Snow-Walker

Fourteen

He was more huge than any human being.

They rode back toward the hold in a silent cavalcade. No one felt inclined to talk; the only sounds in the empty land were the jingle of harness and the wind, humming in the high fells.

Wulfgar rode far out in front, as if he wanted to think, and everyone else followed in a straggling line. Brochael’s ax glinted on his saddle bow; they had had to use it to hack a deep, hasty grave in the frozen soil. It had taken them a long time, Jessa thought. She wondered if the creature had been watching them.

She wondered about it, this thing Gudrun had sent. Unseen, ferocious, spell-forged. The thought made her uneasy; she turned in her saddle and looked back up the fellside.

The wood was a black fringe, hiding its death and its secret. Deep in the tangle of branches it must be lurking, breathing, bloodied. Surely this was what Freyr had warned them about. What else could he have meant? She wondered why Kari had asked.

Then she narrowed her eyes into the snow glare. Two small shapes were moving down the hill toward them, obviously horsemen.

“Wulfgar!” she called, and everyone turned, staring where she pointed.

Brochael brought his horse back to her. “Now, who are these?” he muttered.

They waited, watching the two horses pick their way down the steep, boulder-strewn slope. Farm ponies, scrawny and unkempt. The first was ridden by a coarse-looking black-haired man, his leather jerkin hacked into rough holes at neck and arms, soiled and sweaty. Behind him was a boy about Jessa’s age, riding awkwardly, she thought, until as they came close she noticed he only used one hand, the other resting uselessly in his lap.

“Who are you?” Brochael asked bluntly.

The black-haired man scowled at him. “I should ask that. You’ve been on my land.” Then he saw Wulfgar riding back and his look changed at once; he slid from the horse hurriedly. “Lord Jarl. I didn’t see you.”

Wulfgar nodded tight lipped; he hated servility. “I’m sorry we’ve been on your land. Your name?”

“Skuli Skulisson of Kordamark.” The man saw the boy was still on the horse and glared. “Get down, fool.”

The boy dismounted and stood, watching them all quietly. He wore a thrall ring around his neck; he looked uneasy, glancing from face to face—a quick look at Jessa, and then his eyes widened; a flash of terror filled them, and she knew he had seen Kari.

“I was coming to the hold, lord,” Skuli said, rubbing the black stubble of his beard with the back of one hand. He too had seen Kari; his eyes kept darting to him nervously. He swallowed. “I have some news that will interest you. This creature—”

“You’ve seen it?” Wulfgar asked quickly.

“Not myself, lord, no, not me. But this boy has. Last night he says he saw it. Come and tell your story. Answer the Jarl.”

The thrall came forward. He seemed wary, but not afraid.

“What’s your name?” Wulfgar asked easily.

“Hakon, lord.”

“You don’t have to call me ‘lord.’ Where did you see the thing?”

Hakon stared, surprised. “In the pastures above Skulisstead, about four leagues east of here. It was last night, just at dusk. I was bringing the children home—the master’s boy and girl. I’d heard the rumors and I was worried—”

“So you should have been!” his master snarled.

“Be quiet,” Wulfgar said sharply. “Let him finish.” He sat on a boulder and let his horse crop the sparse turf. “What did you see?”

Hakon glanced at the listening horsemen, at Jessa, Brochael, Skapti. Not at Kari. He looked tired, she thought, and there were bruises on his neck and face. Skuli must have made his anger felt.

“At first nothing. Then in the wood I knew it was there—sounds, rustles, following us. I got the children up a tree. Then it came out at me.” He shrugged, searching for words. “It was … whitish, the color of an ice bear, but bigger, upright. Bigger than a man. Heavier.”

“An animal?” Wulfgar said.

The boy hesitated. Then he said, “An animal, yes, I think … it’s hard to say. Snow drifted across it; it seemed blurred.”

“For how long?”

“Just seconds, lord. Not clearly. It had small, bright eyes.”

They were silent.

“And do you think it could reason, this creature?”

Kari’s question was quiet and unexpected. Hakon jerked his head up with a glint of fear. Then he glanced away, back at Wulfgar. “Yes. It was … it had something. Some sorcery.” Defiantly he looked up at the pale boy on the horse. “An evil sorcery.”

“It attacked you?” Wulfgar asked. “How did you escape?”

“Odin saved me.” He stammered into silence.

One or two of the men glanced at each other.

Skuli sneered. “I’m sorry, my lord. The fool thinks that the god cares for him. Warrior Odin, of all the gods!”

“He does.” Hakon looked straight at Wulfgar. “My lord, two great black birds fell from the sky. They fought off the beast, screaming at it, driving it back into the trees. Who else could have sent them?”

“Who else indeed?” By an iron effort of will Wulfgar did not look at Kari. Skapti grinned, and Brochael snorted with laughter.

“There may be some other explanation for the birds,” the Jarl said quietly. “But why didn’t you climb the tree with the children? It was dangerous to stay below.”

Hakon was silent.

“He couldn’t,” Skuli said bluntly. “We call him Hakon Empty-hand. He can only use the one. The other’s useless.”

Jessa saw the thrall straighten. Both hands hung by his sides. He looked at no one.

After a moment Wulfgar stood up, giving the farmer a cold glare. Then he said, “Thank you—both. This creature has been in my hold and killed one of my men. If it can be killed, I intend to kill it. I’ll need all the men I can get. Come back to the hold with us and have something to eat.” He glanced up, but the ravens were nowhere to be seen. “You may even see something that will surprise you.”

On the way back Jessa maneuvered her horse next to Kari’s. “Slow down. I’ve got something to tell you.”

He gave her a sidelong look. “Jessa, you’ve had something to tell me since I got here. It doesn’t take sorcery or runemasters to know that.”

She laughed and took off a glove, flexing her fingers. “The weather’s getting warmer. Have you noticed?”

“It’s warmer than Thrasirshall.”

“Anywhere is.” She looked at him. “It’s about Vidar Freyrspriest.”

The ice-pale eyes glanced at her quickly. “What about him?”

Briefly she told him about the thief at Hollfara, and the man who had opened the door of the house in the Jarlshold.

“It was him, I know it was, but when they sent for him another wretch came, a man called Snorri. Vidar backed him up. It was all lies, and all planned. That’s what worries me. It means Vidar knows the rat-thief and probably what he does. More than that, he knows where he is.”

“In the hold?”

“Or just outside. He’s hiding him. Maybe even takes a share of the money. And what sort of adviser does that make him for Wulfgar? What sort of man of honor? Not only that, Skapti doesn’t like him.”

“Doesn’t he?” He smiled wanly. “Then it must be serious. Did Wulfgar believe you, about the thief?”

She shrugged, looking out over the landscape. “I pretended I was mistaken. I didn’t want to put the priest on his guard. He’s a clever man—he watches people. Have you noticed?”

His smile went. “I’d noticed.” He pushed the hair from his eyes and glanced at her. “And I’ll tell you something else about him. This man Skuli—”

“A real charmer!”

“Yes, well, Vidar knows him. They gave each other one look, just one, but I felt the knowledge of it tingle in my fingers. They know each other. Your Vidar keeps bad company.” He shrugged. “Maybe you should watch him.”

“I’d hoped you’d say that. We could follow him....”

Kari laughed then, something he rarely did, so that Brochael looked back, curious.

“Jessa,” he marveled, “do you think that I could slip about the hold unnoticed? The witch’s son, the sorcerer, the master of ravens? None of them trust me, you saw that. They can’t take their eyes off me. The Snow-walker’s son.” He shrugged bitterly, a little proudly. “Besides, I don’t need to follow him.”

She dragged hair from her face. “I know you don’t.”

“Then tonight, we’ll see what we can see. If your thief is in the hold, we’ll know. I’ll show him to you.”

“Thanks.” She nodded quickly. But the echo of Gudrun was in his voice, and though she hated herself for it, just for a moment, she feared him.