“That’s encouraging,” Mord said, frowning.
“Realistic,” Orka said. She shrugged. “Speed will win you your vengeance. And remember. Do not—”
“Hesitate,” they both said.
Orka smiled.
“And how about you?” Mord said. “You were on your knees with Drekr’s hands around your throat the last time you saw him. How do you plan on killing him?”
Orka looked at Mord.
“Slowly,” she said, then went back to the rasp and scrape of whetstone on steel.
CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN
VARG
Varg woke to screaming: dull, distant, growing louder as his consciousness returned, like being buried alive and clawing out from the soil. He gasped, twisted, felt hands holding him down.
“Easy, No-Sense,” a voice said.
He didn’t listen; saw blurred figures around him and fought and twisted, until other hands were grabbing him, holding him. He fell back, gasping, his vision focusing, tasted iron and spat blood. The first person he saw was R?kia. She was holding him, her face twisted with worry.
“You’re with friends,” she said to him, and he blew out a long breath and sagged in her arms, and Svik’s, he realised.
He was still in the same chamber, the smell of blood thick and cloying. Olvir’s corpse lay close by, limbs twisted, his throat a ragged, open wound. And then he saw Torvik and felt the weight of grief fall upon his shoulders.
Torvik is dead. Vol is gone.
Someone was still bellowing. There was a crashing and pounding sound and he saw Einar standing by the door to the bone-sword chamber.
Before Skalk stole it.
Einar was leaning against the door, bracing it with his shoulder, a few other Bloodsworn with him, Sulich and Halja, all holding the door shut. As Varg stared he saw the door tremble and buck, Einar straining to keep it shut. Muffled sounds leaked out: pounding, a growling, grief-filled roar.
“What is in there?” Varg muttered, thinking they had caught another troll.
“Glornir,” Svik said to him.
Varg blinked at that.
“He is a little angry,” Svik said. “Best that he is not around others right now.”
Another crash against the door. A splintering sound.
“What is happening?” Varg breathed, then lifted his hands and knuckled his eyes.
“Vol is gone,” R?kia said, as if that explained everything.
“I know,” Varg muttered, “but…”
“Vol is not a thrall,” Svik said. “She is Glornir’s woman.”
It took a few moments for that to sink into Varg’s thought-cage.
“Skalk took her,” he said. “Yrsa stabbed Torvik.” Varg felt a fist clench in his belly: anger, grief. “I…” He stopped, remembering Skalk’s offer to him, how he had thought about accepting, just for a moment, felt a wave of shame, and loss. If Vol was gone, then the chance of fulfilling his oath to Fr?ya was gone, too.
“We have to get Vol back,” Varg said, stumbling to his feet. Pain in his side, pulsing from his ribs, stealing his breath, but he pushed through it. Swayed, fought the urge to vomit.
“That’s the spirit,” Svik said, smiling at Varg, “but perhaps you should put some clothes on first.”
Varg looked down and saw that he was still in his boots and breeches, but he had no tunic on, his belt gone.
Svik held up a linen tunic for Varg, helped him thread it over his arms. Then a woollen one. Varg hissed and gasped, gritted his teeth to the pain. R?kia held up his belt. His seax, cleaver and axe were hanging upon it, and his pouch. He felt a weight lift from his shoulders at the sight of it and took it from R?kia.
The door crashed again and Einar was thrown back into the room, scrambling back to brace the door.
Varg stared. “Glornir is strong, but he cannot do that to a door,” he said. “Not with Einar on the other side of it.”
“He can,” Svik said.
“How?”
Svik looked at R?kia and she nodded.
“It is time,” she said.
“I think so, too,” Svik shrugged. He looked at Varg. “Glornir is Berserkir,” Svik said to him.
Varg just stared at him, feeling the beginning of a laugh sputter and die in his throat. “Glornir is Tainted?” he breathed.
“Aye. He is god-touched, has the blood of Berser the bear flowing in his veins.”
Varg stared at the door, incredulous.
“I am Tainted, too,” Svik said to him. “Refur the fox lives on in my blood.”
Varg stared at him. A silence fell over the chamber. Even Glornir’s pounding and roaring stopped for a few moments.