The Wolf Hammer, page 16
part #1 of Odin's Bastard Series
Lok. God of Tricks.
He would be involved.
“Why didn’t Odin simply ask for my father to obey?” I asked him. “Why was my mother involved?”
“I suppose—”
“Suppose,” I snarled. “Did the High King and Odin, supposedly, order my mother taken, and killed?”
“I know not,” he whispered. “You should ask Reignhelm and Naergoth. I think they would not be—”
“Silence,” I snarled. “To the point. In the orders, did it say my mother would be killed?” I resisted the urge to toss him over the side.
“It wasn’t in the order, any of that,” he added. “Naergoth did that.”
“Get to the details,” I told him.
“It was a Yule feast like any,” he said, speaking very carefully, and he looked like a doe about to bolt. “We were drinking mead, the better Vittar wine, the one he never shares with anyone. Yggra confiscated some of it, and we were drunk, very drunk.”
“Were you?” I said. “And my mother?”
“I was. She? I doubt it,” he said wearily, hating the subject. “She was a guest of honor, a true eastern queen. Regal as a flower, and she was wise and beautiful. She was entertaining and spoke of your father. She knew all about the sea. And pirates. She spoke of her travels.”
“She did?” I asked. “What did she tell?”
He smiled as he spoke. “It is not so much what, but how. She was witty and then suddenly harsh in surprising spurts, keeping the lot unbalanced. She had a dagger on the belt, and nothing else to guard her, but your father’s reputation would keep any queen safe. Except, not that night.”
“Dogs,” I hissed. “The host must keep her safe. Naergoth may ask what he will, but Tarl should have refused.”
I swiveled my gaze to Tarl.
“Yes,” he said softly. “She had no guards in the Aeginhamn halls. Do you remember the halls?”
I shook my head.
He swallowed. “Yes. I imagine you wouldn’t wish to,” he murmured. “She spoke of your father too. Mostly of him. Of his hunts.”
“Hunts,” I said blandly.
“Hunts,” he said. “You could say…monster hunts. Nay, not something old women try to summon out of a fire to scare children, but real creatures of the Nine Worlds—evil and inhuman, dangerous to life. He was the guardian of men, Son of Odin, and he hunted evil in the land, across Midgard. Like others before him. Your mother truly ruled the land, I heard, for no man who smells evil can be trusted.”
Mother had ruled? Issan?
I remembered her kind words, her fairness to visitors.
But little else.
He went on. “No man afflicted with a vendetta for all evil could stand and rule. You saw what you were like. In the tower. Imagine, if something truly evil walked to kneel on the Harsh Stone, a jotun—”
“A jotun would not do it,” I said. “It would not make him…I don’t know. But an undead thing would.”
He blinked. “But it did. In the tower.”
“Something else…never mind,” I said. “I see.”
“Your father,” the boy said with conviction, “was too wild to be trusted to obey. That’s why Naergoth chose to try this way. He took the one person Hagar loved so much. We all knew about that. I know not.”
I tried to calm myself.
It was very hard.
He was quiet for a moment, and we watched the ships coming closer.
“Stealing the High King’s entrance, Graymoor is,” I said, trying to speak of something else. “Move on from Odin. What else did Mother tell?”
“That your father brought back no treasures,” he said. “She told of them. Of gold and silver. Tales. Naergoth was very interested in all that. I think he believed that your father had shared too much with your mother. Perhaps the duty is so sacred, it is a secret. But perhaps not.” He winked. “Look. I have been thinking. Suppose Naergoth was simply hoping to find riches? What if your mother spoke too much, and he decided she could share more of your father’s secrets? What if it was a simple creed? It is possible.”
I said nothing. It was. I had three companions who truly loved the idea of my father’s gold.
“It is, isn’t it?” he insisted. “Reignhelm could ask, in Odin’s name, for your father to come to Malignborg, but Naergoth decided to make a profit.”
“Anything is possible,” I answered.
“And Naergoth was there, when she died far below,” he said delicately.
I transferred my full attention to him. “Go on.”
“Odin is in war. He might not know anything about this, if he trusts Reignhelm, who trusts Naergoth to send him news of Midgard.”
“Odin might not know what is happening,” I said. “Go on!”
He nodded. “So I have thought. I know you wish to regain Odin’s favor. Perhaps it was never lost.”
I smiled. “You are most kind to think of me. But what do they want?” I wondered. “Surely, at some point, Odin will turn his eye this way, and his ravens will whisper to him of treason. There will be blood flowing then.”
He shrugged. “Perhaps it is a war-plan of the enemy? They want to cause malice between men,” he said with surety. “And they have succeeded. If we manage to take the High King, we will know. You don’t intend to kill the High King? Not without a long chat?”
I said nothing.
He was silent now, as beneath us, men were cheering the High King and eyeing Graymoor’s ships.
“No more stalling,” I said. “Tell me about her death.”
“Aye, I was going to,” he whispered. “The evening didn’t end well.” Embarrassment passed over his features. “I don’t know how to put it. It was bad. She was…well, murdered. The Yellow Hall, as it was called before you destroyed Aeginhamn,” he said softly while trembling, “was full of tension. I felt it as the evening wound on. Usually, mead makes you merry. Now, some of us were growing morose and tense. It was midnight when they toasted Odin, the first day of Yule-Tide. Your father got word of her death a week later? Yes? And it was then when Naergoth spoke. He had gotten up, and everyone went silent. Tarl Vittar rose up to stand near him. I remember your mother’s face. She was suddenly very still.”
Mother. I barely remembered her.
I did and didn’t.
Eglin went on, out of breath, growing terrified. “He spoke of the war. There had been rumors even back then of Odin waging a terrible war in Jotunheim. Some spoke of the Vanir delaying, not helping him, and Odin and Baldur were going forth alone, while Thor tried to persuade them. They say all the Seidr-seers, völva, and even some of the keener vitka had been foreseeing a terrible calamity that would be an end of an era, and the next era would be preparation for Ragnarök.” He blinked. “Surely you remember this? Naergoth spoke of this, but it was widely known.”
I shook my head.
“And there was worry that Midgard would be attacked,” Eglin went on. “Naergoth said it clearly. He said he shall smite down those who work for the enemy, and that he has ever done so. Your father, he said, was the least of the warriors of Odin, even if he had a flashy hammer. He said there was a danger that had to be dealt with, forthwith. That he had been told there was a traitorous enemy close to the Son of Odin, the one in the east, and that traitor had for years been gnawing at the great man, seeking to break his will to keep his oaths. He was looking at your mother.”
“He accused her. Go on.”
Eglin spoke. “Hence, Naergoth showed Tarl the order, one which he already had seen. It was a ceremony, more than news. The commands had gone out a week earlier,” he said. “My father got his early too. Again, the order didn’t dictate that your mother should be taken.” He hesitated and then spoke. “I remember Tarl had invited your mother that Yule, a week before. Her, especially. It was usually one of your brothers. Not this year. He said someone had warned him, someone from the east.”
He was not answering my questions. He was formulating new ones.
“Graymoor,” I murmured. “I am sure it was him, lying. Why did he turn on us?”
He shook his head. “I know not when he betrayed you. But I think what really got to him, was what had happened in Aeginhamn. The madness, the mindless butchery, like Helheim had fallen into that place? Graymoor told my father later he sold his honor because he was afraid of your father, and actually agreed with Odin that your father should give up the hammer.” He seemed to be gauging my potential reaction. “I don’t know if it was he, who warned Naergoth of your mother. But I know he feared you after Aeginhamn. You killed everyone in Aeginhamn after they found your mother. I mean…everyone. ‘Until the Yellow was Red,’ they said.”
I stared emotionless at him.
He grunted, trembling. “The young. The old. The women. Your father probably ordered the Hardhands and your allies to punish the city, and he, and you—”
“You should keep your trap shut, lover,” Borin said gruffly. “The adeling needs not to be upset. Tell him about his mother—"
“I’ll rape you with your own sword, you bearded bastard,” I said acidly, “if you do not let him speak. I will want my cup full, so let him speak. All of it.”
The anger surprised me too.
Borin snapped his mouth shut, shocked.
Ajax stepped forward.
“Silence,” I snarled, and the two went quiet, hands on their sword’s hilts.
Eglin was terrified but nodded.
“Speak,” I told him, and glared at him from behind my helmet. “Speak.”
He smiled sadly. “Your mother. Naergoth told Yggra, my brother, and the king of Vittar to step forth, and to do their duty. They walked to the middle of the rooms, and Tarl Vittar, haughty, told your mother to get up.”
I swiftly found Tarl in the crowd below.
“Your father knew of this,” he said. “It was all clearly stated in the letter, with nothing held back. The High King knew it would enrage him. Or possibly Naergoth hoped to cover his crimes by inciting war.”
“Speak of what you know,” I said. “And if nothing more.”
“Your mother stood up, confused,” he said. “I saw it. She couldn’t understand why they would dare to imprison her, but she thought they would tell her to take a message to her husband, perhaps over the war in Jotunheim.” His voice was trembling. “King of Vittar, instead, told her she was his prisoner in Odin’s name, and as a king, he required her to kneel before him and to accept her chains. He had fetters on the table. Drunk on power, he was. It is rare for a jarl to humiliate the Queen of the East. Few would want to, but Tarl did.” He looked down. “Yggra as well.”
I watched Tarl. He was sour, proud, but also…calm.
Composed.
“And you?”
“I just watched,” he whispered. “Yggra told her he’d force her to obey, if she didn’t. That’s his role. A bully to support another bully. I think there was a purpose to it. Naergoth wanted them, the two great allies, to seal their fates with Malignborg. They did it willingly.”
My eyes hurt, and I leaned forward viewing the men below.
Corpses. Walking corpses. Soon, real ones.
“She refused,” I said.
“Your mother, fair, tall and proud, refused,” he whispered, and went silent until I snarled at him. “So, Tarl Vittar told Yggra to strip her and whip her.”
I stared at him.
The rage made me twitch, to feel like I would fall over the side of the ship and kill the lot, right there.
Shian was there, holding a hand on my shoulder, and it helped.
Eglin spoke. “She didn’t cry. She didn’t fight either. She stood there as Yggra walked to her and used a dagger to cut her dress away. She stood there as she was shamed by the eyes of men in that room, and then she was whipped. When she finally went to her knees, in the end, raw and bare, she was still not weeping, only bleeding. It was then when Tarl brought the fetters to her, and she was taken below. Rikas, Gilad, and Yggra took her. The elf went as well.” He sighed. “They say she was murdered. By one of them.”
“You didn’t tell me who did it,” I whispered hoarsely.
“I don’t know for sure. I told Shian!”
I waved for him to go on.
“Yggra said she hanged herself for her shame,” he whispered. “He…he might have lied. He surely did. They were all in that dungeon, and she simply suddenly hanged herself? They were there for a long while. But if anyone knows, it is the ones I mentioned.”
I cursed him softly and calmed myself. “She would never do that. Kill herself.”
He looked helpless and foolish. “Yggra didn’t tell me. Father didn’t. They say, my brother…” He looked away.
I stepped closer and placed a hand on his throat. He didn’t move, and Borin twitched, the sword coming out just a bit from the sheath. “What?”
“They say he assaulted her,” he whispered. “I don’t know. Yggra was drunk and in the same dungeon. Naergoth and he…elves don’t do that. The Exile was in that cell with Yggra. He will have seen everything. Perhaps the shame…”
So that was what would have driven Father crazy.
That would do it.
And it would have driven us all crazy in Aeginhamn.
I walked away and heard men in Graymoor’s ships blowing horns, close to the bay. They had been approaching as we spoke, and I watched the lot approaching now. I ducked below the decks and felt the murderous rage bubbling inside, demanding an immediate release. I knew why Father had burned the world for vengeance.
Shian came down tentatively sat next to me, placing a hand on my shoulder. She waited patiently until I had calmed.
She looked so very sad.
“We shall go with my original plan,” I whispered.
I stroked her blond locks, and only then noticed one of her eyes was blue one brown. She smiled and shook her head. “Yes. You need to ask more questions. From Yggra. And you cannot kill him immediately. We have a good plan. Risky, but good.”
I shook my head. “My wife.”
“Your wife is either alive or dead,” she said. “As is Morag. We will know soon. They will all feast and sleep in the fort.”
Borin came over.
“We are a bit worried, friend,” he said. “We have so far been doing well enough. We have a goodly pile of loot from here, the city. But are we going to go forth with what you planned?”
I nodded. Borin flashed Shian a look, and smiled.
I saw the pilot was with him. The man was tired and bowed his head to me.
“You were up there?” I asked harshly. “With Borin?”
They had been on a mission that night.
“The tunnels are just as I remembered them,” he said. “They lead to the city, and there are long, winding routes that I know, with nobody in them,” he said softly. “They are fairly hard to navigate until you find the right way up. There is a place, a round chamber with a smuggler’s nest. Your brutish friend approved of it.”
I walked to him. He flinched, knowing he was still not done with his reluctant duties.
“You will tell Adeling Yggra,” I told him. “That the jarl Barrac of the White Tower wishes to surrender to him. Personally. That the Jarl will show him away into the city, below it. Third time’s the charm, eh?”
He was staring at me. “What?” he asked.
“Borin there,” I said, “will tell you what to do. But, in essence, he knows the way now?”
Borin had been with the man.
“Yes,” Borin said. “I know it. I don’t get lost. There are ancient graves there, so it feels like home.”
“You expect me to lead the Adeling of Aten to the tunnels,” the pilot said, horrified.
I nodded. “It is the wish of the King of Aten that you do so.”
Eglin nodded. “It is.”
“Piss on the King of Aten!” the pilot shouted. “He’ll not be alone, this Yggra,” he hissed. “And why would he come?”
“Because,” I told him with rising anger, “he lacks hope, and so, as keenly as a dagger in a belly, he will feel hope. He’ll grasp for it. You will do our bidding, friend. Then you are free.”
“Free to see my family on the top burn,” he said.
“We shall set your daughter free after the war,” I told him darkly, “and you may go and get your other family to the tunnels. It will be awkward, no?”
He looked unhappy and nodded.
I rubbed my face and got up. “Done.”
He nodded and sat down. Shian smiled at him.
I turned to Eglin. “Go. And since you are the king, make sure the Grudge Breakers will have a guard duty this night. They will be planning and feasting, no doubt in the keep. Our men at the main gates. None else. Find out exactly where they sleep. Every one of them.”
Eglin nodded. “The small keep will fall. I will know everything. I arrange it, after all. I make sure they will all be close together.”
“We’ll go in at Dog’s Hour, three hours from dawn,” I told him. “After I deal with Yggra.”
“I will try,” he said.
“Don’t fail,” I snarled. “You might think about betraying us, but I’ll come back from the grave again if you do.”
Borin laughed at that and couldn’t stop.
The pilot bowed his head slightly and hopped down.
Borin left with the pilot, chuckling hugely, vaulting down to the pier where people were preparing to meet with the first Graymoor ship.
I rubbed my forehead and sampled the pain under the helmet. I walked to see Eglin joining his brother in the pier. The latter twitched with hate, but Eglin had the ring, and he climbed on a horse.
I watched more of the black ships coming in through the sea-gates we had captured.
Graymoor was bringing a lot of men.
Below us, the High King was moving forth, and the Exiles were moving around him in a mass of elven might. One, the golden Naergoth, was looking up at us. He was staring at Borin, who walked past to stand in the crowd, and then at me.
I nodded at him, and he smiled, looking suspiciously at Eglin.
