The Blood-Tainted Winter (26 page)

“The instant I wrapped my father’s cloak around me, my memory returned and I knew what I had done to earn such a reward.” Vakre paused, his face full of sorrow and despair. “You may have denied the Palesword from using the Far-Traveled, but it was in vain. I opened the heart of the mountain, Raef. I unleashed Freyja’s army and gave it to the Palesword.”

Raef struggled to find words as Vakre’s story and all its implications penetrated his mind. “How did you come to be here?”

“When my memory came back to me, my grief was plain for Loki to see. He laughed and said I was weak, too weak, and that he would let me suffer with the world I loved too much. He left me there, the waterfall roaring my failure in my ears. But I vowed to fight what I had brought to life and through that roar, something came to me, I do not know how. Perhaps my father’s touch awoke in me something of the gods, perhaps Frigg took pity on me.” Vakre met Raef’s eyes again. “I knew how to find you.”

Raef willed himself to separate his joy at seeing Vakre alive from his suspicions over his sudden appearance. He sensed the story had truth in it, but wondered if Vakre came back to him now as an honest friend or as a true son of Loki. What mischief the god might have planned that Vakre was now a part of, Raef could not fathom. Above all other thoughts that raced through his head, his father’s warning was clearest, his doubt that a child of a god and a child of Midgard could form a bond of trust. He knew he alone could not judge Vakre.

Raef walked to the tree and pulled Vakre’s knife from the trunk. He tucked it in his own belt and made a note of Vakre’s remaining weapons. “Come, they will be looking for me,” Raef said. With a gesture, he indicated Vakre should walk in front of him. The half god took a direct course back to the campsite without any prodding from Raef, but paused when they neared the men on watch, whose hands flew to their weapons at the sight of a stranger. They relaxed when Raef showed himself and let them pass.

Vakre’s presence caused a stir among those who recognized him and knew he had been presumed dead. Raef ignored the whispers as they greeted Siv, who was quick to embrace Vakre, a smile on her face.

“Have the gods sent you back to us, then?” When neither Raef nor Vakre answered, Siv’s smile dimmed and her face grew serious.

Vakre spoke at last. “You are closer to the truth than you know.”

Raef broke in before he could continue. “Siv.” He focused on her green eyes. “Hear what Vakre has to say. And then find me. We will talk.”

Siv’s expression turned to confusion but she nodded and Raef left them alone. He wanted to give Siv the chance to hear the story as he had, without the influence of another. Finding a fallen tree to sit on well out of hearing distance, Raef unsheathed his sword and began to work the blade, sharpening edges and smoothing nicks in the metal. In the darkness, he did it more by feel than with his eyes. The task gave him a measure of peace from the grim thoughts that troubled him. After the sword, his knives, short sword, and axe all received the same treatment in turn.

The camp was quiet when Siv came to him some time later. She settled onto the log next to him and rested her face in one palm.

“The Palesword’s shadow takes shape,” Siv said.

“Yes.” Raef shifted so he could look at her. “We know now what kind of army we will face here in the north. The stories we have heard, from the lady Dagmaer, from Agmund, from farmers, they fit together as they did not before. I do not doubt that part of Vakre’s story.”

“But you doubt him.”

“Loki may have sent him back to us, to lure us into a trap or some other vile betrayal. How can we know?”

Siv was silent for a moment. “We cannot know exactly what passed between father and son. It may be that Vakre was tempted by his father. Nor can I know what is in Loki’s heart. But I believe I know what is in Vakre’s.”

“You think I should trust him.”

“Yes, but you must make that decision for yourself. And you are a leader of men. The decision you make is theirs as well. Give it time. Keep him at bay. Allow him a chance to earn your trust and his place. He knows you. He should not expect less.”

Siv’s words resonated with Raef and he felt some of the tension ease from him. “We must keep his secret. If others know,” Raef shook his head, “I would fear for his life.” Siv nodded and then stood. She extended a hand, drawing Raef up from the log as well. “You must always keep your level head, Siv. I do not know what I would do without it.”

Twenty-Six

G
rey and bleak
was the dawn. The sun was elusive, hiding behind the low, heavy clouds that clung to the hills. Vakre’s story, excepting his link to Loki, had spread through the camp in the night until it was on every tongue. Many scoffed at the notion that the Palesword commanded Freyja’s long-forgotten army, but through their bluster Raef sensed unease. Among the captains, if there was doubt, it did not show, but it was clear they all understood the Palesword had the upper hand.

Raef gathered the captains and Hauk of Ruderk to him. Siv and Vakre watched from the side.

“We will not risk open battle with the Palesword. Not until we have regrouped with the Hammerling. This ground is as good as any. We will linger and search for more survivors. Agmund tells me they met with the Palesword on the border of Hullbern and Skolldain. With luck, Torrulf has turned his attention to the rich lands of Gornhald. Erling,” Raef turned to his captain, “you will stake out a large perimeter that can alert us of any approaching warriors, friend or foe. Our search parties will penetrate the wilderness beyond the perimeter but return always by nightfall. We must keep together. Understood?”

The captains nodded their assent. Hauk of Ruderk kept quiet until Erling and the others had dispersed. “And Fengar?”

“What of him?”

“Perhaps it is time we made use of him.”

Raef’s eyes narrowed. “What do you mean?”

“Alive or dead, the Palesword’s numbers far outreach our own.”

“The Hammerling will bring more men than we left him with.”

Hauk shrugged. “He will try. He might fail. Is not one host better than two?”

“Join with Fengar? The Hammerling will never consent. He is bent on death.”

“The Hammerling is not here.”

Raef did not respond directly to Hauk’s suggestion of disobedience. “Say I make a pact with Fengar. What keeps him from turning on me the moment I cut his bonds?”

“His chances against the Palesword are no better than ours.”

The truth of Hauk’s words was plain to see. Raef looked at Fengar, who sat against a tree trunk, his eyes closed. Remembering Leifnar, Raef did not have the stomach to parley with the other lord, either with a threat he felt all too deeply or a smile he did not feel at all. “Speak with him.”

Raef watched Hauk approach Fengar but did not wait around. Calling together the first search party, they struck out to the east. Siv rode beside Raef while Vakre lingered behind. The group of six was quiet out of necessity, speaking only to confer on possible tracks. The forest was immense and sprawled far in all directions. The only signs of life were game runs. They followed several to water, knowing Eirik or his men might do the same, but discovered only deer and rabbits, a few of which fell victim to their arrows. They pushed as far as they could, knowing they would have to turn back well before dark.

The hunt did Raef good and he was glad to see the perimeter in effect upon their return. A warrior, perched in a tree and hard to see in the fading light, greeted them. Raef tossed a spare skin of ale to the watcher, who would be relieved only at dawn.

“Keep a sharp eye,” Raef called up.

“The sharpest, lord.” The man smiled cheerfully and settled against the trunk, his legs stretched out on a fat limb. Raef waved farewell and continued on. The camp was dark when they returned and there was no fire to warm the night. Though he had banned night fires, Raef made an exception so they could cook the fresh meat. Small portions were passed around and savored, then washed down with ale.

Raef extended no meat to Fengar, but the lord called out to him as he passed by to visit with Finnolf Horsebreaker. “Skallagrim.” Raef paused. Fengar grinned. “Should you not embrace your new friend with hospitality?”

Scowling, Raef said, “I see no friend.”

“Should I offer myself to the Palesword instead?”

“He would not have you.”

The mark hit home and Fengar grew quiet. Raef moved on but Finnolf would have to wait. He found Hauk of Ruderk instead.

“It is settled, then?”

“He sees the value in joining forces to fight a common enemy.”

“And how will we alert his followers?”

“I have already sent a pair of men to seek Stefnir of Gornhald. They will come to us.”

Raef did not like that Hauk had made that decision without his knowledge, but their command was equal and he could do nothing now to stop it. More troubling was the imminent arrival of many warriors who had just days past sought to split their heads from their shoulders and carve them into food for crows. The wrong words would coat the forest of Ver in blood.

After leaving Hauk behind, the sound of distant wolves was carried to Raef on the wind and he knew he would sleep little that night. Though the pack would never get close to so large a gathering of men, their song was tempestuous and seemed to mirror Raef’s own mind. He hunkered down against a tree and closed his eyes, his fur cloak wrapped tight against the wind.

He did not hear anyone approach but he sensed someone was watching him. Opening his eyes, Raef saw that Vakre stood before him.

“Does that cloak give off heat as well as fire?”

Vakre smiled. “It is no protection against the cold, if that is what you mean.”

“Does it burn?”

“Me, no. You would be scorched in an instant.”

“Then remind me never to make a wager with you for a cloak again.” Vakre laughed and Raef was glad to hear it. It felt right to speak as they once had. “I beat you to the top of that wall. You never did give me the old one.”

“It is yours. I have it still. It would not bother you to wear something of Loki’s?”

Raef had not thought of that. “It is a fine skin.” He grinned. “I will withhold my prejudice.”

They fell into silence, but it was an easy one. The wolves had moved, shifting to the north. Raef wondered if they were on the hunt.

“If Loki aids the Palesword,” Raef began, but Vakre cut him off.

“Loki aids no one but himself. That the Palesword may benefit from his schemes is but happenstance. Loki ever seeks to kindle turmoil and infuriate Odin.”

“I have done that for him. I fear you all will suffer for my reckless words.”

“The Allfather values courage, Raef.”

“But not foolishness. And he does not tolerate challenges to his rule.”

“Your words were bold, yes, but through them you have shown a ruthless will to fight for what you want against all odds. Odin will not disregard that.”

“I am glad you think so. We are threatened enough, we do not need another enemy.”

The wolves grew quiet but still Vakre and Raef talked, the night so dark Raef could barely make out Vakre’s face. Raef told him of the lady Dagmaer and heard a smile in Vakre’s voice when he spoke of her.

“I remember her. A little. She was always causing mischief. She could not abide horse fighting so once she took it upon herself to free every horse in my uncle’s stable. She got two out before the guards took notice. I did not know she had become the lady of Hullbern.”

“No longer, I think, unless Sveinn survives.”

By day the searches continued and by night Raef kept a cold vigil until sleep overcame him. Their forays around Ver were fruitless, bringing no survivors, no word of Eirik of Kolhaugen. Growing desperate, Raef ventured beyond the trees more than once but it was not until the fourth day, when he, with his hood pulled high, approached a farm to ask for news. The woman was young and said her husband was at war. Raef did not ask about the husband’s allegiance nor give away his own identity. Instead he listened while she fed goats and filled his water skin from the bucket she offered. She spoke of foragers coming from the north, men and women fleeing from war and seeking food from villagers who did not wish to part with it. Raef nodded and expressed sympathy, until she said something that caught his attention.

“And then those men came.” She patted a goat on the head. “Their swords were stained and dark. And they were just as bloodied.”

“Warriors? Do you know where they went?”

The woman shrugged. “South like all the rest.”

Raef thanked her for the water and returned to his search party. He related the word of armed men to Siv and Vakre. “We will push farther south than we have done. If Eirik of Kolhaugen is out there, I mean to find him. I still do not believe he will have passed into Ulfgang, not willingly. We may yet find him by the border.” Though the afternoon sun was already low, Raef did not want to wait another day. Sending one man back to alert the camp that they would not return that night, Raef and the others rode south, crossing open land for the first time. If there were eyes watching them, there was no cover to hide behind.

By nightfall, they had passed into a world of waterfalls. Hills rose up on all sides and water streamed down the steep cliff faces until it splashed into a swift stream at the base. Following the water, they pressed on into the night, picking their way through trees and over rocky rises, accompanied only by the sound of water.

The snow cover was thin here and much of the forest floor was bare. Raef dismounted to examine the ground and the sound of a twig cracking under feet came to him as he knelt. Raef froze, trying to hone in on the direction of the noise, but he heard nothing further. His companions were equally still.

Raef kept his breath steady and slowly rose from the ground, his hand reaching for his sword as he stood. With one swift movement, the blade was free and yet still Raef heard no answering noise from the darkness. The moonlight was feeble and Raef strained to pick out anything that was not tree, root, or twig.

A single cry split the silence and was answered by a second, opposite the first. Four figures leaped from the trees, bristling with sharp blades. Raef braced for impact and swept the first attacker to the side just as a second swung at his head. Ducking, Raef side stepped but collided with Siv, who had been beaten back by a volley of vicious blows. Tumbling forward, he righted himself in time to deflect a sword aimed for his face and caught his first glimpse of his foe. The wild blonde hair, the distinct beard were not to be missed.

“Eirik,” Raef called out. Another swing that Raef jumped to evade. “We are not your enemy.” The next strike was checked and Eirik of Kolhaugen peered at Raef with distrustful eyes.

“Skallagrim?”

“Yes.”

The relief on the lord’s face was plain and at once the fighting around them ceased. Eirik and Raef clasped arms.

“It is good to see you. Good to see a friendly face.” Eirik wiped sweat from his forehead. “How is it that you are here?”

“We heard the north was in flames and came ahead of the Hammerling to search for you.”

“And Fengar?”

“He is my prisoner,” Raef said, though he did not add that an uneasy truce had been established.

Eirik grinned. “Well done.” He grimaced, then, and put his hand to his side. “A wound from our battle with the Palesword,” he said in response to Raef’s questioning look. “There is not a man with me who is unscratched.” His face grew serious. “There is much to tell.”

“I know what the Palesword has done. I know about the army he leads. Now you must tell me what you know.”

Eirik led them to his small camp high in the hills. He pointed along a narrow ridge that led back in the direction Raef had come. “We tracked you along the ridge until you came close enough that we feared you might stumble upon us. We thought you were the Palesword’s men. We have seen small groups roaming the land. Whether they search for us, I do not know.” A cave marked the center of the camp, though the men had spilled outside of it out of necessity. Eirik led them in, where a small fire burned. “It is the only fire we allow ourselves for we know we must remain hidden. Our supplies are dwindling fast but the fresh water is close and those who are able hunt each day.” Eirik looked around at the cave. “It is a good place and it has kept us safe.”

They sat by the fire and Raef relished the warmth. Eirik directed his men to bring food for Raef’s party. “Tell me of Freyja’s army,” Raef said.

“Freyja’s?”

“A story of long ago, but it matters little. How many are they?”

Eirik looked grim. “I never had the chance to count. Perhaps not as many as you might think. But numbers do not matter when they cannot be killed.” Eirik took a drink of water and looked as though he wished for something stronger. “We watched them for several days before engaging them. The Palesword keeps them close. They do not roam the countryside as the others do.”

“And your men?”

“We scattered. For two days after the battle, we scavenged for survivors as best we could but I did not dare linger longer for the Palesword had not yet moved on. We fled here and a few men have found us since then.”

“We have one. Agmund.”

“I am glad to hear it.”

“Do you know where the Palesword was headed?”

“We captured one of his men as we retreated into Hullbern. Before he died, he told us Torrulf meant to move on to Gornhald.”

“We had hoped Ver would escape his notice, being so small and so close to his lands. It seems the gods are with us.”

Eirik nodded. “For now.”

They spent the night in Eirik’s cave, agreeing that they would move his men to Raef’s camp in the morning. Raef slept better than he had in many days and he dreamed of home. The morning matched Raef’s mood, bright and calm, and they made an early start, trading the haven of the cave for the perils of the road. Eirik’s men were quiet, though, and Raef sensed their courage hung by a thread. He could only hope that time would heal their spirits, for they would need every able body to give every drop of strength if they were to stand a chance against the Palesword.

Raef and Eirik brought up the rear as they wound their way out of the hills and, when the column came to a halt as they reached a barren hilltop, Raef could not see why. Urging his horse forward he raced to the front, Eirik only a stride behind.

“There, lord,” said one man, pointing down to the small glen below. Armed men on foot picked their way along the stream Raef had followed the day before.

The warriors were few in number, but their presence worried Raef. Up on the hill, they had not yet been spotted and both surprise and mounted warriors would give them an advantage. But Raef would rather remain unseen and keep their presence in Ver unknown if he could. Eirik agreed and they dropped back down the side of the hill they had come up and took a new route.