The Wolf Hammer, page 10
part #1 of Odin's Bastard Series
Whoever got us in, through the sea-walls, would be a hero.
Or possibly, a king.
I smiled sadly.
It was likely we would die long before we got to that part.
And then, even harder part was ahead of us.
The others were right. It would be far wiser to kill them all, if possible, in the same place.
But I wanted Yggra. I had to speak to him.
I had forgotten something. Or I was missing something.
And for some reason I couldn’t quite explain, I knew Yggra was my target, and could give me my answers.
In the meantime, waiting, I could only watch as the enemy was preparing for defense in the sea-walls. We had to get inside. That was the place where my plan could come together.
We had to get in.
The towers of the sea wall were stubby, hulking monsters and also filled with all sorts of contraptions that could take a man’s life, or send a ship to the depths of Ran. The walls bristled with ballistae, and they would heave firestone and fire across the bay.
The thick chains, riddled with barnacles and dried weed, were tight across the gate. They would not be broken. We had swum into Aeginhamn, I remembered, but it would not work here.
I watched our men, soon to go to battle.
Hardhands, men of my father, I should feel pride in them.
I felt I was missing that part too.
All I wanted was answers and revenge. My wife back. Ajax was the one who truly cared for the men. I felt a stab of shame for my lack of care. I watched them.
They looked happier.
They were somewhat richer after selling much of the loot from Captain Arn to merchants who followed the army. They were now also comfortable and dry, as the dozens of the ships assigned to us were either on the beach, or anchored just off it, and most men were taking shelter and sleep inside. Many hundred wounded from the battle were limping in, in twos and threes.
Both shelter and rest were desired and appreciated, as Aten and Vittar’s troops were also setting up camps around the bay.
I watched the rain clouds gathering and cursed them, as Gar Atenguard’s men disappeared into the far woods beyond the beach. I shifted my hammer, and got up, stretching and hating the helmet I was forced to wear. I trundled to Borin, who was leaning on a galley, watching his men drag out tents from the ship, for some of our men would sleep on the beach.
We had not had them on the march.
“Be real nice palaces, they will be,” Borin told me. “Compared to the trails. Don’t worry about them. The Vittar scum? Where do they sleep?”
“They are making camp at the edge of the bay, the royals in an abandoned tavern,” I told him.
“They would,” Borin said. “That Eglin. He is surprisingly brave, the boy. If he suddenly understands we are not only after proper pay, and still hangs his future on us? Yes. That’s the key. I guess this is the night we’ll see what he really wants. I think he is a bastard inside, eh? Useless in many other ways, though.”
“Do you know,” I asked him suspiciously, “if Shian has asked him about my father’s book?”
He squinted at me. “Oh, and you trust me to tell you? Eglin wasn’t on the field,” Borin said. “In Lorin. But she did ask.” He winked. “Don’t worry. Even if we find that book of your father’s, we need you to open it, eh? Only a Hardhand can, no?”
“Yes,” I said with a thin smile. “Everything is going well?”
He nodded. “Shian stole Eglin away from Lug, and I sent a note to Lug. I also told some men loyal to Yggra how the chains in the bay are weak, and the men guarding it do not wish to fight and are hoping to surrender. It will go well.” He nodded and squinted down the beach. “You should go now.”
I pulled on a pair of gauntlets looted from Arn’s bags.
They looked odd with the chainmail but were a good fit, thick and robust. I ran my fingers across the brass bracelet, hidden under a sleeve, and wondered if I could save Morag.
He winked. “Looking good. You did well in battle.” He looked at me oddly, and I decided the bastard was trying to be friendly. “You fought like…you used the sword well and dodged like a lynx. I was wondering, who taught you?”
“Who taught you?” I asked him with some gentle mockery. “You are the best blade in the east, after all.”
He chuckled. “Best liar, but I know a good swordsman when I see one. The movements were fluid, precise, and you were unafraid. A man usually goes in with a shield up and stabs the other one until they weep their life away in the mud, but you seemed to make it into art, like a dance. So. Who taught you?”
I shook my head.
I didn’t know.
He grimaced. “Don’t worry. You don’t remember. It was pretty enough. But you won’t live to be old. Famous, but not old. Beware. That captain is good. We still must have our fight, one day. Wouldn’t want to hurt a crippled adeling.”
“We’ll see,” I told him. “Don’t worry about my hide. You’ll get paid.”
“I wasn’t…” he began, and then shook his head. “I want much more than coins, adeling. A city for my own to play with. My very own.” He looked oddly emotional, and then shook his head. “But aye, coin. That too. We need some good luck, see? The gold we won from the good captain will be gone soon. It is a mercenary’s curse. You join to be rich, but when you are in a profession where you might die any day, you will probably use it before you die.”
“The city will replenish all of it,” I said.
“The city will be our grave,” he rumbled. “they will all be here. And you will try to murder them.”
“Not before I ask them questions,” I told him. “Don’t worry.”
He didn’t look happy. He shrugged. “I do worry. My hide is the only one I have. They will have lots of men.”
“We won’t be making a shield wall against the enemy,” I said.
“Vittar has three thousand men. Aten, two, and the sailors, three thousand. Mercenaries, six thousand. And there will be the High King. He has eight.”
“Some say more,” I murmured. “We have Eglin.”
He said nothing. He nodded at me, and I turned to go and walked down the beach.
I eyeballed the row of galleys and wondered at the mold in their sleek hulls, and the rowers moving across the beach with their oars, finding tents in the camps. They were old rowers, as old as the ships were leaky, but both were serviceable. I half thought the rowers were there also to keep an eye on us. Many were professional sailors; all knew how to fight.
And then I noticed one galley, near the end of the beach, with a blue deck.
On that one, no life could be seen, save for two distant figures, hunched on the deck. Then they slipped inside it from the stern, hopping down secretively.
Soon, two other figures followed them, stopping to look down, and then they disappeared too.
I smiled, loosened my sword, and walked for a ladder.
Then I heard a noise.
“You the man they call Fang?” asked a powerful voice.
A stream of elves rode in. I felt naked and exposed, as the elven warriors, their eyes on me, bright red, pale silver, and golden like stars, kept staring at me.
Had the High King arrived? That would ruin my plan.
Not to mention they could just kill me.
I watched them and twitched with hate. I couldn’t remember why father had hated them, but I did too. Arrogant, not really part of Midgard, they had killed our people.
And the one before me, had been there when mother died.
I struggled not to kill him, then and there.
I struggled not to try, at least.
The elf who was addressing me was golden-haired, beautiful and had golden eyes, bright as gems. His armor was elvish, with complex and supple chain, and he had thick shoulders, tight with muscles. A saber hung from his belt, and he carried a staff with a head of silver, a ball with tiny ridges.
I nodded. “I am.”
He smiled. “Splendid. I hear your men are the best mercenary company now. In fact, the only one that has done fighting within Tarl Vittar’s army.” His eyes flashed. “I know what and who you are.”
I stiffened.
“A man who would like to regain much that is lost,” he said. “A mercenary. Your rulers failed you, failed Midgard, even, and Odin, certainly. It wasn’t your fault. You fought well. I would speak with you.”
He wanted to bargain.
But I had to go.
I shrugged and tried to look calm. “We have done nothing special. Just a bit of killing, really. It was Adeling Elgin that led us to war. He is to be commended. Is the High King—”
He chucked “Reignhelm is coming tomorrow or day after. Do not worry about him. We are guarding him well. Especially well, now.”
I grunted. “The White Tower is under siege. They cannot get out. Even if there is some rebel scum hiding beyond.”
His eyes stared at me, and I suppressed the urge to entirely hide the hammer handle that was covered but sticking out from over my shoulder, partly covered by my hooded cloak.
“You know of that, eh?” he wondered. “That something escaped Lorin?”
I nodded. “Captain Arn mentioned it. Before he died. Said the Jarl is confident. That he hopes for help to arrive. That they have refugees inside. Nothing more.”
“So, it is likely true,” the elf said. “Aye. They will not surrender, and I lost something on the battlefield. Two things, that is. I know not if I lost them to an ally or an enemy. In any case, we shall keep everyone safe. My eyes are all over the land. Odin’s will must be guarded, Midgard kept safe, and have I not done that for so long I have long kept an eye out on evil, and Barrac’s land has escaped my eye for too long.” He watched the city. “I suspect there is something hiding in there. Something we must destroy, right now.”
I grunted and spat, making him flinch.
He smiled thinly. “Aye. Well. As for our past? Your former king and his family failed in their oaths, and he was fooled into terrible, unforgiving war. We never wished that.” He leaned forward. “Now my eyes are on you. I know you think you have found a proper patron in Eglin. Remember that Adeling Elgin had to be led to a take a piss not so long ago.”
“He pissed on Captain Arn’s dead mouth just now,” I said. “He is all grown up.”
“Ah, yes,” said the elf with a small smile. “I do think he is very surprising, and devious too,” he told me. “I do wonder if I should have elves watching him, for we do not wish to lose him. Atenguards are important in the realm, especially as go-betweens for the High King and his people. Gar is almost like his bed-maker. Sets up even the table for Reignhelm to eat.” He laughed cruelly and winked. “And I do wonder how much coin you will hope to extract from the fool adeling when he tries to step over Yggra Atenguard. He will owe you much. Alas, but it is Gar Atenguard who will decide who is Atenguard’s crown prince, and he will not let Eglin rule. The High King can overrule any decision, it is his crown to give, but Gar decides on Yggra. It is just the way it is. You are beating a dead horse, man. I have a proposal.”
I said nothing. I almost fidgeted and turned to leave, for the elf was ruining our plans.
He looked around and squinted at his troop of elven warriors riding past on their lizards, long, sleek armored, all carrying finest of weapons.
“Exiles, eh?” I said.
He nodded. “Least loved in Aldheim, the criminals of the elven kind, but here; close to kings. Odin himself chose us to guard Midgard. The land with no magic is the most vulnerable to beasts and monsters.”
“My…king used to do this,” I said. “Guarding.”
“Your king had a hammer to kill monsters, and to seek…” he began and cleared his throat. “Alas, the family had done so well. But this one was weak. An oath breaker. We’ll know the full story as soon as I find Barrac.”
I bit my tongue.
Bastard.
“His hammer, the Wolf Hammer,” he said, “a weapon of the Aesir, given to the family alone—for it is said a drop of Odin’s blood lets you touch that weapon—could seek out the evil. Alas, that nothing is truly evil or good, a bit of both. Except for the undead. They are truly an abomination, and pure evil, driven, mad. Draugr, wight…those your king hunted, especially.”
I had not remembered that from his tales.
He smiled with superior smugness. “Against the rest? My elves and I kept them at bay,” he said.
“Others?”
“Others,” he said. “Beings that serve the enemy. Not dead. But truly evil.”
“I am terrified,” I told him. “And what is the enemy?” I wondered.
“Odin’s enemies,” he breathed. “The jotun-gods, and some others. Some close to him. I have no time for this.”
“Neither do I. Aye,” I said. “If you will excuse me—"
“Hardhands,” he said. “Tired, still marching and hoping you will perhaps be allowed back home, by Eglin.”
I shrugged. “It has visited our stubborn little minds.”
He laughed softly. “Aye. They are not the best of the masters,” he said calmly. “Reignhelm’s family will merge either with Graymoor’s or the Vittar’s,” he told me. “Atenguard’s won’t have a share in the great game. They’ll remain servants. You would do best serving one of the great houses. In fact, I could use you in Malignborg.”
I peered up at him.
He hummed. “Like speaking to a snake, when you of the east look like that. I am seeking something. I told you. Two things I lost in Lorin. I will find both. One is in there. In the city. He will be mine. The other one is trickier. Something was stolen.”
He is seeking Father’s book. Or the hammer.
He smiled as he prepared to leave. “Gar and Yggra, the Vittars, the Graymoors, and even your Eglin might have in their possession something I truly desire. I know you keep your oaths, mercenary, not long ago one of the Hardhands, and I ask nothing like murder from you. And still, it might be unwise to keep oaths, if your ring-givers are thieves and looters.”
I squinted at him. “They stole something? Or simply found something you desire? Perhaps on a corpse?”
He winked. “I like a sharp mind, I do. Let me, Naergoth Bardagoon, know if you are possibly more loyal to Reignhelm, Son of Odin, High King of Midgard and if you would keep an eye out for us. It is a service to the great elf, it is, and you should consider it.”
I bristled at the arrogant tone.
I nodded.
“Good,” he said. “Later. Tomorrow? We shall discuss the specifics. Come to me, when you can. Do not forget.”
He turned his lizard and rode off.
I could try to kill him there, with his back turned. Voices of bloody murder whispered to me and begged me to try.
He had been there when Mother had died.
I grimaced and turned to look at the galley.
I noticed a pair of ladders and then climbed one, fast as I could.
I got to the deck, watched the entire fleet and then the galley’s stern, and wondered at the silence.
I walked the deck and found the rowing pits empty, the deck unwashed.
I hesitated, drew my sword, and then made my way to the stern, and there, I found the stairway down. I found a dark hull with rower’s pits, and way beyond the pits, there was a lit cabin.
Far in there, I saw Elgin, adeling Elgin, and Shian was sitting with him.
He was nearly naked, pale and enthralled, and Shian was holding his hands, keeping them tight, whispering to him. Her chain was pulled down to her waist, and her breasts, full and beautiful, were there to be seen.
I felt a stab of terrible anger.
I felt betrayed.
It was my plan, but I did suddenly hate it, and I was sure I had not told her to go this far.
It was clear on Elgin’s face; he was in love. She was a desirable woman. More so than any…
Except for my wife, I thought.
I just couldn’t remember her well.
And still, for some reason, I felt a pang of murderous anger as Elgin’s hand went to her waist. He pulled her to him, and she embraced him and kissed his neck, her breast in his hand, and then on his mouth. He was pulling at her belt, and I saw Shian’s hand over his manhood.
And then, suddenly, she held a dagger behind his back as he bent to kiss her belly.
There were two figures crouched near the doorway.
One was drawing a sword, and another held a javelin.
They moved.
The javelin went up at the doorway, and I heard Shian’s call of distress.
The weapon was thrown, and I heard a crash, and that’s when I attacked.
I was late.
I charged forward, crashing over the deck, and they turned, eyes full of surprise.
“Hold!” yelled one.
Lug. Captain Lug.
I knew it to be him.
He stepped forward, and another was pulling a sword, but that one fell back, as Shian appeared behind him, pulled him back by his throat, and they crashed down.
Lug cursed and came at me with a sword as I was nearly upon him.
The sword snaked for me. I stepped under it and pushed him back, staggering him out of balance. He landed on his feet, the sword stabbing, stabbing again, very fast. My sword worked to keep him at bay as he went into a ferocious attack. The blade was whirling and dancing and crashed into my mask as I missed a parry.
I laughed, growled and cursed, doggedly swung and thrust, and he smiled as well, confident in his skills.
He had cause to be.
He suddenly kicked over the blade, and into my face.
It hurt terribly, and I decided, half blind with pain, to charge forward fast.
The sword stabbed past me, missing my throat by an inch.
I bashed into him, crashing my sword’s hilt into his helmet, and we staggered together in a fierce, ferocious struggle to free our weapons. He grinned over his blade and suddenly tore free, thrusting at my throat again. I grabbed the edge with the gauntlet and kicked at his knee. He howled, and I spat blood on his face. Half blinded, he danced left and right, hugging the wall, and, pushing air through his teeth, he charged.
The blade came low and countered my parry to strike at my chest. The sword crashed into my mask, nearly broke my neck, but I fell over him again, and then, struggling mightily, we fell down to a rowing pit. We crashed hard and broke apart.
