A Short Tale From Norse America: Young Ravens & Hidden Blades (The United States of Vinland) (3 page)

“You
should have!”

Brandr
laughed and gave Ulfarr a shove to the shoulder, sending him sliding a few
paces down the slope.

Ulfarr
chuckled as he fought to stop his descent.

Brandr
got to his feet to follow his friend and head back down to their raft. Before
he did, he glanced back over the crest to check on Lakeland one last time.

He
saw movement.

The
skraeling boy was sprinting across the open ground, heading away from the woods
and thickets, up the same ridge. He’d reach the crest a good fifty paces or
more further along from where Ulfarr and Brandr hid.

Behind
the boy, further down the slope, One-Eye stepped out from between some trees.
He lifted his bow.

Brandr
hissed, “One-Eye’s going to put an arrow in him!”

Ulfarr
had stopped his slide and now scrambled back up so he could peer over the
crest.

There
stood Thoromr, fitting an arrow, as the skraeling ran for safety.

Ulfarr
looked about, finding nothing but some small rocks and pebbles. He grabbed a
stone that sat well in his hand, one that would be good for throwing. “We’ve
got to stop him!” he said, as he grabbed at another with his other hand.

Brandr
did the same.

They
stood up together, stones in hands, and began throwing while yelling curses at
One-Eye.

The
first rock to fly through the air fell well short but rolled down the hillside
towards the woodland to scatter others and raise a clattering din. The second
got closer by ten paces, but still flew only two-thirds of the distance between
Thoromr and the boys.

One-Eye
turned and lowered his bow a fraction to see from where the stones were coming,
and he was soon yelling his own abuses and curses back at the boys.

The
boys both threw another rock each.

Thoromr
raised his bow, fitted an arrow and then let it fly.

Ulfarr’s
rock flew through the air and landed amongst some gravel down slope, setting
off a small fall of stones that tumbled towards Thoromr. But the boys weren’t
watching. They had seen him fit the arrow and were already dropping behind the ridge,
seeking cover.

They
hit the ground, and Ulfarr let out a surprised gasp as the arrow flashed by the
side of his head, just over his shoulder.

Brandr
cursed at the whoosh of wood and feathers. He turned, his eyes following the
arrow as it cut past, landing well down the ridge. Startled, he turned back to
Ulfarr, only to realise his friend had a hand up, held tight to his cheek.

Bright
red blood began to run from between his fingers.

One-Eye
cried out triumphantly in the distance.

Brandr
gasped. “You’ve been hit!”

Ulfarr,
his face pale, did not turn, but his eyes were intense and locked on something
over the ridge.

Brandr
turned and looked.

One-Eye
was striding up the slope. He clutched a fresh arrow in one hand and held his
bow in the other.

Ulfarr
and Brandr lay unarmed, with One-Eye coming for them.

Without
discussion, they turned and fled.

The
boys leapt over rocks and charged through the scrub, as they made for the path
that would lead them back to the safety of the nearest trees.

With
their minds full of bloody tales of the murderous doings of One-Eye and his
father, Thrainn, it took only a dozen heartbeats for them to find shelter in
the first pines near the top of the ridge. There, the earth, fractured in the
distant past, left a rough upslope of boulders and small, terraced rock faces,
with trees and ferns sprouting from any shadowed pocket of soil beneath it.

Reaching
the cover of the trees gave little comfort though, so they did not stop. The
boys ran as fast as they dared, taking the first switchback bend in the trail,
desperate to get back to their raft.

When
the two boys took the first turn, Brandr let out a yelp and fell. His foot had
caught on a twisted root that had angled up and buckled as it grew into the
thin soil, seeking gaps in the rock beneath.

Ulfarr
went to him, trying to help.

They
could hear One-Eye’s approach, his loud mutterings rumbling from the far side
of the crest.

Ulfarr,
with blood still running from the deep graze to his cheek, hissed, “He’s
coming!”

Brandr
tried to rise, using his friend for support. He cried out as he put weight on
his swelling ankle.

“We
need to go!”

“I
can’t.”

Ulfarr
turned and looked back across the slope. They were not far enough into the tree
line to be well hidden. He was unable to see One-Eye yet, but he could hear the
Lakelander’s stream of anger. The giant was only moments away from reaching the
ridge top.

The
young Raven hissed, “We must hide.”

Brandr
nodded and began to crawl to where the shrubs grew thickest. “Over here.”

The
cover would do from a distance, but not up close. “Let’s hope it is good
enough.”

Brandr
left the trail behind, crawling into the shrubbery. He went deeper, seeking the
best space he could find. The ground fell into a shallow gully, a channel that
carried water down the slope during the rains and thaw, but for now spread damp
and well hidden by summer foliage.

Once
Brandr was in the heart of its depths, Ulfarr looked back to the trail his
friend had left behind. He scuffed it with his feet, working to hide the most obvious
tracks, stirring flattened ferns and kicking fallen leaves over the path.
Ulfarr then stepped into the shrubs, easing himself between two trees and the
thick ferns that covered their roots. When he arrived next to Brandr, he looked
at his friend and whispered, “We shall be alright.” Blood, however, still ran
from the furrow the arrow had gouged across his cheek.

A
curse sounded from the crest of the ridge nearby.

The
boys turned and looked back, just in time to spot Thoromr as he reached the
top. They ducked down into the depths of the gully.

Ulfarr
was confident they would remain hidden if Thoromr stayed at a distance. But if
the Lakelander crossed the crest and followed the path to the trees, coming
close enough to search the foliage, they would most certainly be discovered.

Nearby,
from further along the ridge and past Thoromr, a bird sang out loudly to
distract the giant Lakelander.

Ulfarr
couldn’t believe their luck!

He
used One-Eye’s distraction as an opportunity to get a better look at the gully
that hid them. The ditch ran down the slope, offering only patchy cover along
most of its length. Upslope, the gully began at the base of a small rock face,
including a half-hidden overhang created by the fractured bones of the ridge.

Studying
it, Ulfarr saw shadows that suggested part of the overhang had some depth. A
thick scrub of trees, shrubs and ferns also stood in front of it, blocking
access from where Thoromr would approach. The space did not look big, but
appeared deep enough to provide sanctuary for the two boys.

It
would do, hopefully, until Thoromr grew tired of his pursuit and moved on.

The
bird called out again, an insistent sound that drew Thoromr across the ridge
top and made him turn his back on the boys as he searched the other part of the
slope.

Ulfarr
grabbed the opportunity to move.

He
got up, quietly stepped over Brandr, and then grabbed him under the shoulders
and pulled him up the gully bottom into the thick ferns in front of the
overhang.

Brandr
tilted his head back to look at where they were going. Once he saw the dark
space, he did what he could to ease the journey as Ulfarr dragged him up the
gully.

When
they reached the overhang, they crept further in.

The
ferns crowded on one side, backed up by the thick greenery of shrubs and trees.

Brandr
bit his lip, trying his best to ignore the pain coming from his swelling ankle
with each movement and knock. He did not have far to look for courage though,
as Ulfarr kept working to get them to safety, even though his cheek still bled.

Finally,
they were inside and taken by shadows.

Together,
they sat listening as One-Eye’s first few steps through the summer shrubs took
him away, until they slowed and finally stopped. The Lakelander hissed a curse
and then turned about. One-Eye no longer muttered, but they heard his heavy
footfalls as he began to come back towards the start of the trail and the woods
that hid the boys.

Ulfarr
and Brandr held their breath as they peered beyond the rock and between the
crowding wall of branches and leaves. For now, they felt safe, but it all
depended on how determined One-Eye’s search would be.

As
they waited, Thoromr’s footsteps not only neared as he took the path, they also
slowed.

Ulfarr
began to examine the overhang more closely to see if they could get any deeper
inside or if there was another way out. The rock ran along the hill like a huge
uncovered bone, standing deepest where they were. He saw that escape was
possible from either way, although one of the routes would lead them above the
beginning of the trail, too close to Thoromr. The other way might be an option
for escape, but Brandr’s ankle would slow them down. Right now they needed to
remain undiscovered and for Thoromr to abandon the hunt.

A
hissed intake of breath from Brandr drew Ulfarr’s attention.

His
friend was looking directly behind him, to where only the rising wall of rough
stone stood.

He
turned around and then saw a tight, vertical crack in the rock, just above his
head. Sticking out of it, so only the end showed, was a leather-wrapped, bound
handle. Both boys knew it for what it was — a knife.

Ulfarr
turned back to check on Thoromr.

The
big man was starting along the trail they had abandoned, taking him down the
slope and away from them. He was far enough away now that Ulfarr could change
his focus, so he reached up behind himself and grabbed the handle, pulling the
blade free.

The
handle carried some weight but was roughly made, as was the leather grip. The
tool ended in a sharp, iron blade, making it suitable for fighting or hunting.

Pulling
it out, Ulfarr felt something else further back and out of view. Carefully he
handed the blade to Brandr before using his fingers to probe the space and see
what else he might discover.

His
fingers brushed not just one other handle, but several. Carefully, one by one,
he drew out three more iron blades.

Iron
had real value in Markland, as it took time to smelt once retrieved from the
few bogs that offered it up, and then, of course, it had to be worked. Every
man wanted to carry an iron blade and the bigger the blade, the better. Any man
of standing also had an axe, but very few could claim to have more than two
iron weapons. Certainly, a hoard of four blades, even of rough workmanship, was
a small treasure.

Thoromr’s
footsteps receded as he made his way down the first part of the steep slope.

The
boys relaxed, feeling safe for the first time.

The
birdcall sounded again, this time whispered and very close.

Both
boys turned towards it.

Only
a few arm lengths away, the skraeling boy knelt at the entry to the overhang
that ran from above the beginning of the trail. This close to them, they could
also see he bore a trace of Norse features, his hair brown and his eyes blue.

His
gaze locked on Ulfarr and his bloodied cheek. “You are hurt.”

Ulfarr
shook his head and frowned. “The arrow grazed me, but it has stopped bleeding.”

The
skraeling boy gave a nod, approving of the young Raven’s bravery. He then
looked to both of them and the knives in their hands, before whispering, “This
is my place.”

Ulfarr
glanced at Brandr, and then back to the boy. “We needed somewhere to hide.”

The
boy nodded.

“What
is your name?”

“My
mother calls me Dore,” he paused, and then let a smirk settle on his face
before going on, “but my father usually calls out curses as names for me.”

“Your
father?”

“One-Eye.”

“Thoromr
One-Eye?”

“Yes.”
Dore looked down at the blades in their hands.

Ulfarr
also looked to the iron. “We found these.”

“They
are mine. This is where I come when One-Eye wants to beat me.”

“He
was going to put an arrow in your back.”

“I
know. He usually just kicks me and hits me, but I shamed him on the hunt.”

“How?”

“I
scared the deer away.”

“But
he did it, not you. We saw it. He stepped on the twig!” Brandr hissed.

Dore
looked back down at the blades for a moment, before again lifting his gaze. His
eyes softened, but also held surprise that the boys sought to blame the
Norseman, and not him, for the ruination of the hunt. “He always blames me for
such things; they all do. His missing eye means that sometimes he does not see
a branch or twig.”

“He
was going to kill you!”

Dore
wore a sly smile. "He is still strong and good at hitting me, but he is
not good with a bow.” He glanced back at Ulfarr’s bloody cheek. “Well, not
usually.”

The
young Ravens warmed to him, both grinning.

“Come
to Godsland with us?”

“No,
I have to go home.”

Brandr
whispered, “He’ll beat you!”

“If
I do not return, he will take his rage out on my mother and slit her throat.”

The
boys tried to understand such a thing, but neither could fully grasp it, as it
was so alien to what they experienced from their own fathers in Godsland. For
that reason, they could offer no answer.

Dore
went on, “I shall go out and call him to the ridge top, and then lead him back
into Lakeland’s vale. When he is over the crest, you should be able to get
away.” He glanced to the blades the boys held. “But put them back. They belong
to me.”