If she realized he had caught her in this private moment, Ulfrik feared what sort of visions she would begin to have about him next. Maybe the gods would ask her to have him burned alive or thrown from a cliff. Owing to Eldrid’s blindness, she struck close to where he had been standing. He was already skittering away, yet she was uncannily accurate in following.
Having exhausted himself leading Bresi on a chase, he feared Eldrid might catch him, but he managed to put a gap between them that she could not close. She stumbled and he heard her indignant cursing.
“I’ll pull out your eyes and cut out our tongue,” she screamed. “You are cursed. Cursed!” She repeated her threats as Ulfrik continued to pull away. He slowed to a jog once he realized she would not catch up.
Then he was crashing into the dirt.
Sliding down a slope he hadn’t even seen, scree and sand rushed down over his head and into his clothes. The scratch on his leg now deepened to a gash from another sharp, black rock that pervaded this area. He lay with his feet pointing toward the top of the slope, shirt hiked up over his face and pants torn. His body throbbed with pain, every old wound coming back to him.
Eldrid’s shrieking drew closer. He tried to stand, but was not limber enough to regain himself before Eldrid arrived. She approached the edge, using her staff to tap out the perimeter. Her dead eyes looked down into the ditch.
Ulfrik lay still.
She inhaled deeply, like a hound tracking its prey. Ulfrik shuddered at the thought, for as she did a wide smile came to her face.
“So,” was all she said, but the single word encompassed a world of meaning. Ulfrik heard the recognition and threat in it, realizing that somehow the infernal witch had known him by scent.
His hand gripped a sharp, black rock. If he had his former strength and accuracy he could throw it straight through her face. Men had named him a champion ax-thrower in his youth. Now, he doubted his strength, and in the moment Eldrid simply turned from the edge and left him. A slide of rock and sand marked her departure.
He remained on the ground long after she was gone, feeling the dank earth seeping into his bones and watching the clouds form shapes above him. He saw one in the form of a long dagger, and he imagined it would be much like the one Eldrid would use to cut out his eyes.
Chapter 24
The hearth fire had burned low, casting Audhild’s hall into a room of wavering shadows. Ulfrik sat at the opposite end of the table from Audhild, who quietly ate with her attendant—a sad-faced woman named Kelda. He slurped from his wooden bowl and avoided looking at either of them. He studied the murky broth, which suffered from too much salt and fish meat that had disintegrated from over-cooking. Nightly he remembered Runa’s meals and the pride and care she took in them. Even in times of deep poverty she had prepared soups better than this puddle of salt and fish. Runa had been a perfect wife. He wished he had told her so more often, now that by all counts he was dead.
The sound of Kelda’s bench pushing back from the table shook the room, such was the quiet. Most evenings were silent, for Audhild was taciturn with him and Kelda as well as her occasional visitors, of which Gudrod was most frequent. However, tonight the hall was morosely quiet and Kelda appeared eager to leave, eyes constantly flicking toward the door. Now she smoothed her skirts and collected their bowls into a bucket.
“Leave them for tomorrow,” Audhild said to her. “You are free tonight. I would like a moment alone with Ulfrik, please.”
“Of course.” Kelda’s pale face blushed down to her long neck. She smiled awkwardly, placed the bucket next to the hearth, and left the hall without a moment’s hesitation.
Audhild stared at him across the table, her scarred eyebrow raised. He had been waiting for this since his encounter with Eldrid. That day he returned with Bresi, who had deserted the chase and waited for him to exit the woods, Audhild was shocked at his torn clothes and scratched leg. He had managed to deflect her concerns with excuses, but she would not be put off the trail. Instead of working him, she later sought out Bresi. Ulfrik did not doubt she had extracted everything she wanted from him.
“My strength grows each day,” Ulfrik said, avoiding her stare while swishing the cloudy soup in the bowl. “By the end of summer I will be in full health. Thanks to you, of course.”
He gulped the final mouthful of soup, a thin fish bone catching in his teeth. He spit on the floor to eject the bone along with the excess salt. When he sat up again, Audhild remained staring at him with her chin resting in her hand. They remained in silence until she leaned back and gave a tired sigh.
“And you’ll put all that strength into leaving me. Is that repayment for all I’ve done for you?”
“Escape is my usual reaction to being held captive.”
“I saved your life.” She slapped the table, making his wooden bowl jump, then glared at him.
“To make me worse than a slave. At least slaves have work to do. You just want me to wander around like the village fool.”
“You are no slave. You are a gift from the gods, as Eldrid dreamed it. Your life brings us fortune.”
“This discussion bores me,” Ulfrik stood, wobbled a moment as he balanced himself; his legs were still unsteady from his encounter with Eldrid. “I’ve heard this a dozen times and it is nonsense. You are right. I will put my strength into leaving this place at the first chance I get. I have a family waiting for me in Frankia.”
He deliberately mentioned his family, knowing that for whatever reason it angered Audhild. It was as if he were not allowed to have ever had an existence prior to her rescuing him. She did not disappoint, for her face turned red and her fist clenched.
“Your family is here now. The people need you.”
“Enough,” he said as he held up his hand. “If this is what you wanted to discuss, I’m too tired for it.”
“I want you to move out,” she said, her voice sharp with anger. She folded her arms across her chest, as if to dare him to argue.
Ulfrik blinked in surprise. “Where?”
“A small home has been prepared for you, close to those woods you so love.” She held her chin higher as she spoke. “I’ve done all that I can, and it would be unseemly for you to remain here any longer. People might misunderstand.”
The sensation of loss that loosened his knees surprised him. All he had dreamed of had been escape, but now the threat of loneliness and isolation frightened him. Audhild had been a constant since he fell from the tower, and though he bore no love for her, she was the closest person he could call a friend. She was also young and easy on his eyes. He was already missing the woman’s touch from his life.
“You are certain I can handle myself alone?”
“Your house will be far less difficult to run through than the woods.” She smiled; so she had known about his run-in with Eldrid after all. “You will be fine. You’ll be given a goat, cooking pot, and other necessities that the community can provide. They owe you their lives as surely as you owe me yours.”
He frowned at her last statement, but she shook her head to warn him off the argument. He shrugged instead. “Very well. Is it ready tomorrow?”
“It is.” They stood staring at each other until the silence became uncomfortable. Ulfrik rubbed the back of his neck and Audhild studied her feet. She broke the silence. “So you will go, then?”
“Well, you demanded it of me. I will make the best of my new home.”
“Good.”
More silence dragged on and Ulfrik decided that nothing more was worth saying. He turned to find his bed, but Audhild stopped him with a word.
“Eldrid may be blind, but she sees beyond what mortal eyes see. She is more complex than you imagine, and more dangerous. Do not vex her when she desires to be alone.”
“Are you warning me stay away from her? That is wasted breath. I’ve no desire to be near that woman ever again. Ease your mind on that score.”
“Good. I cannot help if she were ever to curse you. Your death would be te
rrible.”
Audhild’s eyes glittered in the low light of the hall. Ulfrik nodded and turned away, certain she had just threatened to have him killed.
Chapter 25
Ulfrik leaned against the door of his small home, scanning the wooded hills for signs of smoke. No hopeful smudge of gray stained the sky above the yellow-crowned birch trees. A fleet of clouds plied overhead, periodically hiding the sun. Nothing, just as it had been all summer long. No travelers had returned to find Ulfrik’s messages hidden in the old campsite. He checked every day, a habit born from both hope and boredom. Though it was a foolish thought, he wondered if Runa or Gunnar or any of his family ever stood on the walls of Ravndal and looked hopefully for his return. Could they both be repeating the same tired, hopeless actions every day across the thousands of miles? From within the hut, he heard his table jolt and a wooden mug thump to the floor. His goat had bumped it as he did at least a dozen times a day. Were it not for the companionship the beast provided him, he’d kill it for its sheer stupidity.
Satisfied that help was not coming today, Ulfrik stretched and strolled around his house. The woodpile was well stocked, and a rabbit had been strung up by his door, an offering from one of the villagers. Despite living nearly a year among them, he hardly interacted with any of them. They all feared his supernatural powers, whatever those might be. They came with offerings in the early morning hours or at midnight when the never-setting sun was most dim. He prodded the rabbit, bony and small, not likely the best part of their catch. Yet, he appreciated their sacrifice. Carving a life out of this land was difficult, and carrying an unproductive man was a burden that could lead to ruin.
He decided to walk the shoreline this morning. Gudrod had left enough wood from their old ships to build several fishing boats, and Ulfrik enjoyed watching them at work. He also imagined seizing one for himself and making his escape, though without a destination he would either die at sea or be forced back to the coast. He needed an ocean-going knarr or longship if he were to ever have a chance.
Halfway to the shore he found Gudrod with his cronies leaning on the wood fence of a goat pen. Busy in discussion, they had not noticed his approach and Ulfrik was about to turn away when Gudrod spotted him.
“So where are you going this morning?” Gudrod shoved away from the fence and walked up to Ulfrik.
“Any place where the air is not fouled with your breath. Step aside.”
Gudrod’s smile dropped. “You’re in a fine mood. Did the goat kick you when you tried to mount her?”
“You’d be the one to teach me about mounting goats, since you can’t get between a woman’s legs unless you beat her senseless. How’s it going with Audhild? Her door’s still closed to you?”
“You’d do well to remember who you’re speaking to.”
“A virgin?”
The barb drew a snicker from one of Gudrod’s supporters, and it stopped Gudrod from releasing the punch he had aimed at Ulfrik. Instead he whirled around at the man. “You think he’s funny?”
Ulfrik’s punch collided with Gudrod’s ear, and being that he was already twisted off balance, he crumpled to the grass. Pain flared in Ulfrik’s hand but the violence released a killing euphoria he had forgotten. Reveling in his new strength, Ulfrik was atop Gudrod before he could recover. Conquering the urge to pound him, Ulfrik grabbed Gudrod’s beard and yanked his face close.
“For each night that you’ve pulled your cock and dreamed of Audhild’s bed, I’ve killed a dozen men with my hands alone. If you ever think to raise a fist to me again, I’ll twist your head off.” He shoved Gudrod back into the grass and stood. A dozen bones cracked and as many joints burned as he did, but Ulfrik suppressed it all beneath his dignity. He glared at the others surrounding him. Fortunately, their shock was plain in their slack-jaws and wide eyes; otherwise Ulfrik might have taken a horrible beating.
“Get your master out of the dirt. You had all better take the same lesson. The gods placed me here, and who knows what they really sent me to do? Be good to me or I’ll make Eldrid’s curses a pleasure.”
They all stepped back and one bent to help Gudrod. Ulfrik did not linger to see what became of his display, but heard Gudrod’s indignant roar. Without trying to run, he increased his pace toward the shore. His heart pounded and his hands itched for more fighting, but the pain in his body told him he was not yet ready for brawling. Gudrod had not been paying attention and so Ulfrik had exploited the moment. A straight fight would still not be favorable, and Ulfrik did not want that known.
A smile came to his face, even as he realized both Gudrod and Eldrid would punish him for his trespasses. Let them come at him. He had nothing better to do.
Until he saw the ships.
Three sails arrayed along the horizon, already close enough to see they were two fat-bellied knarrs and one a sleek longship. The strong wind carried them, and their oars were shipped. He could not tell if they had set beast heads on the prow, but on the longship shields were racked, a sign of peace. He checked over his shoulder, but the lazy village scene showed no reaction to the approaching ships. No warning shouts or blowing horns. Goats chewed the grass in spotty sunlight and people were away at chores or indoors. He looked back to the beach, and the three fishing ships were beached. For whatever reason, they had not put to sea this day.
Tears nearly erupted from his eyes. The gods were sending him a way home. They had blinded the village and kept the fisherman away, who normally would’ve intercepted any approaching ship. These ships were undoubtedly traders, two knarrs for hauling goods and one longship for protection. They would send a party ashore before landing and Ulfrik would greet them. He wanted to dance, to run screaming in joy along the shore. He waved at the ships, but Ulfrik was already standing on the only sensible landing point. He did not need to draw any attention.
So he waited, constantly checking over his shoulders for someone to appear from the village. The ships stopped in deep waters, and he saw the white splash from the dropping anchor stones. Over his shoulder, the village idled. His heart throbbed until he became faint.
One of the knarrs released the ship’s rowboat into the water, and five men scaled down ropes to leap into it. Over Ulfrik’s shoulder, the grazing goats were joined by another but nothing else changed. Men crowded the forecastle of their ships, some waved and Ulfrik waved back. The small rowboat drew closer, bobbing with the gentle tide.
Behind, nothing changed. Ulfrik felt ready to explode. At that moment, he could’ve hoisted an anvil overhead and ran it the length of the coast.
The rowboat now came to shallow water, and two men leapt out to guide it safely ashore. Ulfrik waded out to assist, calling his greeting with a smile so wide it hurt his cheeks. Once the boat lodged on the sand, he helped beach it then stepped back to allow the visitors to clamber over the sides.
“Gods be praised,” Ulfrik said, his arms thrown wide in greeting. “However you found me, I cannot be grateful enough.”
Of the five men, three were armed with swords and girded with leather and fur. One fetched spears from the hull of the rowboat and distributed them to their owners. The two others were less well armed and lacked the killing edge Ulfrik recognized in the three sword warriors. All wore fur caps and were clad in wool cloaks stained white with sea salt. Their faces were rugged from sun and ocean spray, and the creases at their eyes spoke to their years of glaring into the horizon searching their next destination. All sea-roving traders were of kindred aspect, for the open sea bends men in certain ways. They swayed at the edge of the surf, revealing how long they had been aboard their ships.
“Well met, friend.” The speaker wore a frizzy beard like a plume of smoke from a swift-burning flame. “I’m Heidrek Halfdanarson. These are my ships. We’ve come a long way in hopes of trade. Heard there were new settlers in the area. See we found the right place.”
Heidrek stuck his beard at the village, and Ulfrik turned again to see people emerging. Gudrod and his pack were leading the grou
p. Ulfrik’s guts tightened.
“Listen, Halfdan, these people are dangerous. They’re mad. A blind woman rules them with strange curses. You’re not safe here and neither am I. Please take me with you and leave this place.”
The traders frowned, and Heidrek looked him up and down. “Name’s Heidrek. Calm yourself, friend. Trade’s good for everyone. Never met a man this far north that didn’t welcome news and supplies.”
The group was closing in. Gudrod was waving as if he were reuniting with a lover. Worse still, Audhild was hurrying behind the crowd and guiding Eldrid by the arm.
“Curse the bastards,” Ulfrik said.
“Say what?” Heidrek’s lip curled and the spearmen stepped closer to him.
“There’s no time. I know what I must look like to you, but I am a jarl where I hail from. I’m Ulfrik Ormsson. I served Hrolf the Strider. Surely you know that name if not mine.”
“Jarl?” Heidrek’s sneer filled in all the other words he did not need to speak. One of the traders laughed, more of a derisive cough.
Ulfrik checked over his shoulder. Gudrod was a dozen paces away and Eldrid was waving her staff overhead and screeching her miserable gibberish. He faced Heidrek and reached out to him. “These people will kill me.”
Spears lowered, cutting off the rest of his words. Their faces were resolute. Heidrek glared at him. Ulfrik halted and his arms flopped to his sides, a lump in his throat threatening to choke him. He had rushed his chance and destroyed any hope of convincing the traders to aid him. Now he played the madman, all out of desperation.
“Stop!” Gudrod shouted from behind. For a moment Ulfrik hoped Gudrod defended him against the threat to his life, since Eldrid’s visions required him to live. “Get back from these good men, slave.”
A rough hand at his shirt collar yanked Ulfrik back, causing him to stumble. The bravado of moments ago had fled him, such was his shame. He deserved the humiliation for his own stupidity. He landed on his side and Gudrod kicked him.
The Storm God's Gift (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 5) Page 14