CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE BIÓRR

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

BIóRR

B iórr grunted approvingly.

"Although unable to walk properly you are doing a fine job with these children," he said to Red Fain as they watched them training and sparring.

They are no longer children. They had gone from children to warriors, all of them moving well with shield and spear.

"I would rather be in the front row of the shield wall," Fain grunted. "That is where I will find my vengeance for Storolf. Not teaching bairns their weapons craft."

"Your wound has not healed," Biórr shrugged. "Besides, we each play our part," he said. "And these bairns are looking to you like a father now."

Fain grunted at that, but Biórr saw the glimmer of a smile twitch his braided moustaches.

Lik-Rifa's war-host had just finished another long day of riding and marching through the forest, Biórr travelling with Red Fain and the Tainted children. They were all mostly recovered from the attack on the wagons two nights ago, though some of the children were still vomiting and complaining of pains in their head, suffering the after-effects of the fires.

Biórr and Fain had seen to the horses while some of the more able of the Tainted children had set about making their camp. Setting a perimeter, fetching water, scraping a fire pit and starting a fire, boiling water, going to the food stores to be given supplies for their evening meal. Biórr was impressed with how Fain had been teaching them, almost as if they were their own small crew among this fractured, many-faceted war-host. And every evening after their meal Red Fain trained them in weapons craft. Their small camp was set among many others, the Raven-Feeders close by, and a handful of them watched the Tainted children as they sparred.

Fain had set them to practising their spear and shield-work, leather covers over the spear blades, and he was demonstrating the overhand and underhand grips, showing them how to move from one grip to the other.

"The overhand grip gives you a longer reach," Fain was saying, "so is useful in a shield wall, or whenever you need that length of attack. The underhand grip," he spun the spear in his fist, reversing his grip, "though shortening your striking range, gives you a stronger grip, so you can strike more powerful blows. You must use your thought-cage, to decide which grip will help you survive the fight you are in."

The children had trained in two shield walls, and had now broken down into melee practice, one on one. As always, Harek and Bjarn had gravitated to each other, and were both doing their best to shatter each other's shield and bones with their spear and shield strikes.

"Best stop them before one kills the other," Biórr grunted to Fain.

Biórr became aware of noise rippling through the camp, and he looked up, saw tennúr whirring through the air, flitting to each fire pit, talking to those gathered around the fires, and in their wake people were standing, hurrying to tents.

"What is it?" Red Fain said, hand dropping to rest on the short-axe at his belt.

"Another ambush?" Biórr said, and then a tennúr was flying down out of the dark, hovering in the air before Biórr and Fain.

"Prepare to ride," the tennúr squeaked, "and leave your campfires burning."

"What?" Fain frowned.

"PREPARE TO RIDE, LEAVE THE FIRES," the tennúr shrieked. "Old Maeur -man deaf," it muttered as it flew away, and Biórr saw that all along the road warriors were breaking camp.

"Break camp," Fain shouted to the children, though he glowered at the disappearing tennúr.

Come to me , Biórr heard Rotta's voice in his head.

Biórr rode along the column at a fast trot, passing warriors marching or riding, all of them grim-faced and dressed in their war gear. Many glanced to shadows either side, searching for signs of the raid that might come with the darkness, but all Biórr saw was the shifting shadows of night-hags and the deeper shadows of frost-spiders in the boughs.

We are so close now . Biórr knew that with the coming of dawn they would most likely see the slopes of Ulfrir's lair. Battle was coming. He could feel the fear and excitement building, felt it in his own blood, thrumming like a new-strung bowstring, but he could also feel it in the air around him, see it in the faces of all those he passed by.

Soon we fight. Soon we will stare death in the eye. Live or die, all decided by the edge of a blade.

Rotta was ahead. The rat-god rode alongside Lik-Rifa, a handful of new guards around him, rat-blood Tainted, like Biórr, who had joined the war-host. One of them nodded to Biórr as he rode up alongside them.

"Well met, brother," the man said, tall and wiry, like an old rope, a straggle of beard on his chin, his skin pockmarked.

"Skadi," Biórr said, nodding back to the man.

It takes more than sharing some god-blood before I will think of you as brother , he thought as the warrior dropped back to allow Biórr closer to Rotta. The rat-god was listening to his sister, who was not best pleased.

"Set a Seier-spell that bit me when I tried to smash their wall," Lik-Rifa was snarling. "Still, I have wiped the wolf-grins from their faces. I turned their longships to firewood."

"You have told me, sister," Rotta said, looking to Biórr and rolling his eyes. " Many times," he breathed.

"Why are we riding now?" Biórr asked.

"To reach our enemy sooner, of course," Rotta said. "Munni has reported that Ulfrir and this Elvar have eyes in the sky, reporting on our progress, which no doubt has helped them pinpoint their night raids. Travelling through the dark, and leaving our campfires lit may well deceive those spying on us, and we shall give Ulfrir and Elvar an unpleasant surprise, when they find us knocking at their door with the dawn."

Biórr nodded.

"Soon, brother," Lik-Rifa said to Rotta. "Soon we shall face Ulfrir."

"I know," Rotta said. To Biórr he did not look so happy about that prospect. Lik-Rifa heard it in Rotta's voice, too, and gave him a sidelong glance.

"You fear him," she said, quiet as the wind sighing through the trees.

"Aye," Rotta said. "My last meeting with him was … unpleasant."

I am sure it was , Biórr thought. If the skáld-songs are true, then Ulfrir beat you half to death, chained you to a rock, and dripped the venom of serpents over you.

"He is weak, brother, hiding from us in his den."

"Or perhaps he wishes us to think that," Rotta said. "He is wolf-cunning, remember."

A snarl spasmed through Lik-Rifa's lips. "Aye," she growled. "If that is the case, we shall do it. Do what you suggest. But only if things go bad for us." She shivered, shook her head. "That road is more dangerous than Ulfrir. It could see us eaten …"

They rode in silence awhile, and then Biórr saw figures on the road ahead, emerging from the darkness. Brák Trolls-Bane led them, a small crew of scouts made up of Tainted and skraeling. They were spread in a loose circle around two figures.

Lik-Rifa called out and held a hand up, the column juddering to a halt behind her, and Ilska and Drekr rode forward, spoke with Brák a few moments and they all approached Lik-Rifa and Rotta together.

"Look what we found stumbling around in the dark," Brák said, and his crew parted to let two figures step forwards. A man and a woman, both soaked to the skin, hair bedraggled and dripping, both wounded. The woman walked with a staff and appeared to have half her face missing, a red wound leaking blood where her cheek should be, and the man walked with one shoulder slumped, his tunic blood-soaked and a red wound across his back.

"Silrie the Galdurwoman, and Broeir, brother of Elvar," Ilska said.

"Broeir, aren't you supposed to be slaying your sister and opening the doors of Wolfdales for me?" Lik-Rifa frowned.

"I … I tried," Broeir mumbled.

Lik-Rifa curled her lip.

"What shall I do with them?" Brák said.

"What use are they, now they have failed?" Lik-Rifa said with a shrug. "Kill them."

"Perhaps hold on that order," Rotta said. He leaned closer to Lik-Rifa, whispering, though Biórr could hear him.

"If Elvar dies, for any reason ? battle, assassination, hunting accident, overeating, the ale-death, if she falls from her horse and bangs her head ? the power of controlling Ulfrir will pass to Broeir. Think about that. He would be able to command Ulfrir to lie at your feet."

A moment's silence.

"Tend to his wounds," Lik-Rifa said to Brák and Ilska, and they led Broeir and Silrie away. The column stuttered into motion again.

"I want Elvar dead," Lik-Rifa said to Rotta.

"I know," Rotta said. "So do I." He let out a long sigh. "I suppose if you want a job done properly, you must do it yourself."