CHAPTER NINETEEN ELVAR

CHAPTER NINETEEN

ELVAR

E lvar strode through her shattered feast hall, a cold wind sifting snow about her feet. Uspa walked at her side, Ulfrir and Skuld a pace behind her, and Sighvat, Sólín Spittle and two Berserkir a step behind them.

"Ulfrir, walk with me," Elvar said. A whisper of footsteps and Ulfrir was at her side. "I am wondering, when Ingvild stole my treasure," Elvar said to him, "I saw you fighting on the pier, against her crew."

"Aye," Ulfrir said, and raised a hand to the iron collar about his neck. "I am compelled to fight for you."

"You are," Elvar agreed. "But I saw others with you. Fighting with you, fighting to protect you." She looked at him. "I have not seen them since then."

Ulfrir held her gaze, his amber eyes flickering, and Elvar refused to look away.

"Who were they?" she asked into Ulfrir's silence.

"You see much," Ulfrir muttered, then sighed. "My children," he said. " úlfhéenar . Tainted, you call them," he added with a twist of his lips.

Elvar nodded.

"And where are they now?" she asked. "Why are they not here now?"

Another drawn-out silence from Ulfrir.

"I asked you a question," Elvar said.

"They are … close," Ulfrir said, "but they stay hidden."

"Why?"

"Because they are afraid."

"Afraid of what?"

"The iron collar," Ulfrir snarled.

"They cannot stay hidden," Elvar said with a frown. "I do not like it, warriors who have not sworn oaths to me lurking so close in the shadows. Tell them to come out into the light."

"If they come to me, you cannot put a collar about their necks."

"Cannot," Elvar said. "You do not tell me that."

A long sigh from Ulfrir.

"You would not need to put a collar on them," he said. "They would fight for me, and I fight for you. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, no?"

"Yes, that is true," Elvar said. "But when the enemy is dead, what then? Would they still be my friend, then? Friendship is fickle. Fear is safer." She paused at that, realised her father had said those words to her, many times.

Fear is safer. Am I becoming my father?

"You do not put collars on these mercenaries that come to you. They are ruled by their greed, have no loyalty, no honour. You should fear them, not my children."

"I agree about the mercenaries," Elvar said, Ulfrir giving voice to thoughts that had been swirling through her thought-cage since she had become jarl. "But greed keeps them loyal. Silver is a tool, just like a collar, and fortunately for me I have a lot of silver."

"Heya," Sighvat murmured from behind her.

"Aye, but do you not think Lik-Rifa will have access to silver, too?" Ulfrir asked. "These vermin will sell themselves to the highest bidder. My úlfhéenar are safer, more trustworthy."

It was Elvar's turn to be silent a while.

"I will think on it," Elvar said to him. "Bring them to me."

They had left the feast hall now and were passing through long corridors. They strode past Elvar's chambers and approached a wide-arched doorway, more Berserkir guarding it. The Berserkir dipped their heads to Elvar and opened the thick-timbered doors, iron hinges creaking, and Elvar and her party swept through into the Galdur tower of Snakavik.

They entered a high-vaulted room, circular, a wide, open space with a fire pit at its centre. Hrung was there upon his pedestal. He had complained of the cold in the feast hall, now that it only had half a roof and two walls, so Elvar had moved him here, as she had chosen this room as her new council chamber.

"Jarl Elvar and Ulfrir-wolf," Hrung boomed, seemingly enjoying his change of scenery immensely. Behind him and the fire pit, half-buried in the ground, was a giant link of chain and Elvar heard Ulfrir let out a low, rumbling growl at the sight of it.

"It is a link of the chain that Lik-Rifa forged to tame you," Elvar said, "or so the skálds tell us. Shards of broken links were scattered across all Vigrie in Snaka's fall, many buried, but here and there some were discovered. It was at those sites that Galdurmen learned their rune-magic and used shavings from your chain to forge thrall-collars. Each Galdur tower is built around a link of your chain."

"So, the history of your people is braided with the slavery of mine," Ulfrir said grimly. "You have more in common with Lik-Rifa than you realise."

Elvar did not like that and turned away.

Beyond the link of chain, built into the far wall of the tower, was a forge, though it was cold now, no ember-glow emanating from it.

Chairs and a long table were set around the fire pit, and Elvar saw Gytha was there, dressed in mail, her dark hair pulled back into a tight braid. Silrie the Galdurwoman was standing beside her, a necklace of bones about her neck glinting in the firelight, a drinking horn in her hand. She was talking to Broeir, Elvar's brother. Broeir looked up as Elvar entered the room and gave her a broad smile. It was guileless, that smile, reminding Elvar of happier times, and she smiled back at him.

"Sister," he said, striding over to her, arms wide to embrace her. The Berserkir growled and stepped in front of him and his arms drooped.

"Let him through," Elvar said and Broeir smiled like a puppy and hugged her. She was stiff at first, then lifted a hand and patted his back. "Well met," she muttered, then walked on to the centre of the hall.

Elvar went to her father's chair that had been brought here along with Hrung and sat down, Sighvat going to the table and pouring a cup of ale for her, one for Sólín Spittle and a bigger one for himself.

"Gytha," Elvar said, dipping her head to her captain. "Where is Grend?"

"He left my chambers at dawn, I have not seen him since then," Gytha said.

"Well," Hrung boomed, "now that we are all here, what shall we talk about?"

"War," Skuld said.

"Yes, a good topic, full of excitement to the young glory-seekers, I don't doubt, though it often ends unfortunately, as I can attest," Hrung said, trying to look down at the frayed skin of his severed neck.

"We must discuss how we are going to get Bjarn back for Uspa," Elvar said.

"By guile or by force?" Silrie asked.

"Guile sounds good to me," Broeir said. "Less dangerous, perhaps." He looked around at them all, at their stern faces. "Fighting a dragon does sound … worrying."

"Not my first choice," Sighvat agreed. "I have seen her, and she does not look that easy to kill. But I will do it if I must," he added quickly, looking suspiciously at his forearm in case the blóe svarie set his arm aflame in pain for questioning the vow they'd made.

"Let us discuss guile," Elvar said. "In other words, stealing Bjarn from wherever he is being held. Which would mean we would need to find him first. Where is he?"

"Nastrandir, perhaps?" Uspa said.

"That is where Lik-Rifa would have gone," Ulfrir said, "to recover, to lick her wounds somewhere that she would feel safe, of that I am certain. But is she still there now? I do not know."

"We need spies, scouts," Broeir said. "Perhaps some of the mercenary bands that have sworn you their oaths could be sent out?" He looked at Elvar.

"Perhaps," Elvar said, though Ulfrir's words were still worming through her head. They are ruled by greed, have no loyalty, no honour. "But you are right, brother, we need information." She had already thought of this, and the best source of information she had come across in her years in the Battle-Grim had been traders. They travelled all the ports and towns of Vigrie. She had sent some of her Battle-Grim down to the docks at Snakavik, tasked with questioning all new arrivals at the port.

"Even if you managed to find where Lik-Rifa was keeping the boy, and guile worked and you managed to steal him back from Lik-Rifa," Ulfrir said, "you will still have a dragon to contend with. There is no escaping her. She will not just make peace with you and allow you to live your lives free of her. She is proud, and would be enraged if you managed to steal Bjarn from her. There is no reason in her, no reasoning with her."

"Forgive me if I do not trust you fully," Silrie said. "Perhaps you have, how shall I say it, another agenda? Perhaps you wish to use us to accomplish your own desires, perhaps you wish your sister dead, and we are your best means of accomplishing that? Please, do not feel insulted by what I am saying." She shrugged. "I know how families work, that is all. Look at this one." She glanced at Elvar, who could not argue with that.

"I do wish to see Lik-Rifa dead," Ulfrir acknowledged.

"As do I," Skuld snapped.

"But killing her is not just my path, it is the only sensible path. With Snaka gone Lik-Rifa believes that Vigrie is hers, along with all in it. She will seek to dominate Vigrie, to rule it. And her rule will not be gentle. And, of course, she is insane." He looked around at them all. "Do not take my word for it. Ask Hrung, he has been your counsellor for many years, I understand."

All eyes turned to the giant head.

"Lik-Rifa cannot be reasoned with," Hrung agreed. "Ulfrir speaks true, she is insane. Or at least she was. And that was before she spent three hundred years locked in a cave deep beneath the earth." He shook his head. "I doubt that has made her any better." He sucked in a breath, puffed his cheeks up, and blew the breath out again, his lips flapping. "So, what about force?" he rumbled.

"Perhaps we should ally ourselves with Queen Helka of Darl?" Broeir said. "I know father wished to make war on her, but Helka is powerful, has her own Tainted, úlfhéenar , I think. And times have changed, have they not? She will most likely not take too kindly to anyone trying to tell her what to do, or rule her, even if they are a dragon. The enemy of my enemy is my friend, you know …" he trailed off.

Elvar glanced at Ulfrir.

"Not a bad idea, brother," Elvar said, which made him smile.

"No matter what action we choose, guile or force, who we are allied with, no matter who stands with us in the shield wall, to defeat Lik-Rifa we must find her first," Sighvat said. "I am no deep-cunning thinker, but even I know that."

"You are right, Sighvat," Elvar said, and he grinned.

"Wherever she is, we should not stay here," Ulfrir said.

"Why not?" Silrie asked him. "We are in a fortress, on an unassailable mountain, a warband thousands strong about us, and sitting within a Galdur tower that harbours ancient power."

"Nowhere is unassailable to a dragon, and she is powerful, too. She will have her own resources, her own warbands. Her dragon-born offspring, and vaesen will serve her," Ulfrir said, looking around at them all, seeing that sink into them. "Your question was guile or force. That was the wrong question. To defeat Lik-Rifa we will need both . She must be tricked, made to think she is safe to attack us, made to think we are weak when we are strong."

"I like the sound of that," Sighvat rumbled. His brow furrowed. "But how do we do it?"

Ulfrir smiled for the first time, revealing the tips of sharp teeth.

"Now that is the right question," he said.

Sighvat blinked, then grinned.

A silence settled among them and Elvar stood.

"Much has been said, much to think on," she said. "We shall prepare to leave, shall be ready, but we will not march or sail until I know where this dragon is." She stood, and then there was a banging at the Galdur-tower door. One of the Berserkir guards opened the door.

"Orv the Sneak of the Battle-Grim wishes to speak to you, Jarl Elvar," the Berserkir said.

"Let him in," Elvar gestured.

Orv walked into the chamber a little hesitantly, eyes looking everywhere, then focused on Elvar and strode towards her. A woman followed behind him, dressed in a wool tunic with fine embroidery, a sealskin cloak about her shoulders and a fur-trimmed felt hat on her head, thick mittens on her hands.

"This is Svea, chief, I mean Jarl Elvar," Orv said as he drew close. "She is a trader with a hull full of wool and honey."

Svea bowed her head to Elvar, eyes wide as she looked around the room, settling upon Ulfrir.

"Go on, tell her what you told me," Orv said.

"I … I sailed from Darl eight days ago, Jarl Elvar," Svea said.

"Go on," Elvar said. "What news from Darl?"

"Queen Helka is dead. The dragon came and slew her. And the eagle-god that Skalk the Galdurman resurrected. Tore them to bits, she did."

A silence, gasps. Then Skuld shrieked and Ulfrir threw back his head and howled.