Chapter Twenty-Two Elvine
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Elvine
Varnyr’s scream dwindled into choking gasp after a long, excruciating interval in which it seemed the spear’s iron head had somehow become fixed to his bared chest. She heard more than just pain in that scream, its grating quality told of as much despair as agony.
This man, if his tale could be believed, had lost more than the hope of life.
Lore’s betrayal and Vahlak’s death had also stripped away all he once held true.
Elvine felt a pulse of satisfaction from the spear as it separated from the Nihlvarian, allowing Varnyr to collapse.
Every word he said was truth, the spirit advised.
And he harbours a deep desire for vengeance against Lore.
It conflicted with his oath. Now it does not.
As I said: he will be useful and his death a waste.
Kneeling at Varnyr’s side, Elvine watched him huddle and shiver until eventually slumping into slumber. Pressing a hand to his forehead, she found it so chilled it almost pained her fingers. “He’s freezing,” she told Colvyn. “Fetch an oilskin from the boat.”
“I’m not leaving you alone with him…”
“I’ve a feeling he’ll sleep for some time,” she assured him, adding an insistent scowl when he lingered.
Grimacing, Colvyn sheathed his sword and stomped off towards the shingle beach where they had moored their boat.
When he returned with the oilskin Elvine used it to cover Varnyr’s sleeping form.
As she predicted, he showed no signs of waking and soon the fire began to dwindle, forcing them to scavenge wood from the wreckage littering the rocks.
“That thing told you to spare him, I suppose,” Colvyn said, jerking his chin at the spear as they huddled together in the lee of a large boulder.
“It did.” Elvine clenched her teeth against a chatter. “She thinks he may be useful.”
“You know if he comes back to the ship with us, they’re likely to kill him on the spot.”
“I know they’ll respect the Spear Maiden’s will, even if they don’t like it.”
Colvyn’s reply came in softly spoken Ishtan. “‘And so did Gahil, poor once more and soon likely to perish, resolve to never again put faith in a seer’s promise.’”
Naturally, she recognised a quote from one of the Trials of Gahil Din Fahrik.
The tale of the seer’s promise related how legendary adventurer Gahil, reduced to poverty after yet another failed enterprise and desperate to restore his fortunes, had spent his few remaining coins on a marketplace seer.
Unusually, the seer spoke no cryptic riddles.
Instead providing clear and precise directions to an island cave where a fabled pirate’s treasure awaited discovery.
Persuading a down-at-heel merchant crew to sail to the island, they rejoiced at the riches they found.
Piling it all onto their aged vessel, they sailed away only to sink under the weight of so much gold.
The tale ended with Gahil clinging to wreckage and reflecting on the folly of trusting a seer.
“It’s not the same,” Elvine said. “The spear makes no promises. It offers only guidance. And I am not seeking treasure.”
“Revenge is its own sort of treasure, is it not? Our father was often given to reflecting on its vacuity. ‘You think it’s going to quell that fire of bitterness and regret inside you,’ he said. ‘But it only ever lights more fires.’”
“What would you have me do? Just let her sail away and fulfil her mad design? I don’t know what she’s searching for but I know it amounts to the only thing she craves, and that is power.”
Colvyn shifted beside her, Elvine catching the dire look he afforded the spear resting against her shoulder. “Our father also had much to say about the nature of power. And Lore is not the only one with it within her grasp.”
Elvine lowered her gaze and said no more. Neither did Colvyn and they spent the hours until sunrise dozing fitfully as the last embers of the fire guttered out. She woke to the scent of smoke in her nostrils and Varnyr’s groan as he came awake.
“I…” the Nihlvarian rasped, Elvine looking down to find him staring at the spear in both terror and wonder. “I thought it… all a lie,” he whispered. “A spear crafted by the gods themselves.” Blinking, he turned his stare on Elvine. “You truly are the Spear Maiden, blessed by the Altvar.”
“What did it show you?” Elvine asked.
“Everything…” He reached out to the spear then hesitated and withdrew his hand.
“My life. From boyhood to the Vortigurn’s Fist, this misbegotten war, Vahlak and his vile sister, and this moment.
But it was… different. Seen not through my eyes, as if I was made a witness to my own story.
And it was not as I remembered. I saw only truth, shorn of all prideful deceit…
” He trailed off, attempting to sit up. Elvine grasped his forearm and did her best to help but it felt rather like hauling on a tree.
As he came upright, he took her hand, the grip firm but not painful.
“It also showed me my path,” he said, eyes lit with earnest intensity.
“I have done many things, Spear Maiden. Things I thought worthy and right. But those were lies and now I know myself a murderer in an unjust cause. But I can atone. The spear showed me how.”
He shuffled onto his knees, keeping hold of her hand. “Will you accept my oath? As I once swore to Vahlak, now I will swear to you—”
“I don’t want your oath,” Elvine cut in.
She flexed her fingers until he consented to release her hand.
“But you may travel with me if it is your wish. In return you will relate to me every word you heard from Lore’s mouth, especially in regards to The Map of Veils and her search for the Veyinmihr. ”
Varnyr bowed his head. “All I have is yours, Spear Maiden.”
“And don’t call me that,” she snapped. “My name is Elvine. Now get up, and fetch your swords. You’ll have need of them before this voyage is done.”
As was to be expected, the crew of the Ohlnir proved less than welcoming when a hulking Nihlvarian warrior stepped onto their deck.
Elvine was confronted by many faces drawn in dark intent, leaving off chores to heft weapons.
Stepping in front of Varnyr, she planted the butt of the spear onto the boards and addressed them in her best rendition of the Spear Maiden’s voice: “This man has sworn himself to me and enjoys my protection. No harm shall be done to him by my order.”
She saw many glances exchanged before they redirected their attention to Kahlvik.
Their captain’s disdain for Varnyr’s presence was only marginally less palpable, but his loyalty to the queen’s commands won out over instinctive prejudice.
The seafarer’s lip curled in disgust as he barked at his crew to return to their tasks and be quick about it.
“He has scores to settle with Lore,” Elvine explained to Kahlvik in a low murmur. “And knows much about her plans.”
“Then best keep him close to your side,” the Vellihr replied, casting a flinty eye over the Nihlvarian. “If you wake to find him with his throat cut one morning, I’ll stand no punishment to whoever wielded the knife.”
Elvine’s heated retort died on her tongue.
It was unfair to begrudge this crew their enmity for so bloodstained an enemy, even if the current object of their ire was guilty of no atrocity.
She did note that there was one aboard who exhibited no aggression towards Varnyr.
Margnus Gruinskard occupied his habitual place at the prow, regarding Elvine’s companion with evident interest but no sign of enmity.
So, when Elvine led Varnyr to the lower deck and bade him sit in her corner, it was no surprise that the old man followed.
“I must hear what he has to say,” Gruinskard stated in response to Elvine’s pointed glare.
Dragging a crate closer, the former Tielwald let out a hefty groan and sat.
“Was he wearing anything else when you found him?” he asked, peering closer at Varnyr’s intricately tattooed flesh. “A small item of jewellery, perhaps?”
“If you mean one of the silver knots carried by the Volkrath,” Elvine said. “No, he was not.”
“Lore could still have deliberately left him in our path. A treacherous prize to tempt your womanly heart.”
Varnyr let out an ominous rumble, his impressive frame flexing as he leaned forward to fix Gruinskard with a menacing eye. “I don’t like this one’s words,” the Nihlvarian said. “They seem insulting to my ear.”
“Best get used to it,” Colvyn muttered.
“He is… important,” Elvine explained to Varnyr, placing a hand on his arm to ease him back. “He needs clothing,” she told her brother. “Find him something, will you?”
Colvyn nodded and started towards his bunk, then paused. “You should know that it was not my sister who killed your commander,” he said to Varnyr. “But me. Because he tried to kill her. Should you do the same…”
The Nihlvarian broke in with a laugh that easily filled the lower deck.
“Then I will have forsaken my oath and forfeited my life, little man,” he informed Colvyn.
“And you would be doing me a favour. As for Vahlak, at least he had the comfort of dying in battle, though I find it hard to credit he would ever do harm to the Spear Maiden.”
“She lay at his mercy, his blade at her throat…”
“Colvyn,” Elvine said. Frowning, her brother retreated into the gloom. “I need to know what Lore plans to do,” she said, turning back to Varnyr. “Where is she going? What is she looking for?”
“Something she wants. Something she claims the Vortigurn commanded her to find, though I could never credit any word that issued from her mouth as truth. As for what it is, I heard only mutterings between her and that dog Ilvar. She spoke of a cavern and, when he voiced his fears that this might be a fool’s quest, she assured him their goal resides in the north, in the realm where all is ice. ”
“The Map of Veils,” Elvine persisted. “A place called the Veyinmihr. Did you ever hear her make mention of either?”