“How did a warrior like that fall?” Torvik muttered. “I heard it was in a sea-battle, falling from the Sea-Wolf’s rail in a coat of mail and drowning.” Torvik shook his head.
“Aye,” Svik said, his face unusually melancholy. He sighed and shook his head. “It was a hard-fought battle, and no denying.” He looked around at their camp, the Bloodsworn going about their evening meal. “If I were you,” Svik said in hushed tones, “I would not speak so loudly of Skullsplitter’s fall around Glornir. He still mourns the death of his brother; it is a grief that sits heavy on his shoulders.”
Torvik nodded.
Footfalls and the murmuring of conversation stilled. Glornir walked towards the hearth fire, Vol at his side, and Skalk, Queen Helka’s Galdurman followed them, his knotted staff in his fist. The two warriors from Queen Helka’s retinue were with him, gleaming in their fine brynjas. The man Varg had learned was named Olvir, a scar over one eyebrow shifting the set of his eyes, and the proud-faced, thin-lipped woman was called Yrsa. They both wore swords at their hips and dark cloaks over their shoulders, both pinned with brooches of silver fashioned into the likeness of eagle wings. Wherever Skalk went, they were close behind him. Varg had seen them all taking shifts on the oar-bench, and glimpsed them bailing water furiously during the sea storm that had swept over them.
“Your ears, Bloodsworn,” Glornir said as he came to stand by the hearth fire. “For those who do not know, this is Skalk, famed skáld and Galdurman of Queen Helka. He has some words for us, about our mission.”
Varg stared at Skalk. He was a tall man with an honest face, laughter lines thick as crow’s talons at his eyes. His shoulders and chest were broad, everything about him suggesting a warrior’s bearing, not a sorcerer’s.
He is a Galdurman… I could ask him to perform an akáll and save myself much time. Who knows how long it will be before Glornir is satisfied that I have proven myself?
“It is always good to know what lies ahead, no?” Skalk said, nodding and smiling at the Bloodsworn. “So, I will tell you why my queen has hired you, and what I know of the task she wishes you to perform. We are travelling to the source of the River Sl?gen, from which this fjord flows.” He gestured to the glossy-dark of the fjord behind them, glittering in the starlight. “That river will take us to the foothills of the Boneback Mountains, on the north-western border of my queen’s lands. Something there is killing her people.”
“A lusty ram or aggrieved goat, perhaps,” Svik called out, laughter spreading around him. “We have all heard the tales of loneliness among those who live within the shadow of the Bonebacks, and what that can do to a man.”
“This is no laughing matter,” Skalk said, pausing to stare at Svik. “Not if it were your kin that were being… consumed. At first, people were disappearing from farms and more remote places, and we thought it was on account of raids from Jarl St?rr across the river.” A frown creased his brow as he mentioned the jarl’s name, a flicker of fire-glow in his eyes. “The region shares a border with Jarl St?rr’s land, and though there is officially peace between the jarl and my queen,” he looked around them and smiled knowingly, showing small white teeth behind his blond beard, “we all know that a jarl teaches his drengrs the art of war through raiding.” Warriors among the Bloodsworn nodded, seeming to Varg as if they were remembering their own pasts.
“But then, we began to find those who had disappeared,” Skalk continued. “Or, find parts of them.” Another frown. “They were being eaten. Or at least, some of them were.” He shook his head. “A queen must protect her people, and so action must be taken. But the queen’s hird are spread thinly along her borders, and so she thought of you, the Bloodsworn, known for their fair-fame reputation, and she heard news that you were within her own lands, at Liga.” He spread his arms, gave another smile. “There are vaesen loose in Queen Helka’s domain, killing and eating her people, and they must be stopped.”
“What vaesen?” a voice called out. It was R?kia, Varg saw.
Skalk shrugged. “That I do not know. There have been no witnesses. Ones with big teeth and long claws, I would guess, judging by the bite marks and wounds on the remains we have found. Trolls, or Huldra-folk, maybe Vittor, or wights? I do not know. But whatever they are, I suspect that there are more than one or two of them.”
“How many dead have you found?” Svik called out.