Winds of Fate Read online

  “No, it’s a matter of principle,” I responded. “Otherwise, that would be an excellent idea.”

  “My father is always telling me that I have a head for government.” Ulfrida threw her arms out proudly.

  With an heir like this character, I hope the könig doesn’t die anytime soon.

  “So you put the medallion on, and that was it? Everything cut off there?” I asked.

  “Well, yes.” The prinzessin was frustrated with how long it was taking me to grasp what happened. “I was like a log lying there. I’m not even sure who took me where, or when Ingvar left. The amulet vanished, by the way. It was gone when I woke up on the island.”

  Everything made sense. It looked like I’d be wrapping up two side quests that day, not to mention getting myself one big step closer to figuring out my main quest. If I’m lucky.

  “Well, sunshine, looks like they caught up to you,” I heard Hrolf say in a voice that was terrifyingly sweet.

  The jarl and his taciturn friend were standing next to Torsfel and looking down at him patronizingly. Even the Crooked, brave warrior that he was—and he was that—blanched under Hrolf’s gaze.

  “What are you shivering for? Is it cold out?” Hrolf asked just as piercingly.

  “He’s mine; we agreed on that,” Gunnar said softly. “Fate will judge us in the fire circle, and it has to be fair.”

  Hrolf turned to Gunnar. “Oh, I don’t mind, even though I think you’re crazy. Our ancestors thought up plenty of games to make sure we have some fun and pass the time well, but this is your business. I’d just like to know where this puppy hid his gold. We got quite a haul from his ships, and we’re lugging it over to be divvied up, but there should be a lot more.”

  Froky nodded in agreement.

  “We’ll just ask him a few quick questions,” Hrolf continued. “And then he’s all yours. If you want to meet him in the fire circle, go for it.”

  Torsfel laughed.

  “Get your giggles in now,” Hrolf said to him. “You think you’re the bravest person on the seas? Think you can last the longest? Froky, remind me, how long did that treasurer from the great city of Rinda hold out?”

  “That’s the one on the western coast?” the jarl answered gravely. “I remember that. Couldn’t have been more than a few minutes.”

  “We have time,” Hrolf assured Torsfel. “Skald, sing a song, just make sure it’s loud. We have women here, and they shouldn’t have to hear his screams and cursing. Okay, where’s the fire? We need to heat up our knives—it’ll be easier to slice into him when they’re hot. Easier for us, more painful for him.”

  “Screw you, old wolf. The only problem is that you’ll have a hard time getting to my gold,” snarled the Crooked.

  “That’s fine,” the Sea King replied. “I’m a patient guy; I’ll get there. So where is it?”

  “On Forswick, in my basement, buried under the left wall,” Torsfel muttered reluctantly. “There’s a sheet of iron on top of it, too.”

  “Do you think he’s lying?” Hrolf asked his friend.

  “Nope,” Froky replied. “He doesn’t want to ruin his chances in the holmgang.”

  That makes sense. It’s hard to fight when you have a dagger buried between your legs.

  “Excellent.” Short-legged rubbed his hands. “Well, my dear jarls Froky and Hagen, shall we go count the gold and silver so we can split the loot?”

  “Hagen won’t be participating in that process. I’ll come with you,” Elina said, jumping into the conversation.

  Hrolf spread his arms as if to absolve himself of figuring out who would get what, and headed for the loot they’d piled on a piece of sail from Torsfel’s old drakkar.

  “What’s that about?” I asked my clan leader quietly.

  “Everything’s fair and square,” she replied with a smile. “We paid to play, and so we’ll take the loot. You got your quest, so you’ll get a reward you wouldn’t have been able to get without us. Plus, clan policy is that everything you get on raids goes to the clan storehouse. If the council decides to reward players who distinguished themselves, they give them a special premium.”

  And so, I got two lessons for the price of one. First, I’d been penny wise and pound foolish, selling my hefty share of the loot for a measly 10,000 gold. Second, don’t have anything to do with your clan if you don’t want them to cut you out of the loop.

  “I imagine I won’t be getting anything like that since you didn’t see what I did?” I did my best to minimize the sarcasm showing through in my voice.

  “Well, to be honest, you’re right. And even if something did happen here, I doubt it compares with what we had to deal with.” Elina nodded seriously.

  “What can I say?” I raised my arms. “Seeing as how the clan is practically destitute, chipping in is the least I can do.”

  I made a point of ignoring Elina’s pursed lips as well as the spiteful smile on the Iron Doofus’ face.

  Dividing the loot was easy. The pile of gold, assorted items, weapons, and other bits and pieces was split into three equal portions, and Ulfrida, as an impartial third party (albeit with greed glistening in her eyes), turned her back and was twice asked who would get a particular portion.

  Then the hirdmen set off into the woods to find brushwood.

  “It’s a shame it’s still light out,” I heard Flosy say. He was lying in the shadow of a boulder and chewing on a piece of grass. “This type of thing always looks better at night.”

  “By the way, there’s two things I’m wondering,” I asked, sitting down next to him. “First, what’s about to happen here? I get that it’s a duel, but explain the details. And, second, how did you get to be so good with an ax?”

  “My father was a well-known hirdman. He sailed with Rorick, himself,” Flosy explained lazily. “So, he taught me and my brothers everything he knew about weapons. I sailed for three years myself, and when you’re out there, you either die or walk away with some gold.”

  “What happened?” I motioned with my hands, as if to move him along. Why aren’t you at sea? Why toilets?

  “Why did I switch over to latrines?” Flosy figured out what I meant. “Ah, I was too lazy for all that. You’re always wet, everything’s always moving… Then a witch told me that I’d die a savage and cruel death if I didn’t put my warring ways behind me. I want to live, so I made the change—you can’t die in the outhouse. Although, now I’m deathly afraid of witches.”

  “But why did you come with me if you knew what was coming?” I was puzzled again.

  “The könig gave me the order,” Flosy explained innocently. “He said that you’re my jarl now, and so that’s the way it is. What’s there to think about?”

  These people are crazy!

  “And what about the holmgang?”

  “It’s simple. They’ll bring the firewood here, douse it with oil, and lay it out in a circle. Then Gunnar and Torsfel will jump in, but only one will walk out alive. Easy as that.”

  It really was simple and straightforward.

  “And if Torsfel is the one who walks out alive?” I looked over at the future duelists dubiously.

  “Usually, he’d be free to go, and no one would dare to stop him,” Flosy said idly. “But now, as far as I know, our Gunther is supposed to fight him. The Crooked didn’t contest that when the oath was made, so now he can’t refuse. But if he kills Gunther, too, then he’ll definitely be free to go.”

  “Jarl,” someone said. I felt a hand laid lightly on my shoulder and turned to see Gunnar standing there. He motioned with his head for me to step off to the side.

  “I overheard your conversation with the woman who took your share of the loot, and I didn’t like what happened. I don’t know what happened between you, and I’m certainly no expert when it comes to women, but I do know one thing—she may not be your enemy, but she’s certainly not your friend. You did something she feels like she has to get back at you for. Women and their revenge are all I’m afraid of in this life,
so watch your back, Jarl, watch your back.”

  I sighed. He didn’t need to tell me that.

  “And one more thing,” he continued. “I don’t think it would be right or fair for you to go without anything to remember today and today’s battle by. Please take this gift from me. I’d like you to have it. I’m not sure why, but I think it’ll come in handy.”

  He took my hand and placed a small square in it, gave me a light punch in the chest, and turned to walk back to the circle the hirdmen were dousing with wineskins full of oil.

  “Gunnar, wait!” I called after him. “Please accept a gift from me, as well. I think you’ll find more use for this dagger than I will.”

  I handed him the “Endinardian trophy” I’d had lying around in my pack. That was all I could think of to give him.

  “This is good steel.” The jarl pulled the dagger out of its sheath and dragged a fingernail along its blade. “Thank you.”

  “Good luck,” I replied from the bottom of my heart.

  “And good luck to you.”

  I checked to see what the brave and quiet warrior had given me.

  Jera Rune

  One of a set of runes the gods are said to have created in ancient times.

  As long as the rune is in the player’s inventory, the player is 6% more likely to successfully complete what they start and enjoy +4 luck in everything they do.

  Check the appropriate table to see the bonuses this rune gives when combined with other runes.

  Class limitation: none

  Minimum level for use: 45

  The day was coming to a close, but the sun gamely held its ground. Still, I could tell that the trees would soon be sprouting long shadows.

  “Well, Gunnar, is it about time for me to send you off to see your little woman? She’s spent enough time waiting for you.”

  Torsfel, the Crooked, naked to the waist, was showing off a body crisscrossed with scars and bulging with muscles. The enormous ax he held was tossed lightly from hand to hand, and he grinned unpleasantly as Gunnar stepped into the circle.

  “I think she’ll be happy to learn that my weapon sent you to the underworld,” Gunnar replied as quietly as ever.

  He was naked above the belt as well and looked like a wimpy nerd next to the class bully as he stood across from the hairy giant.

  But, he really wasn’t that wimpy; his graceful movements betrayed a skilled and experienced warrior, and steel muscles rippled under his skin. The ax he held wasn’t much smaller than Torsfel’s, and it didn’t look to be heavy for him at all.

  “Oh, God, what a man! He could give me twins, and I’d be happy,” Ulfrida gasped.

  I looked over to see her bountiful chest shaking under her dress. Her pupils were dilated, her nostrils were flared, and I could see how much she was enjoying the show. Valkyrie, what can you do? How does old Harald possibly manage her?

  The brushwood flared, and the warriors began to circle, watching each other warily. Torsfel was the first to break. He rushed at Gunnar with a wild shout, trying to sink the spike on the tip of his formidable weapon into his opponent. The jarl didn’t have much trouble dodging the attempt before a sweep of his ax missed his attacker, as well.

  It was clear the battle would last only until the first successful strike. Those were no simple swords in there, and landing a hit with one of their ax blades would mean severing a body part.

  The two warriors sized each other up. They bobbed, weaved, tried to counterattack, and didn’t give each other the slightest opening. Gunnar lopped off part of Torsfel’s beard, and it was only Gunnar’s agility that saved his leg from Torsfel’s ax.

  “Whoever tires first is going to lose,” Flosy noted calmly from where he was standing next to me.

  He’s probably right, although neither of them is showing any signs of—

  Iron scraped on bone as Torsfel found himself split in two. One part, which included a section of his chest, his stomach, and a leg went on standing in the middle of the fire circle, while the other collapsed on the earth.

  “Tiura!” Gunnar shouted, raising his ax to the sky. “I fulfilled my oath! I fulfilled it!”

  A din broke out so loudly that I instinctively grabbed my sword. Looking around, I saw that the hirdmen had pulled out their weapons and were beating their hilts against their shields.

  “Vapnatak,” Flosy explained. I nodded. The word wasn’t one I was familiar with, but I understood what was going on.

  Elina was the first to leave, having nodded to me from the other side of the circle without suggesting that I come back to the clan fortress. She apparently figured that I was too busy finishing up my quests. And she has another think coming if she thinks I’ll ever…

  Hrolf and Froky sailed off next, after promising me a discount if I were ever to need their services again.

  Gunnar sat on the ground wrapped in his cloak. He looked at Ulfrida in surprise as she tried to get him to visit the könig’s palace.

  “Plus, you killed Torsfel. It doesn’t matter that those ones over there saved me; you stood up for my honor! My father would be happy to receive you, and he’ll have a reward for such a brave hero.”

  Gunnar listened to Ulfrida and nodded as she talked, but his thoughts were obviously somewhere far away. Up there in the clouds, I assumed, next to his wife and children.

  I decided to save the jarl. “Ulfrida, we have to go. The könig’s waiting. We’ve been here too long as it is.”

  “Absolutely right,” confirmed Sven, who was happily dropping gold into his pocket. The jarls had given him a nice finder’s fee for bringing them to me.

  Ulfrida pursed her lips and glared at us angrily, but she didn’t put up a fight.

  I held out my hand to Gunnar. “Goodbye, jarl. It was a good battle.”

  Gunnar got up and shook my hand before pulling me in for a hug. “We’ll see each other again.”

  Then he said something to Gunther I didn’t understand at all.

  “I think if we have the chance, we need to shake hands under the strip of earth.”

  ***

  Nothing had changed in the palace. The same Northerners were standing guard, and the corridors were just as quiet and empty.

  As we walked toward the throne room, I heard Gunther ask Flosy, “Hey, what did Gunnar mean?”

  “He wants you to become brothers,” Flosy replied with respect. “We do that by standing above the strip of earth next to the sea, cutting open our palms, and mixing our blood. But you only do it with someone you trust no less than you trust yourself.”

  Gunther lost himself in thought and didn’t have anything else to say.

  We got to the door leading to the throne room, where I stopped our group.

  “Flosy, sneak a peek and see if Ingvar is in there.”

  Flosy eased the door open a crack and glanced in. “He’s there. The könig is signing some papers.”

  “Perfect.” I pulled out the Wild Hunt horn.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  In which quite a few things fall into place.

  Ulfrida threw up her arms. “So are we going in? My father’s probably tired of waiting, and we need to see if Ingvar can explain what’s going on.”

  “That’s exactly why we’re going to hang on just a couple minutes,” I explained. “We’re going to surprise him within an inch of his life.”

  I glanced back at everyone else and had a warning for them. “Don’t be scared of what’s about to happen, okay? Gunther, that goes especially for you—this isn’t black magic. Everything’s okay, all within the rules.”

  “What are you talking about, Laird Hagen?” the knight asked, puzzled.

  “You’re about to see.”

  I held the horn to my lips and blew into it, although I made sure not to be loud enough to attract the guards.

  “I don’t need all of you,” I announced to no one in particular. “Just Skeggy, an archer, and a swordsman. Oh, and without your horses—there isn’t much room here.”


  Not far from where we were standing, a small mound of snow appeared on the ground. It was soon followed by a second and then a third. The mounds grew until half a minute later, they’d taken on human form. The snow covering fell away to reveal Skald Skeggy, wordless Gudrun with her bow on her shoulder, and another einherjar named Orm.

  “Good afternoon, everyone!” Skeggy exclaimed amiably, waving to us as he did. The other two nodded silently.

  My companions were also silent. Gunther was obviously trying to figure out whether what had happened really was dark magic; Ulfrida was licking her lips as she fixed her gaze on Orm; Flosy was just blinking; and Sven… Well, Sven, like the true Sea King he was, couldn’t care less about anything that didn’t involve money or beer.

  “Hi, Skeggy,” I said, stepping toward the skald. “There isn’t any sun here, so I assume you can stay longer than ten minutes.”

  “Of course,” the einherjar responded. “Are these your friends?”

  I introduced everyone standing next to me.

  “You forgot to mention that one. And why isn’t he visible?” Skeggy jabbed a finger at an empty area next to the stairwell. “Ha, looks like he’s about to take off.”

  “Flosy!” I shouted quietly just as the toilet worker swept his ax along the floor. Someone tripped over it and went crashing down the stairs.

  A scout! It had to be, and I was pretty sure who’d sent him. He must have been pretty good, too, to spend so much time stealthily following us.

  “Gunther, Orm, grab him,” I snapped. “Skeggy, tell them where to go!”

  Skeggy’s help turned out not to be needed, as the fall down the stairs cut the stealth ability short. In front of us stood a Level 97 scout named Hopkins. Just as I thought; a Thunderbird.

  Gunther and Orm brought him over to me.

  “Didn’t work,” Hopkins said with a smile. “Nice friend you have there, sees through everything.”