The Song of the Ash Tree- The Complete Saga by T L Greylock

Author:T L Greylock [Greylock, T L]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9780996536691
Publisher: Grass Crown Press
Published: 2019-10-31T22:00:00+00:00

Eighteen

For four days Raef received warriors in his hall. Men, fresh from the battles in Gornhald and Solheim, were eager to show themselves to their new king and pledged their oaths with solemn words and faces. One by one they knelt before Raef and he acknowledged them with his thanks and gave them promises of renown. The village and the Vestrhall were overflowing but the warriors kept coming, making camp outside the walls despite the cold and snow. It was an encouraging sight, those makeshift shelters, fires dotting the land at night, horses gathered in a circle against the wind. Each night, a portion of the warriors were feasted in Raef’s hall and each morning, he sent most of them home again to await further word. He kept some of those with horses outside the walls as deterrence against an attack from Red-beard or Thoken.

As the numbers grew, Raef sent Finnolf and another captain, Yorkell, to scout further afield so that they might know where the traitorous warriors gathered. One went north, the other south, with strict orders to engage only if necessary, and with numbers great enough to discourage an ambush. And so Raef waited, Isolf and Gudrik at his side, Vakre and Siv nowhere to be found, as the warriors of Vannheim, young and old, man and woman, brought him their spears.

Not all came. There were absences Raef could not help but notice, men he had thought loyal to his father. He said as much to Isolf, but his cousin did not seem concerned.

“They will see the error of their ways when we rout Red-beard and Thoken in battle. And they will crawl back to you and beg to join your shield wall.”

Raef was not convinced. The men he looked for were battle-hardened and not likely to crawl or beg.

It was twilight on the fourth day when Raef received a final group of warriors who had made the last push to the hall before night fell. They were weary but no less proud and each received a cup of ale and a place by the fires. As the men fell away, eager to eat and drink, a single boy, slight and skinny-armed, remained in the center, unnoticed in the crowd but now alone and exposed. The boy kept his gaze down, his arms straight at his sides.

“Your name, boy?” Raef’s voice carried over the murmurs of the warriors and all eyes turned to the middle of the hall.

The boy looked up but did not yet meet Raef’s stare. He swallowed. “Ergil.”

Raef smiled a little. Nerves had stilled the boy’s tongue and he had not given his father’s name. “Come closer, Ergil.” The boy did as he was told and Raef could see that his hair, shorn at the back of his head but longer at the front, was damp with sweat. He stopped perhaps five paces from the base of the stairs leading to Raef’s chair and the high table.

Isolf stepped forward, his orange hair wild, his gaze fierce.

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