LEGENDS: Fifteen Tales of Sword and Sorcery

by Colt, K. J.

  “Who?” Jahsin asked.

  “Vaka Bjorn,” said Akkeri. “The captain of Icebite.”

  “Feikinstafir, Tal! A Vaka? Are you out of your mind?” said Jahsin with a look of bewilderment.

  Talon became excited as his mind raced. “Akkeri said our big order and payment of apothecary supplies wouldn’t be noticed because of the nature of the market, because the secret witch doctors and such make deals with the Vaka; well, why not Vaka Bjorn? Surely he could procure some rope for us, maybe even a sail!”

  “Listen pal,” Jahsin said, putting his stump on Talon’s shoulder, “the only rope a Vaka is gonna procure for you is the one he intends to put around your neck.”

  “Bjorn is different; he’s…different. I can see it in his eyes,” Talon tried to explain but fell short.

  “They’re all the same,” said Jahsin.

  “What’s your problem?” Talon suddenly burst out. “You shoot down rescuing Chief, you shoot down my idea on getting rope, and you get in a fight with Akkeri over—what—whether sails are made from silk, hemp, or feikin cotton? What’s your problem? If you’re having second thoughts, then out with it. Would that I didn’t know you better, I’d think you too scared to get your own miserable arse off this rock!”

  “You sound like a feikin Vaka!” Jahsin hollered back. His usually rosy cheeks grew red with rage, and he looked like he wanted to punch Talon.

  “Go ahead then, get it out of your system!” Talon egged him on.

  “Endrbaga!” said Akkeri shoving the two of them. “Both of you!” she stressed to Talon. “Of course he’s scared; we all are. Since when do you two act this way toward each other? You want a beating? Keep making noise and carrying on like a bunch of drunken Vald. You won’t have to smash each other’s heads in. The Vaka’ll do it for you!”

  Silence followed her outburst, and the two refused to look at each other. When he calmed down, Talon felt bad for his words.

  “She’s right. We have enough to face without tearing into each other,” he said.

  “I’m sorry, Tal; you’re right. I been a Bacraut lately. I just…I didn’t want…” Tears streamed down Jahsin’s plump cheeks, and he wiped at them angrily with his good hand.

  “Gods damned son of a Bikkja!” His voice cracked and a look of pure misery spread across his face in a twisted smile.

  “What’s wrong, Jah?” Talon asked, concerned. Something more than the pressure of the escape haunted his friend.

  “Vaka…Vaka…Feikinstafir! I can’t even say his name,” Jahsin laughed weakly. “To think a Skomm, one of the shamed, is too ashamed to admit somethin’.”

  “You don’t have to tell us,” said Akkeri, rubbing his shoulder.

  “Yes, I do,” he said wiping his nose.

  Jahsin took a moment to get ahold of himself. He regarded the two of them with quick, darting eyes, unable to hold a gaze. “Vaka Brekken was my brother,” he finally said in a shuddering breath. He groaned in effort to suppress the tears. “Was my fault how he treated you, Tal. He saw you with me outside the house of healin’, and from that day out he had you in his sights. He treated every real friend I ever had the same way. Majhree insisted you bunk with me, else I would have never brought his attention to you. I’m sorry,”

  “That’s why he never killed you for sticking up for me,” Talon surmised.

  Jahsin only nodded.

  “And I got him killed,” Akkeri said solemnly.

  Jahsin shook his head. “You did what you did for good reason. He raped your sister, got her pregnant, sent the Vald after her. You didn’t know he was my brother. Would it have mattered? He got what was coming to him.”

  Talon didn’t know what their relationship was like. He guessed it had always been bad. Jahsin was a good-natured man, and likely wished his brother would have been his friend. Jahsin’s tears fell for what might have been and what never would be, rather than for what was. While Brekken was alive, there had always been a chance he would warm up to his little brother. Now that chance was gone, and all that remained were bad memories of a violent and bitter bully who had himself been a product of violence and bullying.

  “It’s all right, Jahsin; if it hadn’t been for you, I wouldn’t have survived here. I never had a friend in the Timber Wolf village. I would take two of you if I could, Vaka brother and all,” said Talon.

  Jahsin laughed and some of the sorrow left his eyes. He reached across with his good arm and gave Talon a brotherly hug that was returned in kind. They opened their arms to let Akkeri in and the three huddled together, laughing at the stupidity of their bickering.

  “It’s us against the world,” said Talon, “us against the world.”

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  FYLKIN’S CLAIM

  TEARS, TEARS IN the dark; taken, he fights himself.

  —Gretzen Spiritbone, 4981

  Talon’s dreams were of blood and falling swords. Brekken came after him, cradling his severed head in one arm, and carrying a long flaming sword in the other. Laughter filled the foggy air around him but was lost in the crash of waves against the rocky shore. He stumbled about the sharp stones, flailing in the foamy waters as the raft carrying Jahsin and Akkeri drifted further from his grasp. Behind him the baying of wolves joined in the song of Brekken’s obscenities. He dared not look, for he knew the entire Timber Wolf Village was on his heels. Talon sloshed out into water up to his waist and dove in. The harder he swam, the farther out to sea the wind carried the raft, filling its patchwork sails with great gulps of air. The Vald crashed into the waves behind him and he began to sink. Hands suddenly clutched at his ankles and feet, pulling him down. He kicked and tried to swim, but the hands held him firm, pulling him down…down…

  “Talon, wake up!” Jahsin said, shaking him.

  He woke with a scream and clutched Jahsin’s shirt.

  “Talon, it’s Akkeri; hurry up!”

  He jolted out of bed half-awake, hoping he was dreaming.

  “Where?” he said, bolting for the door in only his trousers.

  “I don’t know what’s going on. Majhree told me to get you quick, said they took her. She was crying. I don’t know.”

  Talon ran to Majhree’s hut as fast as the rain and mud would allow. The rain came down at an angle, spurred on by the high winds. He fell more than once, and by the time he arrived at her hut, he was soaking wet and dragging mud.

  “What happened?” he yelled as he flew through the door.

  Majhree sat on one of the cots, bent so far that her chest rested on her knees; she was crying. Talon fell to his knees before her and took up her gnarled hands, wet with tears.

  “What happened, Majhree; where is Akkeri?”

  The old woman’s eyes fell on him, and she seemed to forget her own sorrow, for her face went slack and pity found his gaze. Her hands went to his face and held him tight before uttering words she knew would send him running through the door.

  “Fylkin sent his men after Akkeri…they took her…took her back to him.”

  Talon turned to bolt for the door, but Majhree’s hands grabbed his wrists and held him firm.

  “Akkeri gave her friend a letter when she heard they were comin’ for her. She gave it to me and made me promise I’d see you read it afore you ran out the door. This is Akkeri’s wish,” said Majhree, looking to the folded paper on the bed beside her.

  Behind them, Jahsin reached the doorway panting. Talon nodded to Majhree and she reluctantly let him go and handed him the paper. He unfolded the letter with shaking hands.

  Talon,

  Word has come to me that Fylkin Winterthorn has claimed me as one of his personal slaves.

  Please, Talon, do nothing.

  Do not come for me. I will see you on the night we have shared in our dreams. On that night I will be ready, and I will look for you where a boy fished with his wolf pup.

  I love you, Talon Windwalker, with all of my heart and soul. And though my skin may be torn and my blood may spill, my heart will ever be
yours, untouched by any but you, unseen by any but you, unfelt by any but you.

  Akkeri

  Talon’s hands shook with rage and his tears mingled with those long dried upon the page. He no longer noticed Majhree sitting on the bed or Jahsin at the door. He saw only the letter and the words “I love you.” He imagined what the giant chiefson would do to her, what he might be doing now. He saw her red hair in the clutches of his big hands.

  He shot for the door with murder on his mind.

  “Talon, wait, think about this,” Jahsin warned, barring the door.

  “Get out of my way,” he grumbled.

  “I can’t.”

  “Get out of my way,” he warned.

  “It’s suicide, Tal,” Jahsin pleaded.

  “Get out of my way, now!” he screamed, shoving Jahsin. His friend would not budge. He clung to the doorway with his one hand and his stump pressed firmly against it.

  “Think about the escape, Talon; think about Chief! Getting yourself killed isn’t going to help either of them!”

  Talon lunged to punch him in the face, and the big man grabbed him in a bear hug. They crashed out into the rainy night and rolled through the mud. Talon struggled against Jahsin’s grip, but he refused to let go. Jahsin had shifted into a choke hold, with his good arm grabbing the end of his stump, which was pressed up under Talon’s chin, cutting off his air.

  Talon desperately scraped at Jahsin’s eyes and attempted to box his ears, but his position afforded him no leverage. He choked and sputtered obscenities that were never heard, as the light of the world began to dim at the edges of his vision. All strength left him and he felt himself falling…falling…falling.

  The world went black.

  Talon awoke in Majhree’s house of healing. She sat in a chair across from the bed, and Jahsin stood next to the closed door. His friend’s head was bandaged and his left eye covered. He nodded to Talon guardedly. The letter quivering in Majhree’s hands made the only sound. She handed it to him.

  “We can’t keep you here forever, nor should we. But we want you to think about this for a moment before you run off and get yourself killed by the Vald,” said Majhree from her crooked position.

  “There’s still a chance you three can escape, even that wolf of yours. There’s still a chance, now, in this moment, but you go out that door seeking revenge, you’ll never get off this island ’less given a sea burial. You leave, you go through the door, and you ain’t never gonna see Akkeri or Chief again. Is the truth. We is Skomm, we is of mind, and they is of body. If you is to beat them, it be with your mind, for they’ll crush you beneath their feet should you raise hand against ‘em. Heed Akkeri’s words, respect her wishes, and you may yet see her smile.”

  She got up from the chair and patted him on the shoulder, lingering by his side for many moments. Finally she turned and Jahsin opened the door for her. He looked back at Talon with sorrow weighing down his brow.

  “There’s still a chance, Tal; stay with me, buddy,” he said and closed the door behind him.

  Talon read the letter again and again. With every other heartbeat he wanted to crash through the door and run back to the hut for Jahsin’s axe. He pictured himself tearing into the surprised Vald. Heads set with shocked expressions spun on the ground in his wake. He would hunt down Fylkin and watch him die. Talon got up more than once and headed for the door, and more than once Akkeri’s words stayed his hand. He paced the hut, growing more agitated by the minute. He could see nothing but Akkeri’s pained face and hear nothing but her helpless cries. She needed him now! He punched the door and tore at his hair as he slid down the wall. His only salvation, his only road to sanity, was contained within those three words smeared upon the page.

  I love you

  The rain fell as if conjured by the gods themselves and did not relent for hours. Talon paced the room all night and twice began to push the door open. No one barred his way. He stared into the downpour with eyes that had no tears left. In his mind Akkeri’s voice spoke the words of the letter:

  Please, Talon, do nothing.

  Do not come for me. I will see you on the night we have shared in our dreams. On that night I will be ready, and I will look for you where a boy fished with his wolf pup.

  When again the visions of her crying beneath Fylkin’s giant form drove him to the door, her words spoke in the rain.

  I love you.

  He finally collapsed, exhausted, in a heap next to the door. His breath came in shuddering gasps and his heart raced with all the rage boiling within his soul. He would heed her words. He would do nothing.

  There’s still a chance, he told himself over and over.

  There’s still a chance.

  He vowed then that if he ever got off this gods-forbidden rock, he would return one day. And he would have Fylkin’s head.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  VAKA BJORN’S OFFER

  THE LAWS of my people stay my hand; how I wish to strike them down.

  —Azzeal, 4996

  Talon woke in the morning thinking he had wakened from a terrible nightmare. The tear-stained letter in his clutching grip reminded him the nightmare had been real. The same strong urge to run to Timber Wolf Village and rescue Akkeri plagued him, but he resisted. They were right. Talon was a Skomm; he stood no chance against a giant Vald. He was small, weak, Plagueborn, a curse upon his family and friends. He knew he would get them into trouble; he wished he had been man enough to leave on his own and stow away on one of the many merchant ships that came in the spring. If he would have left when he first realized he would be their doom, Akkeri would not be Fylkin’s slave. Talon hated himself for what had happened to her; he would never forgive himself. He had never deserved her attention.

  In that moment, Talon wished that he had never met Akkeri and that she had gone about her life without the shadow of Talon’s curse darkening her days and extinguishing her future. His actions had led her to her fate. He alone would be responsible for her every pain. He vowed then to make her pain his and to push himself to the brink of death and beyond, if need be, to right his wrongs. He would push himself every day in the mines, and he would bleed her blood.

  “As Thodin is my witness, I will free you both from this hellhole!” Talon screamed at the heavens.

  The door opened and Jahsin peered in with one meek eye.

  “You want company?”

  Talon nodded to the chair beside his bed, and his friend came in the room and closed the door as if a bear slept in the corner. He walked timidly to the side of the bed and sat down. His eyes jumped quickly from the floor to Talon’s eyes, and back down again. Talon saw what his nails had done to his friend’s face, and a lump grew again in his throat.

  “Jahsin, I’m sorry. I…”

  “You did what any man would do, and I did what any friend would,” said Jahsin, meeting his gaze. “She’s my friend too, Tal; I feel your pain. We all do. Only yours is all of ours combined, and burnin’ in your belly like the midday sun.”

  Talon was grateful to have Jahsin at his side. He might’ve seemed a right jolly village idiot to some, but Talon knew better, as did anyone able to look beyond his squinting eyes, his big, stupid smile, and his stump of an arm.

  Jahsin saw things others did not. He could read a person with a glance and an open ear, and gauge the mood of a room from the doorway. With his one hand he accomplished more in a day than many did with two. His disability drove him to keep up with everybody else to such an extent that he often surpassed them. He felled trees all day with only what the gods had given him. To Talon he was worth a dozen Vald, one-armed or not.

  “I’m going to get her back, Jah. I’m going to get Chief back too.”

  “I know you are, Tal.”

  “Then we’re getting off of this gods-forsaken island,” Talon promised.

  Talon pushed himself to the breaking point in the mines every day thereafter. He went about every job with reckless abandon, driven by the images incessantly playing in his mind
. He saw Akkeri everywhere, and he took his frustration out on the pick axe, imagining Fylkin’s face was on every rock he split. When Talon was pushing the cart, he imagined shoving Fylkin into a burning pit of lava. Every stone he carried was one to be dropped on the chiefson’s head. He began to hope that Fylkin would come after him during Freista. Majhree said Talon had to beat them with his mind, and he intended to.

  When he could not stand Akkeri’s imagined cries any longer, he did something to gain the attention of Vaka Groegon’s whip. He began to crave the pain, the reminder. Every lash scar was a penance for his crimes; every one of his silent cries was an echo of hers. When the whipping failed to silence the visions of her pain, he incited further beatings from the Vaka. A mark had been on his head since Kelda Agaeti. The Vaka understood that Talon’s arse belonged to Chiefson Fylkin—that they could bruise it but not break it. Vaka Groegon was particularly skilled at inflicting pain without real damage, and Talon welcomed it all.

  With Akkeri gone, Majhree asked Jahsin to collect apothecary supplies with Talon during the nights. She assured them that she had gained approval from the new Vaka who had replaced Brekken.

  They began to piece together the parts of the raft in the dark of night. Neither of them got much sleep, but neither of them cared. Jahsin had procured half of the rope they would need and expected the other half well before the start of summer. They had yet to find a sail. Finding a used one proved impossible; sails were not often discarded but rather stitched and repaired. They had progressed in other areas, however; already the rudder was half finished. Jahsin found a suitable piece of hardwood and cut out the dimensions.