Fate's Needle by Jerry Autieri Page A

his eyes.
    No one spoke as Runa walked directly to him, moving with a confidence no slave possessed. She stood before him, a queen greeting her warrior, and presented the sword. Ulfrik held her gaze as he reached out and gripped the scabbard with one hand. She looked tired and thin, but her eyes flashed with hope and she smiled feebly as she released the sword.
    At last, she lowered her head. “This is your sword, Lord Ulfrik. As I swore to you, I have helped you find it again.”
    “Thank you, Runa.” Too many emotions overwhelmed him. He dared speak no more, lest his words were foolish. Instead, he flashed a smile and looked away, fastening the sword to his belt.
    “The sword comes with a message,” Runa said and relayed Snorri’s words.
    They should have heartened him, Ulfrik knew, and perhaps some corner of his soul did gladden. Yet the day still remained a loss, and the roster of losses increased daily. He merely nodded his head to Runa’s message, and patted her shoulder in thanks.
    “So you managed to keep your word. I guess you’re not a faithless liar.” Yngvar joined them and nodded toward the sword.
    Ulfrik had not bothered to mention Runa to Magnus, assuming she had been either captured or killed. The big man seemed to accept that Runa was his slave anyway. Ulfrik did not pursue it.
    “So let’s hear it. What happened?” Yngvar turned to more practical matters.
    With a smile at Yngvar’s shrouded apology, Runa told her story, omitting nothing, not even the stark detail.
    Ulfrik doubted parts of it, but the bruises on her body vouched for her and he felt a twinge of guilt. Runa had endured much. When she came to the end, and her encounter with Snorri, she had captured even Magnus’s attention. They all stepped closer, anxious for details.
    “When I saw all those warriors gathering, I knew I had to find our meeting place,” she said, evidently relishing the attention. “But you weren’t there. So I trekked north along the track, guessing you would go that way.
    “I spent some time gathering nuts and looking for water, and when I was done I heard the men marching. I followed them through the forest—hard when they had men scouting all around. I think one mistook me for a forest spirit.” She giggled at this, but then caught herself.
    “How many were there? Was Grim there?” Ulfrik’s patience with her long tale finally snapped.
    “At least one hundred men. I saw Grim from afar, always with another important man. That one seemed to be the real commander. I was so tired that, when they stopped the advance for some reason, I fell asleep. I’m sorry I did. When I woke, they were gone.
    “Up the track, the night clouds were red with fire, so I ran as fast as I could. When I got here…” Runa surveyed the devastation around them.
    Ulfrik nodded, avoiding a description of the obvious. He did not want to hear how Auden died in his den like an abandoned pup. The trap had been well laid, and complete in its execution. He focused instead on the future. “When did this happen? What did they do after this?”
    “Three days ago.” Runa’s gaze returned to him. “A downpour put out the embers yesterday, or this place would still be burning. I didn’t dare get too close. The fire made too much noise for me to hear clearly, but the important man shouted some things and left with most of the men. They had captured horses from the stables. Many rode off in another direction. Grim yelled something about the surrounding farms. I did hear both of your names.” She turned toward Magnus. “And if you’re Magnus, I heard that name, too. Then they all ran off in different directions. I had to hide under leaves to avoid them.”
    Ulfrik considered all that Runa had described. The men of Grenner would not attack their own, so Grim must have commanded one hundred Vestfolders. Auden was an obvious threat to Grim’s new alliance, one they had dispatched before it could materialize. Such foresight was unlike