CHAPTER NINETY-ONE ORKA

CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

ORKA

O rka led them up a winding path, threading ever higher between trees and moss-covered boulders, the scent of pine thick in the air, stepping over a stream that gurgled, cold and clear. Her leg was aching, and at the end of each breath she felt a pinching from her healing ribs. She glanced over her shoulder, saw Breca behind her, with Lif and S?unn either side of him, the rest of the Bloodsworn following. Varg and R?kia, Svik and Edel, Gunnar Prow, Halja Flat-Nose, a dozen others. A wagon with a horse harnessed, Vol sitting on the bench with Iva, Taras walking along beside them, a dozen children sitting in the back and Refna Strong-Hands running alongside the wagon. Sulich and his riders followed at the rear.

Vesli whirred out of the canopy.

"Almost there, almost there," she squeaked excitedly.

"I know," Orka grunted and Vesli flew over to the wagon, alighting upon an oak chest bound with iron chains that sat amidst stacked sacks. She sat upon the chest, stroking the timber and leaned forwards, undid one of the sacks with her long, dexterous fingers and pulled out a handful of teeth. Popped one of them into her mouth and began grinding.

Vol looked back over her shoulder at Vesli and the tennúr gave her a wide-mouthed grin.

Orka led them on, the ground levelling, soft underfoot, thick and spongy with pine needles. A clearing opened up before her, the remnants of a timber wall, most of it rotted and collapsed, reclaimed by the pinewoods, what was left of it still standing overgrown now with creeping vine, a wide gate, the wood splintered, one of the gates smashed from its hinges. She paused, her breath snatched from her chest for a moment, a rush of memories in her thought-cage, a fist clenching around her heart. She reached out and rested a hand on Breca's shoulder, knew that he must be feeling the same.

"Home," Breca breathed.

"No, you are my home," Orka said to him, and he smiled up at her.

She walked on, pushed the one gate that was still hanging open, hinges creaking and on into a courtyard of hard-packed earth, a stream running through it. The remnants of a hall still stood, wide timber steps leading up to it, not much more left than the posts and frame, and most of that was charred and blackened, wrapped with vine. What was left of the roof after the burning had fallen in, collapsed and choked by weeds. Most of the outbuildings were in better condition, the barn, forge, woodshed, and charcoal kiln still stood, though they needed scraping of ivy and some of the boards were rotted, needed replacing. The herb and vegetable patch was overgrown, but bees still buzzed around the beehive.

Orka walked across the courtyard and stopped before a mound of stones as the Bloodsworn entered through the gates. The creak of the wagon, thud of horses' hooves. She looked down on a barrow piled with rocks, flowers, weeds and vines growing in the cracks. Felt Breca's presence beside her and Vesli snapped her wings out and leaped from the chest she had been sitting upon, flew in a circle above them and alighted upon Breca's shoulder. Slowly, silently, the Bloodsworn spread around the barrow.

Orka opened her mouth to say something, found that she could not speak, words not able to creep past the knot that constricted her throat.

"I am back, Papa," Breca said, a tremor in his voice. "Mama saved me. She has brought me back home." His voice cracked and he dipped his head. Raised it again, a fierce twist to his lips. "And we avenged you, Papa."

Ah, my Thorkel , Orka thought, and his image filled her head, his smile splitting his beard, dark, shining eyes, deep creases around them. She could almost feel the touch of his calloused hand upon hers, the brush of his lips against her cheek, the sound of his whispered words in her ear.

"How I miss you," she breathed, tears welling from her eyes and spilling down her cheeks.

A grunt and footsteps behind her, Taras walking around next to Thorkel's barrow and setting a barrel on the ground, Spert's body, saved from the wreckage of Jarl Orlyg's ship. Varg, Svik, R?kia, Edel, Vol and Sulich walked around the other side of the barrow, carrying a linen-wrapped body upon their shoulders. They lowered Glornir's corpse gently to the ground.

"Thorkel, we have brought your brother here, to rest beside you," Vol said. Ulfrir had offered for Glornir to be buried alongside the heroes who had fallen in the battle for Vigrie. He had given Glornir the place of honour beside Elvar Chainbreaker, who had been laid to rest in the hull of her beloved Wave-Jarl , but Vol had declined the offer.

Vol looked around the old homestead, sunlight through sifting branches dappling the ground, birdsong in the air, in the distance the sound of the river, then back down to Thorkel's barrow.

"This is where you should be, my beloved," she whispered. "With your kin."

Spades were unloaded from the back of the wagon, one handed to Orka, and they began to dig.