They saw the bobbing torches before they heard the men. The enemy must have guessed their hiding place. Silently, they hunkered into the underbrush. Their few pursuers likely feared forest spirits, elves in particular. Had necessity not overwhelmed his hesitation, Ulfrik might also have worried. Instead, he and Yngvar remained where they were. No one approached, neither elf nor man. All Ulfrik could see was an errant gleam from Yngvar’s mail-covered shoulder. Soon, the rain ceased, lingering only in the drips that plopped from branch to branch. The mud and leaves beneath him warmed, even began to feel comfortable. Ulfrik nodded, and then, eventually, slept. He did not dream.
***
He woke to birdcalls in the trees above him. Light slipped between the pines, touching him with vague warmth. The scent of moist earth against his face made him wonder what had happened to his bed, but when he stirred and the leaves above spilled their load of rainwater on him, he remembered.
Fighting the instinct to leap up, Ulfrik lay still, listening to the woods: the erratic drips falling from high branches, the rustle of underbrush in the breeze, the birdsong all around. No sound of men, he thought. But that did not mean men were not watching.
Yngvar still lay where he had the night before. Ulfrik prodded him, generating a snort as Yngvar rolled over onto to his other side. Assured, Ulfrik extracted himself from the muck and underbrush. He was wet, chilled, and sore, but he ignored it. One of Grim’s men could be within arm’s length, waiting for him to make a mistake.
He scouted the surrounding area. Since his youth, he was seldom without a weapon, even if only a knife. He had the ridiculous sensation that being unarmed would make him easily spotted. But his scouting revealed no one, only boot prints that led away from his hiding spot. The men had come close, but not close enough.
“They’ve probably caught the girl by now.”
Ulfrik jumped at Yngvar’s whisper, and stumbled among the branches.
Yngvar laughed. “Calm yourself, Ulfrik. We’re probably not far from a lookout.”
The thought quickly sobered him. Ulfrik brushed down his legs to divert attention from the heat that flushed his face. “They probably know we’re in the forest. We must’ve left good tracks in the mud last night.” He pointed to the tracks he had just found.
The woods in autumn were stitched with empty branches and littered with leaves and fallen hazelnuts. Farmers would soon be driving pigs in to graze on them. Coupled with the likelihood that the woods were being searched, Ulfrik knew they had to find a better hideout.
“Let’s follow them,” he said. They stalked the trail of footprints, which was easy to follow: whoever left them had been blundering in the night. It seemed an aimless path until other trails converged, and then one large trail plowed to where Ulfrik was ambushed. As they approached, Ulfrik waved Yngvar to a stop. A man was guarding the area-Grim’s man, Ulfrik noted. The two fell to a crouch. Already covered with mud and forest debris, they blended into the brush. The man was dressed for war and carried a spear and shield. He was posted where Ulfrik had killed the second ambusher last night, but appeared bored, scratching his nose and wandering in a circle among the sunbeams. Ulfrik saw a second man propped against a tree nearby, and then Yngvar pointed to a third man beyond.
Quietly, they retraced their path, doubly on guard for their pursuers. Grim, or whoever was in charge now, had evidently concluded they were hiding in the forest. They picked their way into the heart of the trees and up the main hill until there was no evidence of human trespass. Only then did Ulfrik feel at ease to speak.
“Even if Runa has been caught and has told them we plan to seek Auden’s help, it is no matter. Grim would guess it himself. The way north is closed now.”
Ulfrik squatted on his haunches and Yngvar sat on a moss-stained rock and scratched roughly at his head. “You’re right about that. But Grim probably can’t speak with that ax you put in his mouth.”
The two laughed as Yngvar drew a circle in the dirt with his index finger. “Grim doesn’t have a force large enough to surround the forest. We could escape by night through the far side, but we’ve got to get to Auden. It’s an early snow this year, too many nuts on the ground so soon. It always means a hard winter.”
“The track north will be blocked.” Ulfrik did not want to speak his thoughts, fearing it would make them real. “I think Grim will try to ambush Auden. You say he has more Vestfolders joining him-they’ve always been after Auden’s land. Grim’s plans will be served if we stay trapped here. You said it yourself: hard winter coming and all we have are rain-soaked clothes and mail. We’ve nothing for the overland journey, especially going the long way around.”
“We can fix that,” Yngvar said. “I think we have a friend among those two other sentries. You saw the third one I pointed out? That was Magnus; you should know him.”
“I knew there was a man there, but I didn’t recognize him.” Ulfrik sprang to his feet. “Magnus farms the Eastland, right? I think I remember him from years ago. What’s he doing here?”
“Your brother called up all the freemen before you arrived. Your father was dying anyway, so it made sense,” Yngvar explained. “Magnus beat me in a wrestling match, the cheating bastard. We were friends from then on. He spoke highly of you. He’s the one who convinced me you would be a better leader than Grim.”
Ulfrik’s thoughts jumped to the plan Yngvar had not yet laid out. “So Magnus will smuggle us the supplies we need and get us out of here. I’ll go down and set it straight with him.”
“I’ll go,” Yngvar said, standing. “You will stay here. This is a risk without glory, Ulfrik. Let your sworn men handle things like this. If I’m caught, you will know soon enough. I won’t leave a trail back here, and you can get away without me.”
Ulfrik raised his hands to disagree.
“All of your army agrees with me, Ulfrik.”
Ulfrik could only drop his arms and chuckle. “The men win this time, then. I already owe you too much, Yngvar. Why should you risk so much for me when you hardly know me?”
Ulfrik anticipated a witty rejoinder, but Yngvar’s smile faded. “I will be gone a good while. I’ll have to catch Magnus’s attention. Planning with the others around will be tricky. If I’m not back by dusk, assume I was caught. In the meantime, gather something edible, and find clean water.”
He said nothing more, just threw his hood over his head. Ulfrik watched him dissolve into the green and brown patchwork of the woods. When Yngvar had vanished, Ulfrik kicked out the circle he had drawn in the ground.
***
By twilight, Ulfrik had returned to the spot after gathering nuts and locating a nearby creek. The nuts were laid out on the ground, his cloak spread beneath them. If he had a spear or a bow, he might have caught a squirrel or a rabbit, but now only one sword remained with Yngvar. A fire would be nice, he thought, though smoke would betray him. So he waited as the evening settled into darkness. Soon, even the birds singing from the branches would fall silent, and only owls would patrol the woods.
“I spoke with Magnus.” Yngvar appeared like a spirit out of the forest, making Ulfrik leap in surprise. Yngvar spoke as if it had been as easy as sharing a drink at the hall. “Grim survived,” he continued, “but apparently something else is going on. It’s all confusion with your father’s death. Magnus knows nothing more than that Grim is watching the north road, and that they guessed we are hiding here. They’re to search the woods for the next few days until more men can be spared.”
“So,” Ulfrik began as he stood. “Is Magnus going to help us?”
Yngvar nodded. “He has agreed to get his companions drunk tonight, steal their gear, and hand it over to us. The other men are young, and new, and he thinks he can out-drink them. I think he can, too.”