Sons of Ymir Page 2

  All their hopes had been laid squarely on Baduhanna’s shoulders.

  She had been my wife, though I had had no say on it. She had married me, after she had tried to kill me, and she had proceeded to lead the men of Red Midgard against Hel with cool efficiency, a brutal blade, and still, thanks to the twisted, many-layered plans of Balic and the late Mir, she had perished at Hel’s hands, but moments after I had led my army to save her.

  She had abandoned Dagnar, Fiirant, and the people to Balic, just to buy her time to get to the north.

  She had been cold as ice and inhuman in many ways.

  Despite that, the people missed her.

  Was a god better than a jotun? Or, were they just like us.

  I had no idea. Did they expect me to be as brutal as she had been?

  Perhaps. But I wasn’t a natural hero.

  An Aesir, a Valkyrie of the past, a heroine of the Hel’s War, long trapped then released, was a natural heroine. The nobles feared her after she butchered Gath Bollion. The people loved her for it and her role in the butchering of the Bull Legion, and they loved her unearthly beauty. They had rallied behind her, had believed in her.

  Now, they had a jotun, a scion of a clan that had killed the great families of the Tenginells and the Dagnells and had taken their place. They had a jotun, who had been raised by the draugr.

  They had a jotun who was a thief, as well as a king.

  Mir’s plans had worked. Her plans inside plans, her filthy lies, and practiced treachery gave the One Man, Balic Barm Bellic, my gauntlet the Black Grip, the corpses of my family, and a dead goddess.

  “Odin,” I whispered. “Let me find the Black Grip again.”

  Thrum snorted. “The jotun who prays to Odin. Ymir’s kin pray to none , if not to Lok, and the Ancient Ones. By the ball hair of Balic, you should know better.”

  “I have not had a teacher,” I murmured.

  “You need one,” he said evenly. “You would be much happier being what you are. The people loved Baduhanna, because despite what she did, she represented law, and order. A jotun? The stories they still remember, speak of chaos. And they are right. Morag settled in, and chose to act like a god. He settled in, and made laws, and guarded people. It is not a jotun’s way. Lead the people to victory, Maskan, and forget your fears. At all costs, Maskan, and come out with treasure, and glory. That is the way.” He leaned closer, as Cil looked pale. “The boys would prefer that as well.”

  I shook my head and kept my silence. His words disturbed me. I pushed them away, but failed.

  Teacher. I need one.

  Not only did the ancient Black Grip have a power to seal stone and halls in a way even gods couldn’t open, but it held the great history of my clan’s past, the spells, the memories. It granted one power beyond one’s abilities, and it was a great loss, due to my own stupidity.

  The enemy held all the cards in the game. I was just a fool, and the game was played to the death.

  Cil spoke. “What do we do?”

  “First,” I said, “we must deal with our issues in this camp. Then, I shall find some answers to a few questions. How do you think they like Hillhold?” I asked, squinting at the groups of guards on the walls.

  “Maybe they are depressed as they have the warm barracks and supplies,” Thrum rumbled, scratching his hairy chin. “What a damned mess. Well, it won’t fix itself.

  I grunted and didn’t bother answering. “Cil,” I said. “Go and tell Roger and Hal I will have words with them in a bit. With the prisoners. Tell them to come to me.”

  Cil hesitated and bowed. Then, he trudged away to the distant jeers of the Hammer Legionnaires above.

  Thrum nudged me. “So. Here it is. No matter what you decide, and how many people will die for it, they don’t really need Baduhanna.”

  “Oh?” I laughed. “They will settle for jokes and lies?”

  He booted my leg. “They will need ideas. You must provide them. If you don’t have any, at least show leadership and lead them back to Dansar’s Grave.”

  I pushed him off. “We cannot go back to Dansar’s Grave,” I said, and turned. I cursed as I watched the troops, settled in miserable camps under the darkening, cold sky. “What you said about our situation is probably true, but there must be another way. We simply must find a way to solve this issue.”

  “It probably means you will go,” he spat, “and do something utterly stupid out there and then get your damned head chopped off. That’s not a solution a king should consider. You send men to die for you.”

  “I have,” I snarled. “But I need to do more than that. And first, I’ll break some skulls in this here camp, if things don’t improve.”

  Thrum nodded. “The bastards need to change their thinking.”

  He meant Roger, Hal, and all the other nobles, save for Cil and his banner men. I had led Dagnar to their aid, and still, the bastards acted aloof from the militia, from each other, even, when old grudges came in the way.

  They had lost many of their mounts, but they still had trains of packhorses filled with food, tents, and weapons.

  They seemed to assume they were an independent command, with flexibility to determine what orders they would obey, and what they could ignore.

  They had not shared their supplies and tents with the militia, nor had they even assumed the walls and moats would cover the militia as well as them.

  That would change momentarily.

  “You think Lisar is in there?” I wondered as we hiked in the snow and mud, now also enduring the mockery of our enemy. I was worried of Lisar Vittar, the bitter foe I had beaten in Dansar’s Grave. “Probably waiting for a new chance to rip my head off,” I muttered. “That amulet of hers is a shit terrible thing to beat. Eats magic like mad.”

  “It won’t guard her against a proper ax-blade, does it?” Thrum cursed. “Chop on the head, and any draugr will take an eternal nap.”

  “She is watching, scheming, and I’m sure she won’t wait for us to get the first strike in,” I rumbled.

  “She is probably getting a good earful from Balic, eh? She’s not there. She would be on the walls, hurling insults,” Thrum said. “If she were a man, she’d piss on us. Well, she’d, or he’d have to be alive first. I mean—”

  “I get the picture,” I laughed, thankful for his levity.

  “Seems like an unusually lively draugr, she does,” he said with a grin.

  “She is,” I agreed. “She knows quite a few curses and is cruder than a sailor.” I looked at a train of horses drawing crutches away to the west. “The wounded are all gone now?”

  “Not all,” he said, and nodded for a large tent at the end of the huge encampment. It was guarded, and still, the red snow and the nervous looks the guards gave the tent spoke of the horrors inside. “So, you are determined to take Hillhold, eh? You will go in there, you will try to open the gates, and you think you can do it. If I were the poor bastard in command of the shithole, I’d keep the doors barred, locked, and I’d heap stones on the doors.”

  “They, too, must move men out to Alantia, and in,” I said. “I’ll find a way inside that doesn’t involve trying to fly in. They will have learnt their lessons. You must figure out a way to siege it.”

  He winked as we circumvented the moat. “Oh, I must? Suppose we just do it the way I suggested. We can build a pyramid with the nobles. We can train them to make a human ladder?”

  I sighed. “They are sending supplies to us. They are scrounging what they can in Fiirant, and they will send it here. They will send lumber, they will send hammers, nails, leather, rope—”

  He cursed. “How about you let me build siege. Never go into details when you have no idea what you are talking about. Don’t do it in public, at least. Quiss won’t mind idiocy, but I do. Is she pregnant yet?”

  I blushed and looked at him with horror. “We have kissed, and hugged, and I have no time to play such games. We haven’t … I don’t know what she wants.”

  ​ “Oh, play the games, M
askan,” he cursed. “I would, if I were young. And you have implied that you intend to marry her. At least a cook told me so. So did a stable boy.”

  “Aye,” I said, horrified. “I have let her know she is welcome in Red Midgard. She is here. She has risked her neck. But I haven’t …” I cursed and spoke on, looking at Quiss who was now grooming a horse. “So, we will get food in a day or two. Siege gear. People of Fiirant will send what they have over to Dansar’s Grave, and you take over.”

  He nodded. “I have sent some of my boys along. It will take a week. Siege towers that high,” he said, and eyed the twenty-foot-tall walls, “can be hard to move in this snow, and the ground must be cleared. There is sure to be holes and other nastiness beneath all the snow. They’ll be firing all sorts of missiles down on us, they have their One-Eyed Priests, or draugr royals with their stupid horned hats, and it will be a place of tears. It will be impossible, but if it isn’t, it will be costly.” He winked. “They will get reinforcements, and we will, and winter will ultimately be the enemy that will beat us. Have you been thinking about the rest of the stupid traitor shits inside the fort?”

  “Legion of Aten,” I muttered. “I have. Quiss thinks they might come over to our side, the rest of them.”

  “Aye,” he said, knowing it could be our only hope. “But I guess they will be watched, and you’d have to talk to them. I’d not be surprised if they have not all been sent to hunt for rabbits and squirrels in the mountains. I’d not trust them in our midst. I don’t, in fact.”

  His eyes went to the nine hundred or so of Aten’s men, huddled in their separate camp, silent and uncertain. They had joined Quiss, but many would be rethinking their allegiances.

  I hesitated and nodded.

  I turned from my scrutiny of the legionnaires, and we entered the militia camp. Not far from my tent, Quiss was squatting over a fire and speaking to some of the men. I walked that way and nodded at Thrum, who walked for the prisoners, hundreds of them tied up under crude shelters at the edge of the militia camp. As I walked, thousands of people I had not sent back to Dansar’s Grave began getting back to their feet. I walked forward and kept my eyes on them, despite the insistent voice in my head I should look down, lest I betray their trust.

  A king must act differently.

  A captain of his people must show he is confident.

  To be honest, I wanted to ride the winds for the east, and there, work alone and try to find a way inside the Hillhold, one that promised me hope of opening the gates to the people and never getting one killed.

  And yet, what Thrum had said, held some allure.

  I would love to be less concerned, a thing of chaos, and never look back.

  Let the men fend for themselves. And yet, I couldn’t. I couldn’t, for father, who had protected them

  I eyed the people, despite myself, and gave them curt nods. Most grinned and saluted me. They wore the looted legionnaire weapons from Dagnar, from Dansar’s Grave, and from the battle of the pass, and looked like battered hammer legionnaires themselves. Wide helmets, bloodied chain, and shields, they all carried uncertainly. There were shields of five different legions of Balic, and all the military gear from boots to brushes made them almost look martial.

  Almost.

  There was no going back.

  Dagnar was gone. The capital was where they were.

  I stopped before Quiss, who flashed me a surprised grin. “Did you spot a hole in their wall? Did they offer you mead? I hope you didn’t have any, if they did. They’d piss on it first.”

  “No,” I said, as I kneeled next to her. “No mead, no holes, no piss. We must figure out a way of getting in. You are sure Aten will speak with me, if I get in.”

  She shook her shoulders. “They will speak with you. I told you.”

  “And do you have a way in?” I asked with a smile.

  She fidgeted. “What did Thrum tell you?”

  “He told me to be a jotun, and start acting like a cruel, damned bastard,” I said.

  “What did you say?” she asked.

  “I shall act like Morag did. You hesitated when I asked you a question.”

  She hesitated then. She looked deep in her thoughts, and then, finally, as if she were afraid, she nodded. “The men say there is a hall not four miles outside Hillhold, where the Legions have a small command post for scouts. They send mail and orders from Nallist into that place to be sent forward, and there is a captain from Aten in there. He has a brother with those who joined me and he says the entire legion has been unhappy over many things in the past. I hear they are regretting not joining us. That captain would be able to help us speak with Aten’s men inside. He can get us in with him. He will find the right men to speak to. All we need to do is to ride in to Hillhold, carrying mail. I’m sure they want to join our glorious army, after all. They can get the gate open. It will cost them, but they can, if we help them. They are envious of our fine meals and accommodations, I am sure.”

  We looked at the muddy snow and the terrible camp.

  Both chuckled.

  “I’ll try him, then,” I said. “They might be our only hope.”

  She leaned closer to me. “Tell them that I shall make each one who joins up rich. A ship and hall for each man, and a title to the best. Some are fanatical, young, and stupid, but many saw the draugr as they are in the battle. Even if some agree, then we might succeed. The captains name is Antos.” She winked. “We’ll tell Antos he will be lord above lords in Aten.” She frowned suddenly. “Wait, you said ‘I’ll try him, then.’ You mean to leave me behind?”

  I pulled Quiss up and walked her to the side. “I have another job for you.” She nearly slipped, but I caught her. I gave her a long look, and she smiled at me. I wondered at how well she had endured the entire debacle, and the adventures we had had together. Rescued from Aten, she was remarkably easy to work with. She had no objections to standing in the snowy mud, hungry, dirty, preparing for a desperate siege, with no siege engines, with few supplies, and with a quarrelsome army, half of which was an armored mob, at best.

  I had saved her, and she had supported me all this time, and I needed someone I could trust.

  “Can you take some people inside?” she asked, looking up at the fort. “In the night, you might be able to fly a party in. Or that Grinlark thing. That—”

  “No, I dare not,” I said. “Like it was in Dansar’s, they have guards all over this place. Here, there are no mistakes made. They have them on the walls, around the courtyards, in any nook and ditch you could possibly imagine. It is lit like a bonfire inside, and every man is itchy. I cannot get anyone in,” I told her. “I cannot be sure how many legions are inside, for they keep indoors when not guarding, but I am betting every doorway is closed and guarded.”

  She gave me a small, knowing smile. “But now, we have a plan. It is dangerous.” She squeezed

  “I know,” I told her. “Let us go and speak with our dear friends, and perhaps with some of the prisoners.” I tensed. “You will have to prepare.”

  “I cannot prepare for something I am not expecting. What did you have in mind?” she said, and lifted one exquisite eyebrow.

  I smiled at her and nodded at the nobles, who were preparing their camp. The sergeants and soldiers were still digging a ditch around the camp, which the Dagnar’s troops now tried to imitate. “We have to deal with Roger and Hal, and we must find someone who will take up the cause, should I fall. We must bring the troops together. We must change things.”

  She looked hard at me. “Wait. What do you mean?”

  “You have to lead them,” I said. “I need a Regent.”

  She stopped walking, and I tugged her along. She was hissing complaints. “They know I am from Aten. My father was Aten-Sur Atenguard. None of those northerner scum … nobles shall obey me. The people of Dagnar do, because I bled for and with them on the walls, but these nobles? Their men? Not a chance in a million, Maskan. They barely obey you. And some,” she whispered conspiratorially
, “think Crec is not with the draugr and should still be the king. Not many think like this, but some do. So, if you will tell them I lead, and please also note that I don’t know how to lead an army in or out of battlefield, they will rebel.”

  “I need you, and they do as well,” I said. “I will be back.”

  “You think you might not be back,” she whispered. “That’s why? Oh, Maskan. I—”

  “I need you,” I said. “Play along.”

  She beamed me a strained smile. “Well, of course I will, King Maskan! But—”

  “I need you here,” I said. “I desperately need you here. I need you to lead them and to give them hope. I need you to be the general of all of them, nobles and peasants alike. And I need you to back me up when we speak with Roger and Hal. Do say yes.”

  The nobles were gyrating from the military camp for the edge of the militia, where the prisoners were kept. Cil was following behind the two other men.

  “What are you planning with the prisoners?” she wondered. “No, wait. Fine. I will do what you ask of me.” She wiped the hair out of her eyes and looked hard into mine. “I am no soldier, but a sailor. All the men of Aten are, in their heart.” Her eyes went to the men of Aten. “I will try. If there is a battle … then, damn you, Maskan.”

  We navigated the camp for the prisoners and came to a group Thrum’s troops.

  There, he had picked out two officers, both men, one old, evil-eyed, and one savagely scarred warrior. They eyed me, their faces unflinching, their jaws set, and dverger stood around them, holding weapons ready.

  Roger and Hal arrived on their horses. Cil stood behind them.

  “King, I would need a word,” Roger Kinter said, his hugely bearded face gleaming with sweat. “The need to leave this place is urgent. I have already sent a third of my horses off, and men will march out this evening. Alas, we lost most of our horse.”

  “No.”

  He looked stunned. “King. We cannot possibly take the fort.”

  “We shall stay here ,” I said with finality, and eyed the prisoners. “We will not leave, and you will get my men back here.”