The Wizard And The Warlord Read Online Free PDF Page B

won’t last another night. It was fortunate for you that we arrived when we did to frighten off the trolls, or they would have had you by now. I suggest you gather the possessions you’ll require, so you’ll delay us no longer. Dagrun, accompany him and be watchful, in case he’s got a sword hidden somewhere.” The warlord turned away, dismissing Sigurd with a last glance of his contemptuous, fox-colored eyes.
    Dagrun stepped forward with a crusty glower. “Come along. We can always use a good man with an axe. Do be a sensible fellow. Only a fool would deliberately prefer to become supper for a pack of stinking trolls. You won’t be needing much; Halfdane provides us with everything we need.”
    “There’s only one thing I must have, if I’m forced to come with you,” Sigurd growled, stalking into the ruins of his house. He knelt beside the hearth and reached into the secret hiding place dug into the earth under one of the stones where he had hidden the small, carved box. He ignored the curious stares of the men as he accompanied Dagrun to the horses and glared resentfully at the fellow who had taken his axe.
    “We’ll be keeping your weapons for just a short while,” Dagrun said. “That’s Skeifr, the one you’ll be riding behind. You can’t be sorry to leave this desolated place, can you?” He spoke grudgingly, as if he were hopeful Sigurd wouldn’t embarrass him. With a sigh, Sigurd put on his cloak and took a last look around at the house and the fells.
    “It isn’t so bad at Hrafnborg,” Dagrun continued. “I think you’ll like it, if you like to fight. As soon as Halfdane thinks you’re good enough, you’ll be able to ride with us, hunting trolls and raiding the hill forts of our enemies, it shouldn’t be long; you’re well begun with an axe. Roifr isn’t nearly as good with an axe and he’s an endless nuisance besides.”
    “What’s that?” a strident young voice cried out. “I’m not an endless nuisance! Expecting as I do to be murdered at any moment by Bjarnhardr’s Alfar, I certainly wouldn’t say I’m an endless nuisance. The end is definitely foreseeable. By the way, that was a splendid fight, Sigurd. My name is Rolfr, and I’m much looked down upon as the youngest and least experienced and I’m always being thrust into the background, holding the horses and fetching the firewood, but I’m more than pleased to make your acquaintance, anyway. You don’t have to ride behind that old drone Skeifr when you can ride with me. Come, give me your hand.”
    “Do be quiet, Rolfr. Halfdane’s instructions were to—”
    Rolfr leaned down from his horse, sticking out his hand with a friendly grin. “I foresee we’ll become fast friends, Sigurd. Let’s shake hands.”
    Sigurd extended his hand reluctantly. “Pleased to meet—” he began, just as Rolfr gave him a terrific haul upward and onto the horse behind him.
    “I think I shall call you Siggi, if you don’t mind,” Rolfr said. “I’ve got great plans for you.”
    “No one except my grandmother ever called me Siggi in my life without repenting of it,” Sigurd declared hotly, but it was all he could do to hang on as Rolfr whirled his horse around and jabbed its ribs with his spurs. The beast crouched for a mighty spring, launching itself into a breakneck gallop over rocks and underbrush in pursuit of the solitary dark figure of Halfdane, who was riding ahead, outlined against the silver morning sky.
    Sigurd didn’t feel much like talking, but Rolfr kept up a lively conversation without much input from Sigurd. Rolfr possessed the gift of endless speech—with himself, the horse, or the terrain. Finally Sigurd broke in with a question.
    “Where is Hrafnborg? I’ve never heard of it.”
    Rolfr laughed, letting the horse slow to a bone-rattling trot. “I’d be surprised if you had, you know. But of course you can’t help being a Scipling. I’d almost forgotten it. This promises to be great fun, if you’re as