Tattered

Chapter 11

I awoke the next morning feeling as if my arms had been ripped off and then hurriedly sewn back on. The pain was a dull but constant ache in my shoulders and biceps, and I tried to give my abused arm muscles a rest.

To think that I'd been so confident that all of Gregor's training would have prepared me for a stunt like that. It was just another tally on the growing list of blows to my arrogance. There were things that even my superior strength and muscle couldn't do. I had to get that through my head sooner or later, or I was certain it would come back to bite me.

I spent my time walking the deck, supervising the men as they rowed or discussing our course with Dag. He was a pleasant old man, much more open to conversation than any of the others on board. I kept trying to place that accent of his when he spoke, but it was nothing that I recognized.

According to Dag's best estimate, we would reach the port for Heorot in just a few days if the weather held out as it was. This was good news, but I could hardly enjoy it. All I could think about was how Breca was ahead of us, having passed out of sight some time in the night. If he got there first... What advantages would that give him over me?

Now that we were approaching closer and closer to Heorot, the imminence of the task I was to do there was finally settling in my mind. I was woefully unprepared for the challenges that lay ahead, and the thought of facing them gave me a splitting headache. Still, I forced myself to think on it.

The first thing to do once I arrived would be to call upon Hrothgar, king of the Danes and builder of Heorot, the greatest mead hall ever constructed. I had heard much about Lord Hrothgar and his heroic deeds of the past. He was getting on in his years nowadays, but he had been a great hero in his youth. During the time of the trolls, he'd lead the Danes to war alongside my father, quickly gaining a reputation for having killed some of the largest, most ruthless of the beasts. And it certainly didn't hurt his reputation that he was a rich and generous man to his subjects.

Heorot itself had an even larger reputation than Hrothgar, if that was possible. Built as a monument to the gods, it was said to be the height of a mountain and as beautiful as the halls of Valhalla. I was very much looking forward to seeing the fortress, unlike my feelings towards meeting its lord and king.

I would have to explain to Hrothgar the crisis in Geatland, and urge him to send part of his forces in our defense. Having Hrothgar and the Danes on our side once again would be a formidable force against any trolls that dared to attack us. Perhaps that would be enough to earn father's forgiveness.

But most important of all, I would have to convince him to help me in my search for Ingrid. His aid would be essential. My small group of warriors would not be nearly enough to face a whole band of trolls, if Ingrid truly was among them. We'd need some of Hrothgar's men to supplement our numbers, and hopefully equip us with arms as well. It was asking a lot of the king, and I had no way of knowing whether he would be cooperative. I had to hope that that his former friendship with Volsung would at least make him amenable to my requests. If not, then I'd simply have to persuade him myself.

And now Breca would have days, perhaps weeks, more than me to begin convincing the old king. I cursed the Norns' cruelty for sticking me with such horrid luck.

"Hold!"

I glanced up from my worrying at the boatswain's call. The sun was setting once again, that ever welcome signal to the rowers that their work was almost done for the day. The sting that I still felt in my arms keenly reminded me of the difficulty of their task.

Erik nervously passed out food among the rowers. The blond one with absurdly braided hair, named Harold, if I'd heard correctly, snickered and gave the boy a playful shove. To any of the other men, such a push wouldn't have budged them, but as it was Erik fell backwards with a comical flail, a bucket of porridge spilling over his head. The rest of the men laughed uproariously.