The United States of Vinland: The Landing (The Markland Trilogy) by Colin Taber

and axe
to the ground. He hissed, “It did not have to be this way!”
    Thrainn,
angry, his face burnt and blistered, with blood running from his nose and his
side, spat at Eskil. “A curse on you and your hall...may winter come one day and
never let go!”
    Eskil
raised his axe.
    Trion
watched, his eyes focused on the small wood axe. He whispered under his breath,
“How many blows?”
    Eskil,
grim-faced, brought the axe down to end the matter.
    Blood
sprayed up to coat Eskil, running down his neck and cheek. The wound was deep
across Thrainn’s neck, causing the Lakelander to spasm and gurgle, but that
soon ended.
    Steinarr
said, “You have to remove the head in case he is draugr or some other accursed
dead.”
    Eskil gave
an exhausted nod and brought the axe down again. Another blow followed,
spattering more blood over the weary Godslander, and then Thrainn’s head
finally rolled free.
    It was
over.
    He got up
and glanced for the first time at his missing finger, but he did not stop,
instead turning to seek out Thoromr.
    Thoromr
stood still and silent, his face pale, Trion by his side.
    Eskil
crossed to him, with his bloody axe in his wounded hand, held down by his side.
Behind him, surrounded by glowing embers and a circle of swirling smoke,
Thrainn’s body and head lay, as a pool of blood spread to darken the ground.
    Thoromr
took a step forward to meet Eskil.
    Eskil
locked his gaze onto him, Thrainn’s blood evidenced on his cheek and neck.
“Your father was possessed. It was not your fault.”
    Thoromr
was pale, and started to shake his head. “He was my father.”
    Trion
stood nearby, watching,
    Eskil
nodded. “Choices become difficult. Kin cannot turn on their own, let alone a
son against a father, particularly when matters are blurred after a shipwreck
and so much death.”
    Thoromr
stilled and then swallowed. Finally, he gave a slow nod, willing to grab at the
absolution Eskil offered.
    The
Godslander continued, “We need to work together to keep ourselves safe. All of
us. It is the only way we will survive the trials of the winters to come and
any skraeling threat.”
    Eskil’s
people, as well as Alfvin and Ari, nodded in agreement.
    Thoromr
began to frown, an expression typical of his father’s face. “I serve Thor, it
is true, and I agreed to come west with my father in search of new lands to
devote to the creed. But after arriving and surviving its long winter, I have
come to the conclusion that this is a frigid waste of barren wilderness.” He
sneered. “And worse than that, one filled with cowards and fools who let
themselves be ruled over by...” he paused for a moment as he carefully chose his
next word, “...women!”
    Gudrid
said, “We have spoken of nothing but caution and planning!”
    With
words sounding like his father’s, Thoromr snapped, “You have silenced your own
men in this!”
    Eskil
sighed, while beside him, Steinarr shook his head. Yet Ballr was the one to
speak. “Working together is the best way for us to survive in Markland.”
    “It
is nonsense.” Thoromr turned to look for the skraeling women at the back of the
hall, as far away from their Lakelanders as they could be. The three sheep lay
near them. “I will go and take any with me who wish a life free of this
nonsense!”
    “Come
now, Thoromr,” Eskil replied. “Please reconsider. It will be better for all to
work together.”
    “I
shall have nothing to do with any of you.” And he then turned away, striding
across to his thrall.
    The
skraelings shrank away from Thoromr as he neared, but he ignored their chatter
and whines, and reached down for a handful of his thrall’s long, black hair.
With a sharp tug, he brought her to her feet and then turned back to face the
Norse. “I will take your raft, and in return, you will be rid of me. I will
also take whoever wishes to go, as well as my sheep.” His hand went to the
rough hilt of a knife he wore tucked into his belt.
    Many
of the others saw the move and