Read o 132c9f47d7a19d14 Online
Authors: Adena
faster progress. But when he finally caught up with Thurid and
tentatively voiced his speculations, the wizard snorted
explosively.
“You’re suffering from hallucinations, Leifr. You’ve let
yourself be carried away by feeling guilty over Ljosa. 1 never
saw a cat dart away from Sorkvir; it was far too brilliant a flare
for anything to be seen in it. And it couldn’t have been Ljosa’s
fylgja. She couldn’t have had enough power for shape-
shifting after dragging you away from Sorkvir. Stop brooding
about things your Scipling mind cannot possibly understand.
Leave magic to the wizards.”
Thurid elevated his nose and rode ahead.
By midday they reached the long barrow of Grittur-grof
where Fridmarr was buried. Elbegast went forward alone, with
his head uncovered to the harsh wind, and stood a long time
before the barrow. The chieftains and elders stood quietly until
he returned.
“We judged him wrong,” Old Einarr admitted grudgingly,
and Young Einarr sighed glumly. “I don’t doubt his loyalty now,
but he was a wrongheaded youth and fiery proud sometimes.”
Elbegast nodded. “He was flawed in many ways, which
led him to his difficulties. He should never have come back as
Gotiskolker, but he couldn’t bear the shame of knowing how he
was remembered as a traitor. I grieved to see what Sorkvir had
done to him, but his spirit was never humbled. To the last, he
was looking for a way to clear his father’s name of shame.
Now, with Leifr’s help, he has finally succeeded. Fridmarr
spent his life trying to free Solvorfirth of Sorkvir. He must have
loved this land with all of his noble heart.“
The two Einarrs nodded their heads, drawing
themselves up with fierce pride. “Nobody will ever forget
Fridmarr—the hero of Solvorfirth. The first of many, I should
hope.”
Elbegast bade them farewell and rode away, disappearing
with the same abruptness with which he had arrived. A mist was
rising out of the low ground of Grittur-grof, shrouding the
barrows almost to their tops, leaving only their rocky spines
visible. Elbegast and his riders galloped along the crest of a long
barrow, waving a last salute with their weapons, and disappeared
into the rolling gray fog. In a few moments when the fog
cleared, there was not a trace of man or beast.
The chieftains and elders heaved a collective sigh and
began pulling up their hoods against the cold wind, resuming
their habitual expressions and manners.
Einarr the Elder beckoned to Leifr. “Well, come on. You’ll
be staying at my place until Gliru-hals is mucked out. No one
else has a house worthy of such an honor.“ He shoved his horse
into the foremost position and led the cavalcade away from
Grittur-grof.
As they filed past the barrow where Leifr had found the
Rhbu and the grindstone, he looked toward the spot, but it was
empty now.
Thurid eyed him narrowly. “You’re not seeing little cats or
Rhbus again, are you? If you are and continue to do so while I
see nothing, I might avail myself of this gift from Elbegast.” He
held up a rune wand. “The spell on this will send you packing
back to the Scipling realm and put an end to your superior
attitude about Rhbus. Why don’t they show themselves to me?
I’m the one trying to follow in their footsteps.”
Leifr reached out and plucked the rune stick from Thurid’s
fingers. He tossed it to Raudbjorn.
“Put that in your trophy pouch, Raudbjorn, and don’t let
Thurid have it. Not until he rescues Ljosa Hroaldsdottir and I’ve
grown tired of the Alfar realm.”
Raudbjorn smiled his gentle assassin’s smile and shoved
the stick into his pouch. “Safe now, Leifr. Raudbjorn keep stick
forever. Wizard lose arm if he tries to take it.”
Thurid favored him with a haughty twitch of his shoulders.
“I’ve nothing to fear from you, lard-bucket. I’m not afraid of
what lies ahead. I’ll find Ljosa one day, with the aid and
protection of the Rhbus. Your nasty weapons and bloodthirsty
tactics will only help you to an early grave.”
Raudbjorn snorted and shook his head, patting the
haft of his halberd. “Strong arm and good steel better than
powers. Always ready. Always sharp.”
Leifr rode on, letting their arguments fade from his
attention. For the moment, he was content.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
Elizabeth Boyer began planning her writing career during
junior high school in her rural Idaho hometown. She read
almost anything the Bookmobile brought, and learned a great
love for Nature and wilderness. Science fiction in large quantities
led her to Tolkien’s writings, which developed a great curiosity
about Scandinavian folklore. Ms. Boyer is Scandinavian by
descent and hopes to visit the homeland of her ancestors. She
has a B. A. from Brigham Young University, at Provo, Utah, in
English Literature.
After spending several years in the Rocky Mountain
wilderness of central Utah, she and her ranger husband now live
in a rural Utah community. They met on a desert survival trip in
the canyonlands of southern Utah, which they love accordingly
and visit often. Sharing their home are two daughters, and an
assortment of animals. Ms. Boyer enjoys backpacking, cross-
country skiing, and classical music.