Shardfall, The Shardheld Saga, #1

CHAPTER 5 - AMBUSH

'You're not dead,' said Ajkell. 'I feel your arm, your heart beats. Do you have a name?'

The boy laughed again, his head cocked. 'Call me Hraab.'

'Raven,' said Ajkell grim faced. 'Robber of the dead. A good name, child. Who is your 'he'?'

'He's Vulf. Mrrrarh,' said the boy with a nice imitation of a snarling wolf. 'That's what he called himself.'

'Raven and Wolf. Tell me more about Vulf. '

The boy's face twisted. 'He is Death with the face of a young man, my brother's age. The Wolf serves a great lord in the south, a Jarl.' He leaned over and whispered, 'Rannar the Snake.'

Ajkell sat upright and the boy squeaked when his hand was squeezed. 'Rannar?' said the young warrior. 'How do you know?'

'While I was dead on the floor, I heard them talking. Boasting about the rewards Rannar would give them for their deeds.'

'Rannar. He's a friend of my master's father-in-law. Why would he do this?'

'The snake bites his friends as well,' said Hraab. 'He's made that way.'

Ajkell pulled the boy toward him. 'You speak the truth? I'll kill you if you're lying, child.'

'I am already dead, Thor. I died when Vulf destroyed my family. I lay beneath my brother's body, next to my father and my mother. Then, as with you, the Norns spun me a bit of life and I awoke. The house burned, but I managed to get away. Vulf's troop was not far and I followed.'

'Why?'

The boy shrugged. 'I am like a draug, a walking dead. Following them gives me a purpose. I eat what they leave behind, sleep in the snow and wait for an opportunity.' A grin broke across his face. 'They know I'm there. Vulf thinks it is funny. He waves at me when he sees me and at times, his men leave some food behind. As if they want me to follow.' He sighed. 'When I find him alone he'll have my little hawk in his back.'

'Another beast?'

'Let me go and I will show you.'

'I'll let you go if you won't run away.'

The boy laughed. 'I will not run. Our goals are the same, Thor. '

Ajkell released him and the boy shook his fingers a few times.

'Good. The hawk flies.' He moved his hand and a moment later a small throwing ax sat trembling in a tree about ten yards away. 'He found his prey.'

The young warrior nodded. 'A useful animal, child.' He stood and stared at the corpses. 'The heirs of two Holds lie here dead. Two rich lands with old rulers robbed of their successor.' His voice was cold, stripped of all laughter. 'You see the noble lord? That was Meili Brandrsen, Holderling of Leidwald, whose life was mine to protect. The lady whose garland you wear was Swanfrid, Jonthal's heiress and Meili's bride of three days. See their paleness, their blood. I have failed, raven's child, failed in my oath. I should have fallen before them, but I'm still alive. With them died my honor, the honor of clan Gudrofsen.'

'You're like me, brother draug,' said the boy. 'Vulf's death restores your honor, and - perhaps - my life.'

Ajkell searched for his sword and found it lying in the snow, with a foot and a half of the point broken off. 'How in Hel's name...' Then he saw the point, wedged between two rocks. 'I must have fallen upon it.' His honor was broken like his sword. Without thought, he lifted it to the sky. 'This sword will not be repaired while my revenge is undone and my honor soiled.' He returned the broken upper half to its scabbard and turned around. 'Help me lay out my lord and lady. I can't leave them like this. Then we'll follow the Wolf. '

'Good,' said the boy. 'Thor and the raven together.'

Belisheim couldn't be far. "Just follow the river," the villagers had said, "you can't miss it. The Völva is a great lady, she'll feed you well and you'll sleep dry for a night." Tuuri grinned. Hot food was promising, but more important was the question his master wanted him to ask her. He was to offer money for the answer. One hundred gold coins, carefully put away under the false bottom of his saddlebag. Another was to ask the same question, but his argument was force of arms. Tuuri grinned; he thought his own way much more pleasant.

For the second time the smell of burning filled his nostrils. He slowed his horse to a walk, ready to flee at the slightest hint of danger. He saw the glowing remains of burned-out buildings through the trees. Someone had dared to touch the greatest Völva in the world? Tuuri followed the Gods of his mother and to him the Wisewomen were extensions of Freya herself, inviolate.

He stared at the ruins of the Völva's place. It refused to penetrate his brain. They killed the Wisewoman? His eyes went to the men among the trees. Most of them were sleeping, drunk on plunder and mayhem. One man, older, bearded, with the same markings as Vulf wore, regarded him bleary-eyed. 'Whor you?' said he. 'Ya look a Fynnikin, pup.'

'I am. And who are you? Did you do this fool deed?'

The man bristled. 'Fool? We burned the witch, the lying arrogant whore. Whaddayar doin' here?'

'I'm Jarl Rannar's messenger. I was to ask the Völva a question, in case the first asker with the soldiers failed. Were you that one?'

The man spat a glob of saliva in Tuuri's direction. 'I didna fail, Fynnikin pup. I'm Swinne, Tarkynn of the Azdainii. I can't fail. She kept me waitin' for nearly a day and then... then she said no. So we killed her.' He slumped back against the tree he was sitting under, and belched.

Tuuri shivered. He felt his world collapsing around him. First Vulf and now Swinne. His past, his pride, it was all a lie. He straightened. 'This was not what the Jarl intended. He wanted her advice.'

'Then the more fool he,' said the drunken Tarkynn, scratching under his wolfs cap. 'You don' trust a lyin' woman, pup.'

'I'll have to report this.' Tuuri could barely contain his anger.

Swinne stared at him, his eyes red as the embers of the smoldering house. His grin was unpleasant, showing rows of rotting teeth. 'You do that, little lickspittle. That damned Jarl of yours pays me, he don' tells me what to do. I'm a Fynni chief. Naagh, get away from 'ere while you're still whole, you bloddy half-breed. Your prattle starts to irritate me.'

Without a word, Tuuri wheeled his horse around and rode back into the snowy woods. Panic gnawed at his heart. I must go home. The Jarl needs to know what's happening here. His whole plan is becoming undone by those animals. Half-breed. The word he hated most and the one that was the truest.

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