Dagger

By Michael Wilson

Book Two of The Hunted Mage Trilogy

~AD 1019 Ancient Finland ~

Jaakko's obsessive hunt for the monster that killed his wife and son falters. When rumors reach him of a burned Mage who wields unheard of Power, the huntsman seeks him, determined to beg for magic that will bring down the beast.

Aila waits in growing fear as she watches her beloved Wyman fall under Eyulf's sway. When a plan to free him goes awry, a confrontation with the Mage gives him knowledge he should never have learned and ends in the shedding of innocent blood.

Avitus prepares Wyman's kingdom for war even as he tries to keep the King's growing madness from his warriors. As the threat of invasion grows closer, his desperation leads the Steward to seek help.

He hires Karhu to find the secret of the invader's uncanny skill in battle. Her guise as a displaced heir to a kingdom ends in failure and she finds herself wrapped up in treachery and accused of murder.

Erkki, a skilled and thriving Smith, agrees to work with Eyulf in the forging of some special gifts. The Mage imbues the metal with Rune-Song as the Smith's uneasiness with the Mage's erratic behavior grows.

The strands of Eyulf's lies pull tighter around them all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Michael Wilson
• Release date: Dec 8, 2015
• ISBN: 9781311693945

Michael Wilson

Michael Wilson is a biology undergraduate at the University of Alberta.

Book preview

To My Lovely Bride:

Lea, there will come a day when

we will look back over the struggles of

these last years and just laugh and laugh!

Tremendous thanks for all your help!

Minä rakastan sinua!

To My Mom:

Janet Wilson

Thanks for always encouraging books!

(Even when I was supposed to be practicing the clarinet…)

This Trilogy would not have happened

without a lot of reading…

Acknowledgments:

Many thanks to my Beta-readers for their input!

You have made my imaginary world a better place.

Author's Note

This Trilogy is set in an area of Northern Europe that was called Fennoscandia one thousand years ago. It en-compassed the Scandinavian Peninsula (and thus Norway & Sweden), Karelia and the Kola Peninsula but I have based these books on the area that would much later become the country of Finland.

The Hunted Mage Trilogy incorporates a blend of history, fantasy and ancient Finnish folklore. The verses come from The Kalevala, a 19th century work of epic poetry compiled by Elias Lönnrot from Finnish oral folklore and mythology. Rune Singers today pass down stories and history though their numbers dwindle.

To the best of my ability, I have used the historic names of places and people-groups. Helsinki is commonly referred to as Stadi 'the City' and an old hill fort lies in ruins near the town of Lieto. Any other locations are purely fictional.

I will not attempt to offer a long pronunciation key for the many Finnish words herein! I have lived with a Finnish-speaking woman for 24 years now and it still befuddles me. Readers will find several translation sites online that may help, as they do not have my wife to vex non-stop with pronunciation questions.

Always stress the first syllable! Erkki is pronounced ‘Air-key’ with a strong rolling ‘R’ as does Karhu.

You know…the audio book will help! I should get that underway.

Please enjoy Book Two of the Hunted Mage!

Part I

Mid-Summer

AD 1019

Straightway wicked Kullerwoinen,

Evil wizard and magician,

Opens all his treasure-boxes,

Shows the maiden gold and silver,

Shows her silken wraps of beauty,

Silken hose with golden borders,

Golden belts with silver buckles,

Jewelry that dims the vision..."

From Rune XXXV

'Kullervo's Evil Deeds.'

Chapter 1

How many damned lakes do they have? Avitus thought with a snarl.

He glimpsed yet another through a break in the trees and tugged lightly at the reins to slow his mount. Basil nickered softly at him and tossed his head.

Shh, shh! I know it is slow going. You will have your chance, lad!

Avitus leaned and swung his leg to dismount. It was clumsy and Basil snorted each time he slid from the saddle with such a graceless slump. The horse leaned his head back and rolled an eye to watch, with reproach, it seemed to him.

His boots hit the dirt of the path and sent a shock of pain up through his legs. They were sore and knotted up. He awoke before the sun and had climbed onto the beast soon after

It will feel good to walk for a bit. Perhaps the lake is less damned than I make it out to be.

His dark eyes gazed ahead to where the trail curved around the edge of the water.

Esa rode further on. Normally, the lad tried to stay a half league ahead but with the lake glittering behind the trees he would have slowed, walked his own mount and waited for Avitus and Jalo to catch him up.

Or better have.

He stretched for a moment and groaned as the taut feel of his muscles became painful. I will beat the boy if he is wandering again.

It was the younger man's turn to ride at the fore and Avitus had agreed that the boy should share in the scouting. Eager young eyes did not miss much upon the road. Avitus grew more nervous the further east they traveled.

We travel through lands on Ragnor's doorstep but the boy is careful. He will do well.

His thoughts sounded too much as if he needed to convince himself, so he put them aside with an effort.

They agreed to meet each time the path intersected with a lake. Jalo unrolled the hide map he carried and they chose a route that would best suit them.

It had seemed a good plan at first, before Avitus realized how many lakes there were.

We cannot risk being seen on the larger roads. Neither can we leave them too far behind us.

His legs regained a bit of their vigor while he walked. He kept his eyes darting about the trail before him and listened for Jalo's approach behind.

The water had a rich smell to it and he felt the cool air build as he drew closer to the edge.

The forest grew right up to the water and the path was moist where it came close but the trail turned away before it became too sodden.

He saw Esa ahead now. The boy sat upon a sun-warmed rock at the edge of the trail with his horse tied to a birch.

The boy looked pale, paler than normal. Avitus only saw color on the lad's face when he ran, and then it was all in two great red blotches in his cheeks.

Something is wrong.

He heard the scuff of Jalo's feet behind him and kept on. He listened past the noises his companions and their mounts made and heard the raucous laughter of birds in the distance. Avitus knew then what he would find.

There was a sickly tinge to the boy's skin as he stopped. Avitus knelt beside him and grabbed his shoulder with a squeeze.

Which way, lad?

Esa mumbled something and nodded toward the break in the tree line. Avitus turned and spied the boy’s tracks. They went through the gap and then back. He caught the smell of death on the wind.

Ah, boy! You should have stayed here. Need more time?

The lad shook his head.

I threw up, just past the trees. I feel better now.

Jalo slid from his horse just before them.

We have found the battlefield, then? Seven hells!

A sharp gust brought more of the stench past them. Esa gagged and bent over at the waist. Spots of color flared on his cheeks.

Trying not to breathe does not help much, son.

He almost chuckled at the boy's plight but there was little mirth in it.

He had smelled foulness over the years. Many times Avitus held down legs or arms, crushed by rigging and hidden by boys unwilling to let the ship's surgeon take the limb before rot set in, but that was merely infection. The scent of rotting flesh ahead was strong enough to weaken his guts already.

He ducked beneath the boughs that twined over him and stepped into the clearing. The drone of flies rose around them interspersed with the curses of the carrion birds that hopped and gorged upon the bodies piled in the rolling fields.

He felt his belly lurch as he drew closer to the carnage.

A slaughter...Veikko did not exaggerate.

The field was thick with matted hay, crushed from the battle waged upon it. The summer grass had not yet grown enough to hide any of the scene before him.

Men lay upon the ground before him. The first corpses began a dozen paces from where the trio entered the field and stretched out before them until the top of a slight rise. It was nothing more than a ripple upon the field but the place they stood was low enough that it made the bodies appear as a mound that towered over them.

The flies were a loud and sickening buzz in their ears now and as Avitus and Jalo drew closer, clouds of them rose off the bodies, resettled in moments upon the bloated forms, and severed limbs. Avitus held the green fabric of his tunic sleeve over his face to keep the bugs from his mouth and nose.

Christus have mercy, he thought as he nearly gagged on the stench.

The crows croaked at him with defiance and yielded to his approach little more than the insects. Only the birds closest to him hopped away, their bellies swollen from the continuous gorging they enjoyed.

It was a chaotic jumble of death. Every ten feet or so, the tangle of bodies ceased and he saw the corpses stacked upon each other, almost tidily. The sight of them unnerved him. It was almost as repulsive as the disarray that covered the rest of the hill.

He turned to Jalo and choked out his question.

Why are these men piled so?

Jalo nodded at the pile with a frown.

They were pulled off the bodies that lay beneath, thrown there while the victors took treasure. There cannot have been much. These would have left most of their rings and torcs in the city with kin.

His cloak did little to sift the smell of rotten flesh from the air but it was better than nothing. He felt the sting of bile rise into his throat and he stopped where he was, little more than ten feet into the field.

It was like nothing Avitus had ever seen. Battles at sea were bloody events. The wounds inflicted were the same. The slices and gouges of swords and axes, the crushed bones and skulls given by maces and clubs.

To let the bodies lie here to rot...is hideous.

With a grimace of distaste, he repressed the urge to vomit as Esa had done.

Bodies were easily disposed of at sea. They wrapped the dead in lengths of sailcloth and weighted with stones from the piles they used for ballast. Avitus and his crew released the dead promptly into the depths.

To leave your shipmates upon a deck long enough to rot was unthinkable. Plague made its way easily enough aboard ship without that.

These men...left to fester in the sun...they have no brothers to bury them. There are no survivors from their ranks and who dares leave the city under Ragnor's watchful gaze after this rout.

It sickened him more than the stench of corpses.

He unclenched his aching jaws and called to the trees where the boy lingered.

Esa!

He did not want to follow the older man into the carnage. Avitus saw the drag of his feet and the pallor of his features grew worse with each step he took. Still, he obeyed.

Avitus grabbed hold of the boy's chin and glared at him from beneath furrowed brows.

Look well, boy! You will see more of this than you can stomach if we do not stop Ragnor! Mount and ride straight to the road. Return to Lieto and find the king. Report what you have seen and tell him I ask that you guide a hundred men back.

The boy's eyes grew wide and darted away from Avitus' face in alarm. He began to protest. Avitus released his chin, grabbed the muscles of the boy's neck and pinched at the nerves beneath.

You tell him my words, lad. Be as respectful and you will be fine!

Esa nodded and winced when Avitus squeezed his neck once more and let go.

Bring them back here to begin burying the dead. Wyman should have completed the muster. He will wait until I return with news to march but ask him to spare men for this.

He turned and followed Esa to where they had left their mounts.

The skin at the nape of his neck grew taut as he left the bodies behind. The sounds of the feeding crows and insects resumed.

Jesu have mercy upon these souls.

He hated to leave them here, untended, dishonored.

We will mourn but I cannot stay to bury them. Christus forgive me! I must not.

He held the reigns while the boy mounted and rode off at a new angle than the way they had approached the field. When he found the road, it was a matter of two days hard ride back to Lieto. They were north of Stadi now. They had taken almost five days to reach the site of the massacre.

Avitus lost sight of Esa amid the trees and turned to view the field once more.

They will burn, Jalo said. He cinched a strap on his saddle and spat toward the trees. Avitus tasted it in his own mouth, the lingering tang of death.

He raised an eyebrow at Jalo.

We burn our dead, Aluksen. And there are far too many men here to dig for.

Avitus nodded. He preferred to bury them but the stern look upon Jalo's face told him much. The warriors who came with Wyman would not accept a burial for these men.

To ignore their ways while they prepared to face Ragnor's armies may dishearten them.

There was timber enough for a pyre but the smoke might draw Ragnor's men from Stadi. A hundred men given to the duty could not last long against that army. He tugged at his beard in frustration.

Go quickly. Catch the boy and have him wait a day before he brings men here. I need time in Stadi before they see smoke from the funeral pyre.

Jalo leaped onto his mount and it lurched into motion.

Come to Stadi and wait for me outside the western gate,

Avitus called to the guardsman before he had gone half a dozen steps.

Jalo raised a hand without turning and was gone.

Damned barbarous custom, burning.

He climbed painfully into his saddle and turned Basil's head toward the edge of the lake. He continued around a few more lakes before he took to the road again and kept his trail away from Esa's. For the boy's safety.

Half a day's ride to Stadi, he thought. For Wyman's men and supplies to reach the meadow will take time, but not much. They will come by the straightest route and they will ride hard when the boy tells him what he has seen. I have five days, perhaps.

He planned for four and would be lucky to get them.

Bloody Hell!

Chapter 2

The arrow’s fletch tickled her ear while she smiled at the grubby man before her. The barbed tip hardly wavered as it pointed at the center of the thin leather jerkin he wore over his chest. It was the cheapest form of armor and it could not withstand her arrow from this distance. He stood between her and her charge with a bared blade in one hand and the leather straps of the horse leads in the other and that made her very unhappy.

I told Oskari to stay close. Now he knows why!

She nudged her horse with her knees and he turned to the left with his head down.

The man gave a sickly smile of his own as he stepped back a pace and let go of the harness. The ruffian tried to fix his gaze on the cold, green glint of her eyes behind the nose guard of her iron helm. The nervous carthorse stepped away with a toss of his head. The cart rolled back a foot.

Put your purse away, Oskari. Our friend has decided to look elsewhere for his funds!

Her voice sounded loud and abrupt in the long silence that had built around the three of them.

The gaunt man on the seat of the cart gave her a sour glare and obeyed with a tremble in his hands. He snatched at the leads with one hand and the lever that stilled the roll of the wheels with the other.

You have paid for protection! Do not give me that look!

We wish you a safe journey, friend, she said with a merry lilt to her voice that belied the tension in her shoulders as she held the pull of the string to her cheek.

And to you, my Lady! The bandit’s eyes brightened for a moment as they took in the road behind her. He spread his hands wide and inclined his head in a mock bow.

She heard the scuff of boots a dozen feet to her rear.

His friends, she thought with a sigh.

He was good at his craft. She had barely caught the shift of his gaze. He tried very hard to keep her attention on himself as his partners gained their places in the road behind her.

The creak of wood and bowstring behind her decided it. At least three men shuffled about in the dirt and one of them had a bow.

She shifted her bow and loosed the arrow while she swung her leg up and over her horse’s broad back. There was a shout behind her. The twang of a string let her know that one of the three men had let his arrow fly as well.

The whistle of fletching zipped over her head. It flew for where she had been in the saddle.

The brigand that had first accosted them screamed as her arrow shot into the right side of his chest. The air rushed from his lungs. Then she heard the rasp of air that escaped around the shaft that pierced his lung.

The impact drove him backward and he landed with a grunt. She turned toward the three behind her and heard the metal chime of his blade hitting the ground.

Her horse stood between them and she crouched to peer beneath its legs. She had another arrow nocked and she sighted past the barbed end toward one of her three assailants.

It was not the one with the bow. She cursed and let fly. She wanted the bowman out of the fray.

The man's neck sprouted a feathered shaft and he dropped to the dirt pathway with a gurgle. He clutched at his throat and tugged at the arrow.

That should have been his chest, she grumbled to herself.

She cursed again as a bolt hissed past her leg and skipped along the path behind her. Her fingers snatched at the quiver at her belt and pulled another arrow free.

A string twanged again and another shaft sped along the dirt as the bowman tried to strike low. Her horse reared at the sound and as his legs rose, she let her third arrow go.

It was instinct. Nothing more. She caught a glimpse of a longbow between the forelegs as they flailed and she took the shot.

The sound of the bowstring and the hiss of the feathers so close to his face were too much for the animal. He pivoted as his hooves pawed at the air and he bolted away just as the bowman fell backward.

She dropped the bow and slid her short blade halfway from its sheath as she took a step toward the last man.

He turned and fled before she took another.

Stupid bastard! she yelled after him. You showed up just to scare my horse?

She heard the rustle of underbrush and he was gone. She turned back to check on Oskari. He sat on his cart with ashen face and widened eyes.

Like a bloody owl!

She glared up at him with narrowed eyes. He seemed shaken but not injured. She was relieved a bit. Arrows that skittered along the ground may strike a stone and fly upward. Since he owed her the balance of her pay at the end of the trip, she wanted him alive until then. She reached up to her chin, freed the strap and shook her yellow braid free from her helm.

After that, I am rid of the sour old thing! Bad for business otherwise!

Keep up next time. Or I will let them rob you blind!

He grimaced at her and spluttered something indistinct. She had already put him out of her mind as she approached the first man she had put down.

He was still alive but barely. He gasped for air into his punctured lung.

Who...are you? he rasped.

He had broken the shaft off in his struggle to remove the arrow and the splintered end stuck up from his chest. Blood and air bubbled up around it.

I am Karhu.

His eyes narrowed with recognition.

Bloody...hell...

He coughed and gagged as his mouth filled with blood. His far hand came up and tried to stab at her with the jagged end of arrow that he had held hidden against his leg.

He was not strong or fast enough for it and she gave him a look of pity as she brushed his makeshift weapon aside.

Stop it.

He dropped the arrow and hissed a laugh.

I...had to...try!

He began to convulse. She stood and walked away from him toward the other thieves.

The man she had shot in the throat was dead. He lay sprawled in the path, fingers dug deep into the dirt like claws.

The bowman lay a dozen paces away. The figure looked wrong to her as she approached and as she stood above it became clear to her. It was a girl. A young girl.

In the frenzy of action, Karhu had mistaken her skirts for a cloak. The girl's dirty hair, pulled back into a ragged tail, and a shapeless woolen hat further disguised her sex.

The bow was short, much shorter than Karhu's own. It took far less power to draw it. Beneath the girl's filthy garments, Karhu saw shoulders almost as well muscled as her own. The dead girl had been using the bow for years.

So it was kill or be killed, little girl! You should have reasoned that out before you turned bandit, she thought with a scowl on her face.

She knelt by the girl's body and heard the merchant's shrill voice call her. She ignored him, reached down to straighten one out-flung arm and tuck the skirts around the girl's legs.

Damn and hell!

It was hard to tell beneath the dirt. She appeared no older than twelve years.

Not much younger than I was when I killed my first man.

Get over here and move this body, woman!

Oskari's words finally reached her and she rose with a bark of harsh laughter.

Do it yourself, you lazy dog! I have done my job with no thanks to you.

His pursed lips twisted down into a grimace yet he was wise enough to not reply. She would listen to him grumble without stop later but for now, her angry words kept him quiet. He released the lever and sawed at the reins to make the carthorse back up a few steps.

He simply cannot exert himself for any reason!

She turned back to the girl, lifted her bow from the dusty path, and lay it down upon her body.

This is the best I can do, sister! she whispered. It was a hard road and it ended badly but I wish you well.

One of the men had a purse with a generous number of silver coins in it. That was nice since the weapons she collected from them were barely serviceable. They were of little value but she would not leave them for other brigands to claim.

Oskari twitched and sighed at the delay as she stowed them in the back of the cart.

Karhu's horse returned before they moved on. He appeared from down the road at a trot when she whistled and came to a halt a few paces from her with a shake of his mane and a snort.

You...are useless!

She climbed into the saddle and laughed when he pranced forward a few steps with a bob of his head.

Alright then! Apology accepted.

She gestured for Oskari to follow and dug her heels into the horse's side.

She did not have to look to see that the merchant kept a brisk enough pace this time.

* * *

The brigand that had escaped into the forest found a friend and returned that night.

Just before dusk, she called Oskari to a halt and backed the cart into a clearing just off the road. She made a fire, softened a hunk of dried meat in a small pot of water and roasted an apple for herself while she listened to Oskari curse at her.

She waited until he finished his struggles with the carthorse and its trappings and tended her own mount.

He needs a name, she thought as she rubbed away the creases the saddle had made in his coat with tufts of grass from the roadside.

They still grew accustomed to each other. He had come when she whistled that afternoon and that gave her hope.

We have been too busy to train you properly, friend, she whispered to him as she brushed him down. And that will not do!

It was too much to expect that he would stay calm as the hiss of arrows zipped past him when she had not helped him grow accustomed to the sound.

He chuffed at her and lolled his head into her hand. She scratched his ears for a few moments then tied his bridle to an extra length of leather and then to a bough. It gave him room to graze at the long grass of the roadside.

Oats soon, my dear! I promise. If Oskari pays as he ought!

His complaints had grown louder as they neared the end of the trip and she suspected that they were a prelude to an argument about her wages.

He will try to renege on our deal. The lazy ones always do, she sighed. Saved his life. And all that matters to him is that I did not cook for him as well!

The sun was gone now and, since his was the first watch, she rolled herself up in her blanket. She picked a nook at the base of a tree so the light from the flames would not keep her awake. The moon was a quarter full and gave just enough light above the small clearing.

Wake me when the moon goes below the trees and not before!

It was a gruff command to the merchant but she did not care. He had woken her countless times on their journey and feigned ignorance in order to avoid the remainder of his watch.

She fell asleep eventually despite the noise Oskari made while he tended his supper. It was a fitful rest.

Something woke her. She lay still for a moment and listened.

The fire was almost out and gave only the faintest of flickering red light and the occasional pop of heated sap. The moon was still visible through the sparse leaves.

There was a grunt and a scuff of boot leather behind her. She released the edge of her blanket and rolled to her left until she was free of the cloth. She pushed herself up to her feet and took in the shadows cast by the fire and moonlight.

Two men, one stood with the silver shine of a blade in his hand, one with his knee planted on a bundle she assumed was Oskari.

Quiet or I will let him cut your throat!

The whispered threat hissed through the shadows. If she still slept, she would not have heard the words. She crept forward on her toes and angled her path to move around the fire pit in a wide circle.

Where is she?

She froze as she heard the question. She thought they were after the merchant's purse.

She always slept away from the fireside. Oskari kept her awake when he bashed about the camp. They must have approached from the far side. Even the faint glow of the fire was enough to dull their vision if they had just come near from the deep shadows.

What do they want with me?

The man with the blade stooped. Karhu heard a muffled squeal and the dark bundle that was Oskari thrashed about. The blade the man held looked dark and wet now in the dwindling moonlight.

Last time I ask. Where...is...she?

She drew her blade quietly. She winced at the slither of blade on leather. It was barely audible. She held the blade low behind her leg to keep the moonlight from it.

The men bent low now. They listened intently to the merchant. He whimpered words she did not catch.

She was in shadow as she crept closer in her arc around the camp. A few more steps brought her into the circle of light cast by the logs.

The man with the knife straightened and turned toward the fire. His eyes moved toward where her bedroll lay. He took two slow steps away from his comrade.

Oskari...you craven dog! Had to give me away, did you?

She ran forward and brought her sword up but did not use it. She paced her steps and came up to the man who still kneeled to pin Oskari down and used the force of her run to kick at the side of his head as her rear leg came forward in her stride.

She felt the shock of her boot on his skull and felt a surge of satisfaction. He fell across the merchant with a grunt.

She turned toward the man with the knife. She hated to do it. Her mind screamed at her not to turn her back on the fallen bandit, yet there was no way to ensure he was finished and watch the other man as well.

She raised her sword and stepped toward the fire.

Come closer, sneak!

He was halfway around the ring of stones that kept their fire contained.

He kicked a pile of branches away from his feet and onto the deep red embers. The pine boughs Oskari had collected burst into flame, snapped and hissed, as the light grew bright between them.

She recognized him, now that the flames lit his features.

It is the runner.

He left his companions behind after the ambush, ran away instead of fighting her.

She let out a laugh. It rang with cheer over the crackle of fresh greenery.

First, you lie in wait and then you run away! And now you creep back in the darkness to stab women and old men?

She filled her voice with scorn and clucked her tongue as if he were a child.

"What a manly catch you are!"

His shadowed features grew angry.

Perfect, she thought. Do something rash and impetuous so I can go back to sleep!

She held her blade firmly in hand and rolled her shoulders to loosen the muscles without taking her eyes from his chest. His motion would begin there whether he chose to fight or flee.

He reached his empty hand beneath his half-cloak and pulled a sword free from its scabbard. His lips pulled down into a sour grimace.

You killed my daughter today, whore!

She stepped slowly toward him and saw his red-rimmed eyes glisten in the glow of the flames.

The shape of his face, the slant of his nose...she saw the girl's features reflected beneath the stubbly days-old growth of new beard.

Pity, she thought. His wife should not have to lose them both on the same day!

A better man would never have made her a thief!

That was enough for him. He raised his blade and leaped through the flames towards her with a roar.

Karhu tensed on the balls of her feet but did not move. She held her blade in both hands. She may need both to block his angry blow.

He thrust his blade straight at her, point first with all the momentum of his leap behind it.

There was a dull clink of metal on metal. A shudder ran up her arms and through her shoulders. She held firm. She pushed his sword to the side and took a step forward.

She was well within his reach now. It was a risky move as his greater weight and muscle gave him every advantage but she did not plan to stay there for long.

The impact of his blade and her step forward had bent her arms at the elbows just enough. In the moment that his body still moved toward her, she raised her elbow and drove it into his jaw. His head jerked to the side. For an instant, he was off balance. She let go one hand from the hilt of her sword and locked her grip on his wrist. One of his hands grabbed feebly at the collar of her tunic. With a turn of her torso and a tug on his arm, he fell away from her with a grunt.

She released his wrist and he fell hard onto his back. The breath rushed out of his mouth with a loud hiss in her ear.

He rolled over and pushed himself onto his knees with a groan. She stepped quickly back a handful of paces and waited.

She did not grapple with him again. She drew the knife from her belt with her free hand.

The bandit spat blood into the dirt beneath him before he rose to glare at her once more.

He was wary now and moved with the caution he should have used before.

Lessons learned.

She stepped back a pace to keep their distance when he moved closer.

He was not a bad swordsman. She saw by the way he held himself now that he had calmed somewhat.

He darted forward, sword held at a slant and his free hand held wide away from his body.

With another roar, he lunged forward. He battered her sword away with enough force that it jarred her to the shoulder and she lost hold of it. It flew from her hand with a chime.

His charge pushed her backward and she stumbled as he ducked his shoulder low. He grabbed her around the waist and the force of it knocked her down.

They landed hard. She kept her knife hand free of the arms that encircled her. He pushed himself up to one knee with an awkward shove. He was too close to cut at her with the blade.

He punched at her face with the fist that held his sword. She tasted blood as the blow mashed the inside of her mouth against her teeth. After the second punch, she managed to catch his forearm in the crook of her elbow and twist her body around enough to prevent another blow.

With so little room to stab, she could not penetrate the leather jerkin he wore so she rapped hard at his head with the knob of metal on the pommel.

Once, twice. He hardly noticed the first blow but the second made him bellow. With his sword hand pinned to her side beneath her arm and his other arm wrapped around her waist he was helpless. A third blow of the aptly named skull-crusher of her hilt and he slid to the side with a blood-matted thatch of hair that glinted in the firelight.

She rolled his sprawled leg off her own, stood with a grimace of pain and spit blood from her mouth.

No broken teeth! There is a mercy, she thought as she ran her tongue over them.

She walked back into the firelight and looked to Oskari. He sat with his right arm cradled in his lap. He moaned every so often and she ignored him to kneel by the man she had kicked.

He was motionless and, with the newly kindled flames, she watched the red mark of her boot mottle the left side of his face. He was so still that she thought that she had broken his neck with her kick. He gave a ragged snort when she rolled him over to search his pockets.

A thick skull lets him thieve another day, she thought.

She considered killing them both. It was their due surely. She had shed enough blood that day.

She used the leather strips from his purse to bind his hands behind his back and then stood to cast a glare at the merchant.

Get up! We will ride through the night. Get the cart ready!

He gave a whiny howl at her words.

I cannot. I have been stabbed, woman!

She gave a shrug and stepped past the fire to the second man.

I leave as soon as I saddle my horse. You can stay if you wish. I expect my pay before I go as I do not expect the rest of their men to leave you with funds.

Oskari gave a twitch and peered out into the shadows as if he expected a dozen men more to appear at her words.

I...I cannot manage the cart. My shoulder...

She knelt next to the man whose skull she had cracked with her pommel and yelled back over her shoulder.

Do it...or stay here! Go with God, little man! I ride!

She heard him grumble curses at her while he rose, then the sound of tumbled gear thrown into the back of the cart with agitated growls.

She emptied the man's purse into her own and once more bound arms securely. There were very few coins between the two men.

Business has not been good of late, it seems, she mused. Time for a new line of work, my friend!

A glint of bright silver shown from beneath his cloak as she rolled him onto his side.

Hello! What is this?

She flipped the edge of the fabric back and saw a dagger, intricately carved from silver and gold.

She used her own knife to cut through his belt and lift the sheath free. She ran her fingers over the whorls of etched leather as she drew the blade.

It was a beautifully crafted, double-edged and gleamed in the firelight.

The pommel was shaped as a bear's head.

She laughed with delight.

This is a fine blade, sneak! I think it fitting that I lift this burden from you. You will worry overmuch about selling such wealth in lean times, she whispered to the brigand.

She tucked the blade into her own belt and made her way to her bed.

Her gear was stowed in minutes and her horse saddled in ten more so she sat by the fire and stirred at it with one of the cheap swords she had taken from the thieves.

Oskari cursed the loss of light as she spread the chunks of burning wood to help the fire die down before they rode away.

Chapter 3

He felt the dull thud through his thick leather soles as well as heard the sharp clank of the hammer when he entered the shadowy murk of the forge. His eyes narrowed and pulled his features into a customary scowl at the arrhythmic taps of the striker. It took but a moment for him to spy the offending apprentice.

Ah, it is clear now, Erkki thought.

The boy stood striker for an older journeyman who held the tongs firmly as he twisted the thick bar of metal on the plate-covered stump that served for his anvil. His lips moved when he struck the red, glowing mass but the din of the busy smithy drowned him out. He hesitated with the smaller hammer, just enough to throw the apprentice awry with his own strike.

It pained Erkki to hear their discordant beat. Now that he had noticed it, he heard little else.

Juno Whisperer is a good lad, but I will be damned if I can hear a word he says in the forge.

He grabbed his apron from its hook and wrapped it around his heavily muscled frame. It was his third this season and already showed enough wear to justify a newer. The thick hide cracked more with each day’s work. The terrible heat of the bloomeries and hearth quickly drew out what little suppleness the tanned leather possessed. He shrugged his shoulders a few times to settle the heavy wrap around his neck and took a pair of leather mitts from a shelf near the door. He tied the rawhide strips about him while he made his way to the boys.

He breathed deep, took the pungent smell of charred leather into his lungs and gave a small smile. The scent of the forge never failed to give him pleasure.

Erkki paused for several long moments to pull his tail of dark hair out from under the apron strap around his neck and observe the boys before he intervened. They worked well enough together, he saw that plainly.

Their workspace was free of the debris and tools some of the other men accumulated during their workday. Most of his journeymen knew by now his views on a slovenly forge. Some learned it from a sharp word of warning, others from the back of his hand.

Their hearth burned well, plenty of live embers in the center for heating, enough cooler coals on the edges to maintain a steady heat in pieces of iron they were not ready to work yet. He looked for pieces in the colder edges of the fires and noticed that despite their erratic beat, they made good use of their time. He need not check the quality of their work yet. He knew Juno would not finish until he had it perfectly formed. Nails for building or fine blades for a noble, he took the same care with both.

The journeyman turned toward the hearth and plunged the thin orange mass into the glowing center. His apprentice strode to the handles of the bellows and began to pump the handles up and down steadily. There was no wasted energy in their motions. Juno used the moments it took to reheat the iron to check the pieces that waited on the edges, to turn and inspect each one. He pushed some deeper into the heat, pulled some further away. He rolled each to another position to keep the heat’s fury from warping the pieces out of shape.

The young apprentice stoked the bellows well, kept time with Juno’s cadence now that he heard the older smith’s voice. It was only when their own hammer falls added to the noise of the busy smithy that the lads fell out of stroke.

Ah,