The Hills of Home (The Song of the Ash Tree Book 2) (26 page)

“Stromkarls are very particular about their victims,” Siv said with mock seriousness. “When choosing boys, they only take the best and brightest, those destined for renown, so, yes, you were safe.”

Raef laughed. “Did you believe in the creatures we were told about as children? Or were you much too clever for that?” Raef asked.

“I was sure we had a nisse on our farm,” Siv said, smiling. “And a very good one, too. I would hide in the barn late at night, determined to catch a glimpse of him, but I always fell asleep and my father would find me, covered in bits of straw, in the morning. He would scold me, but always with a smile.” It was the first time Siv had spoken of family to Raef. He found he wanted her to continue.

“Your father sounds like a good man.”

“He was. He was no warrior and held no standing among other men, but he worked hard and loved his family, and he always helped those in need.” Pride rang out in Siv’s voice.

“If he was no warrior, what drew you to the sword and shield?”

“He died when I was nine. My mother and younger brother, too. A fever took them all. My older sister and I were spared. My uncle took us in. He did what he could for us and was not unkind, but I learned quickly that we were a burden.”

“Where was your home?”

“I was born in Wayhold, in a valley by the sea. My uncle lived two valleys to the east.”

“What happened?” Raef asked, sensing there was so much more to Siv’s story.

“A year after my parents died, my sister had just reached her thirteenth year and my uncle began to speak of finding her a husband. He never had the chance.” Siv paused, her green eyes now dark with sadness. “The raiders came. They took her and my aunt. They would have taken me, too, had I not hidden in a woodpile. My uncle had three sons. They were slaughtered. When I had the courage to climb out of my hiding place, I found the farm burned, the livestock killed or stolen, my cousins dead, and my uncle lying in a pool of his own blood. He could not speak but I could see the fear in his eyes and, I think, relief that someone had survived. I held his hand until he died.” Siv went quiet, her gaze fixed on the water. She blinked. “There, kneeling in my uncle’s blood, I made a vow to search for my sister, to become strong enough to take her back. I wandered to the closest village, and there, Frigg took pity on me, for I found a warrior who was willing to teach me what I desired to know. And so I became as you see me today.” She looked at Raef and smiled.

“And your sister?”

“Twelve years have passed. I have traveled through many lands, first on my own, then with Ailmaer Wind-footed’s band. Then at last I joined the shieldmaidens just before Eira became our leader. I do not know who the raiders were or where they came from. In all likelihood, my sister is dead, raped and beaten by the raiders and left to die in some lonely place. But if not, I mean to find her. It may be that she lives and is happy, the wife of a strong warrior, the mother of four fine children, with good earth to work with her hands. If so, I only wish to see it with my own eyes. Then I will leave her be.”

“And if she is not happy?” Raef almost did not want to ask.

“Then death will come to those who have done this to her.” For the first time since she had begun her story, there was fire in Siv’s voice, and deadly intent in her calm face.

“Do you linger in Vannheim when your heart has already gone, then?”

Siv smiled again. “I linger in Vannheim because it is a part of the world I had not yet seen. My sister may dwell in some corner of your land.” She seemed to understand Raef’s growing sense of guilt. She touched his shoulder. “I am here because I want to be here, Raef.”

“You do not owe me anything, Siv. I will not keep you here against your will.”

“Have you heard nothing I just said? If you held me against my will, you would know it.” Her fingers lingered on the fur collar of his cloak. “Twelve years of wandering has not granted me many friends. Ailmaer Wind-footed was good to me, an older brother I never had, but theirs is a brotherhood not easily breached, and so I moved on. With the shieldmaidens, I found a better reflection of myself, and yet,” she paused, “even there I was most myself when I was alone.” She looked him in the eye. “As I was the day we met. For the first time since my sister was taken, perhaps even since my father died, I have found, here with you and Vakre, something I value as much as the vow I made to the gods.”

“You told me once you have not been lonely, but I do not see how this could be the truth.”

Siv cocked her head, the corners of her mouth lifting in a smile. “I have been alone, yes, but not lonely. Look around you,” she said, a wide gesture taking in the sparkling fjord, the green pines standing tall above the snow, the hills rising up to the cloudless sky. “With all this around me, I am never lonely. The eagle, there, is my brother.” The bird soared high above them, a black shape against the bright sky. “The sun, my father. The ice bear is a silent friend, the trees, the valleys, the peaks, all are my constant companions.” She looked at Raef, her eyes clear. “And I have you.”

Raef could not help but marvel at the woman next to him, her pure joy in the world around her, and the confidence that burned within her. “The gods have done me a great kindness, Siv, in bringing you into my world.”

They enjoyed the peace and quiet of the fjord in silence, the rock warmed by the sun even though the air was cold. Only at the sound of horse hooves did Raef stir.

Aelinvor, mounted on a white horse and accompanied by two of her father’s men, approached, her dark hair sleek and silky in the sunlight. She pulled her horse to a halt and Raef got off the rock to face her.

“You are out early,” she said, her gaze flickering to Siv and then back to Raef. It was so quick, so innocent, Raef might have thought he imagined it.

“As are you, lady.”

Aelinvor dismounted, her slender figure draped in voluminous folds of grey wool. She walked to the water’s edge. “The fresh air is invigorating, after being shut inside. Will you walk with me?”

Raef found himself looking to Siv before answering Aelinvor. Her eyes twinkled and she looked ready to burst into laughter. Instead, Siv managed a nod. Raef fell in beside Uhtred’s daughter and they turned west to venture along the shore. Raef looked once over his shoulder and saw that Siv still sat on the rock, legs crossed. He was sure her eyes were closed again but a smile lingered on her lips. Aelinvor’s hand on his arm drew his gaze forward again, and he helped her step over a fallen log.

They spoke of many things, her home in Garhold, the ship her father had built for her, the brothers she had lost, one to childhood illness, two to the sea. She asked about the gathering and the war, and Raef answered as best he could. She showed great interest in Finndar Urdson, the Far-Traveled, and Torrulf Palesword. She was curious and eager to learn, not shying away from questions. And yet Raef felt there was a question she did not ask.

At last, when they had nearly walked the distance to the walls, Aelinvor stopped and turned to Raef. “Is she a shieldmaiden?”

“Yes.” He could not see why Siv would occupy so much of Aelinvor’s thoughts.

“You have fought beside her?”

“Yes.”

“She does not look very strong.”

“Strength can be deceiving. But why do you ask of Siv?” Aelinvor bit her lower lip and Raef could see her youth in that moment. Then the proud woman returned, but it was too late, for Raef understood. “You are jealous?” Raef took Aelinvor’s gloved hand in his, feeling unexpected warmth toward this young thing, so sure of herself, so bold, and yet faulted by this one weakness. “Come, little night bird,” Raef said, giving her the name without thinking. He tucked her arm into his and they turned and retraced their steps back to her horse. When they reached Siv’s rock, the shieldmaiden was gone. Raef returned to the hall with Aelinvor, but he could not help but wish he might stay in the wild with Siv.

TWENTY-FOUR

R
aef turned in
his saddle and looked back at the walls. Winter fog swirled at the base of the timbers, but the rising hill behind the walls and the rooftops were visible in the grey dawn. There was no sunrise this day, only thick, white clouds and pale light brushing against the shadows of the night.

Isolf had not returned, depriving Raef of fifty warriors. But Greyshield could not wait, and so they rode north, leaving twenty men to watch the walls. It was far fewer than Raef would have liked, but he trusted Dvalarr the Crow to hold the walls at all costs, should an attack come in Raef’s absence. As Raef’s band of warriors crested a small hill, the Vestrhall dropped out of sight, and he turned to the path ahead. Uhtred rode at his side, as was his place. Finnolf and Vakre roamed ahead with a handful of men. Siv was close, Raef knew, though seldom in his sight. She wove between the trees, keeping to the fringes of their column.

Aelinvor remained behind. She had seen Raef off that morning with a smile and a bold kiss on his cheek. Of Uhtred’s warriors, half rode north with their lord, the other seven remained to protect Aelinvor. In the event of an attack on the walls, Raef knew he could not count on those seven to assist Dvalarr. Their sole purpose would be to get Aelinvor to safety.

They followed the coast, cutting inland only where the landscape demanded it. It was not the fastest route, but it would allow them to arrive at Greyshield’s home from the south, across beaches and a shallow river mouth. The easier land route would have brought them to the eastern edge of Tulkis’s boundaries, but that approach was more easily watched. In spring or summer, Raef would have come by the sea, unseen until it was too late, beaching the ships in the dark of night and surrounding Greyshield’s home before an alarm could be sounded. But the angry winter seas were treacherous and impulsive, and he did not wish to risk even two of Vannheim’s smaller ships for such a short journey up the coast.

On the second day, snow fell from dawn to dusk, sometimes small and swift flakes, sometimes fat, slow ones that left wet smears on Raef’s cheeks and melted in his hair. They crept on, seldom out of sight of the sea and never out of reach of its salty scent, and only when they had made camp that night did the snow cease and the stars come out. The night was cloudless and the air frigid. Sea winds blasted at their stone shelter as they took refuge in small caves and crevices along the beach and cliffs. Fires sprang up anywhere the men could coax a flame into life and Raef was glad they faced the sea for only a ship out on the waves could see the flames in the night.

Uhtred ducked into the cave Raef had chosen, a grim smile on his face. “I have not seen the sea froth and churn like this yet this winter. Jörmungand must be restless.” Uhtred took a seat by their small fire. “But then, the children of Loki are always restless.”

Raef looked to Vakre, who stifled a grin and spoke. “I have heard that a son of Loki walks in Midgard.”

Uhtred scoffed. “A tale for children.”

“They say he has a cloak of fire but does not burn.” Vakre’s eyes brimmed with laughter and Raef was glad Uhtred’s gaze was turned to the fire.

“Loki’s children are all monsters. He would never father something so common as a man.”

“If you say so,” Vakre said, grinning as he took a bite of dried meat. Raef tried not to laugh and was glad when Vakre kept his mouth shut. The truth of Vakre’s ancestry had become known to some in the east, and still more had seen his cloak, Loki’s cloak, flame to life, a wondrous thing to watching eyes. But if the stories of Vakre Flamecloak had not yet reached the west, Raef was glad. He did not wish to explain to Uhtred why he trusted a son of Loki.

The watches were set. Siv drew the second shift. Raef was still awake when she left their cave to take her place out in the cold and had only slept a little by the time she returned. He watched her stir the fire, drawing out more flames and heat, then settled close to warm herself. Raef rose and draped his blanket over her shoulders. She smiled.

“The wind is biting.” She peeled her sheepskin gloves from her hands and held them over the flames.

“Here, let me.” Raef took her right hand in both of his and rubbed gently with his thumbs to bring life back into her skin. He did the same with the left and did not let go even after he felt warmth return to her veins. They sat in silence as the fire smoked and spat and gusts of wind threatened their shelter. “You have not asked after Eira.” The thought had been with him on the journey north.

Siv looked at him, her eyes tired. “What happened between you and Eira is not for me to know.”

Raef made circles on her palm with his thumb, only half aware he was doing so. “Then you will not hear me speak of her again.”

Siv yawned. “You should not say such things when they will not hold true. I think your paths will cross again.” She leaned back against the cave wall, her gaze not leaving Raef’s face. At length, her eyelids closed and Raef watched the rise and fall of her chest slow into the even rhythm of sleep. The dull orange light of the dying fire played across her face, sending shadows dancing. Raef watched and wondered at the song in his heart.

When he awoke, the air was quiet, the winds no more than a soft, salty breeze, the dawn already bright and clear, and his fingers still brushed against Siv’s, who slept yet, slouched against the stone in such a manner that would surely bring a sore neck and cramped muscles. Raef fought the urge to wake her and instead left the cave and relieved his bladder. The men were stirring, woken by the cries of gulls, and the horses stamped their feet and snorted frosty breath, eager to stretch their legs.

They would be in sight of Tulkis Greyshield’s home by midday, so Raef allowed a morning meal around the fires rather than in the saddle, and set an unhurried pace after they had doused the fires and mounted the horses. Even in winter, the coast thrived, a haven for birds of all kinds and game both big and small could find nourishment closer to the sea than deep in the winter forests.

As they neared the heart of Greyshield land, a strange shape, growing in the distance, caught Raef’s eye and he, Vakre, and Siv rode ahead to inspect it.

It was the remains of a ship, the burned, gutted bones of a hull. No more than half remained, the rest washed away. Raef dismounted and kicked one of the beams. It crumbled at his touch, rotted from the damp air and sea spray.

“Strange, to burn a ship,” Vakre said.

“An accident, perhaps. Ships are too valuable,” Raef said.

“My father told me a story once,” Siv said, her voice quiet, as though she had not quite worked out in her mind what she wanted to say. “Two giants strove to win the heart of the beautiful Lisgothmir. One gave her riches and jewels. She turned him away. The other, who lived far away, came to her on his best and biggest ship, a wonder that the gods themselves envied. She thought he meant to make a gift of it, but when he stepped onto the shore, he set it on fire and it blazed for six days and six nights.” Siv took her gaze from the charred wood and looked at Raef. “He did this to prove to her that he would never return to his land, that he was there to win her heart, not give her treasures.”

“You think someone burned this to show they would not return to the shores they left behind? Show who?”

Siv shrugged. “Themselves? A man becomes desperate when he has no way but forward, when he cannot turn back.” She shook her head. “It is only a story. I do not know what made me think of it. Likely it belonged to Greyshield and was wrecked as winter set in.”

The host of warriors had caught up, so Raef remounted and continued north, winding along the shore, his thoughts on Siv’s story. It troubled him, but he could not have said why.

Confronted with steep headlands rising in front of them, Raef turned his men inland and onto a smoother, gentler approach. They climbed off the beach and into a forest thick with pine, and there, well-concealed from watching eyes, the column drew to a halt. Raef rode onward with only a few warriors at his back, leaving Uhtred to watch the host.

Keeping to the trees, Raef headed north once more, pausing at any sound or movement, until he came within sight of the first of Greyshield’s outbuildings, a storage house and a long, low barn for livestock. Pigs, grey, spotted shapes in the snow, were the only moving things in Raef’s view, but he could hear sheep. Raef dismounted and handed the reins to the closest warrior, then crept forward for a closer look, Vakre at his shoulder, Siv just behind. When the farmhouse came into view, Raef stopped and waited. Smoke rising into the sky told of life within, but there was nothing to indicate if Tulkis himself was at home. Though the space between the farmhouse and the barn appeared to be no more than a field of snow, Raef knew it was littered with stones and broken foundations, the remnants of a time when the Greyshields ruled Vannheim from a long-forgotten hall. Raef settled into his crouch and waited, determined to be patient.

His leg muscles were burning and his toes frozen when the call of the horse reached his ears. It went unanswered, but moments later five riders emerged from the trees east of the farmhouse. Even at a distance, Raef could see it was Tulkis Greyshield who led them. Raef watched the men dismount, tie the horses, and shut themselves inside the house, the sound of laughter trailing after them. Only then did he rise from the snow and retreat to his horse. Leaving Vakre and Siv to watch should the situation change, Raef and the others returned to Uhtred and the host, speaking not a word until they were well away from the Greyshield farm.

“Greyshield is there,” Raef said as he rode up to Uhtred. The other lord tossed his skin of ale to Raef, who took a swallow. “The land is in our favor. We can surround them easily.”

“How many?”

“I am certain of five, including Tulkis.”

“Could there be more?” Uhtred wiped ale from his beard with his sleeve.

“Perhaps. But the house is not large enough to hold more than twenty. If Tulkis has gathered men to oppose me, he has not done so here.”

Uhtred grunted as he mounted his horse. “Clever.”

Giving Uhtred, Finnolf, and Yorkell each command over a portion of his warriors, Raef gave instructions for the approach and encirclement of the farmhouse, and then the host moved in on its prey, dark shadows stalking among the trees. Vakre rejoined Raef, reporting that no one had come or gone.

Moving as one, the warriors burst from cover and formed a ring around the farmhouse. Those who had bows knocked arrows on their strings. Spears and axes bristled. For a moment all was quiet but for the stamping of hooves. A cloud passed over the sun. Then Finnolf’s voice broke the peace.

“Tulkis Greyshield, you are summoned to answer the Skallagrim in Vannheim.” The captain’s voice rang out and the cloud scuttled away from the sun as though it fled at the sound. “Come forth!”

Raef’s heart beat no more than five times before the door swung open, but it felt far longer. At first, only a shadow filled the doorway, but then a figure stepped out, a hand raised to shield his eyes from the sun. “What is the meaning of this?” Tulkis Greyshield came forward another two steps, his left leg dragging slightly in a limp, and lowered his arm, his gaze finding Raef. Even with the space between them, Raef could see the other man’s eyes narrow, could see his shoulders and neck stiffen.

Raef urged his horse forward until he was eight strides from Tulkis. “I come in search of answers, Tulkis.”

Other men had filtered out of the house now, and stood behind Tulkis, their faces grim. They were armed with swords and one had a bow, though no steel or arrow was yet shown.

Tulkis gave a small bow, but the courtesy did not mask the scowl on his face. “And I shall give them to you if I can, lord.”

“Five men came to your land on my orders. They were no threat to you, but four are missing and one dead.”

“The wolves are hungry, lord, and have grown bold. My corner of Vannheim is a wild, dangerous place. Or perhaps it was Rudrak Red-beard. He has grown restless.”

“Red-beard is dead, by my hand. He had no part in this.” Raef was pleased to see the flicker of unease in Tulkis’ eyes.

“I see your mind, Skallagrim. You think me a traitor.”

“Are you?”

The arrow was on the string before Raef could flinch, but Tulkis’ strong arm came down on the archer’s hand, dragging the bow downward until the tip of the arrow was buried in the snow. “No,” Tulkis growled at the archer, his gaze taking in the many arrows now aimed at him, “you will kill us all.” Tulkis straightened and looked at Raef. “My cousin is thoughtless and rash. I am no traitor, lord, and I will prove it to you.” He drew a knife and turned as though to plunge it into the chest of his cousin, the man who would have shot at Raef.

“No,” Raef shouted, halting Greyshield’s arm in mid-swing. “His death will not convince me.”

Tulkis lowered the knife, though he looked reluctant. “Very well. Then bind my hands, take me to your hall, and I will swear my oath to you in front of any you would have as witness.”

It was an unexpected offer and Raef did not answer right away. Tulkis emphasized the silence by tossing his knife into the snow. He gave a nod to the four men around him and they disarmed themselves. Raef looked over his shoulder at Vakre.

“Take them,” he said. Vakre nodded and he led a group of ten warriors forward. They collected the weapons and bound the wrists of the five men, then got them mounted onto their horses, which were then secured to the saddles of five of Raef’s men. Through this all, Greyshield said nothing and looked straight ahead, and Raef watched, trying to read the other man’s thoughts.

A quick search of the farmhouse and outbuildings revealed no trace of the four missing men, dead or alive, but Raef had one last question for Tulkis before turning south.

“Where is your family, Greyshield?” He knew Tulkis had a wife and children, two sons who had reached fighting age, and two daughters, one still very young.

“Saegertha has gone to visit her ailing mother, and the children with her.”

“Even your sons? Are they not too old for such visits?”