Shardfall Read online

CHAPTER 7 – HOMECOMING

  The next afternoon, ten days and nights since they had climbed the Silfjall, Kjelle and Muus came home. In the distance loomed the palisade of Eidungruve and the theynling heaved a deep sigh. But before he could say something, Birthe raised her hand. ‘Wait.’

  A little further on an arrow stuck in the snow. A long, iron arrow with green-and-yellow feathers.

  Carefully they went forward. Near the arrow, Muus' foot hit something that didn’t budge and he knelt down. With his hands, he cleared away the snow.

  ‘A soldier.’ Kjelle’s voice sounded strained. ‘Damn, it’s Elward, one of the guards.’

  ‘Shot in the back,’ Birthe said.

  The others stared at her.

  ‘Swinne? Could he have arrived here so fast?’ Kjelle’s hands went to his axes.

  Birthe shook her head. ‘When we fled Belisheim, Swinne’s men were still looting. Blood-mad and drunk they were, they’d be going nowhere that night, or the next day. They can’t ever have overtaken us.’

  Kjelle mustered the walls with his gaze. ‘No watchman in sight. The banner ... ' His eyes narrowed to slits. ‘Those are Herigel’s colors again. Come.’

  They went through the forest, keeping out of sight of any spying eyes.

  ‘The avalanche hasn’t reached the hold,’ Muus said in a whisper.

  Kjelle glanced at him, but there was no relief on his face.

  When they reached the front gate, he froze. ‘No. Oh Thor, no.’

  Beside him, Muus retched and struggled to keep his stomach down. On either side of the road from the gate was a row of stakes with heads. Heads of people he had known.

  ‘My father?’ Kjelle’s breath labored as if he’d run a long distance. ‘I don’t see him, is my father there?’

  Muus gritted his teeth and glanced along the horrible heads. Most were soldiers and freedmen, no women among them. Then he saw the stake above the entrance, with the severed head of Theyn Alman. He pointed and Kjelle’s gaze followed his finger. The eyes of the theynling opened wide and his lips began to scream. Muus slapped him hard in the face, twice. ‘Quiet.’

  Kjelle’s mouth snapped shut.

  ‘We must get away from here,’ Birthe said. ‘Come.’

  With his hand on Kjelle’s shoulder, Muus hurried him along the edge of the forest until they were out of sight of the hold. The theynling walked as a draug. His face was blank; his shoulder under Muus’ hand felt rigid as a wooden plank and his feet stumbled over the snow-covered road.

  Nearby, someone laughed. Another man answered and quickly Muus pulled Kjelle behind a clump of pine trees. Birthe slipped next to them and held up four fingers.

  Four warriors came down the path, pulling a sled with the carcass of a deer. They joked like content men do, one of them boasting in a loud voice about the blonde girl he had taken, how she’d screamed and begged.

  Kjelle moved from under Muus' arm, He dropped his backpack and gripped his axes. Before the other two could stop him, he yelled ‘For Ema!’ and threw himself on the warriors.

  ‘O Thor,’ Muus snarled, while he drew his sword.

  The attack took the four ulvhednar completely by surprise. Kjelle made use of their momentary shock by laying the face of the boasting one open. Blood and brains splattered around while the man went down without a sound.

  Muus ran with his sword leveled in front of him like a spear. His target swung his ax and in a reflex, Muus ducked. He had forgotten the rolled-up tent on his back and the weight brought him off balance. His knee crashed into the side of the sled and with a cry, he pitched forward. In desperation, he swung his sword and his momentum pushed the blade deep into the guts of his opponent. The man screamed; a piercing sound that made Muus' blood run cold. Muus scrambled to his feet and struck blindly at the neck of the ulvhednar. The shrieking broke off. Panting, Muus looked around, with the sweat dripping from his face. He saw Kjelle spring at the third man, bellowing his anger, without regard for his own safety. The bandit tried to fend off the pounding blows, but he stood no chance. Kjelle turned his weapon and broke the man's jaw with the handle, after which he placed the ax in his enemy’s forehead. The fourth man fled.

  ‘Stop him,’ Muus said to Birthe. ‘Quickly, before he can sound the alarm.’

   From Birthe’s bow came a humming sound. For a second, the world seemed to hold its breath. Then the running man pitched forward. The virginal white around him turned red, and his legs jerked a last time.

  ‘Nice shot,’ Muus said. Then he saw the tears running down her face. ‘First kill?’

  Birthe nodded as she returned her bow to her shoulder. Even so, she walked to her victim and broke off the plume of the arrow shaft. Then she went through his pockets.

  Meanwhile Muus had put his arms around Kjelle. ‘You fought well,’ he said. ‘Your father would have been proud of you.’

  Kjelle looked at him. His eyes were empty. Blood stuck to the front of his leather coat and speckled his face. ‘Ema,’ he said in a dead voice. He shuddered. Then he raised his ax. ‘Flee, Rannar’ he shouted. ‘Run while you still can, because I come for you. I, Kjelle Almansen, promise you will pay.’ Then he sank down on the edge of the sled and cried.

  Muus let him be and followed Birthe’s example.

  ‘Who’s Ema?’ the girl asked.

  ‘The daughter of one of our soldiers. Kjelle was a bit sweet on her, as far as that goes by him.’

  Birthe gave him a steely glance, but she didn’t say anything.

  The dead possessed little of value. A handful of coppers and some silver coins, a hunting knife and a dried rabbit's foot were all.

  ‘Let's get away from here,’ Muus said. ‘By the time those four will be missed, we must be somewhere else.’

  ‘We're going to Harkoy.’ Kjelle jumped up, his face deathly pale. In his voice lay a mixture of rage, despair and determination that wasn’t like any of the theynling’s former outbursts. ‘To the jarl.’

  ‘We need some fresh food first.’ Birthe leaned forward over the carcass of the deer and cut a large piece of meat from the rump.

  Ajkell and Hraab had followed the fight anxiously. Hidden in the shadows, they saw how the larger of the two boys fell on the four men pulling the sled. When the first enemy went down, Ajkell had to force himself not to join the fight. Soon he realized that the three were going to win and when the girl killed the running man with a single shot, he just nodded.

  ‘Nice work,’ he said in a whisper.

  Hraab looked up at him. ‘Why are we hiding? We could have helped them.’

  'They are enemies of our enemies.' Ajkell sounded doubtful. ‘But are they our friends? I don’t know them.’ He heard the big one, the fighter, swearing his oath of vengeance. ‘Kjelle Almansen? Alman was the theyn here. Is he his son?’

  ‘We'll ask him.’ Hraab stuck two dirty fingers in his mouth and gave a shrill whistle.

  ‘Hey!’ Ajkell slapped the boy’s hand away, but it was too late. The three had turned and stood with their weapons readied.

  ‘Step over here, or I'll put an arrow into your guts,’ the girl said.

  Ajkell saw her face with the bloody bandage and knew she wasn’t bluffing. ‘If you’re Rannar’s enemies, we need to talk,’ he said, walking forward with his hands open.

  ‘That's far enough.’ Her tone was icy and her bow never wavered. 'Who are you?'

  ‘Ajkell Gudrofsen. The small one here is Hraab. I served the Theynling Meili of Leidwald.’ Ajkell felt how tight his face was. ‘My master and his young wife were killed when those bastards in the hold ambushed our wagon.’

  ‘The bridal party,’ the girl said.

  Ajkell nodded. It had happened on the road hither; of course they’d seen the wreckage. He gritted his teeth. ‘I was my master’s bodyguard. I failed. We were attacked by bowmen and he caught an arrow in the chest. Then I tried to save my lady, but they slaughtered her before my eyes. Someone hit me from behind and when I came to, Hraab was sitting on my c
hest, trying to rob me. All of the others were dead, to my eternal shame. Now Hraab and I follow Vulf and his men, hoping to kill the murderers. We had lost their trail at first, but yesterday we found them here. The foul deed had been done then. The place is a shambles, but Vulf doesn’t seem to care.’

  ‘Vulf?’ The smaller of the two lads, wiry and dark-haired, looked at him intently. ‘Who is Vulf?’

  ‘He is one of Jarl Rannar’s henchmen’ Hraab said. ‘Coldblooded killer of many, with more blood on his hands than all the monsters in Hel's underworld together. He is the one who did that.’ He pointed with his thumb over his shoulder toward Eidungruve.

  ‘Vulf,’ the black-haired lad repeated. ‘I see. Damn, there are two groups. We met Swinne, who killed the Völva of Belisheim.’

  ‘What?’ This shocked Ajkell. Asgisla of Belisheim, counselor of the powerful. ‘What’s Rannar doing? The king will never accept this.’

  ‘King Vidmer should watch out, Rannar is seeking his throne,’ the girl said. ‘His man Swinne demanded a prediction of his chances to rebel, but my völva refused. That was why they killed her.’

  ‘Let’s not stay here,’ the black-haired lad said. ‘Once they go searching for those four fools, we’ve got to be gone.’

  ‘Where to?’ Ajkell said.

  ‘To Harkoy. Jarl Dettrich must be warned that Rannar kills under Herigel’s colors.’

  Ajkell looked at his little companion. The dirty boy grinned. ‘My hawk is just as content with Rannar’s blood.’

  The bear warrior shook his head. ‘The honor of Gudrofsen cries out for retribution. Only Vulf’s death can appease its hunger.’

  ‘I am Kjelle,’ the largest of the three said grimfaced. ‘Theynling of Eidungruve. Those dead are my people. One of them was my father. I, too, thirst for revenge, Ajkell Gudrofsen. However, my duty sends me to to Harkoy and my lord. What can we do against Vulf with all his men? We are but three; to die with our revenge unfulfilled serves no purpose. The jarl will aid us, he has the soldiers.’

  Ajkell knew Kjelle was right. He pulled the broken sword from its scabbard. ‘This will not be repaired until my honor is restored. Still, I can fight if you need an extra hand.'

  The three looked at each other and then the black-haired fellow nodded. ‘To defeat Rannar we must have men, so you’re welcome, Ajkell.’

  ‘And I?’ Hraab squeaked. ‘Am I not a man?’ The way he held his head and the crumpled garland on his hair gave him a strange innocence.

  The other smiled. ‘You too, young one.’

  ‘Let's go then.’ Hraab patted the throwing hatchet on his belt. ‘She is getting impatient.’

  Muus stared at the sled. ‘We could use that.’

  Birthe looked up from the deer she was cutting up. ‘It leaves tracks. Even a drunken sow could follow us.’

  ‘Not if we go though the Ghestland.’

  ‘Thor!’ Kjelle’s face was puffy; his eyes red with a hint of madness in them. ‘Impossible.’

  ‘We can’t go back the way we came. Vulf’s men will certainly follow us. We must go through the Ghestland.’

  ‘No! It’s hostile.’

  Muus shrugged. ‘The ghests will stop any pursuers. We just have to be fast and surprise them.’

  ‘What guests?’ Hraab said. ‘Are we getting visitors?’

  ‘Yes and no.’ Muus placed his hands under the edge of the sled. ‘All at once, one, two, three.’ Together, they got the sled tilted far enough that the remains of the deer carcass slid to the ground. Muus stretched and smiled at Hraab. ‘The ghests were once family. Kjelle can tell it better than I, they’re his ancestors.’

  The theynling trembled with tension. His hands clenched around his ax handles and he took a deep breath to steady himself. ‘Ghests are undead, like draugar. When my family settled here, they built the original longhouse further north, on the edge of some hot springs. After a while, the ground proved unstable. Walls cracked, floors sagged, and cows stopped giving milk. The worst was that the spirits of our buried dead went walking. At last my great-grandfather decided to move his household and they built the present hold near the silver mine.’

  ‘Nobody goes to the Ghestland anymore,’ said Muus. ‘But the stories tell that the ghests still roam around, guarding their territory.’

  ‘How wide is the land we have to cross?’ Birthe said, while she cleaned the last slab of meat with handfuls of snow.

  Muus thought for a moment. ‘About five bowshots. All is free of snow and full of warm water creeks. It leads to the mountains bordering the valley. There’s a narrow path over the ridge, the Vrakken Pass. Almost nobody knows that the road is there, not even our own people.’

  Kjelle stared at him. ‘I knew, but how did you?’

  Muus sighed. ‘You kept me close by, remember? I stood behind you through most of your lessons. I’m not deaf, theynling.’ With a sigh, he dropped the tent on the sled. Then he saw Ajkell’s face as he looked at the bundle. ‘I’m afraid we took some stuff from your master’s wagon. This and a lot of food. I hope you don’t mind, but we needed it.’

  Pain crossed Ajkell’s face. He ran his fingers through his long hair and sighed. ‘I don’t like it, but I understand the need.’

  ‘Good. Let’s go.’

  Ajkell took the reins of the sled and they went off the road into the forest.

  They hurried on in silence. After an indeterminate time they heard voices yelling in the distance.

  They’ve got our trail,’ Ajkell said evenly. ‘How far do we have to go?’

  Kjelle stared around. ‘Half an hour.’

  They went on at a trot. Little Búi started to cry, scared by the unexpected shaking. Without slowing, Birthe crooned a lullaby that quieted him. The shouting behind hem seemed closer.

  ‘They don’t bother to hide.’ Ajkell’s voice sounded almost disinterested.

  ‘They think they’ve got us trapped.’ Muus found the thought funny and he smiled. ‘We’re walking right into the mountains, after all.’

  'There.' Kjelle stopped and pointed. In the distance, beyond the trees, was a rocky, snow-free field. ‘Ghestland.’

  When they came nearer, they saw a moss-grown stretch of wilderness, covered with thin banks of fog from countless steaming pools. To the left were the overgrown remains of the original Eidungruve and straight ahead the mountains beckoned. A hundred or more ghests wandered about, misty patches formed like men, women and children.

  Hraab studied them for a while and then he nodded, but he didn’t say anything.

  Behind them, the noise of Rannar’s men became louder.

  ‘Won’t be long before they’re here,’ Ajkell said, still imperturbable. His hand went to his broken sword.

  Kjelle frowned. ‘You won’t fight with that.’ He pulled one of the two axes from his belt. ‘Take this; you have to stay alive to fulfill your oath.’

  Ajkell hesitated, but then he accepted the weapon. ‘Thanks.’

  Kjelle stepped onto the snow-cleared land and immediately a ghest hurried towards him. As its transparent arm touched him, the theynling yelled and jumped back. ‘Loki’s Cutting Claws, that stings.’

  ‘They don’t like us, little Hraab’ piped up. ‘They’re angry at being disturbed.’

  ‘We're not the first to come through this way.’ Birthe seemed to listen as she spoke. ‘I hear an echo of a chant. Did Eidungruve have a völva?’

  Kjelle and Muus both nodded.

  ‘Siga,’ said Muus, thinking of the wisewoman who given him back that useless amulet he wore around his neck.

  ‘She must have sung her party past the ghests.’

  ‘You say people have escaped?’ Kjelle grabbed the girl by the shoulder. ‘Not everyone is dead?’

  With a small shrug, Birthe broke his grip. ‘I only know what I said, theynling. I hear an echo of a chant in the air.’ Furrows crept from under the bandage toward her eyes. Then she relaxed. ‘It’s difficult, but I know how to do the same for us. Trouble is, I’ve got to
follow the earlier tone, to prevent dissonance.’

  Muus gave her a sharp look. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Think of two bards in the same room, both singing in a different tempo. That’s dangerous for a chanter; it often brings the opposite of what you want.’ She closed her eyes and listened again.

  Muus stared at the ghests, who floated around without visible aim. Thin as mist above a quiet lake they were, but more tangible looking than the faceless memories of his youth. He shuddered. His eyes met those of Hraab and the boy winked.

  Then, in a clear voice, Birthe began to chant; her half-spoken song sounded harsh and tuneless. She started walking. Without pausing her song, she splashed through the warm water, straight towards the distant mountains. Hurriedly, the others followed, huddling together. The ghests stopped their wandering, gathered and stared at the five living. Birthe sang, repeating her words again and again, while by every step the ghests moved backward. Her voice grew hoarse and sweat ran from her forehead. Muus felt her hand grab his and without thought his other hand went to the skyshard. He felt a tingling flow through his body, from midriff through his arm to Birthe’s hand. Now the voice of the girl grew powerful, urgent. The ghests floated aside to let the five pass. For a moment, Birthe’s voice faltered and immediately, the ghests surged forward. She regained her song and walked faster. Warm water sloshed around their feet, tree roots made them stumble, but they walked on, surrounded by angry ghests. Then, near the other side, Kjelle stepped in a deeper trench, lost his footing and pitched forward, taking Birthe with him. Her song broke off as she cried out, twisted in mid-air and fell face down in the water. Búi howled, shocked out of his doze.

  Muus grabbed Birthe’s hands and dragged her the last feet to the safety of the snowy land. The ghests closed in, while Ajkell plucked Kjelle from the water and carried him out of danger. Hraab waved at the undead.

  ‘Stop, ghests; you’re not invited.’ Then he laughed, a high, mocking sound, and jumped like a wild-haired frog after the others. ‘Hiyaa.’ he shouted gleefully, as he landed on Ajkell’s back. ‘I stopped them. I stopped them all.’ Búi still yelled in his skins, but quieted as Birthe took him in her arms.

  Across the warm streams, a shout rang out. At the edge of the Ghestland men appeared from between the trees.

  ‘Twenty-four,’ Ajkell said. ‘A third of the whole band.’

  ‘But no Vulf.’ There was an unspoken yearning in Hraab’s voice.

  ‘No.’ Ajkell pulled a face. ‘We are too unimportant for him.’

  He’ll find out.’ Hraab held his hands out to Birthe. ‘Let me hold him.’

  Without a word, the girl handed him Búi and then pointed her wand to the pursuers.

  ‘Put your arms around me,’ she told Muus. He obeyed, while the young völva began a new chant. Now, the tone was different; demanding and full of menace. A song of robbery and death, with her accusing rod pointing at the men.

  A faint wailing rose up. The ghests were in turmoil and turned to the bandits, who had entered the steaming land with visible reluctance.

  Birthe sang faster and harder, filling their hearts with spirits of war. Almost as one, Kjelle and Ajkell shook their weapons at the pursuers, while little Hraab yelled terrible obscenities. Birthe’s accusatory tone swelled; bitter and vengeful. Without a sound, the ghests circled round the bandits. Thick fog rose from the hot water and hid what happened from the onlookers.

  Muus heard men screaming and the clanging sounds of weapon-to-weapon; a clamor that slowly died away until all was quiet. The mist lifted and the ghests went back to their aimless wandering. In the warm, bloody streams bobbed twenty-four corpses.

  Kjelle stuck his ax in the air. ‘I thank you, my ancestors. Eidungruve thanks you. We will never forget.’

  Birthe leaned back in Muus' arms, topping him by a head. ‘Freya and Freyr, boy.’ Her voice was tired. ‘Without the strength of the skyshard I couldn’t have done it.’

  ‘Was that what I felt? Can you tap that power within me?’

  ‘You did that. I wouldn’t know how. You sent the force of the skyshard at me.’ She broke away from Muus' grip and turned to face him.

  Muus let his arms fall to his sides. ‘I didn’t do anything. There was a tingle flowing from the shard through my arm to your hand. But it just happened.’

  ‘Then how? Did ... Did the skyshard itself…?’

  Muus sighed. ‘I don’t know. If I understood it, I'd feel a lot better.’

  ‘Sorry I stumbled into you,’ Kjelle said from behind them. His face was red, but he met the girl’s look steadily.

  Birthe didn’t answer.

  ‘Let's go on.’ Muus stared at the snow-capped mountains. ‘The farther away we get, the better.’