Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6)

by Jerry Autieri

  "You drink because you're a drunk, and you're too scared to do the fighting of a real man."

  The hard words used to enrage him, but they had nothing kind to say to each other for years and insults had lost their bite. He weighed the sword in his palm and answered thoughtfully. "The rust can be scoured off, then I'll have the blade melted down for something more useful than a sentimental piece of trash."

  "No you won't!" She struck his shoulder, hurting her hand more than anything. Since being forbidden to practice with weapons, she had lost her old strength. Konal laughed and held the blade away from himself.

  "Ulfrik has been dead for years. No foolishness about this sword will bring him back. Put him behind you and act with more dignity. You used to have more pride in yourself."

  "When I had something to be proud of. Now what do I have? I married a coward who fled Ravndal rather than fight, and now hides behind other men."

  Konal's face reddened at that accusation. Runa still knew what words could cut him. "That's enough from you."

  "Hardly enough. You shamed my children into leaving us."

  "Gunnar left to avenge his father. It had nothing to do with me."

  "And you refused to aid that vengeance. For the man who gave you a home and cared for your son like his own, you just turned your back."

  "I'm warning you now, stop. You're getting carried away."

  But Runa was not ready to stop. No matter how often they had this fight, she never felt as if she said it all. Today she would.

  "I'll stop when I'm done. You took his hall, his gold, his glory, everything, and what did you do with it? Run at the first sign of danger."

  "Hrolf recalled--"

  "You ran because you didn't know what to do, and you still don't."

  "Enough."

  "You hide behind another man's glory and pretend this is all your doing."

  He raised his hand, but she did not flinch. It hung cocked behind his head, ready to release.

  "Today I remember the man who loved me and treated me like I was worth something more than a bauble in a treasure hoard he happened to fall into. You don't deserve what you have. You didn't earn it, and you nearly threw it all away. In your old age, you've become what you really were all along. A frightened little boy playing a man's part. What did I ever see in you? I wish Ulfrik could see--"

  The backhand sprawled her across the bed. She expected it, went limp to absorb the force, but it still hurt. She crashed on her back and lay still, staring up at the rafters above. A tear slid from her eye and rolled into her ear.

  Konal did not answer, and she heard him turn, then the crash of the sword thrown against the wall. She remained with her cheek throbbing, the tears rolling more freely now.

  "What happened to me? Ulfrik, why did you have to go?"

  CHAPTER FIVE

  Ulfrik sat up straighter when the wagon stopped, though Finn remained slumped in defeat. Dawn was still a thin white stain on the eastern sky, visible only through gaps in the forest canopy. The farmer's sons and their four accomplices carried Ulfrik and Finn out of the wagon and set them at the edge of the stream the farmer Gils had mentioned. With legs and arms bound and a spit-soaked gag filling his mouth, Ulfrik had no opportunity to react. Despite dire appearances, Ulfrik did not mark these men for killers. They were opportunists and in some ways he could not blame them for their actions. He might have done something similar in the desperate days of his youth, and in fact had done far worse things.

  That was not going to prevent him from taking a terrible revenge on these boys.

  The taller of the two sons produced a knife and cut Ulfrik's leg bindings, then did the same for Finn. "The rest you'll have to figure out on your own," he said then laughed. All six of the men mounted the wagon and returned back into the early morning gloom of the woods. Ulfrik watched them disappear. Finn tried to speak through his gag, but it was a muttered mess that Ulfrik shook his head at.

  Without their captors to discourage him, Ulfrik knew he could work out of the ties. For one, his hands were bound in front of his body, and that was all he needed. He found a suitably sharp rock to begin sawing at the bindings. Finn's expression of amazement came through his gag, and he also located a rock by the stream. By the time dawn had painted the sky blue and awakened the woodland birds to their morning song, Ulfrik and Finn were free.

  "I thought they would kill us," Finn said as he washed his face in the stream, crouched next to Ulfrik.

  "If they wanted us dead, they'd have done it while we slept."

  Finn fell quiet and scrubbed his face. Ulfrik cupped water and slurped, staring out of the side of his eye at Finn who remained staring into the clear steam. "I fell asleep. It's my fault we're in this mess."

  Ulfrik splashed water over his face. "I would agree with that."

  "What are you going to do?"

  "Follow the tracks back and recapture our belongings. Kill Gils's sons and rape his wife and daughters until they go mad. After that I'll probably burn Gils alive in his barn."

  Ulfrik continued to scrub his face, letting Finn stare at him in stunned silence. As Ulfrik patted off his face with the hem of his cloak, Finn finally relented. "Well, I was asking what you were going to do about me, not our stuff."

  "You? Mistakes happen. Sometimes our mistakes get us killed or worse. Just think of what a more ambitious man could've done with us. Have you seen a slave market before?" Finn shook his head. "Well, today you could've been seeing one directly from the selling block. Fortunately, we were robbed by dumb farmers with no imagination. So take your lesson, because the next time we're probably not escaping this easily."

  Finn's freckled face was sunburn red, and he lowered his head in shame. They continued to clean in the river, Finn clearly mulling his thoughts until he turned to Ulfrik again. "Are we really going to rape and kill?"

  "Of course not. I used to rule these people, and I intend to rule them again. Make no mistake, we're getting our possessions back, and if they give us a fight I've no hesitation to kill. But I just want what is mine returned, and have no interest in terrorizing them."

  "You're taking this a lot better than I am."

  "After all I've been through, this is not so bad. We'll wait until they think we've moved on, but by tomorrow night we'll have everything back. Mark my words."

  Finn was restored to his good nature and the spring returned to his step. Ulfrik was glad for his company, and believed everything he had told Finn. Yet deep inside he burned to take revenge for the insult of being laid low by a farmer and his idiot sons. If they provoked him at all, blood would follow.

  And he would not mind being provoked.

  CHAPTER SIX

  By the night of the second day after being robbed, Ulfrik and Finn crouched in silence behind trees surrounding Gils's farm. He watched their stout dog with concern as it yipped and danced about the legs of Gils and his son. Though they remained upwind of the animal, hounds had uncanny danger sense and if exposed now, Ulfrik's plans would fail. The sun had set and a bright yellow light flowed out of the open door to the family home. The four other men had not yet been seen, and Ulfrik figured they were friends summoned from neighboring farms. They would have all taken shares from their theft, but Ulfrik had plans to get them to return their spoils without having to track them down.

  At last Gils, his son, and dog all entered the home and closed their doors. Ulfrik crept back from the tree to where Finn waited in the rear, gesturing him near.

  "They've gone inside for their meal and will be to bed soon after. Go back to the gully and kindle the fire and I'll watch. If I call for you, come running."

  Finn nodded and slipped back into the trees. With their striking steel stolen along with everything else, they had to rely on dry kindling and friction to start a fire. Finn had been a woodsman with his father, and knew how to survive without any tools, a skill Ulfrik greatly valued. Tonight he needed fire, and Finn would bring it.

  He camped beside the tree and watch
ed the house. It was a sedate evening with no noises coming from the house, nor any visitors approaching. As full dark drew over the landscape, the bright yellow thatch turned blue in the dim moonlight. Clouds hid the crescent moon from revealing their proximity. The dog barked, but Gils shouted the animal to silence. Once the outline of yellow light shining around the door faded, Ulfrik knew they had retired for the night.

  Threading a path halfway to Finn's position, he stopped and whispered his name. He did not want to travel woodland paths in the dark, fearing a turned ankle in the uneven ground. A small point of orange light answered, and grew larger as it bobbed in the dark. Finn arrived, husbanding the frail flame of the torch.

  They took a looping approach to the barn. Once there, he unbarred the door and slipped inside while Finn waited, keeping the barn between him and the house. He had to let his eyes adjust to the dim light that entered from the open door. The stalls and miscellaneous barrels and straps were outlined in gossamer threads of blue light. He saw the outline of the cow's back, and used it to orient himself on the rest of the barn. As he felt along the walls, his hand located what he sought. He lifted the pitchfork off the wall peg, then slipped back to Finn.

  "Start the fire," he said, and Finn held his torch to the thatch eaves.

  Without oil to speed the flames, the fire took a long time to catch, then only as a smoldering bloom of orange cinders. He had to fan it to get it going, and the fire refused to spread.

  "This is taking too long," Ulfrik said, waving at the nascent fire. "Smoke will scare the cow before the fire gets serious enough."

  "The hay is drier inside," Finn said. "I know you didn't want to kill the cow, but this isn't working."

  "All right, let's do it. I'll lead the cow outside and you fire the barn."

  "No," Finn disagreed. "If Gils sees the cow out of the barn, he'll know someone is nearby. With the cow at risk, even if he suspects someone nearby, he will have to attempt a rescue."

  Ulfrik waved Finn forward to the job. "All right, these bastards brought this on themselves. You're right."

  Finn's estimation was right, and within moments of exiting the barn, the dry hay inside roared into flame. They dashed toward the house, prepared to set up behind the door. As expected, the dog barked at their approach.

  The cow cried out and was trying to kick free as flames rushed along the inside walls. The dog barked wildly and voices shouted inside. Ulfrik and Finn hid around the corner from the door, and it burst open with Gils at the lead.

  "Fire!" he shouted. "Get buckets! Hurry!"

  Ulfrik glanced behind, finding water barrels and buckets. Every farm collected rainwater as defense against fire, and he was standing in front of it. Without a word he grabbed Finn and the two looped around the far side as he heard Gils splashing a bucket into the water. He and Finn shared a relieved glance as Gils was too focused to notice them.

  Now as the rest of the family roused from sleep, their shouts and screams reverberated through the walls. The dog barked furiously alongside them. Ulfrik tightened his grip on the pitchfork, then charged.

  A form disappeared around the corner as he rushed out, but Gils's wife was leaning into the barrel when Ulfrik appeared. He was on her before she could react, pushing her against the wall with the iron tines of the pitchfork. He smiled, "Remember me?"

  The woman's eyes widened in fear and she screamed. As planned, Finn slipped around the corner and into the house.

  The two sons and one of the daughters arrived with empty buckets and stopped short.

  "Glad you showed up. Get your father. I think I left some of my belongings here."

  The sons scowled and the mother whimpered. Ulfrik eased his pressure on her, just so she wouldn't accidentally puncture herself on the pitchfork.

  Then the dog charged.

  It bolted around the corner, snarling, teeth flashing with slobber as it leapt the final distance. Ulfrik spun the pitchfork around and braced his legs. He had anticipated the dog to act as it did, and the animal impaled itself on the waiting fork. It plowed him back with a horrible yelp. Ulfrik detested the sounds of a dying dog, for there were no creatures more loyal and less deserving of a bad death than a faithful hound. He dropped the skewered dog and stumbled away. The mother bolted and her two sons charged as the daughter shrieked.

  Ulfrik hurled an empty bucket at one, sending him off track, then slammed into the other son. His hands itched for a good fight and when his fist connected with the son's ribs, he thrilled at the crack of bone and the painful cough. He drove his knee into the son's groin and tossed him aside like an old sack. The other son had recovered and squared off in a fighting stance. Ulfrik wasted no time, dodging in to strike. The son punched Ulfrik's head, staggering him, and followed up with a kick to his bad left leg. The pain shot his vision with white. The son recognized the weak spot and hit again.

  Now rage bubbled over and Ulfrik charged low into the son's body, taking a beating on his head even as he slammed the son to the ground. Once atop him, he landed a withering punch to the son's face, followed by another, and one more until he heard Finn shouting his name.

  "I've got Gils," Finn said over the screams of the women.

  Ulfrik paused over the bloodied face of the son who stared hatefully back up at him. He shoved himself upright. Finn had gone into the home to find a weapon and now had returned with the other daughter and Gils, who he held hostage with a long knife to the throat. The old man stood-stock still, frowning into the distance as if he were unaware of others.

  "Good work," Ulfrik said. When he stepped toward Finn, his leg buckled and the pain blinded him, though he marshaled a smile and steadied himself.

  "Told you we should've killed them." The son who Ulfrik had just beaten sounded as if he were ready to cry.

  "No doubt you should have," Ulfrik said. "But your chances for that are done."

  "We don't have your gold," Gils said, still refusing to look at anyone. "So kill me if it'll make you feel better, but let my family go."

  Inhaling the bittersweet scent of burning wood and thatch, Ulfrik smiled. "I burned down your barn, which makes me feel better. I don't believe anything you've said, Gils. That much gold is probably worth dying for just to pass it on to your family."

  He grabbed the pitchfork and put his boot on the dog's corpse, yanking it free. One of the daughters sobbed at the sight. He pointed the bloody tines at the son on the ground. "I'll ask you to return the gold to me one last time. I'm sure you had to divide it among your other friends. Also, my sword and my traveling pack, all of it I want back now. If you don't, I'll use this fork to pluck out this one's eyes. What do you say, Gils?"

  "I don't have any of your belongings. That's the truth. The four others, they're Thorgest's men. He's the true power here. We owed him gold, so when you arrived we promised to hold you long enough for his men to get your stuff. I saved your lives, you know that? Told them I didn't want any deaths on my head."

  "And a bandit leader obliged?" Ulfrik's pitchfork did not waver.

  "Not Thorgest, the four with my boys. I've known them since they were children, and they listen to me."

  "Then they'll listen to you when you ask for my belongings."

  Gils shrugged, and Finn dug the knife deeper. His two sons flinched, but Ulfrik touched the pitchfork to one's chest and they both subsided.

  "Thorgest will have taken it from them by now."

  Ulfrik stared at Finn, whose wide eyes indicated he was as nervous as the rest of Gils's family. Ulfrik had expected his belongings to be divided up, but not to a bandit leader. He silently cursed this ill luck, grinding his teeth in frustration. Now he had a whole family as hostage and was no closer to reclaiming his belongings. He could walk away, claiming what he could find from Gils's home. Yet his stolen sword was a beautiful weapon, made to his exact specifications. Also, it was no mean sum of gold that had been stolen, and he would be hard pressed to the same find again. Walking away did not appeal. Striking at a bandit camp was e
qually foolish, if not deadly. He had no real options.

  "Well, we'll arm ourselves with what you have around your home. You at least have an ax, and Finn has found himself a fine knife. You've got to have other weapons at hand."

  Gils seemed to relax, closing his eyes and slouching. The sound of the barn collapsing in flames shocked everyone, and all paused to listen to the flames crackle in the night.

  Then Ulfrik pointed the pitchfork at the son on the ground. "And you can take us to Thorgest."

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Ulfrik picked a gray day of drab light and woolly clouds to enact his plans for Thorgest's bandit camp. He and Finn studied the camp from the edge of the clearing, and Finn pointed at a flight of geese flying over the crude hall at the center of the field.

  "That's a good sign," he said. "They're headed for us and are high in the sky."

  Spitting on the ground, Ulfrik reached for the hammer amulet that was no longer at his neck but given to Thorgest as booty. He shook his head. "Forget the gods and their signs. It wasn't the gods that made the plans and laid the traps. That was us, so trust yourself most."

  Finn's boyish smile remained undiminished. In the flat light of the afternoon his freckled face still seemed to shine with hope. "I do. This is going to make an amazing tale when it's done. Two against nine!"

  "Gods, now that's a way to curse us. Don't say anything until this is done. You're ready to carry out what we've planned?"

  "Been ready for days now." Finn rubbed his hands, and Ulfrik could not help but smile at the enthusiasm.

  The wind had been still since morning but then started gusting after midday. Ulfrik worried it would ruin their bow shots, and seeing how Gils had only six serviceable arrows for his hunting bow, they could not afford missed shots. Finn had a long knife and the bow. He had the keener vision and as a hunter was a deadlier shot. Ulfrik hefted an ax, a favored weapon of his giant friend Einar, but an unwieldy tool in his own hands. Choices were limited to whatever they scavenged from Gils's farm.