by T L Greylock
Bryndis drew herself up and did not flinch from Raef’s stare. “You insult me, Skallagrim.”
“And there she is again, the woman I met in the ice this morning, a woman accustomed to authority, a woman who does not shrink in the presence of men. Where did she go, Bryndis?”
“What does it matter to you? I may do as I please in my home, Skallagrim.”
“You are right. Perhaps it is not my place. I hardly know you. But I cannot understand why you would sit by and let Eiger hold sway. This is your battle, the fight you wanted, your land and home at stake. Not his.”
Bryndis looked at Raef for a moment, the anger in her eyes fading. “I cannot fight Fengar alone. I am not beautiful. Men’s eyes do not seek me out like bees honey. Eiger is happy. He has his hounds. His belly is full. I need Balmoran’s shields, Raef, and so I will do what I must to keep him happy.” Bryndis placed a hand on Raef’s arm. “Remember, I told you that Narvik has often been at the mercy of greater powers, that its people have learned to survive in a harsh world. The same can be said of Narvik’s ruler. I do what must be done.” Bryndis turned and took a single step forward before spinning back to face Raef, her face hard with emotion. “And when all this is done, when Fengar is dead and a true king has been named, when I no longer have need of Eiger, I will show him my claws.”
Raef did not doubt her intent, or the fire that burned in her eyes, but misgivings still plagued him. He swallowed them down and said only, “Take care that you do not dig too deep a hole, Bryndis.”
She was already turning away and did not respond. Raef followed her to another building, this one an old stable converted into living quarters. The interior was lit only by candles, their flames flickering in the gust of air that followed close on Raef’s heels as he stepped over the threshold. The air was smoky and smelled of lavender and dill, as though long-forgotten herbs had been left too long. A pair of servants kept to the edge of the candlelight, one stooped and bent so far that he could barely lift his head to see their arrival, the other a young woman who watched Raef and Bryndis with wide eyes. At the far end, a large chair sat before a huge, blackened hearth and a figure was ensconced deep within its hulking grasp, half-hidden under layer after layer of thick furs.
Had he not known Thorgrim Great-Belly was ailing, Raef might not have recognized him. Gone was the proud lord and the remnants of strength and youthful vitality that had clung to him when he had called the gathering. His was still a large man, encumbered with fat, but he sagged now, as he heaved himself out of the chair, the pelts cascading off of him, and his steps were slow and sluggish as his feet dragged across the floor. His cheeks were pale and his eyes sunken. He kept his head down, gaze intent on his feet as though he feared he might stumble on the smooth floor and fall to his knees. He managed no more than four steps away from the hearth before he was forced to stop and steady himself. The young female servant rushed to his side and Thorgrim leaned against her slender frame. Only then did he raise his eyes high enough to take in his guests.
“Do you know me, lord?” Raef asked.
The noise that came from the Great-Belly was both cough and laugh. “Know you? You spilled blood in my hall once, Raef Skallagrim. I do not forget such things.”
“Skallagrim is my guest,” Bryndis said. “Whatever has passed between you has no place here.”
Thorgrim brushed this away with a feeble wave of his hand. “Where is my son? Has he gotten himself killed yet?”
Bryndis answered in smooth tones. “Eiger has only just returned from scouting Fengar’s position.”
Thorgrim snorted. “More like he slept off a bellyful of mead in some stinking place and has come out in search of the next cask.” The Great-Belly laughed at his own wit and coughed again, his body convulsing with the force of it. His grip on the young woman grew tighter, Raef could see, the pale skin over his knuckles stretching thin as the coughing fit subsided. The young woman bore the violent motion and the Great-Belly’s weight without even a grimace.
When Thorgrim had regained his voice, he glared at Bryndis. “I am tired. Leave me. Skallagrim can stay.”
Bryndis met Raef’s eyes, but neither spoke a word as Bryndis passed from the smoky room, leaving Raef with the Great-Belly. The girl helped Thorgrim reclaim his seat by the hearth and she rearranged the heavy furs with care, including the fine white pelt that Raef and his father had given Thorgrim at the gathering. The Great-Belly motioned her away and sank back into the chair, a grimace of pain flashing across his face. Only when the servants had retreated in Bryndis’s wake did Thorgrim venture to speak again.
“Are they gone, then?” He peered around Raef and then stood once more and walked to the hearth. His strides were firm and sure and his hands did not tremble. The watery eyes that had stared at Raef were now clear and bright.
“What is this?” Raef asked, wary at the sudden change in the lord of Balmoran.
The Great-Belly did not answer right away, instead he put a log on the fire and then seated himself on the bench by the hearth, his broad shoulders bent over his chest, his hands clasped together while his elbows rested on his knees. “My son will have told you I am dying, and this is the truth. Only I do not intend to go to Valhalla as soon as he would like.” He caught Raef’s gaze. “Oh, I stumble and I limp and I complain of pains and aches in my head and bowels. But I am not so weak as that. Not yet.”
“Why such pretense?” Raef stepped closer to the fire, watching the older man carefully.
Thorgrim’s eyes grew harsh. “The wolf and the bear have been enemies since the dawn of days. A wolf would never presume to attack a strong bear, hale and whole. But a dying one? Riddled with pain and prone to fever? So weak he can hardly grasp a horn of ale? A wolf might misjudge this bear. A wolf might act rashly.”
Raef grasped the meaning, if not the entire story. “And yet a wolf hunts with a pack. A bear would not fall to the teeth of one, but the jaws of many?”
Thorgrim gave a nod and Raef knelt to tend to the fire. “True, my son has those who would follow him. But I am not yet friendless. He is uncertain of himself, his position, his power, though he pretends otherwise. For now it is enough that he thinks me disabled by my illness. This way I may watch and make my own plans.”
“Perhaps the bear will recover?”
“No.” Thorgrim gazed into the small flames that now ate at the log. “The bear will not. And Eiger knows this as well as I.”
“How can either of you be so sure?”
“Because he has made sure of it. This is no natural illness, Skallagrim. My own son has had me poisoned. He thinks I do not know, of course, and I play the part he has given me. As I said, I have plans of my own.”
“And those might be?”
“Retribution.”
Silence fell over them even as the fire grew, sending light into the dark corners. At last Raef spoke again. “Why tell me?”
“Because I must make do with the man Odin has sent to me. You help me, I help you. A simple bargain, no?”
“I am here for Fengar, not to interfere in Balmoran’s affairs. And what do you think you could offer me?”
Thorgrim scratched at his beard and continued as though Raef had said nothing. “You lend me your ears, tell me everything you hear in my son’s presence, and in return I will see that he keeps his hands off the girl.”
“Bryndis? She is capable of fending for herself.” And yet Thorgrim’s words were a confirmation of Raef’s fears.
The Great-Belly’s gaze narrowed. “The last time my son took interest in a woman, she did not see the light of day again. Her body was a mangled piece of flesh, disposed of with the kitchen refuse. Would you have the lady Bryndis suffer the same?”
Raef kept silent and Thorgrim got to his feet. He called for the serving girl and the moment his voice rolled off the timber walls, Raef watched as his shoulders slumped forward, his back bent in a painful stoop, his hand shook as it reached to steady him on the back of the chair, and, as he went to mee
t the girl, Raef heard his feet shuffle away, one agonizing step after the other.
Twenty-Three
“It is not much,” Bryndis said, her gaze roving over the spare chamber that had been opened for Raef and Siv. The room was little-used and smelled of damp earth. “But it will keep you dry.”
“The day is not yet old, Bryndis. Show me where Fengar is.”
“My men are worn to the bone. There will be no more scouting today.” Bryndis raised her voice as Raef began to protest. “Tomorrow.” Raef accepted this with a nod, though it did not sit well with him. “I have little to offer you, but there is one thing my hall is rich in that few have. Steam. A hot spring runs under these hills and long ago a bathhouse was built to harness its warmth. Even in darkest winter the stones are warm to the touch and the waters hot. You are welcome to it.”
Bryndis did not lie. The bathing room, stone from floor to ceiling, was filled with steam. A shallow pool covered much of it and a single servant, a young boy, collected their clothes as Raef and Siv slipped into the water. Raef submerged himself for a long moment, glad to feel the heat penetrating through his winter skin. Standing, the water came to the middle of Raef’s chest and he floated on the surface until Siv offered to scrape his back. Raef agreed and seated himself on the edge of the pool, the steam rising and swirling, the stones warm beneath his skin, and closed his eyes as Siv went to work on his back, first rubbing oil and then scraping it away with a strigil. When she had finished, he did the same for her, and in time he felt the tension slip from his muscles.
Raef set the strigil down on the stones and wrapped his arms around Siv, resting his chin on her shoulder blade. The short hairs behind her ears curled on her damp skin. “We could do it. Here. This very night. I am sure Bryndis keeps a priest.”
Siv leaned back against him. “Not here.”
“Have you changed your mind?”
Siv smiled. “No.” The smile vanished. “But not here. This place, I do not like it.”
“Then we will wait.” Battle with Fengar loomed and there was little chance of another opportunity presenting itself in the coming days. But Raef understood Siv’s misgivings.
“Do you think Hauk has joined Fengar?”
It was an unexpected question but one Raef had turned over in his own mind many times. “Perhaps. His list of friends grows thin. And now that he has been exposed, there would be little point in pretending he does not follow Fengar.” Raef paused and watched a trickle of water slide down Siv’s neck. “Fengar will have need of him if they are to survive.”
Siv was quiet for a long moment. “I think of Eira often. I wonder if she has found a measure of happiness, if, indeed, a Valkyrie knows what it means to be happy. She was never at peace. Perhaps this new life will fill the emptiness in her heart.”
Raef had not spared the newly-made Valkyrie much thought. “It is Visna I wonder about. I imagine her releasing her sword, letting go of the last piece of Asgard she had claim to. And I wonder what has become of her.”
“Cilla said she wished to see the Valkyries. Do you think she lives?”
Raef had not thought of the young girl from Kelgard in a long time. So young and yet so fierce and determined. He had no answer, and could only hold Siv closer.
In time Siv stirred and said she wanted to visit with the three shieldmaidens from Vannheim who had followed Raef south. They were young, she said, and uncertain, and she would ease their fears if she could. Raef smiled and watched Siv dress in the fresh clothes that had been brought from their packs. After she left, he enjoyed the heat and the steam for a moment longer, but as he rose from the pool, the door opened and the steam parted to reveal Eiger on the threshold.
Eiger was swathed in a black fur, but the coarse chest hair and pink skin visible below his neck told Raef he was naked beneath. He held a wooden cup in his hand and raised it to his lips, draining the contents before casting it to the stone floor where it rattled and rolled to a halt.
“I have found the steam is best at this hour, Skallagrim. No, no,” Eiger said as Raef made to dress. “Stay. I would speak with you in private.” Raef retreated back into the depths of the pool, trying to discern Eiger’s mood. There was no impatience or demand in his face, only calm words and earnest eyes. “My father has ears everywhere. Only the baths are safe.”
The steam was thick, the light dim. Raef watched Eiger shrug out of his fur, a bear shedding its skin, and then sink his wide girth into the pool. He let out a groan of pleasure and lay back in the water, the rolls of fat and muscle on his chest and belly protruding like a rising whale.
“These waters have been known to heal,” Eiger said, his voice floating off the stones. “The spring is ancient. Frigg herself is said to have bathed here when there was nothing but trees and open air encircling the waters. They say Freyja is the great beauty among the gods, second to none. But it was Frigg, when the sun’s light was still new and the grass fresh beneath her bare feet, who caught Odin’s eye. She is the one we should sing of and cherish.” Eiger swam closer to Raef so that they might see each other clearly through the steam. “Do you love the gods, Skallagrim? Have you known their presence, felt a strong hand at your back in battle when all is chaos and darkness? No,” Eiger hurried on, “you make your home by the sea, perhaps you have felt their caress in the form of a swift breeze that fills your sails and sets your course for home.” He looked at Raef with a hopeful expression, but Raef kept his features still even though his mind was filled with thoughts of ravens and his own dream-like meeting with Odin. Eiger went on. “Long have I felt the gods are my true family. The father, mother, brothers and sisters that are my blood are but a poor substitute, shadows of the family in Asgard that I yearn for. Much of my youth was spent hoping the gods might find reason to call me home. Gladly would I have given up any dreams of valor and renown for this.” Eiger paused and took a deep breath, closing his eyes. To Raef, his fleshy face had grown younger, almost childlike, as he revealed his dreams. “Sometimes I think I can hear them. Can you feel their presence?”
“I regret that my ears are deaf to such a marvel,” Raef said. But for him the marvel was not the presence of the gods, but Eiger himself. Some might think him mad, but there was no wildness, no raving. Only fierce obsession and utter sincerity. A far more dangerous combination.
“As I grew into a man, I began to understand that I should not be waiting for the Allfather to bring me home, to summon me to his shining hall. He is beset on all sides by terrible foes, each more deadly than the last and each striving to bring about his destruction and the annihilation of Asgard. He fights to stave off that dreadful fate, every breath holding back the tide, every breath a lifetime of woe and desperate survival. Who am I to ask the War-Maker to spare a moment for me?” If Eiger wanted Raef to answer, he did not wait long, but rushed onward, his gaze turned inward now. “I must find my own way to my father’s hall. I must gain Asgard.”
This statement lingered in the steam and Raef began to ask how he thought to accomplish this, but Eiger spoke again. “A perilous task, a dangerous journey, but one I have prepared for my whole life. I can see it before me, the bifrost leading me to the gates of diamond and gold, gates that reach up and mingle with the stars. And there, where the grass is ever green, the winds always gentle, the skies always bright, I shall at last make my home where I belong. For I have begun to understand the purpose of my life. The Allfather will have need of me when the twilight comes.”
Raef asked the only question he could. “And my part in it all? Why do you tell me this?”
Eiger’s fingers slid across the surface of the pool toward Raef, stopping just short of touching him. Eiger’s brow lowered and his eyes narrowed in a pained expression, interrupted by a small, almost wistful smile.
“They told me he would come with stars in his hair and a storm in his eyes. They told me that together we would walk the path to Asgard and together we would bring victory to the gods in their hour of need.”
“Who
?”
“You, Skallagrim.” The words were a caress, full of longing and promise.
“You are mistaken, Eiger. My fate does not walk with yours. My fate is mine alone.”
“No, no, do you not see? You are meant to walk with the gods, not alone.”
Raef shook his head, trying to find words that would dissuade Eiger. “But stars? A storm? There were no stars in the moment of our meeting. The skies were clear and filled with the sun.”
Eiger smiled. “A storm of ice staked claim to the world this morning and it was as if the stars themselves had come to earth. What is ice if not the child of the stars? You were wreathed in that embrace.”
Melting ice was no sign from the gods, Raef might have said. But he could see that nothing he said would defeat Eiger’s ravenous belief. Eiger raised a hand from the pool, water dripping from his fingers like liquid gems, and reached out to Raef’s face, stopping to hover over Raef’s cheek, so close that Raef could feel the heat of Eiger’s skin.
“The gods have given you a great gift, Raef, son of Einarr, and made you as one of their own. They never told me you would be formed like one of the gods descended from Asgard.”
“They?” Eiger’s arousal was obvious now. Raef chose to ignore it.
“Those who have vowed to guide me from the realm of men. Let me show them to you. Hear what they have to say. And then together we will take the first steps on our glorious path.”
Raef searched for words. “You speak of a path that is not mine, Eiger, though surely any man would wish for it. You are mistaken. I am not the man you seek. My place is on the field of battle, where I will end this war.”
“You are too humble, Skallagrim.”
“Eiger. Hear me. I have come to Narvik for a single purpose, to see to Fengar’s defeat and destruction. What you seek is beyond me.”
Eiger’s mouth tightened, the sincerity gone from his eyes, but he kept his voice pleasant. “I can only hope you will discover the mistake you have made, before you come to regret it.”