Chapter Seventeen Elvine
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Elvine
According to Kahlvik, the imminent shift in seasons made for a more comfortable northern passage than they might otherwise expect.
“The change in currents and wind creates a period of calm,” the seafarer explained when Elvine commented on the respite from her seasickness.
“Also clears the clouds so that we might enjoy the warmth of the sun.”
The blue sky above the snow-covered flanks of the passing fjords did indeed make for some spectacular views.
However, the constant breeze retained a cutting chill she knew would only bite deeper the further north they sailed.
And, regardless of the comparatively clement hours of daylight, nightfall brought a stiffened wind and clenching cold that left ice upon the Ohlnir’s rigging come the dawn.
In the weeks since departing Skar Magnol, Elvine had taken pains to accustom herself to life aboard ship.
She still suffered bouts of nausea, but less violently than before, and insisted she and her guards be allotted their fair share of chores.
So, in addition to her regular sparring sessions with Colvyn, she took her turn scraping ice from ropes and scrubbing the deck.
Such menial labour was, of course, beneath the Ohlnir’s other noteworthy passenger.
When not sitting alone in a shadowed corner of the lower deck, Margnus Gruinskard spent his time standing at the ship’s prow and casting his one-eyed gaze over the passing panoply of mountain and inlet.
He ate alone and said little to crew or captain, and almost nothing to Elvine.
She often wondered why the queen had inflicted her great-grandfather’s presence upon this expedition.
Charitable instinct raised the prospect that Thera assumed the old man’s copious knowledge and insight might prove useful.
Less charitably, Elvine suspected the queen simply wanted rid of her former Tielwald, at least for a time.
For the most part, Elvine was content to leave Gruinskard to his silent brooding.
But, as they sailed ever further north with no sign of Lore, she resolved to discover if there was truly anything he could offer this search.
“You know the tale of Veylorn as well as any, I would guess,” she said one afternoon.
It was another bright day and the sweat from her recent practice sparkled on her forehead as she moved to the port side of the Ohlnir’s prow.
The swell was kind and the beauteous maiden that formed the ship’s figurehead rose and fell in a sedate rhythm.
Half a mile ahead, the Chainbreaker ploughed a steady course.
Throughout the voyage, Captain Veltta had exhibited a constant determination to prove her vessel faster than the Ohlnir.
So far, Kahlvik appeared not to care one whit.
“I suppose,” Gruinskard replied, not breaking his reverie.
“Do you have any insight to share?” Elvine persisted. “I know of several variations to the story and wondered if you knew of more.”
“I doubt it.” When Elvine continued to linger, he spared her a short, irritated glance before consenting to elaborate.
“It’s lost many of its darker elements over the years.
The tale I heard as a boy cast Veylorn as a crazed warrior in love with the carnage of battle.
Silfaer, goddess of war, took offence at his bloody revels, feeling that they insulted those who had died in her name.
So she visited upon him the curse of guilt.
That’s what drove him to ask his endless question.
The version that lays the blame at Ihryka’s door is relatively modern. ”
“And the fabled Veyinmihr? My researches indicate there are those who went in search of it. Not in my time, or my mother’s, but perhaps in yours.”
“Fools will ever seek novel ways to orchestrate their own ends.” Feeling the weight of Elvine’s expectant gaze, he huffed and turned to face her. “Yes, I’ve known those who sailed off to find the Cavern of Truth. It was many, many years ago and none ever came back to confess their failure.”
“Perhaps they didn’t fail.”
Gruinskard shook his head. “It’s just a story, Spear Maiden. Stories are the only thing Ascarls produce in greater numbers than feuds. And, like a feud, they are often the product of idiocy and misunderstanding.”
“Lore seems to think differently.”
“But Lore—” he leaned a little closer “—is fucking mad, and so is this entire enterprise.”
“Then why did you come? I know the queen ordered it, but I also know there is little she could do if you refused. And yet, you are here.”
Gruinskard just rolled his wide shoulders in a shrug and resumed his silent vigil.
Her patience exhausted, Elvine turned to go.
“I couldn’t abide it, by the way,” he said, making her pause.
“Letting that Volkrath scribe just sail away. I paid one of the sailors on her ship a handsome sum to add one of Aldunna’s concoctions to her supper.
It was suitably painful yet lacking the obvious signs of poison.
I expect they cast her body over the side a few days from harbour. ”
When Elvine failed to espouse any outrage over Eylka’s fate, Gruinskard turned to face her once again, eyes narrowed. “You knew I would,” he said in realisation.
Elvine began to reply with a shrug of her own, then stopped when something beyond the gentle bob of the figurehead caught her eye. Smoke, a thin grey column of it rising above the headland to the east. Kahlvik’s keen-eyed lookouts had also spotted it and were calling for the Vellihr’s notice.
“Sehlum Hardta,” he said, joining them at the prow. “It’s the only large settlement between here and the ice.”
“Seems we’ve found a trace of Lore after all,” the old man grunted. “Let’s hope she’s left someone alive to talk.”
Like many settlements found on the far edges of Ascarlia, Sehlum Hardta had no protective wall.
It consisted of a few dozen cottages scattered along the shore of a crescent-shaped bay.
The only building of note was a wooden gutting shed, now rendered into a smoking pile of blackened timbers.
Many of the fishing boats resting upon the white-sand beach had suffered a similar fate.
Upon spying the approach of a warship, a group of about a hundred villagers began to gather at the water’s edge.
Elvine noted that most of the men bore axes or boat hooks and the women long-bladed knives.
She also picked out many a bandaged face and limb.
“Thought she’d have killed them all,” Gruinskard muttered. “Perhaps she’s getting soft.”
The villagers became agitated when Kahlvik unshipped a boat to take him, Elvine, and Gruinskard ashore with the Spear Maiden’s guards as protection. However, the rising chorus of challenge and warning faded when one among the crowd recognised the seafarer from his previous visits.
“Thunna,” the Vellihr greeted a wiry woman of weathered features as the boat ground onto the sand. The people at her back remained wary but offered no violence when Kahlvik waded ashore, reaching out to clasp the woman’s hands. “What has happened here?”
“Had a visit from a fucking queen, didn’t we?
” she replied, her gaze tracking over Kahlvik’s companions until it settled on Elvine.
“I’m guessing that one’s the Spear Maiden,” Thunna said before turning and flapping her arms at her fellow villagers.
“Lower those blades, y’shitheads! You know Kahlvik.
These are friends.” Turning back to the Vellihr, she jerked her head at a nearby cottage.
“Come on, then. Custom says I have to feed you fuckers. Bring that one,” she added, pointing a steady finger at Elvine. “Got message for her.”
“When word reached us about the red-face raids we started hiding stockfish in the hills. So at least we won’t starve now that bitch-queen stole most of our winter catch.
” Thunna related her tale as she ladled fish stew into the bowls placed before Elvine, Kahlvik, and Gruinskard.
The Spear Maiden’s guards were outside receiving similar fare from the other villagers.
It was a long-standing tradition that visitors must be afforded hospitality here, as long as they proved themselves friendly.
Not to do so was said to invite the worst luck when next the fishing boats took to sea.
Also, refusal was considered a grave insult.
“We are grateful for that which you spare us,” Kahlvik told Thunna. He took a large swallow of stew and frowned at Elvine in a signal to do the same.
“It grieves me to see so many of you hurt,” Elvine said after gulping down a mouthful. The stew wasn’t bad, if a little too salty for her taste.
Thunna let out a disparaging snort. “Wouldn’t have happened if we’d all fled until they’d gone, like I wanted,” she said.
“I told ’em, y’can’t fight three warships full of warriors.
Didn’t listen did they? Silly fuckers. Should thank the gods no one died, at least. Though, I doubt Old Bab’ll see another summer after that knock on the head he took.
Got trouble remembering his dog’s name, he has. And he loves that dog.”
“Queen Thera will ensure you are compensated for all losses,” Kahlvik promised.
“Just one queen now, is it?” Thunna’s salt-kissed face formed a thoughtful grimace. “Can’t be worse than the bitch who turned up here with all those red-face fuckers, I s’pose.”
“You said she had three ships,” Elvine said.
“That she did. One great big one and two smaller. I could tell they’d been in a battle but hadn’t fixed all that had been scorched and splintered. Wouldn’t surprise me if one or more sinks of its own accord.”
“Why did they burn your gutting shed?” Gruinskard asked.