Chapter Twenty-Seven Elvine #2
Kahlvik once again displayed his skill at the helm by steering the Ohlnir into a relatively placid stretch of water a mile on from the scene of battle.
With anchor dropped, they spent several hours bailing with buckets and sundry receptacles to raise the hull to a satisfactory level.
The damage to the ship was relatively light but losses among the crew were grievous.
Twelve in all had fallen, including Halkyr, taken by an arrow in the first few seconds of the encounter.
Regarding his bleached, youthful features before they consigned his corpse to the waters, Elvine recalled the scared but ultimately resolute young warrior who had turned his coat during her escape from the Verungyr.
It struck her as horribly ironic that he should die fighting his former comrades, and also tragic that Halkyr had been younger than her by two full summers.
Another crime in Lore’s ledger, she decided, covering the guardsman’s face with the hood of his cloak. Before they tipped the bodies over the side, Kahlvik struck sparks from an effigy of Ulfmaer and beseeched him to afford these brave souls an untroubled passage to the Halls of Aevnir.
“This was a desperate gamble,” Gruinskard reasoned a short while later.
Elvine had convened a council on the foredeck.
Veltta joined them via the simple expedient of mooring the Chainbreaker alongside and swinging across the gap on a rope.
The old man’s beard fluttered as he let out a puzzled grunt.
“Now Lore has but one ship and whatever remains of Ilvar’s menda.
She can’t hope to fight it out when we catch up with her. ”
It also gives the lie to her pleas for forgiveness, Elvine decided silently. The ambush had been intended to kill her, of that she had no doubt. “The spear tells me she isn’t far ahead,” she told them. “No more than half a day. If we row hard, we might even catch her by morning.”
“Assuming your lot can keep up with mine,” Veltta told Kahlvik with a grin.
“The wind is stronger now,” the seafarer said, choosing to ignore the taunt. “We should make good time. But the ice will pose more of a threat as we proceed further north. Speed at this juncture is imprudent.”
“Yet must be risked,” Elvine said, striving for the Spear Maiden’s voice but failing.
The image of Halkyr’s bloodless face loomed too large in her mind to allow for petty artifice.
“Lore’s willingness to squander so much of her strength tells me she draws close to her goal, and fears we will prevent her reaching it.
Captain Veltta, though I am loath to split our force, feel at liberty to row as fast as you please.
If you sight the enemy, attack immediately. They must be stopped at all costs.”
“And the Traitor Queen?” Veltta asked. “I’m guessing you want her alive.”
“If she can be taken. If not, then don’t fret over it.” Elvine coughed, this time managing a semblance of the Spear Maiden’s commanding tones when she added, “Enough talk. Daylight grows thin and it would be best not to meet our enemy in darkness.”
Predictably, the Chainbreaker quickly outstripped the Ohlnir once they were underway.
Both ships proceeded with sails fully unfurled and oars sweeping at steady stroke.
Elvine no longer needed the spear to show them the way as there was but one channel to follow now.
The mountains to the west diminished into a series of islets while the land to the east levelled into frosted tundra.
Soon even the islets disappeared and they sailed with an open ocean to port, choppy grey seas interrupted by the sedate drift of the occasional iceberg.
The onset of night and the sight of the bergs prompted Kahlvik to insist on shipping oars and trimming sails.
“I’d rather face another Nihlvarian monster ship than a mountain of ice,” he said.
Surveying the encroaching darkness, Elvine resisted the urge to argue.
Despite Colvyn’s nagging that she go below, she remained at the prow, gripping the spear in expectation of a warning.
She found she could grasp it with a gloved hand and still hear the spirit’s voice, which at least offered respite from the cold.
It had become an ever more potent presence throughout the day and, with nightfall, transformed into an invisible, tormenting beast, sending shivers through her body despite the many layers that wrapped it.
Inevitably, Varnyr didn’t appear to feel the chill, nor would he accede to her demand that he go and eat with the others.
“I thought,” she said, gritting her teeth to prevent them chattering, “you were sworn to obey me.”
“I am sworn to protect you,” he replied. “They are not the same thing.” He paused, eyes slipping to the spear. “The way you fought today, it was the Altvar’s doing, was it not?”
She thought about confessing the truth, confiding that she had no true notion if the Altvar even existed, or if they had crafted this weapon.
But she didn’t. Varnyr believed himself set upon a path of redemption by the gods themselves, and the truth might undermine his useful ardour.
Elvine turned away from him, discomforted by the hard calculation that seemed so ingrained in her now.
I begin to think like Gruinskard, she thought, confining her response to a murmur: “I am grateful for their blessing.”
“And I, for Sobella would surely have ended me if not for you.”
Elvine winced at the memory of the disembowelled woman flailing in her own blood. “You were close to her?” she asked. “She was your comrade?”
“We both grew of age in the Vortigurn’s Fist,” he said. “Which makes her more like my sister.”
“I’m sorry. Fighting your own people must be hard.”
“In truth, it surprises me how easy it is. At first I thought the Altvar had seen fit to change my heart, turn it away from prior loyalties. Now… Now I recall all the many times I knew myself to be in dire company, but pretended otherwise. Did not Ulthnir warn of the dangers of lies, even those we tell ourselves? I should have listened. But at least now my ears are opened, thanks to you.”
There was a warm intentness to his voice that stirred an impulse to explore the many paths this conversation might lead. But she resisted. With Lore almost within her grasp, she could allow for no more distractions, however tempting.
“I have another service to ask of you,” she said, keeping her eyes on the gloom beyond the prow. “If you are willing.”
“Of course, Spear Maiden.”
“When I see Lore, I may be tempted to kill her. I shall need you to prevent that. I doubt anyone else in this crew would, and I need to know what she seeks.”
“If that is your wish, then it is mine.” The same warmth in his voice, the same urge to turn around. But she wouldn’t.
“Thank you, Varnyr,” she said, her breath forming a wraith-like cloud, swiftly swallowed by the night.