BTtNR - Book 3 - Chapter 57

Chaper 57

Einar's horse surged forward, hooves pounding against the bridge's wooden planks as he raced back toward his warband. Behind him, he could hear the king's soldiers following, their armor clanking in rhythm with their mounts.

The bandits were fifty yards from the wagons now, maybe less. Einar counted quickly. 

Thirty, at least, possibly more, based on what's still emerging from the tree line. 

They moved with the coordination of men who had fought together before, spreading wide to flank the caravan, cutting off retreat.

Professional. Too professional for common bandits.

Thorodd had already organized the defense. The wagons were moving, drivers whipping the horses into motion as warriors formed a fighting line between the treasure and the attackers. Shields locked, spears bristled, and in the center of it all, Einar saw Avitue, her shield already up, her face set in the expression he had come to know meant she was ready to kill or die.

"For Odin!" Einar roared as he reached the line. "Hold them back! Get those wagons across!"

The first bandits hit the shield wall like a wave against rocks. Steel rang against steel, men grunted and cursed, and blood began to flow.

Einar vaulted from his horse, axe in hand, and joined the melee. His first strike caught a bandit across the shoulder, cleaving through leather armor and bone. The man went down screaming, and Einar was already moving, his runes beginning to glow as his wyrd surged through him.

Around him, his warriors fought with the skills and tactics they had honed in Nidavellir. Osvif's spear darted like a striking snake, finding gaps in armor with surgical precision. Hallad held the left flank, his shield a wall that seemed able to withstand anything. Skardi was a mountain in the center, his warhammer crushing anyone foolish enough to come within range.

But the bandits weren't running. They pushed harder, and Einar realized that they had been trained for this. They knew how to break a shield wall, coordinate attacks, and target weak points.

A bandit with a scar running down his face lunged at Einar, blade aimed for his throat. Einar twisted, felt the edge whisper past his neck, and brought his axe up in a brutal arc that opened the man from hip to shoulder.

More came in an unending horde.

Then the king's soldiers arrived.

Ten mounted warriors crashed into the bandit's flank, lances lowering, horses trampling. The impact shattered the bandits' formation, sent men flying, and turned the tide in an instant.

The young officer Einar, whom he had spoken with earlier, fought like a man possessed, his sword flashing in the afternoon light. He cut down two bandits in as many heartbeats, wheeled his horse, and charged back into the press.

"Push forward!" Thorodd bellowed. "Drive them back!"

The combined force of the Vikings and the king's men proved too much. The bandits began to break, first one running, then another, then suddenly they were all fleeing back toward the tree line in a disorganized rout.

"Let them go!" Einar shouted. "Focus on the wounded! Get those wagons across!"

His warriors obeyed immediately, pulling back, checking their lines. The king's soldiers hesitated, clearly wanting to pursue, but their officer raised his hand and they stopped.

Einar looked around at the carnage. Bodies littered the ground—mostly bandits, but he could see at least three of his own warriors down. His chest tightened as he moved toward them.

"Thorve!" he called.

Their healer was already moving, her hands glowing as she knelt beside Geir, whose leg was bleeding heavily from a deep gash. Einar watched as the light from her runes flowed into the wound, watched the flesh begin to knit.

"How bad?" he asked quietly.

"He'll live. They all will." Thorve didn't look up, her concentration absolute. "Give me a few minutes."

Einar nodded and moved to where Thorodd stood with the king's officer. Both men were breathing hard, splattered with blood that wasn't theirs.

"That was well fought," the officer said. He looked younger now, the hard edge of command softening into something almost boyish. "Your warriors are... impressive."

"So are yours," Einar replied. He meant it. "Thank you for the aid. We'd have won eventually, but you saved lives."

The officer nodded, then his expression grew troubled. "Thegn Einar, about the king's summons—"

"Later," Einar said. "First, I want to know what you think about the timing of this attack."

The officer frowned. "What do you mean?"

"Your men arrive to deliver a summons. Minutes later, bandits attack from the forest we just passed through." Einar let the implication hang in the air. "That seems like one hell of a coincidence."

The young officer's face went pale. "You think... you're suggesting the king..." He shook his head violently. "No. King Erik would never—"

"I'm not suggesting anything," Einar lied. "I'm just noting the timing. Maybe you were followed. Maybe someone knew you were coming to intercept us and planned this attack accordingly." He paused. "Or maybe it's exactly what it looks like."

The officer stared at him, his jaw working. "My name is Leif," he said finally. "Leif Torstenson. I serve King Erik because I believe in the strength of a united Midgard. I do not serve treachery."

"Good," Einar said. "Then help me figure out what's really going on here."

***

Hogni crouched beside one of the dead bandits, turning the man's head to study his face. Around them, others were checking bodies, looking for clues, for anything that might explain who these men were and who had sent them.

"This one's got marks," Hogni said, pointing to a tattoo on the bandit's forearm. It was a simple design—three lines crossed by a fourth, forming something that might have been a rune or might have been nothing at all.

"Check the others," Einar ordered. "See if any more have it."

They found four more with the same mark. Always on the left forearm, always the same size and placement.

"It's a brand," Osvif said, studying one up close. "Not a tattoo. See how the skin's raised? This was burned on."

"A mark of membership," Thorodd added. "Like a guild sign, but for criminals."

Einar thought about the Broker, about the network they had discussed in Nidavellir, about creatures that tracked them through tunnels and waited for them on the road home.

"This isn't random," he said. "Someone organized this. Someone with reach, with resources, with intelligence about where we'd be and when."

"The Broker," Avitue said quietly. She had come up beside him without him noticing, her face still flushed from the fight. "It has to be. Just like in Nidavellir."

Leif had been standing close enough to hear. "The Broker? Who is that?"

Einar exchanged a glance with Thorodd. How much to share? How much could they trust this young officer who seemed genuine but served a king who might be compromised?

"A name we heard in the dwarven realm," Einar said carefully. "Someone organizing criminal networks across multiple realms. Someone who seems very interested in what we're doing."

"And you think this Broker sent these men?"

"I think someone did. Someone who knew we'd be on this road today." Einar met the officer's eyes. "The question is: how did they know?"

Leif's hand moved to his sword hilt, not in threat but in frustration. "If you're implying—"

"I'm not implying anything about you," Einar said. "But someone in your chain of command knew where you were going and why. And either they told someone, or..." He let the sentence hang.

The officer's face had gone from pale to red. "The king's council. Only they would have known."

"Or someone with access to the council," Thorodd said. "A scribe. A servant. Anyone who might have overheard."

"Or," Osvif added quietly, "someone on the council itself."

Silence fell over the group as the implications settled in.

"We need to move," Einar said finally. "Standing here arguing helps no one. Leif, you have your orders. We have wounded to care for and cargo to protect. Let's get across this bridge and find somewhere we can talk properly."

The officer nodded slowly. "Agreed. But Thegn Einar... the king's summons still stands. You understand that I cannot simply let you ride off to Kopanes without an escort."

"I'm not asking you to." Einar looked at the bridge, at his warriors tending their wounded, at the wagons full of treasure that represented an alliance that could change everything. "But I need time. Time to get these materials safely stored, time to report to Jarl Bior, time to figure out what we're walking into."

"How much time?"

"Three days. Maybe four. We'll be in Kopanes by tomorrow evening if we push. Give me time to settle things there, and then..." He met the young officer's eyes. "Then I'll come to Katanes willingly. No fight, no resistance. You have my word."

Leif studied him for a long moment. "Your word as a thegn?"

"My word as a warrior chosen by Odin himself."

The officer's eyes widened slightly at that, and Einar saw belief war with duty on his face. Finally, Leif nodded.

"Four days," he said. "My men and I will escort you to Kopanes, help secure your cargo, and then wait. Four days from the moment we reach the city, no more. After that, orders are orders, and I will come for you whether you're ready or not."

"Fair enough." Einar extended his hand, and after a moment's hesitation, Leif took it.

"Move out!" Thorodd's voice cut across the bridge. "Wagons first, wounded in the middle, fighting men on the flanks! Let's go home!"

***

They made camp that night in a small valley two hours past the bridge. No one suggested pushing through the darkness, not after what had happened. Guards were doubled, fires kept bright, and no one slept deeply.

Einar found himself sitting with Leif near one of the fires, both men nursing cups of weak ale and watching the darkness beyond the camp's perimeter.

"You really believe someone in the capital is working with these criminals?" Leif asked. His voice was low, meant only for Einar's ears.

"I believe someone knew we were coming home early," Einar said. "I believe someone has been tracking us since we left Nidavellir. And I believe that kind of organization requires resources and connections that most bandits don't have."

"The king's council is... complicated," Leif said carefully. "There are factions. Jarl Unnulf and Jarl Bior are not always aligned with Erik's vision for Midgard. Some on the council believe the jarls have too much independence."

"And Erik? What does he believe?"

Leif was quiet for a moment. "He believes in unity. In one strong Midgard under one strong king. He sees the jarls as... remnants of an older time. Useful, but ultimately obstacles to true strength."

"And an alliance with the dwarves that Bior helped facilitate would make that jarl stronger," Einar said. "Would give him prestige, resources, leverage."

"It would," Leif admitted. "I won't lie to you, Thegn. There are those in Katanes who would prefer this alliance had never happened. Who would prefer these wagons never reached Kopanes."

"But not you."

"Not me." The officer's jaw was set. "I swore an oath to protect Midgard, not to play games with men's lives for political advantage. If there's corruption in the council, if someone is working with criminals..." He looked at Einar. "I want to know. And I want them stopped."

Einar studied the young man's face in the firelight and saw genuine conviction there. Maybe naive, maybe idealistic, but genuine.

"Then we're on the same side," he said. "For now, at least."

Leif nodded and raised his cup. "To truth, then. And to justice."

"To survival," Einar countered, clinking his cup against the officer's. "Everything else comes second."

***

They saw Kopanes from a distance as the sun began its descent toward the horizon on the second day. The stone walls rose proud and strong, the banners of Jarl Bior flying from the towers, and for a moment, Einar felt something in his chest loosen.

Home. Or as close to home as he had in this world.

"Gates are opening," Hogni reported from where he had ridden ahead. "They've been expecting us. Word must have traveled."

"Of course it has," Thorodd muttered. "We show up two months early with the king's guard as an escort. I'm sure that's caused no talk at all."

Indeed, as they approached the gates, Einar could see a crowd gathering. Citizens lined the streets, warriors stood at attention, and in the center of it all, mounted on a massive warhorse, was Jarl Bior himself.

The jarl's face was unreadable as Einar rode forward and dismounted, dropping to one knee in the proper show of respect.

"My Jarl," Einar said. "I return with news of success from Nidavellir."

"So I see." Bior's eyes moved from Einar to the wagons, to the king's soldiers, to the warriors behind them all. "Two months early. With treasure. And an escort from Katanes." He looked back at Einar. "I suspect there's quite a story here."

"There is, my Jarl. But first..." Einar gestured to the wagons. "We bring materials for an alliance. Dwarven steel, rare ores, and runecrafting supplies beyond anything we've had access to before. The High King Vetrdur Kvellhammar sends his regards and his hope for cooperation between our peoples."

Murmurs ran through the crowd. An alliance with the dwarves was the kind of thing songs were made about.

Bior's expression shifted, just slightly, into something that might have been satisfaction.

"Well done, Thegn Einar. Better than I dared hope." He dismounted and clasped Einar's shoulder. "We will talk at length once you've rested. For now..." His eyes found Leif. "Officer Leif Torstenson, I believe?"

The young officer bowed from his saddle. "My Jarl. I bear a summons from King Erik requesting Thegn Einar's presence in Katanes."

"I'm sure you do." Bior's tone was dry. "And how long does the king's patience extend?"

"Four days from today, my Jarl. That was the agreement Thegn Einar and I reached."

Bior looked at Einar, one eyebrow raised. "An agreement. How diplomatic of you."

"It seemed better than fighting the king's guard on a bridge," Einar said.

"Indeed." The jarl's eyes held a glint of something that might have been amusement. "Very well. Officer Leif, you and your men are welcome as guests in Kopanes. We will provide quarters and hospitality. In four days, if Thegn Einar wishes to answer the king's summons, you may escort him. Does that suit?"

"It does, my Jarl. Thank you."

"Excellent." Bior turned back to Einar. "Now, get these wagons secured, get your warriors fed and rested, and then come to the hall. We have much to discuss."

"Yes, my Jarl."

As Bior rode back through the gates, Thorodd moved up beside Einar.

"Four days," the big man said. "Not much time."

"No," Einar agreed. "But it's what we have." He looked at the wagons, at the materials that would strengthen Bior's position, at the warriors who had followed him into the depths of Nidavellir and back. "Let's make them count."

They moved through the gates into Kopanes, and behind them, the sun continued its descent. Four days. Four days to prepare for whatever King Erik had planned.

Four days until the real test began.