Einarr and the Crimson Shroud: The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen, #7

By Allene R. Lowrey

More than a Fortune-Teller's Art

 

The corruption from the black-blooded monsters has finally been cleansed from the crew of the Vidofnir, but the events of the last several months have left Einarr with a lot on his mind. Ever since his encounter with the Oracle, time and time again circumstances have conspired to prove her right: he needs to learn to read the runes, or his calling will be the death of him. The problems are going to be convincing his father and finding a teacher.

But the mysterious elf, whose aid allowed him to conquer the Tower of Ravens, knows someone. Several someones, really. But they happen to be guarding an ancient secret. If there's one thing that a Cursebreaker knows how to find, it's trouble.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Tangled Threads Publishing
• Release date: Jul 26, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223445098

Book preview

Chapter 1

Reunion

IT WAS UNLIKELY that the public hall in East Port had seen a celebration of this magnitude in the whole of its existence.

After the purification ritual, Stigander and Bollinn agreed that some sort of relaxation was in order. The Matrons, unexpectedly, agreed and, what’s more, declared that they would host the feast. Perhaps it was simple relief at no longer having the sword of the black-blooded monsters hanging over the island, but Einarr suspected their jubilance had more to do with the knowledge Runa had brought back.

After the toasts and the speeches had been made – or at least the first round of them – Einarr led Arkja and four of his men over to where Stigander sat conversing with Tyr and Bollinn.

Father.

Son. You did good work out there.

Einarr shrugged. He’d accomplished his task, sure, but if it weren’t for him they’d have been back a lot sooner, too. "Father, in exchange for their help getting off the island, I told these men I might be able to get them a berth on the Vidofnir."

Stigander turned fully to face the group. Arkja stood flanked by Hàkon, Saergar, Rig and Oskar. From the corner of his eye he caught sight of Vali leaning ostentatiously against the wall.

We’re mighty low on crew, certainly. Been a rough season. Any of you men gone raiding before?

Two of the five stepped forward – Arkja, and Saergar.

For farmers, the others came by their sea legs easily, Einarr put in.

Stigander harrumphed. And they know what sort of a boat this is?

They’ve heard the Lay, Father, and some of what’s happened this past year.

Stigander hummed now, studying the five for a long moment. Gods know we need men. Come to the docks in the morning. I’ll put you to the test.

Hàkon, Oskar and Rig tugged at their forelocks and said they would. Saergar answered as a true sailor: Aye, sir.

That left Arkja, who stood clenching and unclenching his fist as though locked in indecision. My lords, there is one other thing.

Stigander and Einarr both raised an eyebrow at this.

It’s been on my mind since the cave on the island, y’see… He turned to face Einarr square. I would swear to you, lord, if you’ll have me.

Einarr blinked, more than a little taken aback. His father looked as though he was torn between amusement and taking offense.

Movement in the periphery caught Einarr’s attention: Vali had started upright from his position against the wall and was shaking his head. There is a certain strain of cowardice, he had said, that is reckless as regards himself, but craven where others are concerned.

Einarr smiled warmly at Arkja. It’s a bit awkward, having men sworn to me when I’m still serving on my father’s ship. I know, there’s Jorir, but that was a special circumstance.

We do, however, have a second ship under commission, Stigander rumbled. I expect it to be ready for next season.

My thought exactly, Father. So, to avoid any more confusion, why don’t we wait until we’ve claimed my ship? That would give them the rest of the season to prove the man, at least.

Arkja stiffened momentarily, but then his shoulders relaxed again. Of course, my lords. That does, indeed, make good sense.

He lowered his head to them and wandered off, not looking entirely mollified, Einarr shrugged and turned his attention back to Stigander and the others.

Well played, his father murmured. You have questions regarding that one’s character?

A few. Something Vali said before we sailed stuck with me.

But he’ll not be an issue for me?

I don’t think so. He’s eager to prove himself.

Stigander hummed. Arkja would probably be watched, aboard, but Einarr thought he would have no trouble getting there. At any rate. We three were just discussing this Vali you brought back…

Yes, what about him?

Is he really…?

A ghost? So far as I can tell, yes.

Then how…?

I haven’t the foggiest idea. He’s bound, somehow, to that Imperial jar that’s been following me around since the incident with the Althane.

But a jar can’t move!

So you’d think. You have no idea, though, how many times I threw that one away, only to have it reappear in the most improbable places. Saved Runa, though, this last time. Einarr motioned for Vali to join them. As the ghost appeared to saunter over from his place against the wall, Einarr continued. Apparently I triggered something when I picked the jar up in the ship-barrow, so until I either die or otherwise break that connection Vali and I are stuck together. At least, that’s how Runa explained it.

No sooner had Vali crossed the distance to join them, curiosity writ large on his earnest face, than Tyr and Bollinn engaged him directly. Perhaps because they saw the other figures coming up behind Stigander.

Runa tells us, came a wizened old woman’s voice. That you wish to learn the runes.

Stigander gave his son a sharp look.

Einarr scratched at the back of his head sheepishly. Ah, yes, you see… Father, I think I need to. Just in order to survive. If Runa hadn’t insisted on coming along, I don’t think we’d have made it.

Stigander harrumphed and crossed his arms.

The boy is right, croaked the Matron. And he is wise to seek aid. She paused here, long enough for Stigander to start to relax and Einarr to straighten.

And yet, she went on. One of our prentice Singers is hardly an appropriate teacher. Oh, I’ve no doubt the girl has tried - she held up a hand to shush Einarr before he could interrupt. But even her knowledge is yet shallow. Come with us on the morrow, and we will discover a more suitable teacher for you.

Thank you, Lady. So long as my father does not object, I shall take you up on your offer.

Stigander waved a dismissive hand. Fine.

Chapter 2

Seeking

ON THE MORROW, with only a sip of ale to counter the festivities of the night before and while his father proved new recruits, Einarr followed Saetild, the friendliest and least tree-like of the Matrons, down the path through the Whispering Woods. As lovely as the wood first appeared, Einarr felt the hairs on the back of his neck prickle as they stepped into its shade.

We’re not likely to run into your little alfen ‘friend’ on the path today, are we?

Saetild grimaced, her grandmotherly face puckering like a prune. So you’ve met him, then.

He introduced himself, yes.

Well, the good news is he’s unlikely to trouble you on the path so long as you’re with one of us. The bad news is, he’s one of a very few beings who might know a suitable teacher for you. My sisters and I may well need to invite him in for a time.

I’m afraid I already owe him a favor…

Then one more should have little impact. Once you’ve dealt with an alfr once, future dealings become easier.

Einarr wasn’t certain he believed that, having dealt with both the Oracle and the mysterious ‘Ystävä,’ but he supposed it was possible. Saetild, in the way of all grandmothers, kept up a running monologue as they walked. Einarr half tuned her out: it seemed to be largely a recounting of what had happened in East Port while he had been questing, most of which he’d already heard about, interspersed with gossip from the Conclave that might have made sense to Runa but, to his mind, was largely silliness.

Runa also thought to teach me something of the flow of story – seemed to think that might also improve my chances, he mused in what felt like an appropriate pause in the flow. Anything to get her to speak sense.

The statement was met with a trill of tinkling laughter. That girl. If you seemed to have any trouble understanding others’ motives, I might agree. But from everything I’ve seen and heard, you’re good with people. I suspect you already know everything relevant story could teach you.

Maybe, maybe not. Did Runa tell you how she dealt with the first revenant we encountered on the Isle of the Forgotten?

Oh, the Päronskaft silliness? I suppose there is that, but that comes of being well-versed in the tales themselves, not any deep understanding of how they go together. I suppose someone should look into how she got such old manuscripts…

Something in the way Saetild said ‘someone’ made Einarr raise an eyebrow. You added them to her pile, didn’t you?

The Matron smiled slyly but did not answer.

How did you know she’d be coming along, let alone that she’d need something so arcane?

Another sly smile was the only answer he received. Einarr shrugged and Saetild resumed her narration, as though the interruption had never happened. The prickly feeling of being watched returned: something was off this morning.

A peculiar stillness fell around them, and Einarr stopped in his tracks. Saetild, too, stopped where she stood, her plump figure leaning into her walking staff as she trailed off.

You might as well show yourself, Ystävä. I know you’re here.

The fair figure of the alfr seemed to step out of a cut in the air ahead of them, and the golden-haired figure offered a theatrical bow. Did I prove myself sufficiently last time, then? Do I hear my name cross your lips?

You canny old fox! This path is protected from your kind: begone!

Ah, lady, lady. I was invited. Didn’t you hear him?

He never asked you onto the path, and yet there you stand. She raised her staff threateningly towards the elf, who held up his hands in warding but made no other move.

I am not on the path at all, dear lady, but above it, I think you will see.

Einarr cleared his throat. I’m afraid I have little patience for these sorts of games today, Ystävä. I still don’t believe that’s you’re name, but I did call you by it. And it’s true, your gift was necessary to complete our quest. He looked at Saetild now. I thought you said he wouldn’t trouble us with you around.

He shouldn’t be able to. This will be raised with the Conclave on my return, you can be sure of it.

Ystävä, though, grinned, and slipped cat-like around to drape his arms about Saetild’s shoulders. And am I? Troubling you, that is.

Saetild jabbed the end of her stick into the elf’s shins. He backed off.

Einarr hummed. Not yet, I suppose. Why are you here?

Well, I live here, in the main. The mischievous elf waited a long moment before grinning at Einarr’s look of consternation. Curiosity, mostly. I’d heard that the young Cursebreaker was returned, after what the humans thought was a long time, and wished to see the fruits of my handiwork.

All right. You’ve seen them. And now we should be pressing on for the Conclave.

The Conclave, where I’ve just heard I’m to be invited to advise the Matrons? I’m here now: why not save us all the trouble of formal audiences and invitations and I can walk along with you, and you can tell me what you want?

Because in the Conclave there are protections against your trickery, Saetild glowered.

Yes. Namely the other Matrons. Such a stuffy bunch, I have never seen. You’d think they’d never been apprentices themselves.

Einarr looked down at Saetild, who was glaring ostentatiously at the alfr, and sighed. Is there any actual harm in it?

The old woman sighed dramatically. No. There’s no actual harm in him at all, that we can tell. He’s just a pest who likes to waylay travelers and lead astray apprentices for his own amusement.

Before Ystävä could put on a show of being offended, Einarr opened his mouth. Good. I need someone to teach me the reading of runes, or my Calling will be the death of me.

Chapter 3

Elf Bargain

THE OLD MATRON hissed at his pronouncement.

Well, Ystävä said after a beat. That is quite the conundrum you’re in then, isn’t it.

Yes, and made more difficult by the fact that the boy is either an idiot or hopelessly naive. If that’s the way you bargain, boy, I’ll wash my hands of you.

"Now, now. I appreciate the candor – and I have reason to want