Read The Valhalla Saga 01 - Swords of Good Men for Free Online

the vendors, north towards the centre and the longhouse where they’d had that disastrous meeting yesterday. Maybe he could walk across town and away from this strange feeling. Shake it loose. Go back down to the seaside, or out through one of the smaller side gates. Into the forest to the north. Maybe he could loiter at the market, see if the merchants had something to distract him.
    There had been so much sadness in those eyes. Like she’d known every trick he would use before he’d thought of it and felt disappointed that he thought he would need to. Like she knew he was going to try to deceive her. Like somehow he’d already let her down, and he would never be able to make it better. Like seeing him could mean nothing good. She had stung him more than he cared to admit with just one look.
    Ulfar walked on past the longhouse, head down. He would have to apologize to Geiri. He hadn’t meant to hit him, heshouldn’t have and he wouldn’t again. Could they make amends, maybe get to speak to the chieftain himself? Was there any way to salvage this, or should they just leave? The thought of leaving made him wince. He had to see her again. He had to.
    *
    ‘… How many?’
    The man in the high seat leaned forward. Thick, silver-grey hair in a plait held together with bronze wire snaked down over one shoulder. Weather-beaten skin stretched taut, thin lips and blue eyes composed the features of a slim man of average height. Still Sigurd Aegisson, chieftain of Stenvik, had stared down some big men in his time, and now he was looking down on the portly friar standing on the longhouse floor.
    ‘At least ten. There could have been more. I didn’t count.’ The friar shuddered but did not seem to notice. Wearing a simple brown robe with fresh rips, he looked likely to collapse on the spot. The left side of his face was covered with bruises and his shoes were badly torn. ‘They came at dusk. Howled like wolves, they did. Creatures out of the very pit of Hell, abominations on our Lord’s earth.’ He made the sign of the cross. ‘All with the claws of the evil one on their necks. Axes and swords and the green fire of the devil himself—’
    ‘Spare me your Christ-babble.’ Sigurd shook his hand dismissively. ‘You settled in Moster, we’ve left you alone, you’ve kept to yourselves. That’s the arrangement. And now you’re here and you’d like me to believe that there is an army coming from the north.’ The man nodded. ‘An invincible army of raiders.’ The man nodded again. ‘On ten ships.’ The man nodded again, hesitant. Sigurd continued. ‘Did they have Jotuns with them, maybe? Fire-breathing giants? Was the lead ship possibly made of nails, ripped from the fingers and toes of the dead?’
    To Sigurd’s right, Harald snickered and shot a glance at Thorvald on the left. The tall, wiry scout frowned back and motioned for the captain to be quiet. The friar standing in front of Sigurd scowled. ‘Don’t mock me with heathen stories of your barbarian end of days, Sigurd son of Aegir. I saw what I saw.’
    ‘And what would you have me do then, Friar Johann?’ Sigurd snapped. ‘Unlike you, I don’t need to move around until I find an island small enough to hold only people that agree with me. What I do need to do is keep the people of Stenvik as alive and well as I possibly can. That is why I am here’ – Sigurd slapped the solid arm of the high seat for emphasis – ‘and you’re there.’ He gestured down to Friar Johann. ‘So consider my options. What happens if you’re correct? Stenvik has maybe twelve hundred men who could hold a sword, five hundred of whom are fighters. Damn good fighters, but just five hundred. Ten ships is not much but it still means two hundred raiders, possibly three hundred.’ Sigurd motioned at Harald, who shot the friar a filthy look. ‘Do you want me to ready our twenty ships and send them to the sea searching for ghosts? For creatures from Hell?’ Sigurd gestured to