The White Raven

weapons ready. It is what I would have done.

Finn leaped on to the prow alongside me. Fish leaned out from the side, took aim and shot; there was a sharp cry and a rower pitched forward on to the man in front, driven by the smack of the arrow in the back of his head. The oars on that side faltered, the boat slewed sideways and Kveldulf whirled, bellowing with anger and frustration.

'Another good hooking, Fish,' roared Finnlaith, but Fish scowled.

'That cost me dear — that was Milka and he owed me money,' he grumbled.

Kveldulfs ship sorted itself out and Fish fired four of his last five arrows, three of which found targets. He yelled out with each man who fell. 'Leave me behind, would you? Leave me behind. .'

I knew then that Kveldulf had no archers with him and told Fish to stop firing and keep an arrow nocked and in view, so they would not realize we only had one left.

'Good,' growled Finn, bringing his iron nail out of his boot. 'Now it comes to blade edge and arm strength — and we are the Oathsworn.'

This last he roared out and everyone behind clattered their weapons on the bulwarks or on what shields we had. I hefted, my axe and turned, putting my back carelessly to where Kveldulf bellowed and roared his men back to setting his boat prow on to us. It was a spear-throw away, no more.

They looked up at me, even Thorgunna, tucked under my feet which I did not think such a safe place and said so, before turning to those savage grins and reminding them what we were and who we were. Then, just in case any were still afraid of the reputation of the Night Wolf, I reminded them that we had never seen any exploits of his.

'Anyway,' I finished. 'I am Orm, slayer of the White Bear, so a wolf is nothing to me.'

They roared long and loud at that and, when I turned, I saw Kveldulfs men look uneasily, one to the other. Kveldulf, on the other hand, was in the prow, waving a sword and the sight of it made Finn growl, low and hackle- raising.

'Kvasir's sword.'

Once, we had found three north-forged weapons in an Arab pirate hoard. I had kept one and given Finn and Kvasir similar swords, perfect blades, with the story of their making written just below the surface of the metal. Vaegir, they were called — wave swords. Finn had called his The Godi and had it still. I had lost mine long before. Kvasir had died with his in his hand and now we knew who had taken it.

'Take it back,' said a voice and Thorgunna started to scramble weakly out of her shelter under the prow planks.

'Move to the other end,' I ordered her, but then Crowbone shoved between us, as he had once before, and distracted both me and Finn.

'No tales this time, little prince,' Finn declared grimly. 'I do not think the Night Wolf is in the mood to listen.'

Crowbone nodded, but pointed, out into the black ribbon of river and the trails of milk-mist. 'My uncle is coming,' he said.

It was true and everyone saw it. A second black shape creamed round the bend behind Kveldulf, the slap- bang of oars like the feet of a running man. Up in the prow, silver nose flaring bright in the sudden early dawn sun, Sigurd was bawling curses on Kveldulf.

The Night Wolfs men turned and twisted, half-rising from their seats. I remembered Klerkon in the market square of Novgorod, as I came up on one side and Finn on the other. A fronte praeciptium, a tergo lupi he had said — cliffs in front, wolves behind. The wolf himself was now trapped.

Our prows were closer now, a man and a half apart, no more. Finn clenched his nail between his teeth and howled triumphantly and, like the wolf he claimed to be, Kveldulf bristled.

He was brave and strong and skilful was Kveldulf. He would have been a fine man to have fight with you if it were not for the fact that you could not trust him at your back. Yet he showed us the wolf-worth he had claimed that day.

He launched himself, in full mail and with his pelt flying, off his own prow and towards us, stretched out so that the snarling head came alive on his helmet and he seemed to be, just then, a real wolf pouncing on sheep.

He flew up to the thin pole of our prow, grabbed it with his one free hand and let himself whirl round it on to the little half-deck. One booted foot hit an astonished Finn on the beltline and he flew backwards with a sound like a grass-blown cow being pricked open, scattering men like so many tafl pieces.

I dropped into a half-crouch, but Crowbone was in the way; then Kveldulfs swordhand was round and I barely managed to get the axe in its path, so that his hilt alone smashed into the side of my helmet. I staggered back, slipped off the planking of the half-deck and crashed down alongside Finn, struggling like a black beetle with all its legs kicking.

Kveldulf, grinning his savage grin, grabbed Crowbone by the collar and threw back his head to howl out his own triumph. In one smooth, astonishing moment, he had defeated us and his men answered the howl with cries of their own, bending to the task of stroking their ship up to where they could board us before Sigurd got up to them and put a stop to it all.

I sat up, my head ringing and my mouth full of blood. Beside me, a frantic Finn was scrabbling to recover The Godi; Fish was screaming with fury, for Finn had crashed into him and had smashed his bow.

Kveldulf leered down at us, Crowbone held in one paw, Kvasir's sword in the other.

'Stone am I?' he thundered. 'Well, you have seen how I fight now, Finn Horsearse. And you Oathsworn fools — pitch this pair over the side and join me, for I have surrounded the kingpiece in this tafl game.'

He was right and we were finished, but I would go down with a blade in my hand and not sinking under black river water, bound and helpless. .

A hand snaked up and Crowbone looked down and saw it. A pale spider it was, white-gripped round a small pair of scissors that you used to trim hair, or the frayed cuff of a tunic — or the fingernails off your dead husband.

Thorgunna, with what strength she had left, brought it down, savage as a snarl, driving it deep into the foot that had kicked the new life out of her.

Kveldulf shrieked and tried to jerk away, but she had rammed it through boot and foot-bones and into the planks, so that he stumbled and had to let go of Crowbone. Thorgunna fell back weakly to the deck and.Crowbone fell into a crouching huddle as Kveldulf, blind with rage and pain, wrenched himself free and brought Kvasir's sword up in a whirling arc, to bring it down on Thorgunna's sprawled and helpless body.

It came as a shock to the Night Wolf, then, when Crowbone popped back up, his face a shrieking, vengeful mask of hate, leaping salmon-high as he had done once before in the market square of Kiev.

'For my mother,' he said, just loud enough for those around him to hear.

It would have sounded like thunder to Kveldulf. Like Klerkon, he suddenly found his worst nightmare staring him in the face, a brief eyeblink of a moment in which the sharp of my adze-axe, plucked by Crowbone from where I had dropped it, must have seemed as big as the edge of the world. Then it split Kveldulfs two faces, wolf and man both, straight across the forehead, side to side.

For a moment the Night Wolf hung there like a strange, one-horned beast, a look of astonishment freezing in the last moments of his eyes; the sword slipped from his fingers and clattered at my feet and the inside of his head leaked down his face in a wash of yellow-white gleet and black blood. He toppled backwards, hit the water with a splash and vanished.

After that was chaos; Kveldulf's crew, close enough to leap aboard, saw their leader fall overboard, dead as old mutton. The Oathsworn surged to the freeboard planks, tipping the whole strug dangerously sideways, but bringing it down to a level where spears and edges could cut and stab across the freeboard. All of this quailed Kveldulf's men; they scrambled for the oars and backed water.

Sigurd came up, his archers opened fire with a hiss like rain on the river and men died in that sleet. Some leaped overboard, tried to swim for the bank, but the arrow storm cut them down and, finally, none remained who could make a sound.

When the screams were done, Sigurd stood in the prow and saluted me with his sword, while his men closed with Kveldulf's stolen boat and clambered aboard to recover it, killing any who still showed signs of life.

'No work of the prince, this,' Sigurd growled. 'He sticks to his oath and sent me to keep your sky from falling,