The Song of the Ash Tree- The Complete Saga

by T L Greylock

  Cilla met Raef’s gaze, and already he could see her eyes were changing, deepening, growing, filling with strength and power, but there was nothing of Eira’s rage.

  Without a word, Cilla stepped close to where Raef knelt in the snow and picked up the axe that had fallen from his hand when Eira wounded him. She contemplated the sharp edge, the smooth handle, as though it were important that she know its shape, weight, and balance. She held out the handle and Raef put out his hand, palm up. She settled it there against the spatter of his own blood and did not let go until Raef had clasped it tight in his grasp. Then she turned and looked to the sky, expectant.

  The horse came from above, pale and luminous like the moon, just as Raef remembered when the nine Valkyries descended on the burning lake. It landed at Cilla’s side, towering over her, and bumped its nose against her chest. She put a hand on the smooth, broad space between its eyes and then the horse kneeled, bending its front legs until its back was within reach. Cilla, still holding the radiant sword, wrapped the fingers of her free hand in the horse’s silky mane and pulled herself up until she could settle herself on its back. When the creature straightened to its full height, Cilla’s legs dangled and she seemed so small, so insignificant, and yet Raef could not doubt that she belonged.

  If the horse ran or flew, Raef could not say, but it was gone in an instant, leaving no trace of Cilla or the sword of sunlight. Only the small, blood-drenched knife in the snow gave testament to what had happened and those who had watched it all amid the trees began to speak in frightened whispers.

  In a daze, Raef glanced down at his axe and then walked to where Hauk of Ruderk stood. Their eyes met and then Hauk sank to his knees. For a moment Raef thought he might beg for his life, but Eira’s sudden presence and unexpected death and Cilla’s ascension had brought a great stillness amongst the pines and Hauk, it seemed, had no words. Raef planted his sword in the snow and switched the axe to his left hand, but as he drew back and aimed for the side of Hauk’s neck, a rustle of wings drew his gaze to the sky.

  The swift was true to its name, passing over Raef’s head with the speed of an arrow loosed from a bow, and yet the world seemed to slow and Raef saw the flashing white belly and the darting black wings clearly. He followed its flight, craning his neck to catch sight of it as it disappeared over his shoulder and into the trees.

  Raef looked once more at Hauk, who seemed not to have noticed the swift pass over. He glanced at Siv and Vakre, then back to the man whose blood he had vowed to spill.

  “Forgive me, father,” Raef said, his words a whisper. He turned his back on Hauk, pulled his sword from the snow, and walked away, sheathing his weapons as he went.

  Warriors moved aside to let him pass, their faces riddled with fear and uncertainty, unable to comprehend what they had witnessed. Raef had eyes only for the path ahead of him, though he knew not where it would take him.

  He had left the ring of warriors behind when the land began to rise beneath his feet and he climbed, scrabbling his way over rough, steep ground, ignoring the throbbing in his shoulder where Eira had wounded him. When he came to the top, the hills were spread out around him and there was no sign of the swift. There was only wind and sky and clouds.

  Raef closed his eyes, felt the wind on his face, felt the earth beneath his feet, then opened his eyes and kicked away the snow with one boot until he had exposed the bare, frozen ground. He placed his hand on the dirt and the brown grass, trying to make sense of all he had done, of what had led him there.

  “The swift knows the way.”

  The words had never been far from his thoughts since his dreams the night before, and he spoke them now, first quietly, tasting them, then with more certainty, more resolve.

  A gust of wind crested on Raef’s small summit and then the air seemed to sigh, and in that moment the sky grew dark with wings.

  Countless birds took to the air as one, rising from every tree, every valley and hill Raef could see. The roar of their flapping wings and the sound of their voices was deafening and the horizon grew dark in every direction as they blotted out the grey swaths of clouds, rising higher and higher. Raef could see tiny sparrows and soaring hawks, glossy black crows and even a white, sharp-eyed owl, but together, heaving across the sky as one pulsing beast, the great flock turned west. On and on they came, flying over Raef in droves, and then at last there was silence and the sky emptied, leaving Raef alone on his hill.

  It took only a moment for Raef to make his decision, and even then he knew his choice had always lain in his heart, slumbering, waiting. He left the barren hill and hurried back down the slope, weaving through the trees, nearly tumbling over in his haste as he took the shortest path back to the riverside camp.

  The warriors of Vannheim called out to him when he came within sight of their shelters, but he paid them no heed, hurrying on until he came to the boulders he had slept between. His pack was as he had left it, damp now after the sleet of the morning. Raef stuffed the last of his belongings in it, rose, and turned, swaying slightly at the rush of blood from his head. He looked down at the wound Eira had given him, studying the damage for the first time.

  “Let me bind that for you.” Siv had come. Vakre and Dvalarr stood behind her.

  Raef nodded. Siv spread open the slashed cloth with her fingers and poured river water across the wound, washing away the sticky blood. Then she took a strip of clean linen from her pack and wrapped it around Raef’s arm, pulling tight as she cinched the knot.

  When she finished, Raef, calmer now though no less determined, went to Dvalarr.

  “Lead them home, Crow,” Raef said, gesturing to the camp of Vannheim warriors. He might have said more, he should have said more, but the solemn nod the Crow gave him stopped the words in his throat. Raef held out his hand and the two men clasped forearms.

  And then he was alone with Siv and Vakre.

  “Come,” Raef said. He led them to where they had tied their horses and began to saddle his, the tall, fleet-footed grey mare. “Fate has come for me. I do not know what lies ahead. I only know that I am as certain that I must do this as I am certain of the love I bear both of you. Perhaps I am wrong to ask this, but I would regret it if I did not. Will you follow me, one last time?”

  Siv reached out and took Raef’s hand, stopping him as he strapped his pack behind the saddle. It was answer enough.

  Vakre was quiet, his face marred by dark circles under his eyes, and Raef saw a weariness there that was deeper than a lack of sleep. It worried him to see Vakre that way and for a moment Raef thought the son of Loki would refuse, would draw his sword and demand Raef fulfill the promise given. The smile that curved Vakre’s mouth was small and sad and full of lost things.

  “You know my answer.”

  Raef nodded at Vakre and kissed Siv’s forehead. “We must go, at once.”

  They did not go alone. After crossing the river and heading into the charred trees on the western side, Raef caught sight of a small party pursuing them. Bryndis led them, her white fox fur cloak pure and bright amid the blackened remains of the forest.

  “Skallagrim!” The lady of Narvik shouted after him, but Raef did not slow until he saw she would not give up the chase. They slowed and circled as Bryndis caught up. Eiger was there, his face flushed with the exertion.

  “What are you running from?” Bryndis lined her voice with a touch of disdain, as though she might shame Raef, but he could see that her heart was not in it, that what she had seen and heard among the tall pines had upset her. Only Raef had seen the great flock of birds, but the rest could not have missed the terrible cacophony.

  “I run from nothing,” Raef said.

  Eiger had regained his breath, but he looked from Raef to Siv to Vakre as though he suspected them of some conspiracy. “That is no answer, Skallagrim.”

  Raef bit back his anger, but Bryndis spoke again. “What of the gathering? Your voice will sway many.”

  “Call your gathering, Bryndis. There is no place f
or me there.” Raef turned his horse’s head and made to continue, but he could see the lady of Narvik did not understand. “I will ask the gods to grant the warriors wisdom.”

  The words were a mistake, he knew, and he wished he could call them back to curl under his tongue once more, but it was too late and Eiger’s eyes narrowed.

  “Betrayer!” The Great-Belly’s son brought his horse next to Raef’s leaving him no choice but to draw his sword to keep Eiger’s fury at bay. “You would leave me behind, I who first gave you the dream of Asgard, who wanted only to take the path together that we might kneel before the Allfather as one. False heart, I name you, full of black greed.”

  “Be careful of your words, Eiger. You know not what you say.”

  Eiger spat and drew his own sword, bringing it level with Raef’s blade. “You deny that you have found the bridge to Asgard? That you meant to steal away and gain the glorious gates alone?”

  “That dream is yours, Eiger. I do not aspire to such lofty heights.” Raef kept his voice low and calm, though he was desperate to get away.

  Bryndis was frowning at the exchange. “What is this you speak of, Eiger?”

  But Eiger was too unsettled and he rounded on her, unleashing all the anger he felt toward Raef. “You are not fit to hear of it, sword-whore! You are filth, less than a dog.” He swiped at her, his movement hampered by his protruding belly and his horse’s neck, but Bryndis’s stallion reared up, lashing out with his hooves at the sudden threat. The lady of Narvik clung to the saddle at first, but as her mount’s hooves struck the other horse, she was jarred loose and fell in a heap. Her warriors leaped to the ground and one darted in and pulled her away from the stallion’s feet, but then the stallion screamed, his neck nicked by Eiger’s blade, and the Great-Belly’s son was dismounting, his sword reaching for Bryndis.

  Eiger came up short, dropping his sword as he howled in pain at the same moment that Raef seized him by the hair. Eiger clutched at his hand and fell to his knees, his palm seared and bloody, the flesh blistered and torn. The hilt of his sword hissed where it lay in the snow, steam rising as it cooled. Raef’s gaze flickered to Vakre and saw grim satisfaction there.

  Bryndis was on her feet, recovering faster than her warriors, and she gazed down at Eiger, whose cheeks were wet with tears, contempt blazing from her coal-lined eyes. Raef kept his grip on Eiger’s hair and brought the tip of his sword to rest next to Eiger’s spine.

  “Too long have I indulged you, Eiger, son of Thorgrim.” Bryndis’s voice was sharp with wrath long-contained. “And now at last you show me the true shade of your spirit. I was warned, and I should have heeded those warnings long ago and cast you from me as a dog scratches away a flea. You think a woman beneath you? You think me weak because I have breasts and nothing dangling between my legs?” Bryndis leaned over Eiger, her face twisted in a dreadful smile. “There I have the advantage, you see, because no one can do this to me.”

  The lady of Narvik thrust out one arm, striking out with all the vicious quickness of a snake, and clamped onto Eiger’s groin. The fat man shrieked but he was helpless, caught between Bryndis’s grip and Raef’s sword and in the throes of agony.

  When she released him, Eiger fell back and Raef let him go as he sprawled onto the snow, the place between his legs damp with blood and fluid. The scream died on his lips, reduced to whimpers as Eiger shuddered through the lingering pain. Bryndis stepped back, her satisfaction turned to disgust, but before she could speak again, a loud, spiteful laugh filtered through the trees.

  Raef spun to see Thorgrim Great-Belly emerge from among the charred trees. The lord of Balmoran, thought to be an invalid in Bryndis’s hall, had abandoned his hunched back, his shuffling gate. He stood tall and proud, his hand resting easily on the hilt of his sword. The only hint of his illness lay in his eyes, edged with pain. Six warriors stood at his back, their faces grim as they witnessed Eiger’s humiliation. Raef recognized them as the captains of Balmoran and knew then that Eiger had overestimated their loyalty. And he knew, too, that Eiger, even through the depths of his pain, was beginning to understand this.

  “You are a disgrace to our ancestors.” Thorgrim bent over Eiger, the pleasure he felt at witnessing his son’s distress plain for all to see. When Eiger tried to worm away from his father’s gaze, Thorgrim grabbed his jaw and held fast, forcing his son to look at him. “Yes, son, I am strong, still, despite the slow poison you have loosed upon my blood and bones. And now you will answer for it.” The Great-Belly released Eiger from his withering stare and straightened, then signaled for two of his warriors to step forward and seize Eiger. They hauled him to his feet, ignoring his moans and incoherent curses, and dragged him toward the river. The Great-Belly marched after them without so much as a glance at Raef or Bryndis.

  Bryndis watched until they reached the shore, then turned back to Raef, Siv, and Vakre. The blood lust had vanished from her eyes.

  “Are you unhurt, lady?” Raef asked.

  Bryndis snorted. “It would take more than his vile words to wound me.” She paused, her gaze roving over Raef’s shoulder where Siv and Vakre stood. “You are lucky in your friends, Skallagrim.”

  “Yes.”

  Bryndis nodded, as though she had come to a decision. “I do not understand why you are leaving, Raef, nor do I understand your haste or Eiger’s strange accusation, and I can only begin to guess at what I saw across the river.” She paused. “But go with my good will and the good will of Narvik. You do not need it, of course, and having it means little to you, I think. I was never going to change your mind, was I?”

  “No. But you do not regard yourself highly enough, Bryndis. Your good will means a great deal and I am glad to carry it with me where I am going.”

  He saw the question on her lips and saw her bury it with a smile. “Long may there be friendship between Vannheim and Narvik.”

  “It will endure until the last battle, lady, when all bonds are torn asunder.” Raef reached for his horse and remounted. He urged the mare onward, looking only once over his shoulder at the lady of Narvik, solemn and proud in her fox furs, but alone.

  Thirty-One

  “It is as if I was watching Hoyvik work at his forge, but only now do I see the sword take shape beneath his hammer.”

  The night was bitter under a sea of stars and Raef coaxed the fire to burn bright and warm them. They had ridden at a steady pace into the darkness, stopping at Bryndis’s hall to supplement their provisions and pay silver for grain for the horses, but still Raef had not explained what he had woven in his mind in the daylight hours. Siv and Vakre waited, the firelight flickering in their eyes.

  Raef met Vakre’s gaze. “Do you remember when we were taken by Fengar below the eagle’s nest? And Anuleif risked his life to find me, to speak to me? He said he was the ancestor, that there could be life after the fires burn and the seas rise.” Vakre nodded. “That night, I dreamed of lightning. First I knew fear, but then, as each bolt struck closer and closer to my feet, blinding me, I felt hope kindle in my heart and I knew not to be afraid.” Raef poked at the fire once more with a bare branch, sending up a shower of sparks. “The dream was lost when I woke. Until last night when I dreamed it again. And I know now that the lightning was not the work of Thor, but of the very earth we stand upon, of the waters that flow around us and the air that we breathe.” Raef looked to the sky, as though he might see something among the stars. “The swift knows the way.” If the bird was darting in the night sky, he could not see it. “I do not know what that means, but those are the words Anuleif spoke that night. I saw the swift today, in the moment that I meant to take Hauk of Ruderk’s life. But that was not the first time. The Old Troll, Siv.” Siv was nodding, understanding widening her eyes. “The lightning fell at my feet, just as I had dreamed, and the swift was born in it.”

  Raef paused and the silence stretched between them. Vakre passed around the single skin of mead they had been given by Bryndis’s steward. Raef let a trickle of the sweet liquid
pass his lips, then swallowed and spoke again.

  “I believe the first rooster, the crimson one, has crowed,” Raef said, hardly daring to speak the words. He did not name Fjalar, the red rooster whose voice would signal the approach of the final battle. “The birds heard him and fled in terror. The giants will be stirring, gathering.”

  “Can we know this?” Siv asked.

  “By the time we know, it will be too late,” Raef said, his voice harsher than he intended. He rose and paced away from the fire.

  “Too late for what?”

  Raef flung his arms out, frustration taking hold. “I do not know!” His shout was quickly swallowed by the darkness.

  “I think you do.” Vakre spoke quietly.

  Raef shook his head. “I am certain of nothing.”

  “But you believe the boy.”

  Raef hesitated, wondering if Siv and Vakre would reject his words. “I believe I must try.” He took a deep breath. “I was never meant to fight in Ragnarök. At last I think I understand why.”

  “You want to save the nine realms from the long-told fate?” Siv’s face was mired in wonder and doubt.

  “Not all nine.” Raef looked up at the stars once more. He closed his eyes and breathed in deeply, seeing a world made green with spring. “Just one.”

  Siv got to her feet. “How can you succeed when Odin himself cannot turn back this tide?”

  Raef shrugged and wanted to laugh at his helplessness. “I hope the swift will show me. I will not give up this world, Siv, not without a fight.”

  To his surprise, Siv smiled. “Did I not tell you your ancestors were the mountains and rivers of old?”

  “Then you do not think it is madness?”

  Siv came close and took one of Raef’s hands between hers. “If it is madness,” she said, “I will share it with you.” Raef leaned forward and rested his forehead on hers. “Back to the Old Troll, then?”