Red Axe, Black Sun

by Michael Karner

  “Well, are these two supposed to be here?” he said to Jarnsaxa with a voice thick like honey.

  “Ambassador Belrand, they are from a scouting party I sent to Skybridge,” Jarnsaxa answered. She glanced at Dryston and Kyra in a way that told them to play their part and keep their weapons ready.

  “Is that so?” Belrand said. “How convenient.” The tension in the tent could almost be felt in the air. Belrand was playing games with them, whether out of knowledge or suspicion, Dryston didn’t know. “The Jarl of Skybridge, Jarl Godfrey, is accused of withholding tithes from your king and instead lining his own pockets. He raised an army that is assumed to exceed the allowed garrison strength for a city of that size, all while counterfeiting documents and making excuses for belated tithe payments. You see, we have reasons to believe that Godfrey and the jarl’s city will defect.”

  Dryston felt a lump building up in his throat and suppressed the urge to swallow until it became impossible.

  “So, who would be more perfectly suited to the task than you, Jarnsaxa…” Belrand mused, narrowing his eyes to slits, “…to bring the tyrant to heel.”

  Jarnsaxa was lost for words. Dryston understood fear, anticipation and relief were all mixed together in a heartbeat.

  “I’m honored that King Tancred puts his trust in me by assigning me this task,” Jarnsaxa said.

  Belrand leaned back in his chair with a content smile on his face. “I’m glad you see it that way,” he said. “There have been rumors of your wavering loyalty to the king.”

  Jarnsaxa blinked and looked away. “There are always rumors.”

  “Whatever,” Belrand said with a dismissive hand gesture. “With your undertaking done, you will have restored your reputation.” His smile broadened. “Prepare the siege on Skybridge! If the jarl exceeds his garrison limit, we have to decimate the garrison for him.”

  “I beg your pardon,” Jarnsaxa said, “but what about diplomatic ways first? Have they been tried? Does Godfrey even know that we are coming?”

  “He will know soon enough,” Belrand said, as if it wouldn’t be obvious.

  Jarnsaxa was taken aback by his coldness.

  “You are going to start a war,” Jarnsaxa said to him.

  The ambassador gave a crooked smile. “Technically, you will.”

  “If the word of one man is enough to unleash a war, it should be only from the king,” Jarnsaxa said.

  “I speak with the authority of the king, Jarnsaxa,” Belrand said. “Are you trying to get out of this?”

  Jarnsaxa looked at Dryston and Kyra. There was no way to end this now. They could get rid of Belrand, but what good would that do? A missing ambassador last sent to her army would paint a bull’s eye for King Tancred’s investigators on her forehead. It would mean to openly declare the defection of her and her warband. The time for that hadn’t come yet.

  “I will do as the king wishes,” she said.

  Dryston knew she wasn’t ready for this, too vulnerable to rebel when left on their own. But if she crusaded against Skybridge, she would first follow the king’s order free from suspicion and then find an ally of like mind in Jarl Godfrey.

  “Then we’re good,” Ambassador Belrand said and got up, leaving the last swig of wine in his goblet.

  “You are not staying here during the operation?” Jarnsaxa said.

  Belrand turned. “Quite the contrary,” he answered. “I am commander of the king’s special forces. As such, I will stay here and oversee the preparations for the siege, keep your soldiers motivated and make sure they are up to their task. King Tancred would not waste such a valuable asset as me simply to convey a message. My skills would be better used elsewhere, if that were the case.” He cocked his head, as if he cared that Jarnsaxa was looking troubled. “Is there something disturbing you?”

  It made her cough slightly. “May I speak openly?” Jarnsaxa said.

  Belrand spread his arms. “I would like you to be open.”

  “No offense, but my soldiers probably would not take your presence positively,” Jarnsaxa told him. Belrand came closer to her, letting her go on. “It would be different if King Tancred was here in person, of course.”

  Belrand rested his hand gently on Jarnsaxa’s shoulder, which was covered only by see-through silk. “Don’t you worry, lady.” His expression was like that of a caring father to his child. “He will arrive soon, with nine hundred women and men at arms and enough reinforcements to take the city.”

  Jarnsaxa and Kyra exchanged looks again.

  “Feel free to begin with the preparations for the siege,” Belrand said.

  “At once,” Jarnsaxa replied.

  She took out a map from one of her drawers and rolled it out on the table.

  “You just came back from Skybridge. Have you seen anything in the terrain that gives you concern for our approach route?” she asked Kyra and Dryston.

  Dryston stepped forward and put his finger on Skybridge’s western border. “The access path is swamped here from heavy rain. It’s impossible to pass under defensive fire.”

  Belrand followed them with an interested gaze.

  “Then we have to attack on the landside, where it will be heavier defended,” Jarnsaxa said.

  “Jarnsaxa, I would like to have a word with you concerning our mission,” Kyra put in.

  Jarnsaxa looked at Belrand, who was making himself comfortable over the map. “Could you please leave us alone for a moment?”

  “Oh, I think it surely isn’t something that I, as the king’s eyes and ears, shouldn’t hear,” Belrand said.

  Jarnsaxa nodded. “Go on.”

  “The two men that were missing in Skybridge were found murdered,” Kyra explained. “We fought their killers and rescued a girl who was of great value to these men. I think she will also be valued by a certain group of warriors in your warband.”

  “I understand,” Jarnsaxa said. “Go to Thora Merigoi for your payment. She is responsible for financial administration.”

  Kyra bowed her head. “We are thankful for your generosity.” Then they left the warlord’s tent.

  Belrand leaned back in his seat, the same look of curiosity on his face.

  JARNSAXA LEFT HER TENT, fur around her neck and her weapons with her. She met her second-in-command, Jorgen, at the stables and gave him a note.

  “We have orders for mobilization,” she said. Her voice wasn’t as calm as usual.

  Jorgen’s dark brown eyes formed slits. Jarnsaxa moved on and slid her fingers underneath her fur. They were trembling. She could feel her heart beating heavily. It had happened so fast that she couldn’t believe it now. All the waiting and staying in the dark was suddenly over. The cards would be laid out on the table soon.

  She observed followers going about their daily business, not yet aware of what was transpiring. Stable boys were preparing the saddles for some of the horses. She could see her own personal horse, Whitemane, beside Pactur’s mount, the cavalry commander. Jarnsaxa went over to the animals and stroked Whitemane on the neck. He snorted and threw his head back. Her horse felt her tension.

  They were going to war, and there was nothing she could do about it.

  THE CRATES BROUGHT LUCKY KYR into a sweat, even though his fingers were cold from the exposal to the fresh air. He stopped while having loaded one on his shoulder and wiped his forehead. Lucky Kyr knew he would only have a few seconds before the supply train master, Inman, would notice he was lagging behind. Some of the warriors they had brought the supplies to were turning in his direction, joking while smoking swamp-weed.

  Lucky Kyr wished he could be one of them and not merely a low-down carrier. His young age prevented him from joining their ranks, even if he had the strength to pass their initiation rites. They were barbarians of the Vacomani, the strongest of the strongest.

  Lady Kristen noticed him staring and shook her head. She was the woman that accepted the supply loads for them and, according to her clothes and adornment, something like a wealthy kind of
leader for them.

  Two newcomers he hadn’t seen before had arrived at the barbarians’ encampment. A big, bald brute accompanied a girl who sported excessive tattoos on her shoulders. The other warriors opened their circle to receive them.

  “SKADI,” Cormack told Skadi. “I brought you here to stay in the company of equals.”

  She looked into the round, wandering from face to face.

  “They are like us,” Cormack continued. “Bred from the north and hardened by the permanent presence of ice, wind, and beasts.”

  The skulls, animal hides, bones, furs, and totems covering the barbarians’ armor or naked upper bodies reminded Skadi of home—a home long ago that was now lost.

  “Their brotherhood has earned a nickname through prowess in combat,” Cormack said, looking into Skadi’s eyes. “They call themselves the Red Devils.”

  Skadi shook her head. “But they have nothing red on them.”

  “Not yet,” Cormack replied. “But you’ll see.”

  Skadi swallowed as she looked up at the giants towering over her.

  “Brothers, sisters,” Cormack announced, “this is Skadi, Valkyrie of Fellthorpe.”

  Kristen laid both her hands on Skadi’s shoulders from behind. “It is a pleasure to finally have found you, Valkyrie.”

  She was unsure about her feelings about joining the circle. She was unsure if any of them were on her list. Did she want to hide it or show them? Did she truly want what she was becoming?

  A BARBARIAN ARRIVED with a message, disrupting the gathering of the warriors with a matter that could have only been of the utmost urgency. “On behalf of the king, we are to make ready for mobilization,” he shouted over the noise of the encampment. Throughout the whole army camp, messengers were spreading the same word at the time. The background noise became louder with each reaction.

  “Which king, Gassijk?” a warrior demanded with a sarcastic smile. “And who is he to say what we should do?”

  “You know what they say, Geilir,” Gassijk said. “There is only one.”

  War cries resounded throughout the warband’s improvised city, containing the names of gods, factions, units, families and fallen. Drums began to sound, bones rattled, weapons bumped on shields, bagpipes began to play.

  Skadi didn’t know what the reason was at first. Was this really good news or just a change in their daily life?

  The blood was up after months of waiting and training, like a hound unleashed from its chain. The factions were eager to surpass each other. The peace times had led to decay. Drug dealing, corruption, pit fighting, gambling, and blood feuds had resulted from boredom. Now it was time to lay up that mantle and show their true strength.

  “What will we do now?” Skadi asked Cormack.

  “We will do what we were born to do,” the brute answered. “What we do best: we fight.”

  “They didn’t ask against whom,” she said.

  Cormack wrestled with a grim smile. “They never ask against whom or how many. Only where.”

  Gassijk had to raise his voice. “Sons and daughters of the north! We leave for loot and weregeld. To Skybridge!”

  The roaring became breathtaking.

  SOMEWHERE DEEP INSIDE, Jarnsaxa felt excited about wielding that weapon made up of so many glory-hungry souls. She bent down alone in her tent and prayed to the gods.

  The warband was a brotherhood, united through as many different reasons as souls. They had to unite, because one man alone was nothing. They fought the battles they could win and ran from those that they couldn’t. They traveled through the dark mist between beacons of civilization most of the time, running from demons, beasts and non-humans.

  When they fulfilled the service to the king one day, they would get land to settle down. If it wasn’t be too late. If there still was a king, or a land.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  WARBAND ARMY CAMP

  “I HAVE TO LEAVE NOW.” Cormack bent down to Skadi. “Sign up, because the sacking of Skybridge is a fight I think we can win.”

  Skadi looked helpless and left alone.

  “They will protect you,” he told her. “But stay away from the berserker circle. They are bound to lose their control.”

  “How do I know which ones they are?” she asked.

  He was already standing up and turning away. “Trust me, you will know.”

  KRISTEN RUSHED OVER to Lucky Kyr and the other carriers loading the supply cargo. The whole camp was in turmoil.

  “Halt! Back where you came from!” she commanded. “Back onto the wheeled transports! We’re setting out!”

  Lucky Kyr’s grip slipped on one of the crates, and it crashed on the ground, the lid flying open.

  “Don’t stare at that girl so much!” Kristen reprimanded him with a blow to the back of his head.

  Skadi had to snigger at his clumsiness.

  Kristen bent down and gathered the scattered cargo from the dirt, something Lucky Kyr wouldn’t have expected from a woman like her. Among the scattered black things were red and white spotted toadstools. Fly agaric, he reckoned. Back in Vacomany, they called it Raven’s Bread. Kristen put them quickly back into the crate and loaded them on the cart.

  “What are these for?” Skadi asked her when she came back.

  “Nothing,” Kristen murmured.

  PAYDAY NEVER CAME TOO EARLY. Thora Merigoi was packing banking documents, savings, loan accounts, and legacy scrolls for transportation in front of the heavily guarded treasure chests in the back of her tent when Dryston and Kyra came to her. It didn’t arrive too early because they were setting out for war, and Dryston and Kyra had no interest in following them. It was their last chance to get their reward outside of a warzone, and it had to go smoothly.

  Dryston knew he would spend the greater part of the money on supplies, so he could sit out the events to come in the outer world in his crypt. No luxury, just enough to survive.

  He noticed the richly decorated banner pole leaning in front of the warband’s treasure chests, where his share was to come from. It held the company standard as high as the top of the tent. The heavy fabric drooped from the pole but was still an awe-inspiring sight to behold, although nothing in comparison to when it would have been snapping in the wind in battle.

  When he met Thora Merigoi, he knew she was the one who would be carrying the banner. It was the custom in many armies, but he would have undoubtably seen it in the way she looked at him when he considered the standard.

  Banker in peace times, standard bearer in war times. It had always been this way, because it had to be someone who could be trusted to save the belongings earnt in life and the ground gained in combat.

  Thora laid out the coins for them on her desk. She made them sign the receipt and corrected the tally in her own list. No questions, no problems. Kyra counted the coins when she put them in her pocket and made sure the amount was correct.

  “Would you like to take everything with you, or deposit a sum?” Thora asked at last.

  “We take everything with us,” Kyra replied.

  “Then I cannot guarantee the safety of your reward anymore,” Thora said, making it sound as formal as possible.

  DRYSTON AND KYRA were careful about who saw them when they left and kept watching their backs. The walk between the narrow tent rows suddenly became uncomfortable now they had something to lose, not only the reward.

  “We’ve made it this far,” Kyra said. “I couldn’t have made it without you. Thank you.”

  “That is a whole lot of cash,” Dryston said.

  Kyra drew a big smile and jumped into his arms. The whole stress that had built up over the last days could now be released. It allowed her to be human again. Her heart had been far too burdened to allow feelings like pleasure to come up. Her emotions opened up like floodgates right now.

  “This feels a lot like in the past,” Kyra said with a smile. She was still lost in Dryston’s arms. She let her head fall back and chuckled. It sent buckling waves through her tensed bo
dy.

  “Now this does,” Dryston agreed, shifting his stance so as not to lose his balance with her.

  She calmed down and looked into his amused face. “We’ve gone through so much together,” she said, shaking her head. “I really didn’t think you would come after I left you in the crypt. Now we’re working the same contracts together, like in the good old days. It’s so good to have someone standing side by side with you. Someone you can trust. It’s becoming rare in this business.”

  “Not only in this business,” Dryston replied.

  She nodded. “I’m not afraid when you are around.”

  He shrugged. “What do you mean? That I make you feel safe?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I’m not a strong person. My powers may be strong sometimes, but there’s no guarantee they’re always with me. I have the feeling in mind that every moment they could fail me, and what then? I’m always scared of that moment. I mean, what then? I’m standing there without protection and nothing to fall back on. There’s only you who can protect me up close.”

  Dryston nodded. It was the truth.

  Kyra leaned in and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

  “What are you going to do now?” Dryston asked with a raised eyebrow.

  “I don’t know,” she whispered.

  “I’ll tell you what I’m going to do,” he said. “I will take that money and what I salvaged from the crypt and leave this place, lay low till the war passes. I’m getting out of here, going far away to a nice place, where you can’t be crushed by the Crown and can just enjoy freedom. The freedom to do what you want to do.”

  His hands traveled from her shoulders over her neck, then down her side to her hips till he rested them firmly over her thighs.

  Kyra breathed out in anticipation. She closed her eyes and accepted what Dryston was doing to her. She could feel his lips coming closer and felt his breath and soft touch on her neck. Her eyes ripped open wide in shock.

  “No,” she panted. Her hands fumbled for Dryston’s arms and tried to free her body from them as if from entangled vines.