He and Grim always took to the woods when they needed time alone. It was dangerous- wolves prowled its depths-but it felt natural. The solitude was comforting. Ulfrik had no trouble locating his brother. Grim had left signs everywhere, pointing to where he could be found. Ulfrik located him hunkered against a tree, a small black shape in a brown cloak. He was scratching something in the dirt with a stick when Ulfrik approached.
“Come home now, Grim. Are you trying to starve yourself to death?”
Grim continued to slash and scratch the dirt. Ulfrik looked down at the muddy ground, but could make no sense of the violent scribbles.
“I heard Father was hard on you, and I’m sorry for that. Uncle Auden tore him down for it too, called him a beast. I think Father regrets what he did. Why don’t you come back now?”
Grim tossed his stick away, and pulled his hands back under his cloak. He finally looked up, his face dirty, streaked with dried tears. Ulfrik spotted the bruises on his neck, but averted his eyes.
“You just want to be the big hero again, bringing me back. Why don’t you go fall on a sword.”
Ulfrik stiffened and his fists balled. “Seems you’ve taken care of my sword, Grim. Now, I’m done fooling around. I told you to get home. Your going to starve out here, or wolves will scent you. Let’s go.”
“So you’re a man now! You’re the big warrior? A killer. Well, I could’ve done what you did. I bet Father did all the work and let you take the glory, just because you’re his favorite.”
“Shut your mouth, Grim! I did all my own fighting. I saved Father’s life!”
“That’s even worse! I wish the both of you died!”
The words froze the air between them.
Grim glared out from beneath his shock of black hair. Glaring back, Ulfrik grit his teeth and stepped back. His eyes felt hot. His arm drew back and snapped forward before even he understood what he intended, slamming his backhand into Grim’s cheek, his knuckles dragging across his brother’s face. Grim sprawled out, facedown in the dirt.
“You dare to speak to me like that! If Father heard you, I don’t know what he would do. You are a child-a brat! I’m sick of you feeling sorry for yourself all the time. I’m sick of chasing after you whenever you act like a baby. I’m the only one to come for you, and that’s what you say to me? That’s my thanks? Now get up. You’re coming with me.”
“I hate you!” Grim screamed into the dirt. “You take all of father’s attention, all of his praise! I get nothing!”
Ulfrik paused at the accusation, knowing Grim was right. He shrugged. Then he stooped to help his brother up.
In an instant, Grim flipped over and his arm arced out.
Ulfrik’s vision flared white and pain burst in his head. What had happened? The salt-sourness of blood leaked into his mouth and Grim’s face, muddy with dirt and fresh tears, hovered in the milky blue sky above him. Grim’s eyes bulged and his brows knitted together. Ulfrik could see his brother’s lips move, but the words were as if spoken through a wall. Whatever Grim said, Ulfrik did not understand. His brother backed up and flung a rock at Ulfrik. Then he turned and ran, leaving Ulfrik lying on his back, staring at the sky.
***
Ulfrik stood beneath the high table where Orm and Auden sat. The two men looked cold and fierce-expressions Ulfrik seldom saw, and never for anything good. The hearth fire crackled behind him, and mumbled voices came from outside the hall. Everyone else had been urged out when Ulfrik had staggered back with a bloodied head.
Orm had grabbed Ulfrik’s face in one giant hand and twisted it back and forth, contenting himself the wound was not serious, but Ulfrik still felt about to vomit. Then, Orm had sent a man to find Grim. But Grim had not been found; instead, he had actually surrendered himself. He now stood beside Ulfrik, staring down at his feet.
The silence continued until Ulfrik could stand it no longer. At last, Orm’s gravelly voice broke the quiet. “You could’ve killed your brother, do you understand that?”
“He didn’t mean…”
“Silence, Ulfrik! Not a word from either of you, unless I ask for it!”
Ulfrik lowered his head, chastened.
“Did you want to kill your brother?”
Grim nodded without hesitation. “But I’m sorry now. I was just angry. I didn’t think…”
Orm slammed the table, and everyone jumped, including Auden. “There’s no such thing as sorry for murder, boy! Your own brother, by the Gods!” Orm fell into a dark silence, folding his arms across his chest. He shared a glance with Auden, who nodded.
“I’ve been thinking about this for a long time. The two of you need to be separated. Ulfrik is a man now, and you, Grim, are a child with a jealous mind. I had hoped you would learn from your brother, become like him. I was wrong.
“Grim, you will foster with your uncle. Perhaps he can do better with you than I have.”
Auden snapped around to face Orm. “No, that is not what I meant, Orm. I cannot take this one. With all my daughters? Grim is too much trouble, not fit for my hall.”
Orm’s expression clouded, but he nodded. “Very well. He is my responsibility. My burden to bear. Ulfrik you shall stay here.”
Both men looked down at them. Ulfrik did not know whether to thank them, or say anything at all. He didn’t dare ignore his father’s order to remain silent.
But Grim did. “Uncle Auden is better. Everyone says so. I want to stay here instead,” Grim said.
Ulfrik fought his impulse to cringe. But the explosion from Orm didn’t come. Instead, Auden simply smiled, and Orm shook his head. “There’s no more to be said.”
***
Orm and Grim prepared to leave Auden’s hall, along with the men who had traveled with them. Gathered outside, they were met by Auden and his hirdmen. Grim stood dutifully behind his father. Ulfrik noticed he looked changed, harder and colder somehow. His black eyes registered nothing when they met Ulfrik’s. Somehow, Ulfrik thought, Grim has become a man on this trip too. But what measure of a man?
Orm’s and Auden’s men exchanged kind words and farewells.
“Keep practicing,” Snorri said with a wink, and gently punched Ulfrik’s shoulder. “And maybe you’ll beat me at the ax-throwing contest one day. Though I doubt it.”
“Don’t let your daughters soften him up. Keep him strong for me,” Orm told Auden, not taking his eyes off Ulfrik. Then a hirdman guided Orm’s gray Fjord horse to him, and he prepared to mount.
“Wait.” Auden ushered Ulfrik forward to where Auden’s blacksmith stood waiting. The smith passed a sheathed sword to Auden, a brilliant green gem glinting in the sword’s pommel. “It’s a finer blade than the original.” Auden transferred the blade to him.
“It’s my best work,” the smith added.
A smile split Ulfrik’s face as he stepped backward to draw the blade. It hissed gently, and then sang as it left the sheath. The sword felt weightless in his hands, and its newly polished edge gleamed in the sun. Ulfrik waved it carefully in the air, thrilling at the balance. “This is wonderful. I can’t thank you enough.”
Orm looked impressed too, and gestured that he might test it. He weighed it in his palm and stroked the air several times. “Sure enough, it’s a good blade. Your smith needs to work for me, Auden.” He returned the sword to Ulfrik as the assembled men laughed. “Something this fine deserves a name. What will you call it?”
Ulfrik peered down the brilliant blue length of the sword, its blade thin and sharp as a needle. “Fate’s Needle,” he said. “That’s its name.”
Approving nods bobbed around the crowd. “Use it to sew a strong destiny,” Orm said. Then he turned and mounted his Fjord horse. Ulfrik looked again to Grim, his smile fading. Grim’s face was blank. Saying nothing, his brother blinked and turned away.