Chapter 7.

Their trek to the edge of camp was a silent one. Kjartan kept his eyes down, staying alert, but his mind was elsewhere.

They soon stopped next to a small shelter, setting their things inside and making camp for the night out of the rain. Kjartan settled down on the ground, leaning back against the stump of the tree that was being used for a tentpole.

“Stay close, gentlemen.” Carson cautioned, glancing back at him warily. Kjartan didn’t reply.

“Of course.” Alvis said quietly. Carson nodded and sat down as well, while Finn knelt out front to get a fire started. After a few minutes, he stood.

“I’ll go scrounge up something to eat.” At a nod from Carson, he walked away, heading back to camp. Bjorn glared at his back until the tent flap closed, blocking him from sight.

Alvis noticed his tension and went to stand next to his friend.

“Hey.” He said quietly, so only Bjorn could hear him. He grunted in reply. 

“Leave him be, Alvis. He has the right to be frustrated.” Kjartan murmured. Carson pretended not to hear and went about the business of sharpening his sword.

Alvis pursed his lips but sat down anyway, giving Kjartan a sideways glance, which he ignored, and the group fell silent again.

The sound of incoming footsteps broke Kjartan’s train of thought and he looked up to see Finn entering, carrying a pot in one hand and a stack of empty bowls in another with an impish grin on his face.

“Carson! It’s venison stew! Someone went hunting this afternoon and they’re still working on processing the meat. We’re eating like kings tonight.” He sat down by the fire and started ladling the stew out into the bowls, passing them to the Northmen first and then one to Carson, who smiled as he grabbed it.

“The gods have smiled upon us after all, then.”

Kjartan cringed at the mention of the gods, but he covered it by taking a bite. The stew was surprisingly delicious, given its limited ingredients. The warmth of the stew chased away the chill that had settled into his bones, and he hummed with approval. There was a certain… richness to it that he didn’t recognize. Perhaps it was some herb that didn’t grow in the North. Bjorn on the other hand, devoured the contents of his entire bowl immediately and ladled up a second helping without asking.

“Eat much?” Kjartan teased, and Bjorn elbowed him in reply.

Finn was hollering with laughter while Alvis and Carson exchanged a glance as if to say, “What are we to do with these people?”

As the meal progressed, a more relaxed mood came over the group. But Kjartan felt a small tingling at the back of his mind that he couldn’t quite ignore. The warmth from the stew hadn’t faded. If anything, it spread, filling his limbs and offering one of the most comforting feelings he’d ever experienced. He took off his outer fur to roll up and use as a pillow, laying down to get comfortable. The warmth had faded slightly, but he felt… good. A little fuzzy perhaps, but good.

He shook his head. The exhaustion must be getting to him.

He could hear the other men settling down as well, figuring out sleeping arrangements. Most of it fell on deaf ears though, as he was soon fast asleep.

***

Kjartan wasn’t sure how much time had passed, but eventually, he stirred, opening his eyes a bit as he rolled over, but what he saw made him freeze, every muscle coiled tight.

There was someone else in the tent, and Carson and Finn were nowhere to be seen. 

He couldn’t quite make out the figure in the darkness, but he was fairly certain it was a woman. The slender curve of her shoulders, and the way her hair fell down her back… Wait a second. Red hair.

“Eylin?” He whispered, confused. The figure turned her head toward him, and in the moonlight he could just make out part of her profile.

“You’re supposed to be sleeping.” She replied quietly, but her tone lacked bite.

“I was.” He chuckled. “What are you doing here?” 

Her shoulders lifted in what he assumed was a shrug.

“I was the one to relieve their watch.” She said it so matter-of-factly, as though that explained everything.

He hummed thoughtfully, and they fell into silence for a long while. 

“Do you believe us?” He asked quietly. 

She didn’t respond for a long time. Long enough that he wondered if she’d even heard him. The rain began to let up, lightening to just a drizzle.

“I believe that you believe it.” She finally whispered, her voice barely reaching him in the stillness of the night. 

“That’s better than nothing, I suppose.” He returned dryly. Her head turned sharply toward him.

“No. It’s not. Because if what you believe is the truth, then we are all in line for something we’re not ready for. Of everything you’ve said today, one thing I’ve agreed with. If the Varakai attack again, we will not win this time.”

“Not alone.” He countered. “Not separated.” He pursed his lips, reaching for a stick on the ground, snapping it in half. “Alone, we are weak.” He set the pieces side by side, snapping them in half again so there were now four sticks. Then he put those together and tried to break them, and they wouldn’t break. “Together, we are unbreakable.” He looked up at her, trying to see her eyes in the darkness. “This is why I came here. But now…” He sighed, shaking his head. “Now everything changes. Whether you believe us or not, whether you help me or not… Somebody is doing this, and they’re laying the blame at my feet. The only reason I can think of for it is that someone wants this alliance to die before it’s ever born. And the only people who would seek such a thing are those whom an alliance would hurt the most.”

She let out a huff. “But how would the Varakai even know such things? The plans of a Northern chieftain don’t often reach the Mordren Mountains unaided.”

His jaw clenched. He couldn’t deny it.

“How certain are you that it isn't just a band of Northern renegades displaying rebellion. You’re quite young for a chieftain, surely you’ve considered the possibility of backlash.”

“I have.” He growled. “The way you described your attackers… By all accounts they do sound like Northmen. But the Syreeta was the first ship to leave harbor in over a month's time. No vessel could have departed after us and reached Helgryn Isle a full day earlier, all the while escaping our notice.”

“Are you absolutely certain about that? They could have slipped by you in the night.”

He sighed. “You’ve never been on a ship, have you?”

She didn’t reply, so he continued.

“Yes, generally, it is possible for a ship to slip by another ship in the night and be long gone by morning. But when both ships are following exactly the same route, especially on such a short journey, sailing by wind alone makes it extremely difficult to take a detour wide enough to not be seen. They couldn’t have started so far behind us that we didn’t see them the night before and advanced so far ahead that we couldn’t see them the next morning either and still only arrive less than a full day ahead of us. It’s just not possible.”

“Hm.” She turned away. 

He pursed his lips as they fell into silence, his fingers finding the necklace he wore. Playing with it had become a nervous habit of his.

“What is that?” Her voice caught him off guard.

“What is what?” 

“That.” She pointed at his hand. They must be nearing morning because the darkness didn’t seem quite so dark anymore. He could see the curiosity in her expression, despite her attempts to remain nonchalant.

“My family crest.” He answered, reaching up to take the necklace off. He handed it to her and she accepted it gingerly, inspecting it through the low lighting.

“It’s very intricate.” She remarked, tracing the design with her fingertips.

“I suppose it is, at that. About every few generations or so new elements are added to it, but the raven and sword has always been the focal point. The Ironfist family has borne the symbol for centuries. This specific version is as old as my grandfather.”

She handed it back to him. “Good for you.”

He smirked. “You’re not easy to win over are you?”

She side-eyed him in reply, and he shook his head. He found himself doing that a lot when she was around.

“Can I show you something?”

She stiffened slightly. “Depends on what it is.”

“I want to show you what we found shortly before you met us. The reason we’re so perplexed.”

She frowned. “You mean that mark you were staring at?” 

He nodded. “Did you get a good look at it?” 

She shook her head.

“We can make it there and back before the others wake up.” He offered. She was clearly intrigued, he could tell by how her posture had changed.

She stood up silently. “Fine. But I better not regret this.”

He smiled wryly.

“Yes Ma’am.”

Chapter 8.

Once Eylin exited the lean-to, she stepped back, allowing Ironfist to lead the way, but she still kept her hand resting on the dagger in her belt. 

Rays of dawn’s light were scattered throughout the sky, but it was yet early enough that their breaths were forming little puffs of fog. 

They remained silent as they made their way through the twilit camp, but Ironfist halted just as they made it to the edge of the clearing.

“Erm…” He gestured from Eylin to the trees. “How do we get back to the village?”

Ohhh. Right. She’d forgotten about the blindfolds.

With a deep sigh, she shook her head. “Come on.” She muttered, internally berating herself for the slip-up.

Upon reaching the remains of the village, she slowed to be behind him again and he took the hint, getting his bearings quickly and taking her to the village square, where she’d first come upon them. 

The sun was just peeking up from the horizon, shining just enough light across the sea for her to see the mark he pointed to.

“This is it.” He murmured, stepping aside so she could see.

“It looks just like your necklace.” She whispered, gently fingering the blackened marks. This enlarged version, even though much simpler in design, was still far more impressive. Far more… Real. It was just the raven perched on the handle of the sword, a regal, brutal attitude about it. The side flourishes that resided in the necklace were nowhere to be seen on this design, nor were the fine details, such as the raven’s eyes or talons. 

“Exactly.” He growled. “Whoever is doing this clearly wants to sabotage my reputation. If they can spread enough rumors that Kjartan Ironfist was responsible for such a massacre as this, then nobody in their right mind would align with me.”

Eylin pursed her lips, looking up at him. “What are the chances it’s not the Varakai? It could be rebel pirates looking to cause a panic. I’ve seen it happen before.”

He shook his head. 

“If that was the case, they’d have no need to frame me. A panic is a panic no matter who causes it.” 

“I suppose.” Eylin turned her gaze to the sea, as if it held the answers they sought. She rubbed her injured arm absently, grateful she had no further need of a bandage. Such things tended to be quite bothersome.

Suddenly they heard something. Eylin looked down and saw a pebble scattering across the cobblestone toward them as if it had been kicked by accident.

She drew her dagger and noticed Ironfist looking around frantically for a weapon. He ended up settling on a board that was somehow still intact and tested its weight.

They heard the sound of footsteps running and Finn popped out from behind a building.

Eylin gave a frustrated growl as she resheathed her dagger.

“Take better care, lad!” She huffed as he came up to them.

“It’s father!” He panted, coming to a stop. “Eero tried to attack the Northmen in their sleep and father caught him. They’ve challenged each other to a duel. You must come quickly, everyone thinks he’s kidnapped you.” He gestured wildly in Ironfist’s direction.

“How did you know where to find us?” Ironfist’s eyes narrowed.

A flush crept up Finn’s neck and he didn’t respond.

“Answer him, boy.” Eylin said lowly.

“I heard the two of you talking this morning. I couldn’t sleep, so I stayed near the tent just in case. I drifted off soon after you left.” 

Eylin’s jaw clenched. “So Eero slipped right past you?”

Finn glared down at her. “Don’t you start, you were the one who was supposed to be on watch.” He turned, heading back up the hill. “Now come! Or father will have both our hides.”

***

As the three ran back through the forest, Kjartan’s mind raced even faster. He kept finding himself staring at Eylin's arm. Just yesterday, she’d had a bandage that was continually soaked red and she could barely move her arm. Today it merely looked a little sore. He couldn’t wrap his mind around it.

And a duel? The man the boy spoke of relied on a staff to walk when he’d met him. 

When they finally breached the treeline and entered the clearing, Kjartan nearly stopped breathing. 

Everyone was clustered at the center of camp, circling around the two men. The tension was so thick Kjartan could cut it with his sword.

If he had one. 

He glanced nervously at the tent where their weapons had been deposited the night before, calculating the odds of getting them back anytime soon. They were little to nothing.

They shoved their way through the crowd until they were standing in front.

“Uncle! What is the meaning of this?” Eylin called out. 

The man turned to look at her, and Kjartan could scarcely believe this fierce warrior was the old man he had met last night. 

As Kalman walked toward her, all evidence of his former limp was gone, and his expression radiated rage.

“Where were you?” He bellowed. She straightened, glaring up at him.

“The Northman wanted to show me something that might lend evidence to his claims. I found it worth investigating.”

He glared down at her but Kjartan cued in on something else. That wasn’t anger in his eyes, not entirely. He’d been worried. “We will speak of this later. I have other problems just now.” He glanced back to the center of the circle and to a man Kjartan hadn’t seen before.

That must be Eero. Kjartan craned his neck, looking for Alvis or Bjorn, but only the faces of the islanders filled his vision. He hoped they’d been restrained somewhere as soon as the fight broke out. Otherwise… He shook his head. He wouldn’t go there, not now.

“Kalman, son of Roark.” Eero’s voice boomed. Kalman’s shoulders tensed as he turned to face him. He was wearing brown trousers and a green tunic, which he began unbuttoning as he spoke, underneath which he had on a white linen shirt. “What do you plan to do with these raiders who reside in our camp?” A murmur of surprise ran through the crowd as all who had not yet seen the Northmen questioned their neighbor curiously and some began shouting. Eero passed his tunic to a woman in the crowd who placed it on the little girl beside her. The woman smiled up at him, but Kjartan thought it looked more cunning than warm.

“Silence, my brethren.” Eero raised a hand and the crowd quieted. Kjartan saw a muscle tick on Kalman’s forehead as his jaw tightened. 

“I plan to judge them fairly.”

“Fairly?” Eero shouted. “Where was fair when their people leveled our village? Where was fair when they ransacked our home? Where was fair when the blood of our fathers, brothers, sisters, and mothers was spilt? They do not deserve fair, Kalman. They deserve death!” A roar of approval rang from the crowd and Kjartan shifted uncomfortably as Eylin clearly became angrier.

“I decide who deserves what, Eero. You would do well to remember this.” Kalman replied, drawing his sword. 

“If you will not give our dead the justice they deserve…” Eero advanced menacingly, pulling an axe from a nearby stump of wood. “Then you are unfit to lead the living.”

Silence fell. Kjartan saw the color drain from Eylin’s face and it looked as though the breath left her body.

He frowned.

Kalman took a step forward, casting a long slow look at the people around him. His gaze lingered on Eylin and his sons the longest. 

“So be it.” His words were spoken quietly but they carried across the meadow as if he’d shouted them. 

He advanced slowly, and the two men squared off. 

Kjarten leaned in close to Eylin. “What’s the matter with everyone?”

She met his eyes slowly, and there was a glassy look to them. “Eero has challenged my uncle’s right to lead. This means a fight to the death.” 

His eyes widened and he glanced back to the men right as Eero made the first move.

***

Eylin froze. She could hardly breathe as she watched the scene unfolding before her. Eero swung his axe. Kalman dodged it and tried to find an opening of his own, but Eero was too quick, despite his age. 

She looked over at Skadi who was holding Tyra protectively. That tunic was too big for Tyra’s small frame and it made Eylin angrier than she cared to admit to see her wearing it. She shouldn’t have to see this. Skadi should have taken her far away the moment this started. 

Her fury helped her come back down to earth a little bit and she forced herself to watch the match, ignoring Ironfist’s questions. The man was worse than a bothersome child.

Finally, he quieted, but she honestly hardly noticed. 

Kalman lunged, swiping his sword where Eero’s neck should have been but he stepped back just in time. The blade still nicked him though, causing a small stream of blood to trickle down his neck. 

The crowd was beginning to cheer for each man in turn as the fight went on, regardless of politics or preference. They were getting caught up in the sport of it, and it made her blood boil. 

Suddenly, Eero tripped over a divot in the ground, falling forward and Kalman took advantage of his position, reaching his sword down and using the tip of it to catch on the axe blade, tossing it aside as he advanced.

He raised his sword, ready to plunge it through Eero’s heart, but the older man rolled away, retrieving his axe and bringing it down upon Kalman in a swing he tried to block but it still threw him off balance. 

“You’re getting soft in your old age, Eero.” Kalman taunted, unable to contain his grin as he scrambled out of the axe’s reach. “Forfeit, man. I do not wish to kill you.”

Eero growled, lunging without hardly aiming. “Traitor!”

The people went wild, cheers and boos competing to drown each other out. 

Eylin could sense Ironfist’s restlessness, noticed how his gaze never lingered in one place too long. 

***

Kjartan growled in frustration as tension rose. Where were his men? Eero was becoming uncoordinated, which was arguably even more dangerous. If this ended in his favor, every survivor in this meadow would be trying to kill them. 

He backed up, slipping through the crowd, which was far too engrossed with the spectacle to notice him. He jogged to the edge of camp, looking for the lean-to they’d slept in the night before. He opened the tentflap, finding his men tied to the tree trunk.

“Captain! Where have you been?” Bjorn grumbled as Kajrtan knelt to unfasten their bindings. 

“Places.” He muttered dryly as the last of the ropes fell away. “We need to leave. Now.”

“You’re not going anywhere.” Carson stood at the doorway of the lean-to, sword drawn, an expression of utter misery on his face. “If we have to see this through, so do you.”

“He’s right.” Alvis murmured. “We caused this. It would be dishonorable to leave now. We have to help.”

Kjartan scoffed. “Are you mad? If Eero wins this fight, we’re dead men. We need our weapons.”

Carson’s jaw clenched. “Now that I can help you with. Just promise me you’ll stay.” 

Kjartan glared at the young man for a long moment, and sighed. “Very well. As long as you give us your word you’ll be on our side should this end the way I think it will.”

“I will fight for my father’s cause.” He replied.

Kjartan gave a sharp nod. That was good enough. “Then lead the way.”

***

Eylin didn’t know where Ironfist had gone, nor did she care. He was the last of anyone’s worries now. Her uncle was about to die. 

***

Eero swung his axe at Kalman’s legs, the long handle knocking his feet out from under him and he fell to the ground. Every muscle in Kjartan’s body tensed as he drew his sword. Nobody paid any heed.

Eero stepped on Kalman’s sword arm, immobilizing him.

“My turn.” He sneered as he raised his axe one last time. 

***

Eylin’s throat tightened, her fingers finding her dagger uselessly. There was nothing she could do. To join the fight would be to forfeit her own life. 

Though… It likely would be forfeit anyway with Eero in charge. She’d have to leave. 

But then Eero’s swing was blocked by another man’s sword.

Ironfist. 

She gasped when he shoved the older man backwards, using his free hand to tear the axe from his grip while he still had the element of surprise, knocking Eero down to the ground, and planting his foot on the man’s chest to hold him there.

“Not today.” His quiet words carried across the meadow as the stunned crowd looked on, once more struck dumb.

Eylin took a hesitant step forward as Kalman rose slowly, his eyes narrowing to slits. 

“This is not your fight. Back away.” 

The Northman glanced back at him, his expression morphing from confusion to sheer frustration. “Has not enough blood been spilt? Look around you! Do you people truly thirst for more?”

Kalman tensed, waiting for the people’s response. 

***

Kjartan glanced down at the man beneath him. 

The green eyes that glared up into his were full of hate, but… he noticed something more. It looked almost like hurt. 

“Finish it. Show them what you are, you dog!” He growled.

For a long moment, Kjartan merely stared. Finally, he stepped away, bending down to collect the scattered weapons. He passed the axe to Eylin, and presented Kalman with his sword, his head bowed respectfully.

“You have fought with honor this day. Let this be the end of it.” Kjartan turned to glance back at Eero. “Back down now. Should you pick a second fight, you will not win it.”

The man stood up slowly, rising to his full height. “Mark my words, Kalman, son of Roark. This is not finished. We will meet like this again, and next time you won’t have your Northman pet to save you.” He spat.

With that, he retreated to the woman’s side and Kjartan watched the couple hobble to their tent.

The next thing the chief of the Northern tribes knew was a sharp pain on the back of his head and he was down.