Page 28 of Warlords, Witches & Wolves

When he returned hours later, his men were already back and asleep in their blankets. He would have kicked them for their abandonment, but his own efforts had achieved nothing. He looked over them in case Åke had returned, but he had not. His heavy heart grew heavier once he realized there weren’t enough bodies present. Perhaps some had continued their search. Perhaps others had left him completely. He checked their plunder again and it had not been touched. He checked their faces again, waking more than a few in his frantic search.

Ove and Børge were missing, two men who knew of the vault far to the north. Could they have taken the opportunity to leave and rob him?

“Fret not, Ragnar.” Vígarr yawned and resettled beneath his blanket. “Åke and the others will return in the morning.”

He kept his tongue and didn’t want to raise more fear than necessary. Their packs were still there, supplies untouched. They could not embark on that journey without provisions and they had not taken horses. If they had set course for the north, he could overtake them.

“But what if they do not?” he said, more to himself than to Vígarr.

“Then the Skogsrå has them and may God have mercy on their souls.” Vígarr said it so off-handedly but in the light of the small fire his eyes seemed fixed and dead.

He settled close to the fire, wedged in among his sleeping comrades, with his back up against a tree. He would keep watch for any who returned and would welcome them with open arms. But even this close to the fire, he could not warm the chill encasing his heart. Something had happened to his men, whether desertion or worse, and his dreams sputtered like the crackling embers, casting bright flickers that were snuffed out in the darkness.

* * *

Dawn’sicy touch shocked Ragnar into wakefulness and he berated himself for falling asleep. The fire had long since burned out and cold had stiffened his bones. He rocked out of his seated position, his ass sore from the hard ground. Aches rippled through his back. He cracked his neck. He dusted himself down, straightened his coat and trousers, and rubbed his face of the last remnants of sleep. “Wake up!" It felt good to speak loud and rough and send the remnants of his nightmare fleeing.

The men stirred and scratched themselves. He counted them. And he counted them again. Excepting Åke, six were missing. His chest hollowed. Had he counted wrong the night before? It wasn’t possible. He’d tallied their bodies multiple times. His heart kicked up a notch. More deserters? None would have woken before him—he was a light sleeper—but maybe they had snuck away.

Or never returned.

He grabbed his sword and strode off to check the horses. He knew he’d countedthemright; when he’d done so, fear had not yet clouded his mind. He’d counted twenty-five, but when he did so again there were eighteen. When had they stolen the horses? How had they not whinnied and bucked and pulled him from his restless slumber? But if Åke were involved, he could imagine it. Seductive, alluring Åke with his horse magic. What was this plot that he’d stumbled upon?

Rage boiled his fear into vapor and he stormed back to the remaining men.

“Get up! Which of you knew of this treachery?” He kicked at a still sleeping Nias.

“What treachery?”

The men scrambled from their beds and hurried out of reach of his rage.

He rounded on them. “Those ungrateful swine, your brethren, they have deserted us. They have taken the horses and intend to rob us of what is rightfully ours.”

Nias stood and men gathered behind him. “Can you blame them?”

“So, you think they are right to steal from us? Did you help them?”

“My loyalty is not to be questioned, Ragnar. I stayed. I searched for your little plaything. I returned.”

Ragnar punched Nias in the face, and he fell to the ground, his nose wet with blood. “I will not suffer your insolence over who I have in my bed.”

“You mean you won’t be questioned for your blindness, like over Jöns.”

Ragnar would run the blackguard through, but Malik held him back.

“Brothers, this is not the moment to fight,” Malik said. “Ragnar, why would they take the horses? They wouldn’t risk waking us.”

“They would if they had Åke,” Nias muttered.

Ragnar rounded on him again, but he was quick to back away.

“The spoils from yesterday are still here,” Malik said. “Why go to the trouble of stealing the horses but not the loot?”

“For a quick getaway. They are cowards and thieves and—”

“We are all thieves, Ragnar. Do not count yourself any different.”

“Then what do you suggest, Malik?”

---