CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO ORKA

CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

ORKA

"Y our shield is dropping," Orka warned Breca, who was standing on the deck of Jarl Orlyg's longship with Gunnar Prow's shield in one fist and a short-hafted axe in the other.

"Sorry," Breca grunted as he hefted the shield back into position. It was too big for him, but he was fighting in an adult's world now, so he should train with an adult's weapons.

"Don't be sorry," Orka said.

"Be better," Lif, Gunnar and Halja finished for her.

Orka frowned at them as they smirked watching the training.

Breca lunged at her, and she stepped away, inwardly pleased that he took his opportunity when he thought she was distracted, though she gave no sign of it on her face. She stepped left then pushed off hard to her right, moving away from Breca's axe-hand, darted in low, stabbing at Breca's shins with a spear she had borrowed from Lif. Instinctively he slammed his shield rim down at the spear head, but Orka had already pulled it back and in a heartbeat the spear-tip was at Breca's exposed chest.

"Do not lower your shield," Orka said.

Halja Flat-Nose laughed, and Breca's eyes flickered amber and green.

"No," Orka growled at him. She glanced around but could see no one else watching them. Jarl Orlyg's drengrs and Tainted were bending their backs on oar-benches, speeding the longship down the river as it widened, silt flats spreading along either bank as they drew closer to the river's estuary and the sea.

"Come," Orka said, beckoning to Breca and the others as she squatted on the deck. They drew close around her.

"What's the plan, chief?" Halja asked Orka.

"To get to Snakavik," Orka said. "To join Glornir and the Bloodsworn."

"Will they go there? Take up Elvar's offer?" Lif asked.

"They will," Orka grunted. "It is an offer of payment to avenge Thorkel's death. Glornir would be after Lik-Rifa and her dragon-born without payment, so it is the sensible thing for a chief to do."

"Aye, why not get paid for something you plan to do anyway," Halja said.

"If they have managed to get Vol back," Lif said. "If they have not …" He looked at Gunnar and Halja.

"If they have not been defeated, or slain," Halja finished for him.

Lif shrugged. "I mean no offence," he said. "This is Vigrie. No one is safe."

"Not even the Bloodsworn," Gunnar murmured.

"They will be at Snakavik," Orka said firmly.

"And how are we to get to Snakavik, mistress?" S?unn asked.

"We will sail or walk," Orka shrugged.

"Faster to sail," Gunnar said.

"Sailing would be best, aye," Halja said, "but this Orlyg may have other plans than sailing to Snakavik."

"It would be faster, yes," Orka said. "But safer?" She leaned closer to them all. "We are Tainted, and risk being thralled if Orlyg finds out." She looked at Breca. "If we are to stay on this longship, which I agree would be best, if we can convince Orlyg to sail for Snakavik, then you must control the beast in your blood. Be the master, not the thrall. Or you could end up like that." She jutted her chin at a Tainted warrior pulling at an oar, an iron collar around his neck.

"Yes, Mama," Breca said seriously.

She looked at him, his dark eyes in his pale, dirty face, his black, scruffy hair. She brushed a strand away from one cheek.

I have him back. I will not lose him again.

"I have something of yours," she said, and reached inside the neckline of her tunic drawing out the wooden pendant of a sword that Breca had carved in their steading near Fellur village. She remembered him carving it the night before he had been taken, remembered finding it in the wreckage of her home. It seemed so long ago now. Another time, almost like a dream. She slipped the leather cord over her head and held it out to him.

"I remember …" he said, taking it and holding it, then tears welled in his eyes. "Before they came, before Papa …"

Without thought Orka was pulling him close, felt his tears spill onto her cheek.

Footsteps, and she leaned away from Breca, wiped his tears away with her fingertips and looked up to see Jarl Orlyg's Galdurman striding past them with his staff in his fist, Dagrun, the jarl's son, walking with him.

"Come, join us," Dagrun said to Orka.

She hesitated a moment.

Dagrun slowed and stopped. "Please, my father wishes to speak with you," he said.

Orka nodded and stood.

"Lif, teach Breca some more shield work," she said to the young warrior, handing him back his spear.

"Me?" Lif said.

"Aye. You are a warrior now. I saw you." Then she was walking away, following Dagrun and the Galdurman towards the stern of the longship. They passed a row of men and women lying on the deck, all injured from the raid against Rotta. Some had since died and were wrapped and bound in cloaks and linen sheets.

Orlyg was stood at the stern, white-haired and wearing a coat of mail, a patchwork cloak of fox pelts about his shoulders, an axe at his belt. He had a newly stitched cut across one cheek, scabbed and bruised. A drengr stood one side of him, a woman, iron-grey hair tied tight at her crown, and a Tainted thrall stood the other side, straw-haired and lean, his face all sharp lines and shadows.

"Who are you?" Orlyg asked Orka as she reached them.

"A farmer," she said with a shrug.

"Dagrun tells me you saved him, that you and your crew cut down skraeling and dragon-born like they were wheat ready for the scythe. Farmers do not have that kind of weapons craft."

Orka said nothing.

"And your crew, two of them are Bloodsworn, yet they defer to you." Orlyg smiled. "I recognise their shields." Then his eyes narrowed. "You saved my son, and I owe you a blood-price for that, but do not lie to me, or treat me like a fool. If you do, I shall throw you into the river myself."

Orka looked at him, held his gaze a long moment.

"I was Bloodsworn once," she said.

There were mutters among the drengrs around her, the female warrior at Orlyg's side looking her up and down.

"That was many years ago," Orka said. "I am a farmer now, or I was. Until some of the dragon-born swept through my steading, slew my husband and stole my son. Since then, I have been following them, to get him back."

Orlyg looked along the deck to Breca and the others.

"And the two Bloodsworn with you?" he said.

"I met them along the way. They joined me because I was one of them, once, and they hold their oaths dear."

"Huh," Orlyg grunted, nodding. "Go on," he said. "There is more to this tale."

"Not much more," Orka said. "I tracked them to Svelgarth, slipped into Rotta's camp as they attacked your town and got my son out, but I was captured." She gestured towards Dagrun. "The rest your son knows."

Orlyg looked at her a long moment with narrowed eyes, then looked to Dagrun, who nodded.

"Your tale has the ring of truth, to me. And my son speaks for you. So, welcome, and my thanks for saving his scrawny arse." He held out his arm and Orka took his wrist. "You are welcome to travel with us as long as you wish," he said.

"Well, that will depend on where you are going."

"Ha, a straight talker. I like you more with each word," he said. "And that is what I have called Dagrun and G?sta here to discuss. Where shall we go?" He looked at Dagrun and the Galdurman with him, then glanced back over his shoulder at the river and land they had sailed down. "It looks like we've put some distance between us and that nieing rabble of Tainted and vaesen filth," he boomed.

"That rabble sacked Svelgarth, Father," Dagrun reminded him. "Trolls ripped the gates down, and Seier-witches burned the town to ashes."

"They are not Seier-witches, they are dragon-born," G?sta the Galdurman said bitterly. "Servants of Lik-Rifa."

"What's the difference?" Dagrun said.

"A different magic," G?sta sniffed. "Seier-witches gain their power from the blood of Snaka. These dragon-born, I presume their power comes from their mother's weaker blood, Lik-Rifa."

"I do not care about the ancestry of rune-magic," Orlyg snapped. "Serpent or dragon blood, it is all foul magic to me, and it has destroyed my home." He tugged on the thick braid of his white beard. "How can this be? The world is upside down," he muttered. "They did almost the same to Darl." He shook his head, lost in thought.

During the last two days while they had rowed downriver Orka had heard mutterings from the crew that Lik-Rifa had fallen upon Darl, that Orna the eagle-god had been resurrected and then slain, and that Helka was dead, and her fortress razed to rubble in the battle.

It seemed there was no limit to Lik-Rifa's ambitions.

"We are approaching the sea, my lord," the Galdurman said, a slim, dark-haired man, tattoos covering his lower jaw, small bones braided into his hair. "Which direction will we sail?"

"My heart tells me to sail to Svelgarth, G?sta," Orlyg said. "To my home, where I was born, the place I have fought for and protected all my years. It is ash and rubble, you say?" He looked to Dagrun.

"It is a ruin, Father," Dagrun said, shaking his head.

"The Galdur tower?" G?sta asked.

"They smashed it to the ground, and burned what was left of it," Dagrun said.

G?sta looked away, face draining of colour. A muscle twitched in his cheek.

"We could rebuild," Orlyg said.

"And if they return?" G?sta said. "They have broken Svelgarth, and they did not even have the dragon with them."

"Just some nieing rat," Orlyg muttered.

"Indeed," G?sta said. "We saw what the dragon did to Darl. What would she do to Svelgarth?"

"Aye," Orlyg scowled. "Agreed, it would be foolish to try and rebuild Svelgarth now. So, what do we do?"

"We could join them?" G?sta said.

"No," Orlyg and Dagrun said, both glowering at G?sta.

"I am going through the options, lord," G?sta said quietly. "A list of what we can do, then we must choose one of those options. So, we do not join them. That leaves two other options."

"And what are they?" Dagrun said.

"Fight, or flee," G?sta said.

"How do you fight a dragon?" Dagrun murmured.

"If it were a man I would challenge him to a wrestling match," Orlyg said. "No warbands, no more mass death or destruction, just the two of us testing our strength, one against the other." He flexed his barrel chest and shoulders, looked at those gathered around him. "I would win," he growled, a smile twitching his white moustache and beard.

"If we fled," G?sta said, "I do not think we could hide in Vigrie. We would have to go to Iskidan."

"And bend the knee to that arseling Kirill," Orlyg spat. "Not while I draw breath."

"Then we do not return to Svelgarth, and we do not flee to Iskidan," G?sta said. "You see how we are narrowing down our options. And that leaves only one. We fight."

"Yes," Orlyg said, clenching a fist.

"Aye, but how?" Dagrun said.

"We need allies," Orlyg said.

"Helka is gone," G?sta said. "Which leaves only Jarl St?rr as a real power in Vigrie."

Orlyg sniffed. "I like that arrogant, conceited, sneaky arseling less than I liked Helka, and I hated that bitch." The drengr beside him chuckled, and Orlyg looked at her, then began to laugh, too, a deep rumbling in his belly.

"But you were prepared to make a pact with Helka," G?sta pointed out.

"Aye, she was the enemy of my enemy. I thought we could defeat St?rr together, and I could betray her after." He laughed again.

"I would have taken her head for you, lord," the drengr close to Orlyg said.

"I know you would, Aila," Orlyg said, patting her arm.

"Well, I imagine Jarl St?rr would not take kindly to a dragon taking his realm from him, so that would make him the enemy of our enemy …" G?sta continued.

"Aye, but St?rr is more devious than Helka. I did not trust her, but I trust St?rr less. And I do not like the thought of sailing into Snakavik now. With Svelgarth fallen I have less to offer St?rr than I had to offer Helka. I would not make so strong an ally that St?rr would think twice about cutting my head from my shoulders."

A silence settled among them.

"There is another reason to sail to Snakavik," Orka said.

Orlyg's eyes fixed on her. "And what is that?"

"Ulfrir the wolf-god is there."

All heads turned to look at her.

"I thought the gods were dead, and yet more seem to appear with every breath I take. A dragon-god, a rat-god, the eagle-god, briefly," Orlyg said. He puffed out his cheeks. "And now you say Ulfrir the wolf-god is roaming Vigrie. This is the first we have heard of this. Surely word would have spread through Vigrie if a giant wolf was prowling around."

"Ulfrir lives," the thrall-guard at Orlyg's shoulder said.

"How do you know, Tjorvi?" Orlyg said, frowning at his guard.

"I have heard his call, in my dreams," the warrior said. "We all have," he gestured a hand to Tainted warriors on the oar-benches. "He calls the úlfhéenar to him."

"And why have you not spoken to me of this?"

"You have not asked, my lord," Tjorvi said.

Orlyg let out a low rumbling growl, frowning at the úlfhéenar . Slowly he turned to look back at Orka.

"So, how do you know about this wolf-god," Orlyg asked her, "and why should we seek him out?"

"Ulfrir is thralled to Elvar, chief of the Battle-Grim," Orka said. "I met her in Starl, and she had Ulfrir thralled to her, an iron collar about his neck."

Orlyg whistled. "Elvar, Jarl St?rr's Elvar? His runaway daughter?"

"Aye," Orka nodded.

"Little-Elvar," Orlyg whistled. "Ha, I always liked her. I saw her kick her arseling brother Thorun in the stones once, in front of everyone. He dropped like a felled ox." Orlyg laughed at the memory of it. "What is she doing running the Battle-Grim and dragging a wolf-god around with her?"

"She was at Oskutree when Lik-Rifa broke her bonds," Orka said. "And she has some grudge against Lik-Rifa, which is why she has Ulfrir. To use him as a weapon to slay the dragon."

"That sounds like a dangerous, deep-cunning plan; I like it," Orlyg muttered. "Though, if she succeeds, that would make her a powerful foe. Too powerful."

"Right now, Elvar is the enemy of our enemy," Dagrun pointed out.

"Aye. She is. The dragon and the rat must die, of that there is no question, and what better way than to get a wolf to do the job." Orlyg looked at Orka. "But how by all the dead gods did Little-Elvar manage to thrall a god?"

Orka shrugged. "You will have to ask her that yourself."

"I intend to," Orlyg said. He cupped his hands to his mouth. "We sail for Snakavik," he shouted.