Ylir
Odin’s Month
November
After a fortnight in Dalsfjor, the crew and I had settled into a routine. We rose at dawn and spent the early morning running laps around the field. We sparred with swords and axes until the afternoon, took our lunch, and then practiced mounted skills until the evening. By nightfall each day, most of the crew were too tired to even speak at dinner. I fell into my bed with dreamless exhaustion.
Daily, I noticed improvements. They sat straighter on the horses; their arrows consistently found their targets. And each day, Aslaug came to help us. The húskarl arrived first and left last, never complained, and approached each warrior with the same quiet patience, no matter how long it took them to learn. By now, I was sure that Jarl Honor knew what we were doing and had given Aslaug her approval.
With every lap we jogged together, or loose horse I tracked down, my relationship with my men started to improve as well. When we had set sail from Bjornstad months ago, I had acted the part of a commander, not quite believing in my own performance, scared that at any moment my crew would stop believing too. Now, command was starting to fit like a pair of new boots. It still pinched a little, but I was breaking it in, making it mine.
I structured our days to spend as little time in the guesthouse as possible. When I was alone in my bedroom, I noticed Ersel’s absence the most. I thought about how she had laughed, and how it made it her eyes come alive. Then, I thought about her convulsing on the four-poster bed, and how I betrayed her. I trusted that Loki would bring her home, if only to hold it over me later. I was the only one in this generation who could lead Loki to the fragments of Heimdallr’s dagger. Now that they were so close to their desire, I doubted the Trickster would want to wait until another navigator was born, even if they did send a creature to guard the rest of the bloodline.
I had told Aslaug and the jarl that Ersel had recovered enough to travel, but had decided to return to the sea until we sailed. I didn’t mention Loki at all. Ersel will meet us, I’d insisted. She would watch the seas and find our ships once we sailed for Kjorseyrr. The mermaids had a way of sensing the ships, I’d lied over dinner with the jarl. Ersel will be ready. We will not go unprepared against Loki.
On the second Odinsdagr, Jarl Honor sought me out. I was sitting cross-legged on the wet grass, watching Steinair maneuver one of the horses around an obstacle course we’d constructed from firewood and bales of hay. The jarl wore a rich, burgundy dress, trimmed in white bear fur. Aslaug walked a reverent step behind her with a great wooden shield in their hands. I didn’t miss the way the húskarl’s eyes never strayed from the jarl as they walked.
I scrambled to my feet and tried to brush the wet grass off my trousers. I had been waiting for an invitation to dine with her again, to plead our case further and stress that my men were ready. Of course she would come to see us when my clothing was a mess and I hadn’t prepared the crew. “Jarl! We weren’t expecting you. I could have brought them down for you to inspect.”
Honor smiled. “I wanted to see how you were getting on without something so formal as an inspection. Aslaug says it’s been going well.”
She kept walking, hugging the perimeter of the field. I trotted after her and glanced at Aslaug for an explanation. The húskarl pressed their lips together and turned their head. I scowled. I had come to think of Aslaug as an ally, but they were the jarl’s thegn first.
When we had walked the full length of the field and the jarl had seen all the men at their practice, she turned to me. “They’re coming along nicely. I have a test for you. Pass it and we will set sail next week.”
Another test? She had said that winning my crew’s loyalty was the test. Did this mean I had passed?
“Wasn’t this the test?” I blurted.
“They do seem more at ease, and I am impressed by the work you’re doing with them,” said the jarl. “But commanding a practice field and fighting wooden targets is easy. I’m curious to see how they will react when they have to fight real enemies.”
“Do you want to see us spar against your thegns?” I asked and instantly regretted the offer. Practice or not, if all the jarl’s thegns moved like Aslaug, we didn’t stand a chance. If she wanted us to attack one of the neighboring earldoms, I didn’t like our odds either. With only twenty men, we would be restricted to unarmed hamlets. I wouldn’t let her turn us into raiders.
“Oh, no,” Honor said. “If our warriors are to work together, I don’t want to set up artificial rivalries between them.”
The jarl took my arm and walked me to the easternmost edge of the field. She pointed beyond the city walls to a barren, gray mountain half-hidden by clouds on the horizon. “There’s a village about six miles from here, at the base of that mountain with the bald face. They’ve been reporting livestock missing at night and last week a child. I think there must be a wolf’s den near it. Clear that out for me and report.”
I had to bite my cheek to stop the gleeful laughter. She wanted us to hunt down a pack of wolves? Two archers could easily take down a pack. But if Honor thought this was a worthy test, I wasn’t going to challenge her. The faster we got it done, the sooner we could set sail. I molded my face into neutrality and said, “Of course. Consider it done.”
“I should say,” the jarl said. “That the villagers have mentioned that the wolves are of abnormal size…”
How big could they be? At the market back home, I’d seen wolf pelts brought from the continent. They had been from creatures little bigger than dogs. In the north of Brytten, we had wolves the size of ponies with brilliant white fur like the coveted ice bears. Since I was twelve, I’d been sent to kill ice wolves that raided the town sheep flocks. With twenty men, this pack wouldn’t stand a chance.
“Of course,” I said again. “We’ll leave at once.”
The jarl smiled and motioned to Aslaug. The húskarl held out the wooden shield they had been carrying. “A gift,” they said. “The jarl had it made for you. We hope it will protect you while you perform this service to her. I believe it will be your size.”
I didn’t like the word “service,” but I stepped forward and took the shield anyway. I wasn’t the jarl’s sworn thegn. I would accept the gift as tribute, a gift between allies, not as payment.
Aslaug helped to adjust the red leather straps at the back. It fit perfectly on my arm, but I wasn’t used to fighting with a shield. Before I’d lost my hand, I had delighted in using two axes. But that had been the showy method of a silly child and had cost me. Afterward, I’d been so determined to fight as before, to display my hook defiantly, that I hadn’t even thought about purchasing a shield. I raised it experimentally and was surprised to find that it wasn’t as heavy or cumbersome as it looked, despite the polished brass fittings.
“It suits you,” said Jarl Honor. She brought her fingers to her lips and whistled. Her stable boy emerged from the trees leading a tall, golden mare. She wore a new saddle, made from the same red leather as the strap on my shield. Her flaxen mane blew wildly in the wind. I covered my smile with my hand as the boy walked her straight to me. I slung the shield across my back and took her reins. My men clustered around to get a better look.
“Pack your weapons and enough food to see you through tomorrow,” I said. “We’ll leave in an hour.”
To my delight, no one asked questions. The crew nodded and trotted off in the direction of the guesthouse.
“For just one day?” the jarl asked.
I raised my arm. My tattoos were already rearranging themselves to show the terrain around the village beneath the distant mountain. “The tracking will be easy.” I flashed her a confident smile.
* * *
The jarl must have sent an emissary to the town, because every soul in Eyerfall seemed to be at the wooden gate to greet us. It seemed excessive to me as a reception for wolf-hunters, but I supposed the jarl wanted me to believe my “service” was valued. Children rushed up to us with flowers and fresh fruits. Women handed us stitched favors and pebbles carved with blessed runes; merchants gave us trinkets and charms from their stalls.
The attention made me uncomfortable. It was so overdone and clearly contrived by the jarl to make me grateful to her. My new mare shied when a blonde toddler darted between her legs. But my crew and the two ponies we’d brought along as pack animals seemed to be relishing the attention. Smyain held a fresh apple in his hand and went as red as the fruit when a buxom girl kissed his cheek. Torstein cupped a runestone reverently in his hands. One of the ponies nuzzled an elderly man, who fed him carrots from a market cart.
I had hoped to stop in the village, water the horses, and let the men have an hour’s rest before we proceeded into the forest. But there was no way we would get any rest with all these people swarming us. We might as well finish the jarl’s mission and get back to Djalsfor.
“Let us through, please.” I gritted my teeth and forced a smile. “The sooner we pass, the sooner we can deal with your little wolf problem.”
The villagers laughed. I didn’t think that what I had said was particularly funny, but I guffawed along with them
Unhappy to be marched on so soon, the crew exchanged disgruntled glances. Torstein disentangled himself from a worshipper and gestured for the rest of them to do the same. Even after all our work together, they still looked to him for guidance sometimes. I hated it, but I was growing resigned to it. Torstein observed me closely and seemed to intuitively understand what I wanted from the men. Trygve lacked that skill. As much as I valued my boatswain and trusted him, he didn’t know how to translate my shifting moods into commands the crew could follow. I didn’t like Torstein and still believed he would kill me given half a chance, but he had uses.
I dug my heels into the golden mare’s sides. She shot forward at a canter. Her responsiveness and speed were exhilarating. The men groaned behind us, but obediently broke into a run. I set my jaw and kept up the pace until we were clear of the village.
While I waited for the men to catch their breath, I consulted my markings. The wolf pack had a found a cave in the mountainside to use as their den. They would probably sleep during the day. If we could reach it before nightfall, we could easily ambush them before they woke to hunt.
At the edge of the forest, I dismounted. I couldn’t fight wolves from horseback, so I gave the reins to Trygve. I hung my new shield from my new mare’s saddle. I wouldn’t need it against a few wild animals and I didn’t want it to get dirty. I would anoint it with my enemies’ blood first. Plus, I still hadn’t learned to move without having it bang against my knees.
The trees hugged the mountain, creating a dense forest at its base, but nothing grew on the slick slate-gray slopes. Sneaking up to the wolves’ cave would be more difficult with no foliage to hide us or mute the sounds of our footsteps. My tattoos showed that the cave was almost directly above us, but we couldn’t climb the sheer mountain face.
I pressed my fingers to my lips to signal the men to be silent. The last thing I wanted was for the wolf pack to jump down on us. A wolf might not be able to kill an armed grown man, but it could inflict nasty wounds. The creatures were fast, with sharp claws and teeth. I needed all my men battle-ready when we set sail for my home.
As we crept through the trees, I crouched against the side of the mountain, hoping that my chain mail would blend with the stone. The crew followed suit, and even the horses seemed to tread with deliberate softness. The woods had an otherworldly silence, so different from my home on the coast, where the sounds of crying seabirds and crashing waves were as constant as breath. When Steinair stepped into a pile of orange and purple autumn lives, the crunch was as loud as a scream.
I led them in a circle around the base of the mountain until we found a gentler slope. The autumn sun was already starting to dip behind the peak. Tiptoeing to the horses, I tied their stirrups into knots to keep them from clanking as we moved. I beckoned the crew and began jogging up the slope.
The den stood beside a shallow pool. A stream trickled down the side of the mountain, feeding into the pool. A few trees grew out of the soil above the cave. It would have been a beautiful, idyllic view, but for the half-eaten sheep that lay by the entrance. The animal’s tongued lolled out of its mouth and maggots feasted on its exposed entrails. My mare’s eyes rolled at the sight of the sheep, then she sniffed the air. Rearing and screaming, she fought to free herself from Trygve’s grip on her reins.
Cursing, I drew my battle-axe. Now there was no way we could sneak inside and slay the wolves as they slept. Their own weapons braced, the crew formed a half-circle around me. We blocked off the cave. None of the wolves would be able to run around us. Smyain reached into his pack and drew out a flint and steel. He rubbed them together until sparks formed. He lit a torch and handed it to me. I threw it into the cave’s mouth.
From deep inside the mountain, I heard claws scratch on stone. A wolf let out a howl, and the men beside me tensed. Smyain tossed another burning stick. We all waited, unsure how deep the cave was.
The scraping sounds drew nearer. A growl sounded. My axe trembled in my hand. The growl sounded too low and gravely for a wolf, more like a bear. I shook my head. The cave would amplify the noises inside it.
In a snarling streak of black and gray fur, four wolves erupted from the cave. Their backs stood as high as my chin. Their huge maws dangled open, showing two parallel rows of yellow fangs. Instead of front paws, they had hands like a man’s, but covered in coarse black hair. The creatures didn’t charge. They formed an arrowhead behind the largest of their group. He watched me with appraising, too-human eyes.
The welcome we’d received in the village suddenly made sense. No wonder they had laughed when I had mentioned their “little wolf problem.” If any of the villagers had seen these creatures up close, they knew we wouldn’t face normal wolves. I wondered if the jarl had known before she sent us, or if the leader of the village had downplayed their situation to encourage her to send aid.
The lead creature crouched and roared. The rocks beneath my feet shook.
“Fenrir,” Torstein gasped.
The men backed away, opening our defensive circle. The fenrir were legends, creatures of Asgard, who had snuck through the cracks between worlds. They digested fear. My crew had followed me willingly when they thought we hunted simple animals. They might have stood with me in battle against other warriors. But the jarl wanted to know if they would stand firm against creatures of myth. They had already failed. Honor must have known about these wolves.
My golden mare screamed again and lashed out at Trygve with her front hooves. He dropped her reins, and she bolted down the mountain. My eyes followed her for a moment too long, watching as she disappeared with my beautiful new shield.
The lead fenrir leapt.
A scream tore from my lips before I could stop it. I raised my axe too late. My hook rose involuntarily to shield my face.
A whir of arrows flew over my head. The creature whimpered; the sound was more mortal than I had expected. Blood splattered my face as the arrows bit into the fenrir’s flesh. My crew’s aim was impeccable, but I didn’t have time for pride. The fenrir tackled me, slamming into me with its full weight. I fell backward, hitting my head on a rock. The beast’s sharp teeth closed on my calf. It shook its head from side to side, shredding muscle while I moaned. The pain made me wild. I slashed at the creature’s belly with my hook, tearing its flesh open. I twisted in its hold until I could sit up. Then I brought my axe down on the fenrir’s neck, severing its head.
Hackles raised, the other creatures formed a circle around me. Drool dripped from their jaws. They moved closer. I needed to get up, to get a better angle to swing with my axe, but my leg was a mess of torn muscle and exposed bone. Another arrow sank deep into the flank of one of the creatures. It snarled, jaws snapping inches from my face.
My crew would be able to save themselves. Thanks to Aslaug’s help, their arrows flew straight and found their marks. But although they might help me from afar, none of them would risk their lives for me. Maybe even Trygve had grown sick of following me, sick of my temper and inability to let go of a hatred these men had never earned. The performance of comradery we’d acted over the past week hadn’t been enough. Jarl Honor had seen it for the hollow thing that it was. I’d trusted that illusion, thought it would be enough to get me home. I was the one who had failed. If Ersel had been here, she would have rushed in. But I’d betrayed her, and now she wasn’t here to save me.
I couldn’t fight a whole pack of these creatures. I closed my eyes and hoped that the fenrirs would go for my throat, so I wouldn’t have to feel them eat me. I remembered how I’d threatened to dangle Torstein over the bow of the ship with my hook through his eye socket and let the sharks devour him from the feet up. Was this a god’s idea of sick irony? I wondered if Torstein would see it that way, once I was dead.
A battle cry sounded behind me. The fenrirs turned, and my crew charged. The creatures abandoned me and rushed toward the men. Pain made my vision fade at the edges. Men’s shouts and animal whines blended. Blood made a sticky pool beneath me.
Soft, hay-scented breath caressed my cheek. I heard a whicker, and then a velvet nose nuzzled my hair. I looked up into the face of the dun pony I’d ridden to meet the jarl. I scooted backward until I found his front legs. He stood in place while I hauled myself upright. Pain shot through my leg but, by leaning on the pony, I managed to stay on my feet.
My crew were clustered around the carcasses of the remaining three fenrir. When they saw me rise, they trotted to me. They were covered in black blood. Steinair clutched at his arm, but their faces showed triumph. Why had they saved me? They had to know that my performance over the last week was for Jarl Honor’s benefit. They could have let me die.
Trygve reached me first. “Gods, Ragna. Why didn’t you move? It was as if you were frozen, and then that beast just jumped on top of you.”
“I know. I got distracted by the horse.”
“You all right?” Torstein pushed Trygve out of the way.
The sleeve of his red tunic was ripped. I blinked as spots blurred my vision, which shimmered like water. I was losing too much blood. “Why?”
Torstein raised an eyebrow. “Why what?”
“Why didn’t you just run?”
“Where would we be without our grumpy captain?” His tone was teasing, and his eyes were gentle. But when he noticed my trembling chin, he sobered. “The styrimaðr who took you and sacked your home? We all know he was a bastard. Some of us have a pretty good idea of what you must have gone through. And Haakon? We didn’t like him any better.”
“Then why did you follow him?” I had asked almost all the other men to tell me their stories over the past few weeks, but I had never asked Torstein.
Torstein shrugged. “What choice was there? I was born in Bjornstad. My father was a scribe, but I was never any good at letters. The only other jobs were at the jarl’s longhouse.”
“But—” The sight of exposed bone and the smell of my own blood was making me nauseous. “You hate me.”
“Maybe at first,” Torstein agreed. He offered his arm. “But we are not all like the men who took you. Even Haakon thought Magnus—the styrimaðr who took you—was rotten. He picked him for the raid on your village. The rest of us? We never wanted any part in killing women and children. So Haakon chose Magnus for the job, knowing full well he was the only captain who’d do it. Magnus found a crew as dirty as him. All that man ever cared about was blood-sport and gold.” He spat on the ground. “He had no honor.”
Magnus. The name echoed in my ears. All this time, I’d never known my captor’s name. The men who destroyed my town were nameless monsters, which made them even more terrifying and hateful in my memory.
Torstein shook his head slowly. “Light fire to a whole town while they slept? Round up and kill a group of children? Before I joined you, I fought in battles against seasoned warriors. I never killed a child or burned innocent people in their beds.” He looked into my eyes. “I know you believe the worst of us, but we’re not all the same.”
Magnus. I thought of the styrimaðr stepping into the hold where Vidar and I had been kept in his long black cloak, the way he had cut off his own sailor’s head without hesitation, and of Vidar’s screams when they had thrown him overboard. Magnus had been a monster, but he was dead. My crew were not him.
I gripped the pony’s back. I couldn’t meet Torstein’s gaze, so I looked over my shoulder at the rest of the crew. They were loading the fenrir carcasses onto the other pony. I was going to skin the one who had bitten me and wear his pelt as a cloak.
“Shall I help you up?” Torstein pointed at my leg. “You need to get that cleaned or it’s going to fester.”
I nodded, and he lifted me by the waist as if I were no heavier than a child, seating me sidesaddle so that my injured leg wouldn’t have to grip the pony’s sides. He tore off a section of his tunic—Haakon’s tunic—and wrapped it carefully around my calf, binding my leg so the blood would stop. My leg stung where the skin had been ripped away, but Torstein’s makeshift bandage helped.
I knew I should say something to acknowledge he was right, but the words were caught in my throat. The men who had kidnapped me would have run at the sight of the fenrir and left me to my fate. They’d had no loyalty even to each other. They might have intervened after I was too injured to ever resist them again. Haakon hadn’t needed me to walk. He’d only wanted my magic. I kept my eyes down and ran my fingers through the pony’s coarse mane. The golden mare was nowhere to be seen, but this brave little beast had dragged me away from a fenrir’s jaws. He deserved the position of war mount.
“I’ll call you Vaskr.” I scratched his withers with my hook. The pony was fearless and deserved the name. His ears swiveled back, listening to me. “People won’t think we’re worth anything,” I whispered to him. “A one-handed girl riding a farm pony. But we know what we’re made of, don’t we?”
I clucked my tongue, and Vaskr took a hesitant step forward. He turned to eye me, as if to make sure I wouldn’t fall. The pony stopped beside Trygve, and my boatswain jumped up behind me. He wrapped both arms around me to keep me aboard, and we set off for the capital.