The Wolf Hammer, page 7
part #1 of Odin's Bastard Series
Elgin smiled.
I had guessed right. The man was a coward. Most loud ones were.
He got up and also leaned closer to me, quivering with anger, disgust, and fear. He tried to collect his composure and spoke in acid tones. “We can get along. I truly believe that. We can drink at campfires and be friendly, just like I am friendly to our less unsavory servants. But if you try to flaunt the past, the war or your deeds for the lost king, you’ll lose your fangs fast, and I’ll shit in your mouth. We are watching you. Remember what you are. A nothing. You are filth and look the part. Remember one thing.” He smiled. “You fought against us in the war and lost. You have no place to go. You would be dismembered by people of the west and shunned by the other easterners and driven out to the woods in the east, for you signed up with us. You chose to come. And you are to breed trouble for our foes. Do not make any for us.”
We sized each other up for a moment.
I nodded.
He relaxed, visibly relieved, and sat back down. “Good. We have a summer and fall of war still ahead of us. The High King is doing his best to stomp his competition, and I know we might wrap this up fast. The High King himself is taking his men to south Verdant Lands to kill Tor the Red Jarl, and we must deal with the rogues who follow Jarl Barrac of the White Tower. The High King and his elves are very keen on us taking the place very soon. Not sure why. We’ll land near Vittar and drive captain Apis Arn and his nobles off Palan, and then we march to the White Tower, burning White Tower and Arn lands as we go.”
“Yes, you just told me,” I said.
He looked confused and nodded. “So, yes, I did.”
“And the north?” I asked.
He smiled. “Then, we will look to the north, and Odin’s will be done. They played a two-faced game in our war, didn’t they? They will have to humble themselves for that, at least.”
“Odin’s will?” I wondered. “Truly? Is the High King truly the executor of his will?”
“From men everyone called Odin’s Bastards,” Yggra sneered back, “mentioning his name at all is not wise. Doubting the One Regent, the High King of Midgard under Odin’s Eye, is unwise, even for a true servant, but for you?” He shook his head. “But Odin is busy, they say, so he won’t punish your impertinence. Remember what I just told you. Obey, serve, and behave,” he told me imperiously. “Now. Let us sign this paper. The pay is half less than it is for the other mercenary companies. Vittar and Aten will hire five companies like yours, just smaller.” He was perversely proud of us. He raised his eyebrow. “We might have to go to war in the north. If we do, we will pay you more.”
“And if,” I said, “the wars end?”
He shook his head. “Then you do what you please, just not together. You are free to go. The contract unravels. You will be allowed to settle in the Verdant Lands, though not in one place.”
“And the pay is half?” Borin asked, suspicion and greed dripping from his tone.
Shian waved her hand at him, and Elgin smiled thinly. Yggra looked arrogant.
No. It was a full pay.
He was going to keep that half, for his father was stingy, and he was a greedy bastard.
Nonetheless, I nodded. “Half and three fourths in the north, should it come to pass, and we will die with smiles on our faces.”
He looked at my eyes and nodded. “Your name? Fang? You sure?”
“Just that,” I said. “Bastard, sir. Never knew my name true name, and likely was never named. It’s what I’ll sign in the papers, and that’s all you will need.”
“I’ll name you Cur,” he snarled. “I shall be your ring-giver, and you shall obey my commands to the letter.” He handed me a ring, brass, large, thick, and simple, a mark of servitude. On it, was engraved Aten’s galley and fish. “We’ll leave this evening.”
“Happy to serve,” I told him and put the ring on. “Are we going to pass Vittar? We would love to see Aeginhamn again.”
He blinked. Elgin shook his head softly.
“A pretty city,” I said. “They say there are great feasts in the jarl’s castle. Especially in Yule-time.”
He rubbed his face. “King’s castle now. So. We are going to have trouble. I told Father that hiring your lot was going to be trouble. But there it is. I really don’t mind you mocking the Vittars, but I cannot abide lack of obedience.”
I looked around. “What I am wondering, to be honest, is will we truly be released? I hear your family and the Vittars are not very happy with each other.”
He grimaced and took a swig of mead. He nodded and set it on the desk before him. “Of course, of course.” He shook his head. “I am not saying the new kings love each other. We were jarls, now we are kings. And be Odin’s cause as noble as it can be, we have dreams of even more power. I’ll not lie to you. There is an issue between Vittar and us, so perhaps you will still find employment.”
He winked.
He knew nothing. Not really. He just wanted to brag and preen.
But he did tell the truth as well, at least partly.
What issue?
I didn’t ask.
He sighed and couldn’t help himself. “Odin told Reignhelm to unify Midgard for war. But war, I am sure, is instead going to fester amongst us. And let it. I think, no matter how high the High King sits, there will always be mercenaries needed. You will be released, but we will need you again, and whomever amongst you lives through the turbulent times will die rich, though dreaming of home.” He leaned closer again. “I’d be patient. Vittar might one day stand on the wrong side of the field. Aten will marry into Reignhelm’s family, not them, or that king of the east.”
Marrying into High King’s family?
So that was the next quarrel, the dream of all of them.
The High King had no wife. Aten, Vittar, and Graymoor were hoping to provide a bed-mate.
“Why isn’t the High King married, yet?” I wondered.
Eglin spoke, unable to be quiet. “The family suffered a plague ten years ago. His father, mother, sister and fiancée died in the Eye Keep.”
“Silence, brother,” Yggra whispered. “You little bastard. I will let Father know of your impertinence. He is dead tired with you already. Is it not enough he must deal with all the High King’s affairs? Must he be cursed by the likes of you?” He took a deep breath and calmed himself. “I’ll deal with questions and the rest. You just look princely, if possible. Captain Lug, please make sure Elgin inspects the shit-pots in our ships this night.” The boy’s face twitched as he watched the galleys of better ships, Aten’s war-ships, not far from shore, and I noticed one man, the boy’s sole guard, a captain with long, blond hair, looked furious as he stared at Elgin.
He was well watched by Yggra.
Yggra feared him.
Yggra likely feared everything.
“So,” I said. “We will not obey your brother here? He seems like a capable warrior, a thinker.”
Yggra scoffed and looked supremely insulted. “If I get wounded in battle,” Yggra said with spite, “you will quite simply ignore him, and take commands from others.”
“And if you die?” I ventured.
He shivered and licked his thin lips.
“If I get wounded—"
“Or killed,” Borin added.
Yggra shook his head. “You will ask for Tarl Vittar for orders, or Captain Lug here.”
Eglin blushed with indignation and insults, and I bowed.
“Very well. We will give our oaths to you, Atenguard, so we obey,” I said. “We’ll fight well, and we’ll bring you victory. The men would know one thing, though. There is a rumor that bothers us, and that rumor speaks of you, adeling. That you were there when the Queen of Hard Hall died.”
Shian moved nervously. I was going too far.
Yggra hesitated. “What?”
“Did you see,” I asked him calmly, “how our former queen died? That’s what started all of this.”
“What started this,” he hissed, “was the High King’s orders, and an accident! I will not speak of—”
“The men would know,” I said. “I would, so I can lie to them.”
“What happened to Issa Hard—” he began and shook his head. “I cannot speak of it. Elgin will not. Aye, we know some of it, but it remains with us, mercenary.” He looked dark. “Make up what lies you must, but don’t you dare make up any against us. And what you did in Aeginhamn, is more than enough to balance any scales. Enough of this.”
We said nothing. We waited.
Eglin hesitated and began to say something, but didn’t, as the blond captain placed a hand on his shoulder.
“We shall tell them Aten had nothing to do with it,” I said darkly. “Will you lead us in battle, then?”
He rubbed his hair and looked ashamed. He was clearly unhappy with his lot. He had only a few thousand regular troops of Aten to command, for his father led the bulk of their men with the High King, and Aten was stronger in navy anyway.
“I shall give you the orders, and you shall perform,” he said. “We’ll find ways to survive each other, Cur. We row away at first light.” He leaned forward again. “Please make sure your men know I am the ring-giver, they will be used mercilessly in this war, and that I had nothing to do with the torture and murder of their queen.”
Elgin’s eyes went wide as platters.
Shian shifted, and I felt my hand twitching.
Murder. Torture.
She was murdered. And tortured. But I had known that.
He went on, unfazed. “Let them forget the unnamed family, eh? All four of them are buried in Lorin’s field, in unmarked graves. Let them lie. We shall go and slay the last of the rebels back home, of all places.”
I grunted.
They thought I lay buried there too.
That’s why I had escaped, just another soldier.
I thought the featureless bag strapped across my back. The Hammer lay there, wrapped up, but I felt the heat, and almost tasted the oily, filthy evil lingering all around me. The feeling wasn’t near as strong when I didn’t hold it, but it was there, like a bad after taste, a whiff of rotten meat.
“Why?” I wondered.
“Why what?” asked Eglin.
Yggra scowled at his brother. “Why?” he echoed as he turned.
“Why are the jarls in rebellion? What do they hope to accomplish?” I asked him. “Surely, this seems hopeless?” I winked. “Just thinking about our pay.”
Yggra grunted. “Barrac is the issue. Tor is High King’s personal vendetta. Barrac is odd. A hermit, really. Sent men to aid the enemy, but now he hasn’t asked for mercy. He is a relative to Graymoor. The High King thinks it is crucial we destroy him fast. Basically, he is stubborn as shit and likely tired of life. Perhaps he thinks he is safe. His keep is formidable. It is a smuggler’s paradise, the mountain they live on, our rivals in trade.”
Aten would be happy to see them gone, I thought.
“What is that place like?” I asked. I had sailed past, once, but couldn’t remember much.
Borin grunted. “Old. Old as shit. On a rocky outcrop, and you can only get there through the sea. Will be a bitch to take with sea-walls and a mountain to guard it. Lots of graves in the mountain.”
Yggra gave Borin a hostile glance and shrugged. “True. Tunnels under the mountain, and secrets left and right, but we’ll take it. The elves want it, as I said, and Reignhelm fears it. Imagine, we shall all be there. Near twenty thousand men. High King’s, Aten’s, the Vittar scum, and even scummier Graymoor. Aye, he will be there too. A show of force too. The north, beyond the Arrow Straits, if they refuse to bow their filthy necks, will be next. That’s the true challenge.” He grimaced. “North will be hard. Seems they always resented being without a Son. We’ll all concentrate on the White Tower and siege it. Too bad. It will be a true hero who can take it.”
“Boldly,” Eglin whispered. “Must be bold.”
“Boldly, or covertly,” Yggra said. “It is wiser to destroy your enemy without a battle. I shall earn my right to rule in this war. You will help me.”
“I was thinking about our flag,” I said. “The standard. We have none.”
“Oh?” Yggra said. “What would that be?”
“Hammer,” I said darkly. “It is not the Wolf Hammer, but we have ever followed it. I suppose that hammer is with the High King as well. That’s what he wanted.”
He blanched. “That, too, is forbidden to discuss. I saw the hammer, on a field. Don’t know what the Exiles did with it later.”
The enemy had lost it and made up lies. I had brought it to the keep.
Had it hurt me so badly, I forgot much of the trip?
Possibly.
“Crown,” he said, musing. “Broken silver crown on black. Grudge Breakers, eh? Let it be the truth you carry. Your crown is broken.”
Elgin opened his throat. And spoke. “It might seem a threat to the newly minted High King.”
Yggra watched his brother, and the handsome, tall captain, and shook his head.
That captain was dangerous. You could see it in his eyes.
“The crown stays,” he announced. “I came up with that, and it stays.” He pushed across the desk a paper with a lengthy list of terms.
I hesitated.
Mercenary. It was everything our people were not.
It was an oath to obey any cause, no matter how dishonorable, and we didn’t break ours.
But perhaps we had to. Maybe we would need to discover new ways, for our new people.
It was the only way.
I penned my name in the document, got up, and turned to look down at the docks. Below me, men were filing into ships, carrying spears, shields, and many crossbows, preparing for the trip, and oars were clattering. The men stacked spears and heavy, compact crossbows in the hold, covered the shields with leather, and turned to stare at the land they were about to lose.
I saw Tarl Vittar, his daughters, and then, to my shock, Lon Graymoor with his sons, speaking, surrounded by guards.
They didn’t even trust each other.
All we needed was a plan, an opportunity.
The Lifegiver was brimming the horizon, ready to rise over a destroyed city and scattered nation, and I began my quest for revenge, my wife, answers, and for Odin’s favor.
Shian came to me.
We stood in silence for a while, and I felt a plan taking place.
I spoke. “Elgin.”
She nodded. “Aye. That is our thought. We will make him ours. It will be intricate. Slow. Let me work on him. And in the end, he cannot survive without us, and he will be the king who opens the doors for us.”
“Indeed,” I said, and she smiled and squeezed my hand.
“It is our world now, isn’t it?” she sighed. “Let the elves and kings beware. We shall kill the lot. But beware of the elves. They will seek us out and kill us if they only catch a whiff of treason.”
CHAPTER 2
It had been four months. Summer was nearly over, and fall was approaching. You could feel it in the wind and the crisp, cold nights. That specific something from the north was felt, a bite that heralded the death of summer and flowers.
The war so far had been a futile exercise of marching in the rain, and there had been lots of painful blisters and minimal fighting.
The Grudge Breakers, the Drowned Men, and Oath Makers—mercenary bands settled in the area of Aten—marched under Yggra and Eglin and had taken a mountain and hilly road inland. Tarl Vittar was marching on the coast, and we took the swampy valleys, where the enemy, Captain Arn was soon discovered. We traipsed behind three thousand miserable men of Aten, most of them marines and fighters, and their ships followed Vittar troops to the north with all the supplies.
We had not had a happy trip.
So far, we had all trailed after the enemy captain Arn’s ever-dwindling few thousand, and never so much as skirmished with them.
Palan was quickly freed, and soon we would be on White Tower’s land.
I mostly watched Ajax, making sure we were marching after the enemy, and assuring that Borin was organizing food and gear from local farms and towns, meaning raiding them, and finding shelter for the nights for our men. He excelled in all these matters, even in the most remote places in Midgard. Both he and Ajax had been whipping the men into fighting shape when we were not marching. Left, Ajax’s company, and Right, Borin’s, were now a thousand men each, and I felt detached and useless.
Shian spent much of her time out of the camp, riding with the mercenaries, with Aten, and scouting.
She was also getting to know Elgin.
Shian’s place in the battle was with the standard and next to me, and we had decided she could actually carry it in action. She knew the commands, and what to do. I knew I would be giving the commands in battle when the time arrived, though for now, I merely brooded. The men avoided me, as Ajax had ordered.
I had plenty of time to think.
None of that time helped me to break the miasma that kept me from remembering my recent past. When I tried, the wound on my forehead, the insult of Reignhelm, throbbed angrily. It was not really healing, and I flinched when I saw the bone in parts of it.
It was not infected either.
It simply hurt and bled.
I spent most of my time sitting and staring at the emptiness, trying to understand what it was that I had forgotten, shut out, forgotten. When we moved, I strode with the others, hiding under a helmet and a furry hood, and wondered what Shian was finding out about Eglin.
I knew I was missing something important.
I felt sick, and strange, and often short tempered.
I felt like something was slowly gnawing away at me, and I wondered if I was going mad.
I also spent the marches thinking of the High King, of Graymoor, of Vittar, and Atenguard, and of answers, my wife, and the cycle kept on.
Then, two days from the White Tower, Shian ran towards me before we broke for camp and the Lightbringer went down.
She was dodging troops, her chain clinking, and she was grinning like a maniac, slapping her fellow female mercenaries on their shoulders as she pushed through our ranks.
