Page 83 of Tears of the Wolf
Cenric made his moves on the board and passed the dice back to Hróarr. “Brynn is my wife. No matter who else she might have been.”
“I see.” Hróarr tossed the dice and paused, counting how many moves he would be able to make next. “She doesn’t seem too happy about you being Valdari.”
“I think she just doesn’t like you.”
“Why? I’m nothing but charm.” Hróarr chuckled to himself at that.
Cenric stared toward the mouth of the river. If these raiders would just show themselves, then Cenric could fight them, kill them, and go home. “I let you have Vana.”
Hróarr bristled a little at that.
“She chose you,” Cenric said before his cousin could argue. “And I accepted it.” Cenric had hated it, but he’d accepted it.
The two of them had found Vana trying to build a shelter in the forest. She had been one of many orphans struggling to survive in the wake of Ovrek’s war. She had been a nobody, just a farm girl in the wrong place at the wrong time. Sifma, Ovrek’s wife, had taken her on as a servant in much the same way Ovrek had taken on Hróarr and Cenric.
The three of them had been little more than children. Then one day they weren’t children at all.
Cenric had fancied himself in love with Vana. Her rejection had stung, but he’d understood. At the time, Cenric had little to recommend him. He’d had no land, and little wealth. Hróarr had already been the leader of a ship and a small mercenary company. His cousin could offer stability and safety that Cenric hadn’t been able to provide.
Now, Cenric could see Vana’s rejection was for the best. It had given him the push to retake Ombra. Without Vana turning him down, Cenric might not have reclaimed his family lands, certainly not as quickly as he had.
Not to mention, Cenric never would have met Brynn.
Hróarr made a dismissive gesture as he moved his tafl pieces. “So I should just accept your Hyldish witch, is that what you’re saying?”
“If you want to be welcome in my house, yes.”
Hróarr leaned back against the brace of the smithy, studying Cenric. “Well,” he said at length, “she does serve good wine.”
Boats.
Cenric turned at the thought from Snapper.
Boats!The dog leapt out of the darkness, coming into the light of the smithy. He had been roaming in the dark, but it seemed he was the first to sense the approach of their enemies.
Where?Cenric reached for Snapper, stroking the dog’s coat.
Snapper sent back an image of the river mouth with two dark shapes crouched low on the water.
Cenric turned back to Hróarr. “Looks like you didn’t lie.”
Hróarr glanced down to the tafl board. “Good thing for me, too. Your king has almost escaped.” Hróarr kicked at the man nearest to him. “Good news,” he barked. “Time for killing.” The excitement in his voice was impossible to miss.
Cenric roused Anders and Kalen, both who had slept in their battle gear. He himself had worn his armor and now pulled on his helm.
Kalen stood close at his back. The boy’s nervousness made his borrowed mail shirt rattle, but Cenric ignored it. He would only embarrass Kalen by pointing it out.
Anders was more experienced. He stood at Cenric’s side with easy confidence. They marched out of the smithy, into the crisp night air.
Like a pack of wolves circling their prey, Hróarr’s men came out from between the wattle and daub houses. They’d had the villagers move to the far side of the village, the half farthest from the water.
As the raiders drifted closer to shore, the village appeared asleep and unprepared. What they didn’t know was that Hróarr’s heavily armed mercenaries lay ready to strike.
Cenric passed his spear to Kalen and drew his own sword. Adjusting his shield on his left arm, Cenric waited a moment until Hróarr marched up beside him. Under cover of darkness, they joined Hróarr’s men as they slank from the shelter of the buildings into the narrow streets of the village.
Snapper stayed close to Cenric’s side, sensing the change in mood.Friends?
No,Cenric sent back.Enemies.
