CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN VARG

CHAPTER SEVENTY-SEVEN

VARG

V arg emerged from the tunnel into the last light of day to see snow falling, sifting through the boughs above him, settling soft and silent upon the ground. Ahead of him Ulfrir laid the sailcloth he was carrying gently down, Hrung's muffled voice calling out his thanks. Ulfrir stepped away, and his wolf-form began to ripple and shimmer, shrinking in a series of judders and snaps, bones crackling, joints popping, fur disappearing, turning to skin, and then he was standing among the trees, dark-haired and amber-eyed. His úlfhéenar spread out wide, scouting the surrounding woodland, Skuld winging up into the branches and disappearing. The two stone wolves limped out from the tunnel and sat with their backs to Ulfrir, both searching the gloom of the forest, still guarding him.

The remnants of Elvar's war-host stumbled from the tunnel behind him, battered, bruised, bloodied.

The survivors of the Bloodsworn emerged first, a little more than a score of them led by R?kia and Svik, Edel and ?sa, all of them curled around Refna and the children like a protective hand. Hooves clattered and Sulich emerged, Kesha riding beside him, twenty or thirty survivors of his crew following after. Most of their quivers were empty. Taras walked with them, Iva cradled in his arms, a gash on her forehead crusted with blood. Jarl Orlyg and Jarl Logur stepped from the tunnel together, what remained of their warbands following them, perhaps a hundred warriors. Last came Sighvat carrying Elvar in his arms, Grend and Gytha either side of him, Uspa and Berak, the survivors of the Battle-Grim, Orv the Sneak there walking with Urt the Unwashed, a few score of Elvar's drengrs and Berserkir with them, and Frek leading the úlfhéenar who had once been thralled to Estrid of Darl, and had sworn their oaths to Elvar. Along with Ulfrir's úlfhéenar they numbered maybe five hundred, perhaps less.

They spread into the woodland around the tunnel, drawing axes and chopping at branches and undergrowth, clearing a space for a camp, searching for streams and water, tending to the wounded. Grend, Gytha, Uspa and Berak went to Hrung and unwrapped him from the sailcloth, heaved and pushed until he was sitting upright.

"Well, I did not expect to be thanking you for the saving of my life, not that it is much of a life," Hrung said to Grend.

Grend paused and looked at Hrung a long moment.

"Elvar liked you, she would have wanted you saved," he said with a grunt.

"Ach, Elvar, but that is a terrible loss," Hrung said. "She was a rare one. A terrible, terrible loss."

Grend said nothing, his face pale, tear-streaked, and he walked to Sighvat, who was wrapping Elvar's corpse in a cloak and helped the big man bind it about her with strips of leather.

Ulfrir walked across the clearing, Skuld and his úlfhéenar with him, stopping to look at Grend and Sighvat, gazing down upon Elvar's body. Varg saw others walking over to them, and without thinking he was joining them, all of them gathering to form a circle around Elvar's body, standing in silence.

"Elvar, you were a great woman," Ulfrir said, his voice a rasp. "You thralled a god, and that took some stones." A hint of a smile twitched his lips, replaced slowly with a look of sorrow. He looked around the clearing, meeting the eye of all gathered there. "She set me free. Set many of you free," people nodding, muttering heyas of agreement. Varg saw tears streaking Uspa's cheeks, many more around her weeping.

"We shall mourn you, Elvar," Ulfrir said. "But first we shall avenge you."

Grend made a growling, guttural sound in his throat.

"Elvar Chainbreaker," Ulfrir said, and all those around him echoed him, startling birds from boughs in the canopy above.

"ELVAR CHAINbrEAKER."

A silence settled among them, punctuated by the crying of a child. Refna stepped forwards and took Uspa's hand, red-eyed, tears streaking lines through the blood and grime caked on her cheeks.

"Raise her," Refna said between her sobbing. "And raise Einar, bring him back to us. Please."

"I cannot, little one," Uspa said.

"But you raised Ulfrir, that is what everyone has told me."

"I did. But the power was locked within him, in his bones. He is a god. My Seier-spells released that power. Elvar is not a god, Einar is not a god. I cannot bring them back, much as I wish I could."

Uspa dropped to her knee and hugged Refna, the girl sobbing into Uspa's shoulder.

Slowly people began to walk away, going about the tasks of camp-making. Sulich was going through the saddle bags strapped to his horses, searching for food. They found some, oatcakes and biscuits, hard bread and cheese, though not even cheese could cheer Svik after the loss of Einar. And there was not enough to feed all the survivors.

A branch creaked above them and Varg looked up, thought he saw the shadow of movement, heard the faint whirr of wings.

"Come, No-Sense," R?kia said, "let us go and see if we can hunt some food." She walked through the survivors, tapping warriors on shoulders, picking those she thought best suited and least injured to go hunting, and then Varg was loping into the dark woods, letting his wolf-sense guide him.

Varg sat beside R?kia and sucked the marrow from the thigh bone of a rabbit, hot fat burning his fingertips. He welcomed the warmth. They had risked a fire, cutting slim branches and weaving them into fences to mask the light. Varg was too tired to speak, exhaustion sitting deep in his bones, fractured moments of the past day swirling through his head. Of Elvar falling, of the sword stabbing into Einar's throat, of Brák Trolls-Bane's words.

I'm sure your sister deserved it.

The wolf in his blood raised its head and gave a low snarl. Even his wolf was exhausted.

And where is Glornir? Vol? The Skullsplitter and the others?

Varg and the others had seen them fighting on the stairwell of the tree, had tried to follow them but had been cut off by the flames.

They must have reached the rooftop, maybe escaped out onto the hilltop. But then Snaka came … He did not want to think about that, wanted to hope that somehow Glornir and the others were still out there. He blew out a long breath, just sat and listened to Ulfrir talk with Elvar's captains. Gytha and Uspa, Sighvat, Orlyg and Logur were there, Frek, and Svik and Sulich speaking for the Bloodsworn. They sat close to Hrung, who was uncharacteristically silent, his eyes downcast, as if deep in thought.

"Well, quite a day," Orlyg was saying. "I think we were winning, right up until that arseling serpent decided to smash the hall in around us." Grunts and heyas of agreement around him. Ulfrir surprised them all by chuckling.

"I have never heard my father called an arseling , before," he said, eyes shining. "It suits him."

Varg could still feel the presence of Snaka, like a distant whisper in his blood.

"But what do we do now?" Jarl Logur said.

"We must kill Lik-Rifa and Rotta, and quickly, while they are hampered by their wounds. They will not expect us to attack them now. They will think we are fleeing, putting space between us to regroup," Ulfrir said. "And we must kill my father, too, if that is possible."

"He died once, he can die again," Hrung muttered.

"We need information," Uspa said. "We need to find them, know their plan, and work from there. We need Grok and Kló."

"No," Ulfrir said. "Not now that my father is back. They are his, heart and soul. They would betray us to him. I would not be surprised if they are searching for us now, at Snaka's command."

"I will fly, I will search, be our eyes in the sky," Skuld said.

"No, I will not risk you," Ulfrir said. "You are too easily seen, too easily recognised."

"Then what do you suggest?" Svik asked him.

"Uspa is right, we need information," Ulfrir said. "But we also need allies." He looked around the camp, at their battered warriors. "We are too few now."

"That sounds wonderful," Orlyg said, "but we are in a forest with only trees for company, and a dragon, a rat and a serpent the size of a mountain not too far away, along with whoever and whatever of their host survived your father's visit." He looked at Ulfrir. "What allies do we have left?"

Ulfrir smiled at Orlyg.

A fluttering of wings from the darkness above and they were all moving, weapons hefted, what few arrows left to them nocked and pointing.

"Don't hurt Vesli," a high-pitched voice squeaked above them, and the vaesen whirred down out of the darkness.

"Well, there is our eyes in the sky," Svik said with a smile.

"Vesli bring friends," she said, and footsteps were crunching on snow, all of them turning to see some of Ulfrir's úlfhéenar guards escorting a group of warriors into the camp.

Glornir walked at their head, Vol and Orka Skullsplitter at either shoulder, and a score or so of the Bloodsworn followed after them. Svik leaped to his feet, cheering and grinning.

"Ah, the Shieldbreaker and the Farmer. I feel better already," Orlyg said with an expansive grin.