Chapter 53 #3
Raye’s heartbeat raced faster as she watched, and soon she was hollering and cheering along with Svein beside her, praising Kalfr and Gaelfr’s every victory — against Egil, then Othan, then a series of four visiting Bautul from the mountain.
Eyolf and Iyolf ended up giving Kalfr and Gaelfr some difficulty, as they had a similar fighting style, their identical curved swords almost blending into one — but in the end, they couldn’t overcome the sheer power of Gaelfr’s axe, and finally it was Eyolf who called defeat, dragging a growling Iyolf away.
Skirvir presented a significant challenge too, and if not for his wounded leg, his gigantic axe might have taken out Gaelfr, at least — but a firm kick from Kalfr to Skirvir’s bad leg sent him toppling entirely, even as Kalfr called out a laughing apology, and waved Rurik over to see him.
In the end, Kalfr and Gaelfr ended up alone in the ring with Joarr and the huge captain Silfast, who had turned out to be a brutal and utterly fearless fighter, too.
Together, he and Joarr had taken out the impressive team of Olarr and Aulis, but Silfast then immediately turned on Joarr himself.
And though Joarr put up a spectacular fight, kicking and flipping away from Silfast’s axe-swings with astonishing ease, it was clear he was also putting on a show, especially for the shrieking laughing children — and finally Silfast’s axe clipped his shoulder and sent him flying into a nearby bush, where he soon popped up grinning and tossing berries into his mouth, much to the children’s glee.
Silfast didn’t waste a breath before spinning and charging for Gaelfr next, striking their wooden axes together with a deafening crack.
And though Gaelfr held his ground, Silfast kicked straight for Kalfr, too, shoving him out from beneath Gaelfr’s cover, and almost into Silfast’s axe.
Forcing Kalfr to scramble back to Gaelfr again, and Raye could feel their focus rising as they circled Silfast together, their bodies moving almost as a single unit.
Gaelfr was clearly working to draw Silfast’s attention, giving Kalfr opportunities to strike, but Silfast obviously knew to expect this, and kept fighting both of them at once, trying to force them apart.
Raye’s throat was sore with hollering now, because Gaelfr was drenched in sweat, his movements slower and heavier than before, and Kalfr was gasping for air too, pressing his back to Gaelfr’s heaving chest. Until they exchanged a brief glance, Kalfr’s hand squeezing at Gaelfr’s thigh — and Gaelfr’s axe flew sideways, drawing Silfast’s eye as it wheeled through the air, while Kalfr and Gaelfr both hurled themselves at Silfast at once, tackling him to the ground in a flurry of grunts and kicks and curses.
And when the movement settled again, Gaelfr had Silfast in a tight headlock, and a panting, wryly smiling Kalfr had his wooden sword shoved tight to Silfast’s throat.
The ring erupted in shouts and stomps and cheers, with everyone rushing forward at once — and Raye threw herself into Kalfr’s waiting arms together with Svein, not caring if he was covered with sweat and mud all over.
“You were spectacular!” she exclaimed, breathless and grinning.
“Both of you. How the hell did you learn to do that?”
Kalfr shrugged and smiled sheepishly at Gaelfr, who had thrown his arms around them all, too. “Plenty of practice, I ken,” Kalfr replied, between breaths. “And an ástvinur who is one of the greatest Bautul warriors in the realm, ach, Gael?”
Gaelfr beamed back toward him, hooking his arm roughly around his neck. “Do not forget your own skill and cleverness, ástin mín. And the depth of our shared bond, also.”
Beside them, Silfast nodded as he grunted and rose to his feet, with Stella now tucked beneath his huge arm. “We are all out of fettle when it comes to fighting ástvinir, I ken,” he said. “This was a good showing, brothers.”
This led to more rounds of stomping and cheering, especially when Eyolf and Iyolf brought out a barrel of ale, and begun handing out mugs. And soon the air was full of voices and laughter, and the succulent scents of Grum’s supper wafting from the nearby garden, too.
It was a lovely way to spend an evening, chatting and laughing with their guests, watching the children run and play together, and dancing to Othan’s cheerful drumbeat, now deepened by the addition of Magni, a genial drummer from the mountain.
And of course, Grum’s meal of slow-roasted venison and tubers was wonderful, and one of the best things Raye had ever eaten in her life.
By the end of it, they were all smiling and exhausted, and Raye ended up taking a half-asleep Svein to bed while Kalfr and Gaelfr said farewell to their guests.
And when Raye headed back upstairs, a yawning Egil told her that Kalfr and Gaelfr were still outside, so she slipped out the front door, and into the cool night air.
It was a beautiful evening, with an almost-full moon in the darkening sky above them, and Kalfr and Gaelfr were indeed still outside, both still facing west, toward where their guests who’d preferred to travel above ground had gone.
However, no one else was now in sight, and Kalfr and Gaelfr were just talking together, something easy and companionable about how they’d never imagined Silfast and Joarr being friends, enough for Joarr to throw over a whole match for Silfast like that.
Gaelfr had his arm around Kalfr’s shoulder, chuckling as Kalfr’s head tipped back into a laugh — and for an instant, the sight stuttered around Raye, overlapping with the memory of that long-ago night in her garden.
How she’d overheard Kalfr and Gaelfr together in the moonlight, just like this, and how she’d rushed out and hollered at them, and thrown them out of her life forever.
But tonight, she only felt warmth, and indulgence, and a strange, startling fondness, even as Gaelfr’s head lowered into Kalfr’s throat, his breath inhaling deep.
And Kalfr welcomed it, tilting his head away, silently inviting Gaelfr to come closer.
An offer that Gaelfr instantly accepted, nuzzling his face deeper into Kalfr’s skin, into the tendrils of messy black curls escaping his braid, while his hand slipped down to the front of Kalfr’s trousers, gripping with familiar ease.
Even now, Raye couldn’t deny a brief, bittersweet flicker of jealousy, watching her handsome mate’s eyes fluttering closed, his tall body arching into his ástvinur’s touch.
And he let out a low moan too, ragged and hungry, and Raye knew that moan, knew that look on his face, knew how much he wanted this, how much he needed it…
And as Gaelfr gently turned Kalfr away from him, and guided him down onto his knees on the earth, Raye knew this was what would have happened next, that long-ago night.
Gaelfr had even told her the first day he’d come, hadn’t he?
I could have had him kneeling and screaming for me in your garden, watering it with our fresh seed.
Gaelfr sank to his knees behind Kalfr too, giving Raye an unbroken view of his hands brazenly loosening Kalfr’s trousers — and then his eyes angled toward Raye at the door, holding with hard, glittering intensity.
With a challenge. Because… right. Gaelfr knew she was there.
Maybe they both knew she was there. Maybe they were also thinking of that long-ago night, too, waiting for her to retaliate, to destroy them.
And no matter who had been right or wrong back then, this time, Raye wanted to do it differently. This time, she wanted to trust.
So with a deep breath, a silent prayer to the goddess, she stepped forward, toward Kalfr and Gaelfr in the moonlight.
Walking as steady as she could, keeping her head high, her eyes calm.
While both of them watched her come, Kalfr’s eyes still speaking of hunger, and longing, but also of hesitation. Of… fear.
And with another breath, another silent prayer, Raye slipped to her knees on the mossy ground before Kalfr, and smiled up at his startled blinking eyes.
“I’m glad to see you enjoying such pleasure with your ástvinur, voreur,” she murmured, as she settled her hand to his warm chest. “Is there anything I could offer you, alongside him?”
Kalfr’s groan was low and unfeigned, his nostrils flaring, his eyes shifting. Surely thinking, just as Raye was, about how this was the exact opposite of what she’d done that long-ago night, in every possible way. Coming to him. Touching him. Trusting him.
But Raye’s smile felt painfully genuine now, wavering with affection, with hunger, with regret. “Please, voreur,” she murmured. “Will you honour me? Command me?”
Kalfr’s eyes shifted again, while behind him, Gaelfr’s gaze held to Raye’s, glinting with distinct approval, and with triumph. Knowing exactly what she was doing, and joining her alongside it. Helping her revisit that long-ago night, and remake it, together.
“Ach, mark this, ástin mín,” Gaelfr breathed, low in Kalfr’s ear. “Once again, your pretty mate is greedy, and jealous. So jealous, she cannot bear you taking your due without her. What shall we do with her?”
But he was pleased, so pleased, and Kalfr knew it, too. And oh, the way the light and the relief shot through his eyes, bright with hunger and longing and power. As if what he would say next would change everything, forever…
“There is naught else to do, Gael,” he murmured. “We must now take her, and make her ours. Together.”