Chapter Seventeen Elvine #3
Kahlvik ordered the rowers to steady stroke as they rounded the headland.
Hearing a thud, Elvine looked down to see a barrel scraping along the Ohlnir’s hull.
Nearby, shattered planking created a debris field a hundred paces long.
Up ahead, the Chainbreaker bobbed on the gentle swell, oars raised.
Her crew were crowded along the starboard rail, many pointing at something on shore, others laughing with ugly relish.
The object of their interest was easy to find: a large man standing amid jagged rocks littered with yet more debris.
As Elvine looked closer, she saw bodies among the flotsam.
Some lay at the water’s edge, others had been jammed into narrow gaps between the rocks, limbs twisted at impossible angles.
All possessed the stillness that came only with death.
By the time Kahlvik ordered the oars stilled, they had drawn close enough to make out the red tattoos adorning the stranded figure’s features.
They swept back from his forehead, over his shaven pate and down his bare, thickly muscled shoulders and chest. He bore a sword in each hand and regarded his tormentors aboard the Chainbreaker with a bright, inviting smile.
For a ship filled with former slaves, he was an irresistible target.
Soon, bows appeared in the hands of several sailors.
The first arrow as poorly aimed, striking the rocks several yards short of its target who let out a scornful laugh and clanged his swords together.
His booming voice carried his taunt easily across the distance: “You filthy swine can surely do better!”
While Elvine had no desire to watch a helpless and stranded soul perish, she also felt scant urge to intervene.
The nightmare of Olversahl and all the cruelty and havoc wrought by this man’s people left little room in her heart for pity.
Yet, as another of Veltta’s crew raised his bow, a hard insistent thrum came from the spear.
Definitely useful, the spirit advised. And he presents no threat.
The only death this man hungers for is his own.
“Stop!” Elvine called out to the other ship, brandishing the spear for emphasis. “As Spear Maiden, I claim this prisoner!”
The uniformly aggrieved and angry stares she received in response reminded her that the crew of the Chainbreaker were not Ascarlian.
They had heard nothing of the Spear Maiden until after the Nihlvarians had been vanquished at Olversahl and their loyalty, such as it was, they owed to Queen Thera, the breaker of their chains.
For a prolonged moment, Elvine was sure they would simply ignore her.
She even saw a few begin to draw their bows.
Then the hard snap of Veltta’s voice cut through the silence.
“You heard her!” The slender woman moved along the rail, shoving at her crew. “Bows down. Back to your oars. Anyone who doesn’t like it, face me on deck and bring your knife.”
Either due to fear or respect, the former slaves all did as she bid, though not without casting many a resentful glare in Elvine’s direction.
“You want him!” Veltta called across to the Ohlnir, pointing to the hulking Nihlvarian on shore. “You go and get the fecker!”
She wanted to go alone, but Colvyn’s refusal was so stubborn she consented to bringing him along.
Handling the boat was easier with two in any case.
They spent an hour or more unsuccessfully attempting to find a place where the craft could be secured among the rocks.
Eventually, Colvyn spotted a constricted stretch of single beach where they were able to ground the boat and scramble ashore.
By then, the sun was fading from the sky.
Drawing his sword, Colvyn insisted on leading the way as they clambered over the rocks.
The Nihlvarian was easy to find. He sat hunched beside a fire in the lee of a tall boulder, the dim glow playing over sombre features he didn’t deign to turn in their direction.
His twin swords sat before him within easy reach.
Their edges were keen but the blades bore numerous scratches and the bone handles showed the wear of extensive use.
The scarlet tattoos covering his muscular back were interrupted in places where the flesh had been scarred.
Despite this, Elvine estimated this man’s age as only a few years in advance of her own.
“Have you a name?” Elvine asked, she and Colvyn halting at the edge of the firelight.
At first she thought he wouldn’t answer, maintaining a rigid observance of his meagre fire, but then he grunted an answer. “Varnyr.” Angling his head, he tracked a shrewd eye over both of them. “And I know yours, Spear Maiden. Heard your queen speak it often enough these past weeks.”
“She is not my queen,” Elvine corrected. Unslinging the satchel she had carried from the boat, she tossed it to his side. “I thought you might be hungry.”
“Why give a dead man a meal?” he asked.
“You seem very much alive to me.” Elvine moved to the far side of the fire and sat down.
Colvyn took up position to the Nihlvarian’s rear, one hand gripping his sword.
“It’s only stockfish, I’m afraid,” Elvine told the Nihlvarian.
“We obtained it in Sehlum Hardta. That was the name of the settlement you raided some days ago, in case you were unaware.”
He showed a wall of white teeth in a smile. “And they said they had nothing to spare.”
“They had little enough, but they shared it with us. It’s the way with good-hearted people.”
Hearing the judgement in her voice, his smile dimmed. “What do you know of my heart?” he asked, then sighed, flicking a hand in dismissal. “It matters not. Cut it out and have a good look when you’re done.”
Elvine saw no aura around this man but didn’t require such insight to confirm the spirit’s judgement. A doleful acceptance of defeat was writ large in the Nihlvarian’s face and bearing. Also in the way he made no effort to reach for his swords or the satchel. Hungry for death.
“One of Lore’s ships met its end here,” Elvine said. “Not the largest else there would be more bodies and wreckage. Were you its captain?”
“No. That was Harlfur. You’ll find him over there somewhere.
” He nodded to the shadowed rocks to his right.
“I’d’ve built him a pyre but for the fact I could never stand the sight of the bastard.
He was a fair hand at sea, though, I’ll give him that.
But even he couldn’t keep a battered wreck afloat in a storm. ”
“Did Lore make no effort to rescue you?”
“I doubt she even knew of our fate, or that she’d care if she did. A woman of singular mind, that one. If Tuhlvyr Vahlak hadn’t made me swear an oath in Ulthnir’s name to stay at her side…” He trailed off, lowering his head with a despairing laugh. “Another thing that doesn’t matter now.”