CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO ORKA

CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

ORKA

"O rka," a voice called out and Orka turned to see Jarl Orlyg striding across the blood-pooled deck of the Sea-Wolf towards her, his son, Dagrun at one shoulder, and G?sta the Galdurman at the other, a handful of Tainted warriors and drengrs spreading behind them.

"Farmer, introduce me to your friends," Orlyg said as he reached her. His white hair was blood-spattered, a rent in his mail across his barrel chest and one shoulder, but he looked well enough.

"Glornir," Orka called, though when she looked for him he was already striding towards her, Vol at his side.

"Well met, Glornir of the Bloodsworn," Orlyg said, looking Glornir up and down. Glornir was blood-drenched, a map of cuts across his face, gore thick around his jaw and dripping in clumps from his fists.

"My thanks for your help," Glornir growled. "Who are you?"

"I am Orlyg of Svelgarth, though Svelgarth doesn't exist so much now, more's the pity, because Lik-Rifa and her nieing warband of arselings have torn it to rubble," Orlyg said. "I know who you are, and it was good fortune to meet you on the whale road – more your good fortune than mine, I would add ? but where are you sailing to?"

Orka said nothing, knew that Orlyg was testing the tale she had told him.

"I am bound for Snakavik," Glornir said. "Elvar of the Battle-Grim has hired the Bloodsworn for some dragon-killing."

Orlyg glanced to Orka, then back to Glornir and grinned.

"I am sailing to Snakavik, too, to throw my axe in with Little-Elvar. There is more than just a dragon to kill, though. Rotta the rat is with her."

"Rotta?" Glornir said, scowling.

"Aye, Rotta, the nieing whore-son," Orlyg spat. "It was Rotta who led the assault on my Svelgarth. But Elvar has a god of her own. She has Ulfrir-wolf, and with a thrall-collar around his neck."

"Ulfrir!" Glornir said, glancing at Orka.

"Did Vesli not tell you of Ulfrir?" Orka said.

"No, she did not," Glornir said slowly.

Orka looked for Vesli and gave the little vaesen a scowl.

Vesli shrugged. "Vesli forgot. Vesli remembered all the important bits …" She looked slightly guilty. "Eventually …"

"We are living in a skáld-song," Glornir muttered. "To my mind, though, it is best if the dead gods stay dead."

"Aye, agreed," Orlyg said. "But at least we will have one on our side, and I would rather a wolf than a rat and a snake with wings."

"There will be much to see in Snakavik, then," Glornir growled.

Orlyg looked around the deck of the Sea-Wolf , at the dead bodies and pools of blood. "And this? What brought Kirill's hounds down on you?"

"Some trouble in Ulaz," Glornir shrugged.

"Aye, well, more trouble for them, as it turned out," Orlyg grinned. "A good fight, though, and good to send Kirill's dogs back to Iskidan with their tails between their legs."

"I am grateful for your help," Glornir said.

"Ah, now that is good to hear. Gratitude." Orlyg pronounced the word slowly, savouring it. "Well, the world is changing, so you never know, I may be in need of some help myself, in the near future. If I am, can I count on you and your gratitude ?"

"You can," Glornir nodded. "The Bloodsworn are in your debt."

Jarl Orlyg's grin grew wider. "In my debt, ahh, now that is a phrase that brings me joy."

"You have my word on it," Glornir said, and offered his arm to Orlyg, who took it by the wrist in the warrior grip.

"That will do me," Orlyg said. He looked to Vol, and behind her Iva, who was sitting on a barrel, the hulking black warrior handing her a horn full of water. "You have some powerful Seier-witches. I would like to buy one from you."

"I am always open to trade," Glornir said with a shrug. "But these two are not for sale. I need a Seier-witch on each of my ships." He gestured to the knarr still moored to the Sea-Wolf . And I see you have a Galdurman to protect you during your voyage."

"Aye, that I do," Orlyg said. "Oh, well, it was worth a try. If you change your mind, let me know. With me," he grunted to his warriors, and strode away from them, back towards his own drakkar , which bobbed on the swell of waves, grating hulls with Sulich's knarr .

Orka watched Orlyg and his retinue climb over onto the knarr and make their way to the ship's stern, towards their own longship. When they had disappeared, she turned and looked at Vol and Glornir.

Vol stepped close to Orka and took her hands. They were blood-slick and throbbing. Orka's whole body ached, exhaustion sweeping her now that the battle was done. She looked at Vol, gave a knotted frown to the serpent coiled around Vol's forearm, as its tongue was flickering out to taste the blood on Orka's knuckles.

"Not for you," Vol said, and the serpent closed its mouth.

Glornir wrapped his arms around Vol and Orka and pulled them close to him, pressed his forehead to theirs.

"Well met, Skullsplitter," he breathed.

"Well met, Glornir Shieldbreaker, Vol Thorn-Tongue," Orka said, little more than a sigh. Memories whirled through her thought-cage, of Glornir and Vol, of the Bloodsworn, of Thorkel, a tide of emotion swelling within her, filling her chest, making it hard to breathe. She swallowed and leaned away.

Glornir stepped back and put one hand on Orka's shoulder and regarded her.

"A hard journey?" he asked, looking Orka up and down, taking in the old, scabbed wounds and the new.

"Aye," Orka said. "But no harder than yours, I do not doubt," she added, looking at the maze of wounds across Glornir, then to the white seam of pinprick scars around Vol's mouth.

"There is a tale or two to be told around the hearth-fire, for sure," Vol shrugged. "Your son?" she asked.

A smile touched Orka's lips.

"Breca," she called. He had been standing close to the top-rail, his eyes never leaving Orka, but at her call he hurried forwards. "Breca, this is Glornir. He is your father's brother. Your uncle. He is kin, and chief of the Bloodsworn."

Breca looked up at Glornir with his dark eyes.

"By the dead gods," Glornir breathed, "but you have Thorkel's look about you." He crouched down, putting one knee on the deck, effortlessly lifted Breca up and sat him upon his other knee. "My brother's son," he said, tears filling his eyes and he ruffled Breca's hair, almost breaking the lad's neck. "Well, it is good to meet you, Breca Thorkelsson."

"It is good to meet you, too. Uncle," Breca said, hesitantly, and brushed one of Glornir's tears away. Glornir smiled, laughed.

"Uncle. I like the sound of that." He looked at Orka. "You got him back, then. Took him back from the dragon, eh. Ah, but there is a song for the skálds to sing of. Thorkel would be proud. You have fulfilled your oath."

"Part of it," Orka grunted.

"The other part?"

"To avenge him."

"The man still lives, then?" Glornir growled, a twist of his lips.

"Aye. He was not at Svelgarth with Rotta's warband."

"Drekr went to Darl with Lik-Rifa," Breca said.

"I will find him," Orka snarled.

"We will find him," Glornir growled.

"Yes," Breca said.

"Lift," Orka grunted to Breca and together they heaved a body over the side of the Sea-Wolf , a druzhina warrior stripped of his armour and weapons, Breca leaning over the top-rail and watching as his pale body fell into the sea. A white-spumed splash, a ripple and then he was gone.

All on the Sea-Wolf and Sulich's knarr were doing the same, tending to the wounded, stripping the dead of anything of value, heaving their bodies overboard, mopping and scrubbing the decks of blood. The ravens Grok and Kló were making a noisy meal out of a pile of stripped druzhina corpses.

Footsteps, and Edel walked to Orka, her hound at her heel. Breca stroked the hound's head.

"Good to see you again, Skullsplitter," Edel said.

Orka looked at her. "You, too," she nodded.

She looked down at Breca, then back to Orka. "I did not doubt you would find him. And you brought my small crew back to me."

Orka looked to Gunnar Prow and Halja Flat-Nose, who were helping Lif and S?unn clean a coat of ring mail that had been stripped from a fallen warrior.

"Not all," Orka said, and called Gunnar and the others.

Edel looked at them: Gunnar, Halja, Lif and S?unn.

"Ah," Edel said. "I counted four, but, having the one eye, I did not look closely enough."

"This is S?unn," Orka said. "She has been a friend to us in hard times."

S?unn blinked at that, a tentative smile touching her lips.

"Well met, S?unn," Edel said. "And Revna Hare-Legs?" she asked Gunnar.

"She fell, at Svelgarth," Gunnar said, a ripple of emotion flickering across his face, muscles twitching in his jaw. "We buried her beside the lake we pulled Breca from," Gunnar added, glancing at Orka.

"This is why I did not want you to join me," Orka said. She looked from Lif to Gunnar. "I know the taste of grief, and I did not want to be the cause of it for you. Lif, your brother, Gunnar …"

"Revna made her choice, as did we all," Halja said. "We are the Bloodsworn, not bairns to be protected, or told what to do."

Orka looked at Gunnar. "Do you still agree with that?"

"I do," Gunnar said. "We knew following the Skullsplitter would be a hard road. Revna died fighting to take the Skullsplitter's son back from the dragon and the rat, a blade in her hand. She would be pleased with that skáld-song." He looked Orka in the eye. "But now you are not the only one seeking vengeance. That nieing rat-blood will feel my blade before this war is over."

"Biórr, his name is Biórr," Orka said.

"Biórr," Gunnar repeated.

"And you," Edel said, looking at Lif. "If anyone were to die, I thought it would be you. How have you come through so many battles alive?"

"I am not sure," Lif said. He had a new cut from cheek to jaw, blood sheeting below the wound. He raised his battered shield. "Perhaps this has saved me."

"Ah, I told you," Edel said, a rare smile twisting her lips. "A shield will be a good friend to you in battle, if you know how to use it."

"He knows," Halja said, at which Lif blinked, looked at Halja wide-eyed, and blushed.

"Lately I have had plenty of practice," he stammered.

"Ha," Edel laughed. "You will have plenty more, I am thinking, before the dragon is dead."

Glornir put his hands to his lips.

"Gather the dead," he bellowed.

Orka and Breca watched as bodies wrapped in cloaks and linen were rolled over the top-rail of the Sea-Wolf and dropped into the green-dark waves.

Eight of the Bloodsworn, ten of Sulich's kin, and Orka could see the grief etched on the faces of friends they left behind. Glornir had said words as each body was given to the sea, calling out their names in his rock-slide voice, remembering their deeds.

All of them bowed their heads as the last body hit the waves, gone in a few moments, and stood there longer, silence thick and heavy as memories. Then Glornir was shouting commands, and all were moving to allotted tasks, blood being mopped from the decks, the damage of the battle being assessed and where possible repaired. Sulich and his crew tended to the horses that had survived the battle and making the knarr ready to sail. By the time they were done Orlyg's drakkar already had a sail full of a south-easterly wind and was carving towards the coast of Vigrie.

"Sulich, bring your crew to me," Glornir called out. "Iva, Taras," he boomed, "you come, too", and Orka saw Sulich leap onto the deck of the Sea-Wolf followed by forty or fifty warriors behind him, men and women, some fair-skinned, some looking like they had been kissed by the fire and others burned by it, black as crow-wings, all with the shaved heads and single braids that marked warriors of Iskidan. The Seier-witch and the hulking black-skinned warrior followed after them. He walked stiffly, was bound with bandages, patches of blood marking where he had been pierced with arrows.

"Iva, Taras," Glornir said to them as they reached him, Taras slapping a big hand on Einar's shoulder and squeezing it.

"You are injured," Einar said, worry creasing his brows as he looked at Taras' injuries.

"Do not worry," the bull-man said. "Taras' skin is thick, they have not sunk deep. And Iva always look after Taras' wounds."

Orka and the Bloodsworn gathered around Glornir and Sulich's crew, Breca following Orka, close as a newborn wolf cub to its mother. Even the ravens stopped in their gorging to look at Glornir, heads cocked to one side.

"We are bound for Vigrie," Glornir boomed. "We are Tainted, and much like in Iskidan, in Vigrie if our blood line is discovered, we will be thralled, or killed." He shrugged. "This is the world we live in, but the Bloodsworn have walked this blade edge for many years. We made a choice. You all have a choice to make, too." He held up a thick finger. "To wear a collar, as Vol has done, so that you may use your powers freely, under the guise that you are thralled to me, and I have commanded you to use your blood-gifts." He smiled. "I have never commanded Vol to do anything."

"He would not dare," Vol said with a nod and some of the Bloodsworn chuckled.

"Your second choice," he held up another finger. "To be free of the collar, but to never use your powers where there are witnesses. We only ever use them in public if we plan to kill all who are there. The world can never know what we are, or we are done. We would be hunted, thralled, executed." He looked slowly at all those gathered around him. "This is about our lives; this is about our survival. All of us. Think on what I have said and before we land in Vigrie you must make your choice." He looked at the two ravens perched on the deck.

"My thanks to you," Glornir said. "The Bloodsworn are in your debt."

"FRIENDS," one of the ravens squawked.

"Grok mean friends help each other," the other raven croaked.

"They do," Vol said. "And the Bloodsworn will always help you, if we can."

The two ravens bobbed their heads.

"Grok and Kló fly the skies, look for danger," one of them squawked. "Help friends, look for dragon."

"That would be helpful," Svik called out.

"But we finish eating first," the other raven rasped.

"Always," Einar Half-Troll said with a chuckle.

"Taras like these ravens," the big man said.

Glornir looked at all gathered around him.

"Good, we are done, then. Now prepare your ships. We sail for Snakavik."