Murmurs of approval around the glade.
“‘Ah, that feels better,’ I said, and immediately began to eat more porridge from my pot, cunningly spooning it into the top of the sack. With each pretend mouthful more porridge would leak from the hole in my tunic.”
Einar smiled broader than the sun, nodding at the clever of it.
“The troll stared at me with eyes wide and big as two plates. He nodded respectfully. ‘You are a man who takes his porridge-eating seriously,’ he said, and then with a sigh and a shake of his head he went back to eating from his own bowl. Eventually I could see that he was becoming full. He started to wriggle and shift and pull faces. ‘I cannot believe this,’ the troll said at last, ‘but I think I am to be out-eaten by a human. My belly is so full it feels like it will burst.’
“‘Ah,’ I said, ‘I understand how you feel. No one likes to lose an eating competition. Especially to such a small and inconsequential human such as me.’ The troll nodded and scowled, agreeing. ‘It all depends on how much you want to win, and how far you are prepared to go,’ I said, and looked down at the knife-slash across my tunic, and the porridge that was still leaking from it.
“The troll stared at me, and his scowl turned to a smile. ‘I am as brave as you, little man, and I am prepared to do what I must to win.’ And with that the troll pulled his own knife of flint from his belt and slashed his belly open. To this day I can still see the confusion on his face as his guts spilled out on to his lap, instead of his porridge.”
There was a silence around the glade, and then laughter erupted, Varg’s voice joining them all, though Einar laughed the loudest, slapping the ground with a big slab of a hand. Olvir and Yrsa wiped tears of laughter from their eyes, Olvir bending over, hands on knees.
“And so, that is why I try never to go anywhere without a round of cheese,” Svik said as the laughter died.
“Ah, but that is deep-cunning,” Einar said, still rocking back and forth with mirth.
Glornir strode into the glade, his brynja gleaming in the fractured sunlight. “Are you trying to announce to every vaesen for a hundred leagues that we are here?” he frowned. “On your feet. We are moving out.”
The camp burst into movement. Torvik jumped up and offered Varg his hand.
“Come on, brother, there’s no lamb for the lazy wolf,” Torvik said to him with a grin.
“I’m not lazy,” Varg said as he climbed to his feet, though he was thinking on the fact that Torvik had just called him brother. It flooded his thought-cage with memories of Fr?ya, who had called him brother their whole life together. She had been his only friend, the only person he could trust, and now she was gone. Torvik calling him brother reminded him of her, and sent conflicting emotions swirling through him. Part of him felt guilt at the reminder of his sister and his unfulfilled oath. Another part of him liked it. It made him feel as if he were no longer alone in this hard world.
Varg helped break camp and get kit and camp gear packed and loaded on to the three ponies they had taken from the farm. As the sun clawed over the rim of the world they moved out, Torvik and the other scouts following Edel into the foothills ahead of Glornir and the Bloodsworn. Varg walked with his shield slung across his back and his spear in his fist. Shadows stretched long and dark through the wooded hill, the Bloodsworn falling into a loose column both before and behind Varg. They were moving through a land of tree-cloaked hills and shadow-dark valleys, of sun-drenched meadows and rivers winding and glistening like jewel-crusted serpents that coiled through the land. The new-risen sun blazed bright as Varg stepped out on to a hillside of rolling meadow and left the trees behind him. It had been eight days since they had left the ship and deserted farm behind and now the Boneback Mountains filled the horizon, towering high and wide as far as he could see. Snow-capped peaks and dark-green slopes of thick-forested pine looked like white hair and a moss-covered cloak across the shoulders of an ancient, colossal giant. The days were becoming longer as they moved further north and the year approached the summer solstice, when daylight would hold the darkness at bay for a whole month.
In the distance he saw Edel and her hounds leading the scouts, crossing a stream and disappearing into the woodland beyond. Closer ahead of him he saw Glornir walking with Vol. He increased his pace, striding through green grass and purple heather and, as he drew closer to them, he saw that Vol was leaning towards Glornir, her jaw moving.
“She should have reached us by now,” Vol was saying, Varg catching the words snatched on the wind. Glornir just marched on and said nothing in response, using the shaft of his long-axe as a walking stick.