Fate's Needle by Jerry Autieri Page B

Grim. Ulfrik guessed Grim’s Vestfolder commander planned for him. Dealing with his brother now seemed impossible.
    Runa continued to describe her trials following the raid, but Ulfrik’s attention was half-hearted. Yngvar and Magnus had both left to examine the wreckage of the hall and surrounding buildings.
    “I guess no one cares.”
    The smallness of Runa’s voice drew Ulfrik’s attention back to her. Her expression was plaintive and her queenly presence had vanished.
    Ulfrik smiled and thanked her again, more earnestly this time. She returned the smile, but her eyes were downcast. Whether or not she accepted the thanks, Ulfrik had to consider their next step. They were outlaws hemmed into hostile country. He unbuckled his old sword and extended it to Runa. “You will probably need this in the coming days. Do you know how to use it?”
    Her eyes widened as she accepted the blade, nodding. Ulfrik doubted she could wield a sword, but if she truly was from a noble family, her father or brothers might have taught her the basics. Ulfrik needed everyone armed and fighting, even half-starved slaves.
    Stepping from the ruins of Auden’s hall, he finally wiped his eyes and looked for the others. Magnus and Yngvar had already begun to salvage a few useful items from the surrounding buildings. There was scant food, but enough had been left untouched to feed them for a few days. In an open area between the ravaged buildings they had also piled some heavy furs, which would stave off the approaching winter. The greatest find, however, was two hunting bows and eleven arrows. Yngvar and Ulfrik took these and divided the arrows.
    “They haven’t fully looted the place,” Magnus observed. “Which means they’ll be back soon, maybe today.”
    Ulfrik nodded, understanding it was time to vanish. “Magnus, we had better collect your family. Runa said she heard your name. I fear what Grim might do.”
    Magnus held his gaze and Ulfrik read the emotions behind the man’s eyes: fear, anger, desperation. But, taciturn as always, Magnus just nodded his bushy bearded head in agreement. Ulfrik didn’t understand why these men had made the sacrifices they had, but he was grateful. He hoped Fate would allow him to repay them.
    “We will have to stick close to the road to make good time,” Yngvar said, cupping a hand to his rugged brow as he scouted the horizon. “No smoke plumes, which means our scab-faced grub and his men might already be finished with their mischief.”
    Magnus grabbed Yngvar’s arm. “You don’t think they would leave without taking everything from here?”
    “If I knew the place was in hand and thought my mortal enemies were prodding around my hall, I’d head straight back.”
    Ulfrik felt his guts tighten at the thought of Yngvar’s words. Of course, the man was right. All around the cold ash attested to what Grim could do and the speed at which he could move. Though Magnus’s farm was to the east, a detour from Grim’s direct march, the mounted men Runa had observed could easily have reached it by now. Ulfrik did not doubt Grim would extract revenge for Magnus’s defection. And a son come of age would be no defense against warriors. Yet it would take them nearly two days to reach the farm on foot, and it would require them to pass directly through Grim’s hall.
    “I must go,” Magnus said. It seemed he had already made the calculations himself. Staring at all of them, but appearing to see no one, he added, “If that dogshit has harmed my family, I’ll have his heart on a slab.”
    Ulfrik gestured to Yngvar and Runa to help him gather the furs and spears, but Magnus was already stalking down the road. The cool breeze lifted ash into the air, bringing a bitter taste to the tongue. Ulfrik watched Magnus charge through eddies of debris. They would have to catch him up, tame him enough to maintain a degree of stealth. For now, they gathered what they could, with Ulfrik shouldering Magnus’ load. In the