Akiniwazisaga: The Inheritance Thieves

by M. D. Boncher

  “Thank you, my Tign,” the priest said again. “I accept your invitation with a full and grateful heart.”

  “We will be leaving as soon as the rest of our crew come aboard,” Leif said.

  “Where are we bound?” the priest asked.

  “I cannot tell you and will have to keep you in a cabin for a day or two till our task is complete.” The steward flinched and gave a subtle shake of his head. Leif realized he was telling too much.

  “Brother,” Mirjam said, “Declan and the two friars who helped us escape are here.”

  Behind the priest, the last of the crew and warriors climbed on deck with their guests.

  “Declan,” Leif said happy to see his friend alive and none the worse for wear. “It appears you have been fighting again,” he joked.

  “Only with your enemies, my Tign,” Declan laughed. “I would like to present to you the two Havarians who assisted me in my quest to return the Kronadottirs to you, Friar Inge and Brother Finn.”

  The charcoal robed priest who stood before Leif did not turn around. He kept stone still. The fawn colored companion at heel looked over its shoulder at the iron gray mastiff. Bergamot began to growl. A horrible chill shot up Finn’s neck as he looked at the back of the priest’s head.

  “Thank you for saving my sisters,” Leif said. “Have you brothers met before?”

  “Jah, my Tign. I know Brother Finn very well,” the priest said. His voice so bitter it poisoned the air. “We need no introduction, for he knows me as well.”

  The priest turned to face Brother Finn. His eyes full of hate, a wolfish smirk twisting his lips.

  Brother Finn gasped.

  “Amr!”

  42. Into Thy Hands

  “God’s prickly rosebush, that is the Amr?” Inge whispered to Finn.

  “It is.” Finn’s mouth was dry, and he felt like vomiting.

  What is the problem here?” Leif demanded, his men alert to the two priests open hostility.

  “My Tign,” Friar Amr began with an accusatory flourish at the source of his hate, “Brother Finn is niding. A rebel opposed to Cardinal Klaus and Kyrkja law. A heretic sentenced to Kynligrspiejl for his crimes, my Tign. I am quite surprised they let him walk the shore at all.”

  “He was not convicted of heresy, you bacraut!” Inge shouted.

  To be face to face with Amr again shocked Finn beyond measure. Here stood a man who swore an oath of enmity, demanding Finn owed him a debt of blood. Amr had once been his dearest friend and comrade. Now he stood in the Tronerving’s favor painting Finn in the worst possible light. Finn looked down at Amr’s dog. The fawn Havarian mastiff stood unconcerned at the hackle-raising sound coming from Bergamot. This strange dog gave off the aura of a true killer, but looked familiar. The dog licked its chops, and Finn sucked in his breath.

  “Hawthorn!” Finn whispered as he saw through the blood covering the white flower pattern on the dog’s chest. In that instant, Finn realized that Amr’s hand was mixed up with the drama he endured in Fjellporten.

  “You killed Brother Trygve!” Finn accused.

  Inge gasped.

  Amr gaped, then burst into laughter. “Who is Brother Trygve?” he managed to ask between gales.

  Not even a trace of guilt showed on Amr’s face. Was he wrong, Finn doubted? Were these mad thoughts a Word of Wisdom from God or had he been deceived? Bergamot never growled at other dogs, particularly ones she had been friendly with. How could this be?

  “What sort of foolishness is this?” demanded Leif.

  “Really Finn? I did no such thing!” Amr said, chuckling.

  “Then how did you come by Hawthorn?” Finn demanded. “He was Brother Trygve’s dog.”

  “I found this poor creature wandering the pinery looking for his master. Lord only knows what happened to him. Not knowing this young pup’s name, I called him Thyrnir,” Amr said, patting Hawthorn, now newly rechristened. “My Tign, forgive us. Brother Finn and I have a long history. I assume this is his little way of getting back at me for some perceived indiscretion he imagines I committed.” A smooth grin returned to the priest’s lips, daring to bring up the past.

  Oh, jah, Brother Finn thought. He had seen that smile a few times before and knew what it forecast. Dear sweet Jesus Lord, reveal to me the truth of the matter, he prayed.

  “My Tign,” Brother Finn petitioned, “This man is a murderer. He killed a Brother Havarian in cold blood. I know it in my heart. That dog was Brother Trygve’s companion, Hawthorn.”

  Leif clearly did not know what to make of the situation.

  Thyrnir, showing teeth, growled back at Bergamot.

  “Bergie knows truth. Something happened to Hawthorn,” Finn insisted, pointing at the now hostile Thyrnir. The dog, in Brother Trygve’s hands, was unruly but happy. In Amr’s, the dog was a weapon.

  “That had nothing to do with me,” Amr said. “I found him, without master, a lost pet. Filled with compassion for the poor wasteling, I adopted and trained him this last month, rechristening him as Thyrnir. Perhaps someone else murdered this Brother Trygve of whom you speak. It is very irresponsible for you to claim such things without proof,” Amr admonished Finn like he was a naughty child.

  “If we go back to Fjellporten, the domari will discern the truth,” Finn suggested.

  “Brothers,” Leif said, “this ship is not stopping at Fjellporten. We will stop only once to deposit you all at Kynligrspiejl, if you so desire. After that, we are departing for Dyrrvatn Kastali, stopping only for fuel. Is that clear?” He was done listening to the bickering.

  “Jah, my Tign,” Inge said.

  “As you wish, my Tign,” Finn agreed. “I would prefer to be put ashore here if possible. Friar Inge and I must continue walking the shore.”

  “As you command, my Tign,” Amr said. “But you will not make it past Barskaborg.”

  “What?” snapped Leif.

  “Forgive me, my Tign, but I must speak truthfully to you. There is more you should know,” Amr said.

  “Spit it out, man!” Leif barked, unhappy with the choice to keep such information secret.

  “A far worse fate awaits you at Barskaborg. This attack was only the first part of a greater plan that began with the Visekonge’s death.” He paused to let the gravity of that claim sink in. “If the conspirators have succeeded thus far, this ship will never leave these waters. A rebellion has risen and closed all routes between here and Dyrrvatn Kastali. Their goal is to make sure the Crown never rests upon your brow, nor any other Sveinnaettir’s ever again.”

  “Treason!” Leif exploded. “Treason and lies!”

  “That is why I was sent by the King of the Heavens. To save the Kronadottirs and to warn you of what you face. This ship will not make it past Barskaborg. It will be stopped and stripped of its freight. A cargo, I may add, that the Jarl Vilhoaettir desires with all his greedy little heart.”

  “That tjovekjakji!” Inge said through his teeth.

  Amr smiled at the oath.

  “You have a filthy mouth, Brother, but it gets worse. Save up your best curses for that,” Amr said and turned back to Leif. “Once the Jarl Vilhoaettir possesses this ship and has disposed of you, he will give the balance to six other treasonous jarls who will end the Sveinnaettir dynasty with him.”

  “The vision!” Solveig exclaimed. “That is why it said to run. Father Amr, how long ago did this rebellion rise up?” she asked.

  Amr did a quick calculation.

  “Almost a fortnight ago.”

  “Had we obeyed then, we would have been all the way to Lake Bawaijigaywin by now,” Kaptein Gramrsson groaned.

  “And they would never have stopped you,” Amr agreed.

  There was a sigh of disappointment from the crew.

  “How do you know all this?” Leif asked.

  “I was in Ulfhaugrstrond when a friend of the Visedronning asked me to come to infiltrate your enemies,” Amr said.

  “A friend of Mother’s? I mean the Visedronning? Who?”
Mirjam pressed.

  “I cannot say, for it was a message sent in secret.” Amr twitched three or four times as if being stabbed with a hot poker, then rubbed his eyes. “Forgive me, my Tign. I am old and these things happen with age. Do not worry.”

  Leif slumped on the capstan.

  “If we cannot escape the lake, and there are rebels intent on our blood, what can we do? How can we return to Dyrrvatn Kastali? Do you know who the other jarls are that betrayed us?” Leif asked, eyes pleading.

  “No. I do not. I only know there are seven. Jarl Vilhoaettir chief among them. It does not matter, for Barskaborg is a fortress you cannot pass in this ship. With reinforcements so close at hand from Fjellporten, and the jarl your enemy, you would never even make Tordenviki. They would catch you and then… you can guess what would follow,” Amr said spreading his hands in apology.

  Inge stepped forward.

  “My Tign, I do not know if it is wise, but I have a thought on how you can escape this trap,” he said.

  “Jah? Suggestions are welcome in a time like this,” Leif said giving him the floor of the impromptu court.

  “You could go overland to the north, get to the Kisiina Sea and find a ship to take you all the way back to Dyrrvatn Kastali. No one would ever expect you to travel the back way. And that is all Sveinnaettir land, so who would they be loyal to? You.”

  Everyone was dumbfounded with the suggestion. It was insane.

  “You mean we would have to somehow pack up the entire hold of this ship onto wagons? Haul it through the manitou infested Ondeaandkorgfjall to the shore of the Kisiina Sea? If we somehow survive that ordeal, we need to find another ship and sail it to the other side of the Union. After all that, the trip down the Athrflojt should be a skip through the garden!” Kaptein Gramrsson dissected Inge’s suggestion with rising ire.

  “No,” Inge corrected. “Just the three children of the Visekonge and a few protectors.”

  “What about the cargo?” Steward Josefsson pressed.

  “I assume you mean the treasure,” Inge chided. “Let us not pretend otherwise. Nothing else would warrant such a voyage. That treasure we send on to Kynligrspiejl as you planned. I suspect something special is happening there?”

  “Jah,” Leif said, shocked at Inge’s guess but refusing to elaborate.

  “Transload it,” Inge stated. “Split the shipment up and use smaller ships to smuggle it out.”

  “How? In barrels like fish or fruit?” Leif scoffed.

  “Precisely,” Friar Inge exclaimed. Upon hearing this plan, a grin passed over Steward Josefsson’s face. Kaptein Gramrsson nodded slowly.

  “They may catch one or two, but they would never stop everyone. Send a sailor and a warrior on each ship to mind your cargo and smuggle it back while you, my Tign, and the Kronadottirs are taken overland, on foot,” Inge said.

  “No one lives up there, and we are hardly equipped for a journey of a few hundred miles overland. Who would provide us with aid?”

  “The Saami,” Friar Inge stated.

  “The caribou herders! Of course!” Declan exclaimed. “My family used to deal with them all the time. They drove their tamed caribou down to be sold for sledge or slaughter. They are trustworthy people and have no interest in politics.”

  “They are nomadic and do not like being tied down to farmholds, preferring to move like the Skaerslinger do, in concert with their herd’s migrations. They would be able to aid us with your return,” Inge elaborated.

  “They also know the ways of avoiding the Skaerslinger, or at least living somewhat in harmony with them. That could prove useful,” Finn added with a wink.

  “How do you know all this?” Amr asked.

  “I have been a friar for a long time, and I spent a few years serving under the Bishop of the Wastes. Not long, mind you. That is a land for young men, not those of us who like better food, drink and our scalps staying where God placed them.”

  There was a long silence.

  “Kaptein, what do you think of the suggestion?” Leif asked.

  “Insane. There are no guarantees it will work, and we could lose everything,” he said. “I cannot advise it. But…”

  “Jah?” Leif coaxed.

  “There is merit to his plan. A lot of risk to you that I would rather not take.”

  “How about you, Josefsson?” Leif asked.

  “The plan for splitting up the cargo and smuggling it out is also risky-”

  “It is all risky, herre!” Inge vented.

  “But Friar Inge is not wrong,” the steward finished with a growl. “I wish Chaplain Hansson had not died, perhaps he would have received a divine confirmation.”

  Mirjam made an exasperated groan. “If it was not following liturgy or forgiving your neighbor, he was worthless,” she complained. “Had he been a competent spiritual warrior, maybe this mess would not have happened.”

  “I doubt one priest could have made a difference against the evil aligned against you, my Tign,” Amr said.

  Leif let out a long sigh, puffing out his cheeks as he considered his options.

  “When does the moon rise, Kaptein?” Leif asked as he started to pace.

  “Six hours after sunset. If the waves keep the logs out of the way, we can make it. But if we miss that window, we are stuck here for another three weeks or waiting on a miracle,” Kaptein Gramrsson said, the pilot nodding in agreement.

  “My Tign, if I may speak a piece,” Carpenter Bramsson petitioned. Leif nodded his permission.

  “We got no choice but to try the friar’s plan. What with no manpower to fight our way through a river fortress. We got just enough hands to sail this sow back in one piece. Breaking up the cargo with people we can trust in Kynligrspiejl and smuggling it out is about the only option we have left. We know a thing or two about hiding freight from the taxman.” This brought a low chuckle from the sailors. “Everyone you picked for this mission would die on your say so. Not a single bit of that treasure would go missing. Besides, better if most cargo made it home, rather than none of it.”

  The men rumbled their agreement with Carpenter Bramsson. He spoke from their element.

  “We will have to hire a lot of boats and their crews willing to smuggle a secret cargo, but what we should not try is to smuggle you and your sisters.” Steward Josefsson said. “Not through that gauntlet. Anyone outside of this crew might betray you.” He glanced at the three Havarians. “No offense intended, Brothers.”

  “None taken,” said Amr.

  “I agree you should do as the friar says. No one would expect it or have time to react till the Crown rested on your head. Kisiinaland is an unpopulated waste outside of the Athrflojtdal and only a few small cities remain on her shores,” Pilot Strykersson opined.

  Leif leaned against the capstan he had been circling. Finn could see he was scared. The weight of the entire Union rested on this choice.

  “My Tign,” Amr said, “I was sent for this purpose and will go all the way to Dyrrvatn Kastali by any route you choose. I pledge to lay down my life for this goal.”

  Finn was taken aback by the oath. It was the Amr he knew when they first worked together as young men.

  “It is my plan, and though I would rather someone else go in my stead, I will guide as best as I can. It may not be much, but it is better than our alternatives,” Inge said.

  “Where you go, my axe is there for you to command,” Declan volunteered.

  Finn, was horrified at what just happened in such a short time. The allegations boggled his mind. Did the fate of the Union actually hang in the balance or was it an exaggeration? A manipulation for Amr’s nefarious purpose? He had lied about so much already, and Finn was certain he murdered Brother Trygve. Hawthorn was his proof, but no one would listen other than Inge.

  Then there was his own precarious position. Inge had become swept up in the moment and forgot his commitment to Finn and walking the shore. Going alone was not an option. What was he to do? He was certain that Inge and Declan could
not stop Amr if he betrayed them. No one saw him as a danger. Amr had mixed lies and truth together so well that no one questioned his word any more. But Finn knew better. He knew what Amr had done. How could he be left alone with the children of the Visekonge?

  But to go with, to leave the shore, was a death sentence.

  “I believe Friar Inge’s plan has been inspired by God,” Leif decided. “I can see no other solution. It will be hard, but this is what must be done.”

  Solveig and Mirjam looked stunned at their brother’s choice.

  “Kaptein, you will do as suggested,” Leif ordered. “Get trusted help and smuggle the cargo back to Dyrrvatn Kastali. When she is empty, scuttle the Silfryxen and send one man to watch over each load.”

  “By your will, my Tign,” the kaptein said, the men echoing his obedience.

  “Friar Finn,” Leif said, “do you still wish to be let off here?”

  To go is a death sentence, Finn thought again and again.

  To go…

  “Friar Finn?” Leif said, looking concerned.

  …death sentence…

  “Is there something wrong?”

  “My Tign,” Finn blurted out, “ I shall accompany you if you will have me.”

  A gleeful smile grew on Amr’s face.

  “Really? You would dare throw your life away that easily, kjaetterhund?” Finn could already see the wheels turning in Amr’s mind. Was he about to leave the safety and contentment of his skoggang for this? He prayed with all his heart in the seconds before he answered.

  “Only if my Tign can absolve me,” Brother Finn said, talking fast. “Forgive me, my Tign, but if I do not ask this favor Friar Amr would slay me the instant the shore disappears from sight, for I would become a fredlause. I do not wish to come for my sake, but for your life and that of the Kronadottirs. Those lives are more important to the Kyrkja and the Forsamling than my own.”

  Leif blinked, surprised at Finn’s request.

  “A pardon and protection from the Crown?” Leif asked. “And you will escort us to my coronation?”

  “For this one duty to you, and then for protection as I return to Kynligrspiejl. For if we succeed and the Crown is placed upon your brow, I fear that Jarl Vilhoaettir will burn the monastery to the ground for our part in thwarting his plans.”