Grim lingered at the table, the events of the last days playing over in his head. I’ve really done it, he thought. Auden is crushed. All of Grenner is mine. I thought this would feel better than it does. But he knew what nagged him; he had been avoiding the thought for a while.
Aud. She had to be eliminated. The witch could easily betray him, just as she had done to his father. Killing her was not as simple as putting an ax through her head. If she saw the blow coming, she could curse him. Grim feared nothing more than a witch’s curse. Men you could fight with sword and shield. But magic? Only other magic was proof against it.
In the dying light of the candle, Grim decided how he would rid himself of her. The same poison she had fed Orm could be fed to her. One big dose ought to do it. He only had to secure the poison from her. Of course, she wouldn’t just hand it over, but he had seen her stash it in a sack amid the pile of junk gathered in the hall where she slept. Every morning, he had noticed, Aud went for a walk. During that time, he would exchange the poison in the sack with sand. The poison, she had told him, was tasteless and odorless; getting her to imbibe it would be the least difficult part of his plan. The old hag would die without ever seeing the blow coming, unable to curse him, or his hall.
Grim shoved his plate away and returned to his bed. He felt better already.?
Fifteen
Ulfrik threaded his way back to Yngvar, confident he could return to Magnus and Runa. The cold of evening rattled the trees and painted the woods dull gray and yellow. Evidence of a chaotic fight abounded. Arrows hung from trees. Branches were broken and underbrush trampled. The crimson of blood and the glint of lost weapons caught Ulfrik’s eye wherever he looked. He slowed, concerned enemies might still remain. Only the flutter of woodland birds returning to their nests reached him. He circled the woods, wanting to call Yngvar’s name, but not yet ready to risk announcing himself.
Eventually, Yngvar found him.
From the gloom, Ulfrik heard his name-weak and distant at first, but distinctly his name. He turned to the source, dropped to a crouch, and glided through the underbrush. Yngvar’s silhouette appeared from the surrounding trees. He held up a hand, and then Ulfrik saw his brilliant smile gleam from the twilight. Ulfrik crouched beside him, asking if he had been hurt.
“One of those goat turds got a lucky hit to my head.” He pointed to a trickle of blood on his face. “The ax handle, not the blade. Bastard wasn’t so lucky, though. Someone ran him through.”
Yngvar was strong enough to stand and walk, but was unstable and dizzy, so Ulfrik slung his friend over his shoulder, grabbed Yngvar’s sword, and began to pick a path back to others.
Now confident that no enemy dwelt nearby, they detailed the events since they had parted. Ulfrik warned of Magnus’s mood.
“His family was murdered with as much cruelty as Grim could muster. All to set an example and to bait him. Give him time to recover, at least.” Yngvar sympathized.
Ulfrik grunted in agreement and then listened to Yngvar’s account. Yngvar had found himself in the center of an attacking force-Auden’s men who had survived the hall burning. They screamed Auden’s name as they attacked, and Yngvar had been mistaken for one of Grim’s men. His protests made no impression, and he ended up fighting everyone until the melee ended and he staggered under the blow of an ax haft. Yngvar had fallen, but one of Auden’s men had killed his assailant in that lucky moment. He decided to remain hidden, since Auden’s man had thought him dead. Eventually, Grim’s horn sounded three times.
“Later, when I struggled to my feet to look for you, I fell down and heaved until I came up dry. I hoped you’d come for me eventually. Grim’s men almost found me while searching for their own dead.”
As the light faded, their progress slowed, but soon both could hear the low rumble of Magnus’s voice not far off. Ulfrik increased his pace, still cautious of his footing. Yngvar was heavy, and Ulfrik was ready to drop him. When he came to where Runa and Magnus were huddled, he let Yngvar fall between them.
The concussed man crawled to a tree and propped himself up, assuring the others he had suffered only a minor blow. “Really, being dropped like that was worse than the knock to my head,” he said with a chuckle.
Relieved to be free of his burden, Ulfrik dropped Yngvar’s weapon next to him and sat on the cold ground to rest, as Magnus and Runa hurried to Yngvar’s side. While the three clustered together, speaking in hushed, excited voices, Ulfrik took a moment to finally consider the situation.
He immediately panicked.
As he reviewed the events of recent days, his stomach fluttered and his breath grew short. We are doomed, he thought, trying to stop his thoughts from registering on his face. The appearance of Auden’s surviving men had been fortuitous, saving Ulfrik from the trap Grim had set for him. But their allies were now scattered and destroyed. In the chaos of the fight, they had lost the furs and other vital supplies salvaged from Auden’s village. As if to remind him of the horror to come, a cold wind rushed between the trees. An early, murderous winter was coming. Fat clouds squatted low on the horizon; they would deliver rain again soon, and if the cold worsened, they would bring snow and ice.
Yngvar was retelling his adventures for the entertainment of the others, delighting Magnus with every death he reported. Runa was fussing over Yngvar’s head, even as he repeatedly waved her off.
How can I provide food and shelter for all of them? Ulfrik thought. The gods gave him no sign. Even as his stomach rumbled, he knew tomorrow they must hunt, gather nuts, and find food, although probably not enough for four people, before moving off. Grim would surely return, or at least send men to scout the woods. His lips trembled at the thought of his brother. How did I let Grim destroy our home?
Yngvar finished his tale and everyone fell to their own thoughts. Ulfrik knew each must worry as he did, but he was their lord. As Auden and Orm had shown him, he must be strong for them. No doubts. No fears. Only certainty of victory. He sat among them, still and silent, hoping he looked braver and more certain than he felt.
***
Dawn slipped in barely recognized behind a pall of sullen clouds, and Ulfrik awoke from a cold and fitful sleep. Magnus and Yngvar still snored beneath their beds of leaves, although Runa had been up a while and was returning with hazelnuts carried in a fold of her tattered skirt. Ulfrik smiled at the sword strapped around her waist. He doubted she could draw it in a fight, but the belt cinched in her waist, revealing the curve of her hips that defied her time in slavery. “There are still fallen nuts that the pigs have not eaten.” She smiled as she approached and then poured the nuts to the ground in the center of their camp. “I saw a rabbit, too. But I couldn’t do much about it. These will have to carry us until we can get to safety.”
Ulfrik laughed at Runa’s simple assessment of their plight, but he was glad for her work. She beamed when he thanked her, and flushed pink as she lifted a rock to shell the nuts. Ulfrik knelt beside her and helped, the two working in a companionable silence. When half of the hazelnuts were shelled, Runa said, “Is there something you want to ask? You keep looking at me.”
Ulfrik felt his face burn, only then realizing he had been sneaking glances. He could see enough flesh beneath her ill-fitting clothing to know he would enjoy seeing more. He mumbled an explanation and focused on shelling the last of the nuts. This was the first quiet moment the two had shared alone, and he still couldn’t understand why he had mistaken her for a boy on that first day. She was delicate and thin, but she had a woman’s shape. Only the rusted collar that chafed her neck marred her beauty.