A Short Tale From Norse America: Young Ravens & Hidden Blades (The United States of Vinland) Read Online Free Page B

behind him, to where only the rising wall of rough
stone stood.
    He
turned around and then saw a tight, vertical crack in the rock, just above his
head. Sticking out of it, so only the end showed, was a leather-wrapped, bound
handle. Both boys knew it for what it was — a knife.
    Ulfarr
turned back to check on Thoromr.
    The
big man was starting along the trail they had abandoned, taking him down the
slope and away from them. He was far enough away now that Ulfarr could change
his focus, so he reached up behind himself and grabbed the handle, pulling the
blade free.
    The
handle carried some weight but was roughly made, as was the leather grip. The
tool ended in a sharp, iron blade, making it suitable for fighting or hunting.
    Pulling
it out, Ulfarr felt something else further back and out of view. Carefully he
handed the blade to Brandr before using his fingers to probe the space and see
what else he might discover.
    His
fingers brushed not just one other handle, but several. Carefully, one by one,
he drew out three more iron blades.
    Iron
had real value in Markland, as it took time to smelt once retrieved from the
few bogs that offered it up, and then, of course, it had to be worked. Every
man wanted to carry an iron blade and the bigger the blade, the better. Any man
of standing also had an axe, but very few could claim to have more than two
iron weapons. Certainly, a hoard of four blades, even of rough workmanship, was
a small treasure.
    Thoromr’s
footsteps receded as he made his way down the first part of the steep slope.
    The
boys relaxed, feeling safe for the first time.
    The
birdcall sounded again, this time whispered and very close.
    Both
boys turned towards it.
    Only
a few arm lengths away, the skraeling boy knelt at the entry to the overhang
that ran from above the beginning of the trail. This close to them, they could
also see he bore a trace of Norse features, his hair brown and his eyes blue.
    His
gaze locked on Ulfarr and his bloodied cheek. “You are hurt.”
    Ulfarr
shook his head and frowned. “The arrow grazed me, but it has stopped bleeding.”
    The
skraeling boy gave a nod, approving of the young Raven’s bravery. He then
looked to both of them and the knives in their hands, before whispering, “This
is my place.”
    Ulfarr
glanced at Brandr, and then back to the boy. “We needed somewhere to hide.”
    The
boy nodded.
    “What
is your name?”
    “My
mother calls me Dore,” he paused, and then let a smirk settle on his face
before going on, “but my father usually calls out curses as names for me.”
    “Your
father?”
    “One-Eye.”
    “Thoromr
One-Eye?”
    “Yes.”
Dore looked down at the blades in their hands.
    Ulfarr
also looked to the iron. “We found these.”
    “They
are mine. This is where I come when One-Eye wants to beat me.”
    “He
was going to put an arrow in your back.”
    “I
know. He usually just kicks me and hits me, but I shamed him on the hunt.”
    “How?”
    “I
scared the deer away.”
    “But
he did it, not you. We saw it. He stepped on the twig!” Brandr hissed.
    Dore
looked back down at the blades for a moment, before again lifting his gaze. His
eyes softened, but also held surprise that the boys sought to blame the
Norseman, and not him, for the ruination of the hunt. “He always blames me for
such things; they all do. His missing eye means that sometimes he does not see
a branch or twig.”
    “He
was going to kill you!”
    Dore
wore a sly smile. "He is still strong and good at hitting me, but he is
not good with a bow.” He glanced back at Ulfarr’s bloody cheek. “Well, not
usually.”
    The
young Ravens warmed to him, both grinning.
    “Come
to Godsland with us?”
    “No,
I have to go home.”
    Brandr
whispered, “He’ll beat you!”
    “If
I do not return, he will take his rage out on my mother and slit her throat.”
    The
boys tried to understand such a thing, but neither could fully grasp it, as it
was so alien to what they experienced from their own