock to the kneecaps. I suppose you will want to add this to the many things requiring my gratitude.”

  She arched her brow, the white scar buried in it rising. Ulfrik faced the ceiling and studied the rafters. A brown stain had formed since he had last been here, indicating needed repairs.

  “You were very foolish for what you did. Do you understand that?”

  Ulfrik clenched his jaw and closed his eyes. Audhild waited in silence, but he was not going to relent even if she pried open his mouth with a knife. At last he won his victory and Audhild continued.

  “Eldrid and Gudrod both consider that you might be more dangerous than we had thought. Are they right?”

  “I’ve either been lame or restrained the entire time I’ve been your prisoner. How could they have judged my threat in that condition? Give me a sword and I’ll carve a red path through this village of madmen. Your best fighters beat their wives and call themselves warriors. Not a man among any here is fit to challenge me. So, do you think I’m a threat now?”

  Audhild sat back, cocking her head with a disapproving curl to her lip. “That kind of talk does not help your situation. I’ve negotiated your safety, but I’ve guaranteed you would not threaten anyone again.”

  “I won’t threaten, I’ll act. Even if you make me your slave, I’d rather die fighting than spend a moment allowing a blind whore to whack me with a stick.”

  Audhild’s backhand cracked across his face, white pain radiating from his cheek. He absorbed it and smiled at her glaring back at him. “Then maybe you shall die after all.”

  “And so dies your sister’s vision. Go ahead. Any knife will do. Drive it through my throat and have done. Send me to Valhalla. Dear friends are awaiting me there.”

  Audhild shot to her feet, both fists balled and lips disappeared into a thin line. Her eyes searched as if looking for the knife Ulfrik had suggested, but then she let her breath out and she slumped. Touching a pale hand to her head, she sat again.

  “You are baiting me. I don’t know why I let that anger me.” She smoothed her skirt then smiled at him. “You can be as mad as you wish, but do not be so swift to ask for death. Eldrid for one has told me she will seek guidance from the gods again. She fears her original interpretation of your arrival might have been mistaken. If the gods tell her your life is no longer necessary, then you will need my friendship.”

  Ulfrik swallowed. He did not fear death, but did not seek it. Fate had other designs for him, he knew. Why had they placed him in Frankia under a great man like Hrolf the Strider? Just to die at the hands of madmen in a forlorn island at the edge of the world? Still, Fate could have woven a new pattern for his life.

  Audhild leaned next to him, letting her soft breasts brush against his arm as she did. “I am your only friend here. I’ve saved your life before, and will save it again. But not if you fight me. Don’t be like a wild rabbit that refuses to accept the clover from its protector. Don’t bite every hand extended to you.”

  “What have you negotiated for me?” He tried to ignore the touch of her body, but her sweet smiling face was now mere inches from his. A lock of her hair tickled his cheek and he turned aside.

  “You are lonely, yes? How could you not be when you fight your neighbors? You speak names in your sleep, old friends or lovers I don’t know. None of those people are here nor will you see them again. Time to start anew.”

  Her breath rolled across his face and he felt himself stir. The bindings holding him to the bed bit into him as he squirmed. “What arrangement have you made?”

  She retreated, a satisfied grin on her face. “You will remain with me, under my direct care. You will do the work of man in my hall. You will not be allowed to leave on your own.”

  “That’s slavery.”

  “Not at all. You just cannot leave the bounds of the village without me or someone I appoint. You’re to never threaten Eldrid or Gudrod again.”

  “And when Gudrod comes knocking, hoping to find his way to between your legs? You’ll not want me chasing him off?”

  Her smug smile vanished and color came to her cheeks, her hand touching her chest. “Gudrod is no worry. Why would you say such a thing?”

  “Because it is well known what Gudrod wants. He only looks towards one door when he walks through the village. That’d be yours.�
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  “Don’t concern yourself with it.” She straightened her back and her hand fell back to her lap. “Before I remove your bindings, I have your word? You’ll abide by these rules and not attack Eldrid again?”

  “You’ll assure me Eldrid won’t have a vision from the gods that throws me into a bonfire?”

  “How can I control what visions the gods grant her?”

  “Then you’ve no promise from me.”

  She stared at him and again he resolved not to shift. Eldrid would want him skinned alive and he knew too well if the gods don’t say what a man wants then he says it for them. “I never realized how stubborn you are,” she said with a shrug. “If you follow the rules I will protect you from Eldrid.”

  “I will follow the rules,” he said. Until I find a way around them, he thought.

  The ropes fell away and his limbs tingled from the improved blood flow. As he sat up, his head began to spin and she caught him. “Don’t stand. Remain here a while. Kelda and I must prepare for the evening meal. Heidrek and his men will leave tomorrow and we will give him a proper send off tonight.”

  “So you’ll steal his cargo and take him hostage?”

  Audhild paused in the doorway but did not turn. Instead she rested a hand on the frame and sighed. “Yet you ate the provisions we took. You slept happily under the wool blankets we carried off. Don’t pretend outrage for your old home. You wanted to survive the winter as much as anyone.”

  She left him with the candle, and the door swung closed behind her. Ulfrik stared at the gray wood door, and shrugged off her accusation. He could not resist the barb, but lost no sleep for enjoying the spoils of raiding. Nye Grenner had grown soft under Gunnbjorn and so deserved their fate. He dismissed the matter and leaned on his knees while his head swirled.

  Outside his door, Audhild and Kelda chatted while they prepared the hearth for cooking. The familiar sounds of clacking plates, sloshing buckets, and women’s laughter took him back to his own hall and wife. He imagined Runa and her servants flitting about the hall, his children under their feet. Pressing a hand to his head, he forced the memories away. Instead he waited for the feast, when Heidrik would be available for one last attempt at finding help.