Winter's Fire: (The Rise of Sigurd 2) by Kristian Giles

Author:Kristian, Giles [Kristian, Giles]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, mobi
ISBN: 9781473510418
Publisher: Transworld
Published: 2016-04-06T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TEN

OF ALL THE crew, only two of them seemed happy to be out on the fjord at this time of year. Ibor the blacksmith and his son and apprentice Ingel sat snugged up in the thwarts, talking or sleeping and grinning more often than not while the rest of King Thorir’s men bent their backs to the oars or worked the sail of his ship, a broad-bellied, seaworthy looking knörr called Storm-Elk, moaning that they had been ordered to sea while their companions enjoyed their lord’s hearth and hospitality.

Runa had caught Ingel’s eyes on her at least a dozen times since they had left Skíringssalr, and his father Ibor’s two or three times. Both men were respectful and handsome enough, yet she made sure not to cast even a fleeting glance in their direction when she felt their gaze upon her. Not that there wasn’t a part of her which was buoyed, if only a little, by their attentions. She had thought no man would look at her again with that ugly scar carved across her face from her left eye to her ear. It seemed she was wrong about that. Unless it was pity or morbid curiosity which had got the better of the blacksmiths. At that thought she pulled her fur-lined hood down a little further so that it half covered the scar, at which Ingel looked across and smiled with his eyes before looking back to the game of tafl he was playing with father.

‘Not far now,’ Storm-Elk’s skipper told her after a long day’s sailing, jumping down from the mast fish from where he had been looking out across the fjord and the many tree-covered islands scattered along the grey coastline. Runa nodded back at him and felt her stomach roll over itself at the prospect of coming to this island that would be her home for the gods knew how long.

King Thorir’s messenger had returned to Skíringssalr three days ago with word from the Freyja Maidens.

‘Runa Haraldsdóttir is welcome. On our honour she will be safe with us until the king sends for her.’

That had been good enough so far as Sigurd was concerned and the king had begun the preparations. Every full moon he sent a ship to the island with supplies, offerings really, to buy the goddess’s favour, such as smoked and salted meats, ale, barley and oats and other preserved foods. On occasion King Thorir also sent swords and spears, brynjur and helmets, along with the men who made them so that they might make alterations as necessary and help with any repairs that might be needed.

It would not be full moon for another three nights but Sigurd would not leave Skíringssalr until he saw Runa in the king’s ship and the mooring ropes thrown into the thwarts, and so Thorir had agreed that Storm-Elk could set sail ahead of time. As generous as he was to the Freyja Maidens and the goddess herself, as a king Thorir was no doubt counting the cost of hosting Sigurd’s crew day after day.

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