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

by Jerry Autieri

  He closed his eyes as she padded into the room. Her skirts rustled as she sat on the stool beside him. She removed the wolf skins and pulled back the bandages wrapped around his stomach. Satisfied, she patted them down then examined the back of his leg. That wound did not disturb him, but when she pressed on it he flinched with pain. She replaced the furs and he opened his eyes. She was standing as if to leave, but he stopped her with a word.

  “Wait. What was that argument about?”

  Her back was to him, but she turned at his question. The bone necklace clacked as it rolled across her chest. In the shadows, the gashes on her face and neck looked like dark stripes. “What did you hear?”

  “Nothing more than noise, but it was an argument. The people are not happy with what you’re doing. They want to free me.”

  Audhild’s smile flashed wide. She touched her cheek absently then began to laugh. “They want to kill you. I’m all that’s preventing them.”

  “Why? That makes no sense. It should be the opposite.”

  “You’ve not lifted the curse. Thorvald’s girl died of her fever last night. Now they believe you must die to end the curse. I say it is not true, and that you must live in freedom if you are to relent.”

  Ulfrik swallowed. “I think that is a lie. They know I will release the curse if I am freed. You want to kill me but can’t without facing the rage of your people.”

  Again she tittered, hiding her mouth behind her hand. “Believe as you will. Again I am your savior and again you despise me for it. All I’ve ever done is to heal you and nurse you. What respect have you shown me for it?”

  “I suppose falsely accusing me of rape and imprisoning me has vanished from your mind?” He expected his words to goad her ire, but instead she stared into the distance before answering.

  “No, that was done to set you and Gudrod at each other’s throats. He was never brave enough to challenge you fairly, and you couldn’t kill him without good cause. It all worked out well enough in the end.”

  He blinked at her, mouth opening but forming no words. That she used him to discourage Gudrod was understood, but that she designed a plot complex enough to both discredit Ulfrik and set him to murder for her was a shock. Had he been less occupied with his own worries he might have uncovered this layer. Now he wondered if his current plight had been planned from the start. It seemed impossible to predict his escape and recapture, yet he remained tied to the bed.

  “Kelda is preparing the evening meal,” Audhild said. “She will be in to feed you soon.”

  Again she turned toward the door.

  “Why haven’t you answered for Eldrid’s death? The people should be your throat.”

  She lowered her head and touched the bone necklace at her throat. A low growl vibrated in her chest, and when she whirled on him her face had warped with hate. Baring her teeth like a rabid wolf, she grabbed his throat with her cold hands, nails digging into his flesh. She hissed and spittle flecked his face.

  “You killed Eldrid! You killed everyone and fled. My sister was unmade because of your evil words, and died for it!”

  Her crazed eyes bore into his, so close their noses almost touched. For an instant Ulfrik imagined head-butting her with enough force to smash her nose through her brain. He had witnessed it on the battlefield, and Runa had once killed an assailant in the same manner. What would it achieve? He would still remain bound and if she did not die then her revenge would be terrible. Her breath smelled faintly of onion as she continued to rant.

  “You think you have a power to curse men? I don’t believe you, though others might. I know true magic and did not see it from you. What is going to happen when you can’t relieve the curse you set? No answer? Then let me tell you. The people will tear you apart in ways far worse than I can imagine. It is one thing to curse a man’s luck and quite another to curse his children to die. Thorval was just outside this wall begging to carve out your lungs. He’s just one voice of many. Can you imagine what others want to do?”

  “If I die and the curse continues, they will hold you responsible. You should ask yourself if you have the powers to remove the curse in my place. What then?”

  Audhild released his neck and straightened up, a placid smile replacing the visage of madness. “You worry for me? I am touched.”

  “Release me from these bonds and I will end the curse. I might not possess the magic you expect to see, but it is clear the gods are angered at what you’ve done. There is no other way.”

  “I agree.”

  “The gods have—what? You agree?” Audhild closed her eyes and nodded. “Then what is this madness? Why must I remain bound? Set me free and the curse will be lifted.”

  “I shall.”

  “Yet you make no move to do so. There’s more you’re not saying.”

  Her head fell back in laughter and Ulfrik’s skin tingled. “You wanted to know the argument from a moment ago. Here’s the truth of it. We fought over the timing of your release. They wanted it to be immediate and I asked for more time. You are not ready for release yet.”

  The tingling on his skin gathered into a watery cold in his guts.

  “We debated this, but I gave in to their demands. I can’t deny this is an emotional time, with more death than our small community can withstand. I will release you tomorrow, though all may regret it.”

  Her smile reminded him of a time when he did not understand her madness, when he believed she was a healer. She began to rub his leg as she smiled.

  “Why tomorrow? Why not now? Need time to prepare another prison for me. Confining me to a nice home is not freedom and will not fool the gods much less me.”

  “Oh no, you will be completely free. All of the people have agreed your imprisonment is the reason the gods have cursed us, and so must be reversed.”

  The cold in Ulfrik’s guts spread from his core, emanating to his hands and toes. The words were all he ever hoped to hear, but he feared how the promise would be twisted. “What about Eldrid’s visions? I am no longer a blessing to the people?”

  “We all agree our actions have caused the gods to withdraw that promise. We don’t need you here any longer.”

  “Then I may leave?”

  “Any time after we are certain the curse is lifted.”

  Silence like a thick wool blanket fell upon the room. Even sounds of Kelda’s work in the main hall stopped. Ulfrik stared at Audhild, who looked on the verge of exploding into laughter. “You are lying to me.”

  “Not in the least.” She patted his leg again. “But I’m not telling you everything.”

  Sweat now beaded at Ulfrik’s brow, and a cold droplet rolled into the corner of his eye and blurred his sight. He blinked it away as Audhild touched a finger to her lip as if in deliberation.

  “Every method of preventing your escape relies on imprisonment, which means the curse cannot be lifted. If you flee and the curse continues, we’ve no way to bring you back. You see our problem? Your curse has created a difficult situation, but I’ve seen a way through it. After tomorrow, you will have total freedom but you won’t want to exercise it. You’ll need to stay with me for a while yet.”

  Ulfrik’s mind flashed to Audhild’s intention. He began to shake his head, and her smile grew with his realization. “No, don’t do this,” he whispered.

  “It’s the only way you left. I am not happy with it either, and I had hoped you could gather more strength. But the people are insistent.”

  Audhild squeezed the meat of his left thigh and sighed.

  “I think one will be sufficient, though if you can stand it two will be best. Tomorrow I’m going to cut off your leg.”

  Chapter 49

  Three men arrived the next morning to move Ulfrik from Audhild’s hall. Though he had regained strength over the past week of rest, they still overwhelmed him. He kicked but they were braced for his fury. Curses and shouts rose from the scuffle, and Ulfrik managed to gouge one’s eye, but once he was released from the bed he could not break fre
e. Held by his legs and arms, they carried him outside. He thrashed as he hung between them, tearing the wound on his stomach so the white bandages bloomed red. The men staggered and crashed against the doorway but they wrangled him outside.

  The day was drab and cold as if winter were at hand rather than the start of summer. People gathered to witness the shame of his defeat. Suspended like a hunting trophy between two men, he surrendered to them. He had to conserve his strength for whatever chances the gods provided. The stern faces watching him pass did not flinch at his shame. Some even smiled, as if satisfied that justice was served at last. He kicked to loosen the grip of the man in front, but it only made him curse and pause to adjust. The third man whose eye had been gouged wrapped an arm around Ulfrik’s midsection to steady him.

  “Think this will save you from anger of the gods?” Ulfrik shouted. “Fools! I pray the gods slay your children before your eyes. May you cry until your tears turn to blood!”

  A hand covered his mouth, cool and smooth. Audhild now stood above him and smiled mournfully, as if she regretted everything. “Save your strength. You will need it.”

  They carried him into the blacksmith’s forge, an open-air space covered by a roof of gray wood planks. The forge huffed sparks and the embers blazed yellow as Kelda worked the bellows. They hefted him onto a table and pinned him as the third man lashed him down with the rope from his bed. Again he struggled and swore, but they kept clear of his head and hastily secured him.

  “Bind him tight,” Audhild said above the shouting. “There’s no telling what strength he might gather from the pain.”

  Ulfrik’s mind raced with his throbbing heart. The moment had arrived and the gods had shown him no sign of escape. Angry faces fluttered around him as they tugged the bindings tight. To his left he saw a table laid out with tools that made his guts turn to water. Blacksmith tongs and hammers where shoved aside for a collection of axes, knives, and a long saw with a worn handle of dark wood. The teeth of the saw gleamed white from a fresh sharpening.

  “Tie the leg here,” Audhild said. Ulfrik felt cord shoved beneath his left leg above the knee. He would not look as rough hands laced it through several times before pulling it tight.

  Tears began to leak from his eyes. Was this how Gunnar had felt, he wondered. Such a terrible, empty feeling. The helplessness unmanned him, and desperation filled his mind with the clutter of fleeting hopes. Maybe Lini still lived and would burst in to rescue him, or the gods would be so angered at his fate that lightning would strike dead all his enemies. Even more hopeless thoughts crowded his mind, but were short-lived.

  A man braced his foot against the table and yanked the rope tight on his leg. Everything below his left knee turned to ice and began to tingle with numb pain. Secured at last, they stepped back. The table rocked and creaked in protest, but Ulfrik remained firmly bound to it.

  The gods had showed their final gift to him at this last moment. He grew still as Audhild thanked the men for their help.

  He gently pushed backward and the table creaked on unsteady legs. It had not been created to hold his weight or bear stress. It was probably donated for use in this crime because it was old and unwanted, and the blood from his amputation would ruin it. If he could collapse the table, the bounds would be loosened and he could slip out. The forge had plenty of tools that doubled as weapons. He needed a way to distract Audhild while he worked out of the bonds. Only his legs and arms had been bound, and with his struggling he guessed the knots were not well tied.

  “You will not be needed,” she said in answer to a question Ulfrik had missed. “Kelda and I are more than capable of the rest.”

  Now calmed, Ulfrik glanced at the three men. Their pasty faces glistened with sweat despite the cold. One refused to look at him, while the other two were wide-eyed with fear. All rushed out of the forge, leaving him to listen to the bellows pumping. Above him blue sunlight filtered between the roof slats.

  Audhild came to his side, placing one cool hand on his face. “I have the sleeping medicine for you. It will greatly ease your suffering.” She raised a wooden bowl in one hand, held it toward him, then let it fall to the floor. “Oh my, I lost my grip. I suppose you’re going to feel every moment of this.”

  “You bitch,” Ulfrik said through clenched teeth. He began to rock slightly, gathering momentum for his push.

  She laughed at his curse. “My sister is dead and this community is falling apart all because of your stubborn refusal to accept defeat. I realize now, too late, that I needed to remove all hope of returning to your old life. Now I’m preparing to cut off the very leg I worked so hard to heal. Had I been thinking clearer, I should have removed it from the first. None of this would have happened.”

  Ulfrik narrowed his eyes and spit at her.

  “Come now,” she said with a pout. “Don’t be that way. Let me explain what I’m going to do. I’ll have to shatter the bone with a hammer first, then I’ll use this saw to work through your flesh until the leg is removed. Kelda is heating an iron to cauterize the stump. By that time you will not be conscious, or will at least be wishing you were not.”

  “Is it not enough that you rule these people unopposed?” Ulfrik searched for any reason to delay. Audhild stood by the tools, selecting a hammer. If he broke free now, she could subdue him with one solid blow. She had to come closer. “Gudrod is gone and his supporters broken. You killed Eldrid—”

  “You killed her!” she screamed, slamming the hammer back to the table. “She died because of you!”

  “You’d like me to take the blame for it, but I’ll tell everyone the truth. I won’t hide your lies.”

  “I know a way to still your tongue,” she said, then picked a knife from the table. “Maybe I’ll take care of it after your leg.”

  “You are a murderous bitch.”

  She slammed the knife into the table by his head, so close he could smell its metallic oil scent. She held her breath, then let it out slowly. “Let’s get started. That will steal the fight from you.”

  Snapping a piece of leather strap against her open palm she turned to Kelda. “Are the irons ready?”

  Metal clanked as Kelda pulled one out of the forge. “This one glows orange. Will it be suitable?”

  “Yes,” Audhild said as she turned back to Ulfrik. She offered him the leather strap. “Bite on this or I won’t have to cut out your tongue. You’ll chew it off instead.”

  “Have you done this before?” Ulfrik began to shift himself for a push, hoping she would get closer.

  “What’s to learn about cutting off a leg? You won’t lose enough blood to die. I’ve already made sure of it.”

  “Do it, then,” he said with more resolve than he felt. It drew a poignant smile from Audhild.

  “Just so. You do yourself honor at last. Now take this in your mouth.”

  She lowered the leather into his opened mouth. She was not going to give him a chance, so he had to enact his plan now. He shoved back as she turned away.

  The table did not break.

  It creaked and lurched, but nothing more. Audhild selected a hammer while Kelda continued to pump the bellows. Panic braced him, made his limbs go cold and stiff. He shoved again and the creaking drew an errant look from Kelda. Despite its flimsy appearance, the table required more weight to break. As Audhild weighed a hammer and nodded in satisfaction, he followed his first inspiration.

  Spitting out the leather, he began to cry. “Please, don’t do this. I’ll do anything you ask. Just name it. I’ll take back the curse, be your slave, anything. Just don’t do this to me.”

  Tears came readily and shamelessly. He devolved into a blubbering cry that he feared might not stop, for the tears welled from the dammed up blackness in his heart. Audhild put down her hammer and laid her hands on her hips, the scar on her eyebrow raised along with it.

  “Did I not just compliment your bravery? Now you sputter like a child.”

  “I can’t help it,” he said, hoping to appeal to
Audhild the Healer rather than the butcher.

  She huffed but bent over to retrieve the leather strap, disappearing from view as she knelt by the table. Standing again, she bent over him and laid her hand on his forehead. He continued to wail, forcing the intensity of his sobs.

  “You’re making it harder for me to enjoy this. Remember, you brought this on yourself, and no one else is to blame. You deserve no less. Now hold this in your mouth, and I will be quick. It’s more than you deserve, really.”

  “F … fine,” he stammered. The tears abated but his heart raced with anticipation.

  She leaned forward to kiss his forehead. Her lips were warm and wet on his skin, then she pulled back a hand’s breadth to look into his eyes. “It could have been different between us, you know. Now, you—”

  He struck with the speed of a snake, biting into the flesh of her cheek like eating an apple. Hot, salty blood flooded his mouth. She screamed and he dug his teeth deeper.

  Now he pushed back and with Audhild’s weight the entire table collapsed and the formerly tight bonds slackened.

  His right hand ripped out from the rope and clamped over Audhild’s back. He thrashed his head side to side as blood gushed and choked him. Howling in agony, her hands raked the flesh of his scalp while trying to free herself.

  He kicked free his left leg.

  Kelda shouted but Ulfrik now had both legs free, his left arm still pinned to the wrecked table. Desperation lent him strength and he shoved Audhild aside like an old doll. She collided with the tool bench and hammers, saws, and knives clattered to the floor. Her face was painted red and she held her hand to it as she cried.

  He worked out his last arm. Freedom! His left leg remained bound and was numb and heavy. If he did not restore circulation he would never stand a chance against the men who were certain to answer the screams. He snatched a knife from the floor, then cut the rope. A painful burst of needles exploded into his leg and foot. It had cost him time, but Audhild was still holding her face together and screaming.

  Springing to his feet, knife in hand, he stood to run.