“Have you used a spear before, No-Sense?” R?kia asked him, ignoring what he’d said.
“Aye,” he nodded. “A boar hunt.” In truth, he’d been given a rust-bladed spear riveted into a warped shaft of ash. He had been one of many beaters, flushing boar out of dense woodland on to the bright-bladed, straight-shafted spears of Kolskegg and his freedmen. Varg had only seen the boar’s arse as it ran away from him.
“Good, have this pig-sticker, then,” R?kia said as she threw him a spear.
Varg caught it clumsily in his right hand, then tried to grip it two-handed, but his shield rim clunked into the spear shaft. He’d forgotten he held a shield in his other fist.
“No, that is not a two-handed spear. You are not good enough for that,” R?kia said as she marched to him.
“Shield work, first,” she said, shaking her head, leaning her spear against the wall of the mead hall and gesturing for Varg to do the same.
“I have questions. I need to speak to your Seier-witch,” Varg said.
“Your questions can wait. Glornir told me to start your training, so that is what will happen. And Vol isn’t here.”
“Where is she?” Varg asked.
“So,” R?kia said, ignoring him again. “Two types of fighting. One on one, or in the shield wall. We’ll start with one on one. Hold your shield ready.”
Varg looked at her, saw the set of her jaw and knew he wasn’t going to get anywhere by arguing.
And I owe these people a debt. They saved me from Leif, saved my hand.
He raised the shield so that it covered him from chest to thighs, his arm held tight to his body.
“No,” R?kia said as she straight-kicked his shield, sending him stumbling back into the mead hall steps, where he fell back on to his arse. A spike of pain jolted through his wound. He heard a chuckle behind him and looked to see Svik leaning against one of the mead hall pillars, arms folded and a smile on his face. He gestured for Varg to get back up.
“Like this,” R?kia said, hauling him upright before he had a chance to stand. “First, set your feet.” She looked down at him, mouth twisted as if about to berate him, then paused and nodded. “Huh,” she said, raising one brow. His feet were set shoulder-width apart, left foot leading, a bend in his knees.
“So, you know never to stand square-on.” She looked at him suspiciously. “Why?”
“Because if you get hit like that you fall,” Varg said.
Varg had never used a shield before, but he’d fought a hundred bouts with his fists, and he knew balance was everything.
“Huh,” R?kia said with a curt nod. “Now raise your shield.”
He hefted it, pulled it tight to his body.
A twitch of R?kia’s lips. “I will tell you once only how to do something. Like this.” She gripped Varg’s shield rim and pulled the shield away from his body, opening up a gap between his arm and torso. “This way, if something stabs your shield and punches through the wood – spear, sword, arrow, axe – then it will not also hit your body, and so, you will not die straight away.” She looked him in the eye. “Most warriors think this is a good thing, no? To live a little longer.”
He nodded.
“A shield is not only for protection,” R?kia continued. “It is a weapon, too. A shield rim to the mouth can relieve you of many teeth, and the boss can fracture your skull.” She grinned, a fierce glee in her eyes that Varg found unsettling. “But first, we will think of defence. So, protect your body by having some space between it and the shield. But your arm must brace it, tight to the shield from wrist to elbow, or the weakest of blows will rock your shield and open you up for something sharp and painful. Understand?”
Varg nodded. He had always been quick to learn, whatever task he had been given on Kolskegg’s farm. It was as if he saw a picture in his mind of what R?kia was describing.
R?kia stepped away, grabbed her spear, twirled it into an overhand grip and stabbed at him.
Varg took the blow on his shield, then another, and another, all at different points, high, low, on the boss, at the rim, all testing his grip and balance, each one sending a jolt through his hand and arm, rippling up into his shoulder. The force of R?kia’s blows increased, wood splintering. Eventually R?kia nodded and lowered her spear blade.
“Huh,” she grunted, which Varg thought must be R?kia’s way of saying good.
Varg reached for his spear, leaning against the wall.
“What are you doing?” R?kia snapped.