Son of Anger (The Ormstunga Saga Book 1) by Donovan Cook

Author:Donovan Cook [Cook, Donovan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Donovan Cook
Published: 2020-11-10T20:00:00+00:00

The following morning was still grey, but like the night before, the clouds did not promise rain. Instead, it seemed to reflect on the mood of the people. Life in Thorgilsstad went on as normal. The men were cleaning or fixing their equipment and weapons. The women and thralls were preparing the morning meals or weaving. All of them were trying to ignore the sounds coming from the forest. The sounds of an axe biting into trees.

Ulf was gasping as he tried to pull Olaf’s axe out of the tree. He had risen early and left the hall, taking only his axe. He didn’t want to be around people. He wanted to be alone, or as alone as he could be with Vidar always by his side. After the funeral, everybody had avoided Ulf. He could still see the suspicion in their eyes and the anger in the eyes of Thorgils’ men. Ulf finally freed the axe and stared at the tree, its bark cut up as he spent the morning taking out his anger on it. The spirits of the forest would not be pleased, but then they could join the others who were disgruntled with him.

“It's not the tree’s fault.” He heard the voice behind him. He didn’t know why he was surprised that she was here or that she seemed to know what he was thinking.

“I needed to–”

“I understand,” Lady Ingibjorg said before he could finish.

Ulf didn’t know what else to do, so he walked to a fallen tree and sat down on its trunk, still holding the axe in his hands. He looked at the red handle and the names of his family. “I’m sorry about Hulda.” He had wanted to say something to her the day before but thought it was best to stay away from her. And his throat had hurt too much to talk, although it wasn’t much better today.

“Me too,” Lady Ingibjorg said as she sat down beside Ulf and smiled at Vidar, who was sitting on the ground by the fallen tree as he had been all morning. She breathed in the damp earthy smell of the forest, enjoying its freshness over the smoke-filled air in her house.

They sat in silence for a while, both listening to the sounds of the birds as they flew back to their trees now Ulf had stopped blunting his axe on them.

“You miss your family,” Ingibjorg said, seeing the way Ulf stroked the names of his family carved on the hilt of his axe.

Ulf didn’t answer. He didn’t need to. Ingibjorg saw the tear that ran down his cheek.

“Why am I being punished by the gods?” Ulf asked, thinking about everything that had happened to him since the previous summer.

“What makes you think you are being punished?” She had a small smile on her lips, but Ulf could hear no mocking tone in her voice.

“First my family, then the bear and now Hulda. It’s hard not to think Odin is punishing me.” His aunt had always told him not to curse the gods, that they were vengeful beings, but he had never listened.

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