The Wizard And The Warlord (18 page)

“But Halfdane needs Jotull’s magic to assist him, if he’s going to survive the winter,” Sigurd said. “The Dokkalfar outnumber us twenty to one and maybe more. In years past, from what I’ve heard, Halfdane has relied upon spells and tricks, such as moving the stones from the safe river crossings to deep parts where anybody who goes in gets washed away and drowned, or spells to frighten the Dokkalfar. What’s Halfdane going to do without Jotull’s power?”

“We don’t need Jotull,” Adills snapped. “I’ve wizarded Hrafnborg through worse winters and I’ve fought Dokkalfar with Halfdane’s father while Jotull was still torturing cats and frogs. A feud between the warlord and his wizard is a dangerous thing, and I say good riddance to Jotull. While there’s life in this old carcass, Halfdane won’t be without a wizard.” He poured a cup of aromatic fluid from a blackened pot and swallowed half of the scalding mixture, which Sigurd had first mistaken for horse linafnent,

Rolfr edged another bit of peat onto the already hot fire. “Sigurd has a point, Adills. There’s not as much fire in your blood as there once was, and it takes a lot more tea and firewood to get you unthawed than it used to. And I’ve never seen such chilblains as the ones on your toes. You’re a tough old reptile, but we’re all compelled to admit that you’re getting old.”

“Bah. Once I get my legs straightened”out again, I’ll be ready to go. Jotull won’t ride out with Halfdane after being sacked, I expect. The Dokkalfar are pushing at Bedasford again and they’re liable to get across tonight unless we do something extraordinary to stop them. Svinhagahall Dokkalfar, mind you, so that means Bjarnhardr, Halfdane’s oldest and most hated enemy.“

“Bedasford, is it?” Rolfr frowned and looked at his weapons rather longingly. “He’s getting too close for comfort, particularly this early in the winter. It’s not even Midwinter yet.”

Adills darted a sly glance at Sigurd. “Perhaps this year he thinks he’s got more incentive, and I’m certain he’s got more information. He seems to know what Halfdane is going to do almost before it’s attempted.”

Sigurd interrupted angrily, “If you’re hinting that Jotull is spying for Bjarnhardr, why don’t you come out and say so?”

“Because saying outright that Jotull is a spy, a traitor, and a beastly, slinking troll’s offspring is a good way to make him angry,” Adills replied, motioning for his boots with one hand. “I know he had something to do with Hross-Bjorn, and he’s using that sending to frighten you, Sigurd, and terrorize Hrafnborg. I could destroy that sending or turn it back against its maker, if I were a bit faster and hadn’t forgotten so much.” He paused in the midst of their combined efforts to jam his swollen feet into his boots. “I hate to leave you two here with that thing sniffing around the door. It acts worse when I’m not around to defend you. Maybe I should stay here tonight. I have a feeling that something may happen if I’m not here.”

“We can take care of ourselves,” Rolfr assured him. “Halfdane needs you. If we get into trouble, we’ll have plenty of help. We’d gladly trade you places if we could, wouldn’t we, Siggi?”

“We certainly would,” Sigurd answered with a sigh.

Adills gave himself a brisk shake and reached for his cloak. “It can’t be helped. I must go.”

He almost changed his mind again when he saw that Jotull had decided to ride out with Halfdane to the fighting, but Adills’ hesitation was momentary. He climbed onto his shaggy old nag and positioned himself at Halfdane’s side, pointedly shouldering Jotull and his fine horse and trappings aside. Adills waved to Sigurd and Rolfr as the cavalcade trotted toward the earthworks.

Sigurd and Rolfr joined the other wall-watchers and observed Halfdane and his warriors riding across the snow in the half-gloom of the northern night. Sigurd looked at his companions and suppressed a shudder. They looked like the Norns, the three sisters who endlessly spun out men’s fates and cut them off when their lives were finished, like threads of wool. The three old women nodded to Sigurd and Rolfr and silently made room for them around the fire.

By noonday, in the unrelieved darkness of the long winter night, the news arrived that the Dokkalfar had crossed the river and were advancing at a determined rate toward Hrafnborg. Several Ljosalfar were dead or wounded, and one was missing. When the messengers returned later with the casualties, Sigurd and Rolfr learned that the missing Alfar was the old wizard Adills.

Hross-Bjorn wasted no time in taking advantage of Adills’ absence. It began to stalk Sigurd with a vengeance, following him around the earthworks just out of arrowshot on the far side, growling and lashing itself into a fury of destruction. Then it rushed at its quarry, snorting phosphorescent clouds into the air and snapping its teeth in a vile frenzy. Sigurd and the other wall-watchers drove it off the best they could, but their best efforts scarcely dampened the creature’s resolve. It lurked around the buildings in the shadows until no one dared to move about the enclosure alone.

Sigurd stubbornly refused Halfdane’s curt offer of the protection of the main hall, although he and Rolfr got very little sleep in the old tower. The sending launched its assaults at frequent intervals, with no daylight to deter it and no Adills to singe it with bursts of crackling flame. When the tower threatened to fall down around their ears, Sigurd gathered his possessions and informed Rolfr that he was going to stay with Jotull and Rolfr could go with him or go to Halfdane’s hall.

“I’ll go with you,” Rolfr said, “although I don’t expect to like it. At least we won’t have to share his company past Midwinter.”

Sigurd made no reply for a moment. “When Jotull was talking about my leaving Hrafhborg, did you mean it when you said it was your duty to go with me?”

Rolfr looked around the tower room in sad farewell. “Halfdane ordered me to watch out for you, and I’ll do it whether you want me to or not. In fact, I’d do it even if he didn’t order me to. It’s not going to be easy for you to get rid of me, Siggi. Now that Adills is gone, you’re all I’ve got, except Mikla, and he’s apprenticed to Jotull.”

Jotull greeted them with no signs of surprise. “I’d expected you sooner, after old Adills was out of the way,” he said. “It will be somewhat crowded quarters, but it will only be for a few days until Midwinter. You’ve brought the box, I trust?”

“Of course. I’m not a complete ninny,” Sigurd snapped. “You must have known all this would happen. When are we leaving?”

Mikla stopped grinding at some bones he was powdering and looked at Sigurd menacingly. Jotull shrugged and said, “Since we’re not mincing any words, I’ll say we leave when I’m ready.”

Sigurd waited impatiently for two days, enduring Mikla’s scowls and recriminations. “I won’t change my mind,” he told him sharply. “I’m going to do what I think is best for me, and there’s no other way than leaving Hrafnborg and going to Svartafell.”

“No other way!” Mikia snorted. “Try the sensible way. But I suppose that might be too difficult for a person with no sense.”

Sigurd did not speak to him again until Jotull announced one morning that he was ready to depart for Svartafell. Heartily sick of living among Jotull’s unsavory powderings and sinister collections, Sigurd gladly agreed to get ready. Rolfr said nothing, staring into the fire abstractedly until Sigurd jostled him impatiently.

“Let’s get going, Rolfr. Or have you changed your mind?”

Rolfr shook his head, and Mikla’s look consigned them both to the depths of Hel’s cold kingdom of the dead.

Rolfr sighed heavily. “I have no choice but to go with you. It is my duty as assigned me by Halfdane and also my duty as a friend.” He looked uncertainly at Jotull and added, “You’ll be glad enough for an extra pair of eyes and ears and arms that can wield weapons in your defense.”

“Glad indeed,” Jotull replied, offering his hand to Sigurd and then to Rolfr. “Particularly since I intend to leave Mikla here to soothe the indignation of Halfdane at losing two wizards in one week. Perhaps you can make yourself useful, Mikla, with that prodigious Guild education you have.”

“I’ll welcome the opportunity,” Mikla replied snappishly. “Some Guild magic around here might not be amiss. We haven’t seen any since Adills died.”

Jotull narrowed his eyes to fine glittering points. “Don’t be sure that 1 won’t be coming back—assuming there will be something left of Hrafnborg to return to, that is. I hope your native impudence won’t carry you too far in my absence, you young upstart. It will be your unworthy self who advises Halfdane in my absence, so I advise you to tell him not to attempt to follow us in an effort to regain his property, or things may go exceedingly bad indeed for that same property.” He glanced almost imperceptibly at Sigurd, who was still holding the carven box.

Mikla replied with bare civility, “I shall allow a reasonable delay before I inform Halfdane of your disappearance. I needn’t manufacture any clever lies on your behalf; Halfdane will know at once that the bargain is mutual.” He refused to look at Sigurd.

Under the direction of Jotull, Mikla, Sigurd, and Rolfr made all the preparations for the journey. They finished just as a very battle-weary patrol rode into Hrafnborg for replacements and reprovisioning. Halfdane, however, had remained in his windy camp in the fells, overlooking the activities of the Dokkalfar. Sigurd was grateful for his absence, in spite of Rolfr’s low spirits. The only thing that gave Sigurd a brief moment’s uncertainty was how to say farewell to Ragnhild, who obviously cared about him to a more than ordinary extent. He had never liked farewells, but he would have liked to have a last look at her. His most recent memory of her was observing her wringing the neck of a chicken for a young kitchen girl who was too stupid to do it properly. In addition to seeing Ragnhild one more time, Sigurd also wanted to ask her to lend him her gray stallion, so that he wouldn’t be forced to steal a good horse from the fighting men.

Jotull disparaged his motives and thought Sigurd overpolite, but Sigurd eventually won the dispute, and Jotull accompanied Sigurd to Halfdane’s hall. The sending circled at a safe distance, a looming black shadow composed of indeterminate shapes and an aura of menace that raised gooseflesh. Sigurd could scarcely take his eyes from the creature as it followed in the dismal light of the distant stars, its three sets of teeth grinning in merry anticipation.

Ragnhild showed no surprise at the appearance of Sigurd and Jotull in her house, and looked up only once when Jotull commanded her servants to leave the room. She went on with her weaving until she had finished the row, and then put down her heddles and beater to speak to her guests.

“I’ve been thinking about you, Sigurd,” she said in her matter-of-fact way, “and it came to me in a dream last night that you are going to take a long journey. I won’t say a dangerous journey,” she added with a glance at Jotull, “because all journeys are dangerous, especially in the eyes of those who are forced to stay behind. I’m glad you came for my blessing before you went.”

“You’re a clever little witch,” Jotull said in dark admiration. “But I hope you’re clever enough to know that Halfdane desires our departure to remain a secret. If the others knew the danger was so great that Halfdane would send Sigurd away, they might lose their courage. I shall reward you for the smallest silence.”