Blades of Wolfsbane - episode nineteen

A story in the Ravenglass Universe.

Ragnar sat with his back against the wall and gazed at the dead men, his hands still gripping his blades, his fingers coated in drying blood.

“Ragnar. Where is Maja?”

He looked up at his father.

“Where is she?” His father reached down and shook his shoulders. “Where is Maja, boy?”

Ragnar got to his feet and stepped over the bodies into his father’s room. “Maja?” His voice came out in a dry croak. “It’s safe.”

Maja slid from under the bed and threw herself at her father, wrapping her arms around his legs. “Father!” She pulled away slightly. “Ragnar killed all the bad men.”

Ragnar the Elder studied the bodies as if seeing them for the first time, and looked up at Ragnar. “You killed these men?”

Ragnar nodded.

His father pushed out his bottom lip. “This is impressive, boy. Maybe you are a warrior, after all.” He embraced Ragnar in a tight hug and slapped his back. “You can train all you want, but the real measure of a warrior comes when he faces a true foe.” He prodded Ragnar’s chest. “You’re a Wolfsbane, boy. You’re a warrior, proud and true.” His gaze drifted to the sword and dagger still in Ragnar’s hands.

With a sigh, his father plucked the dagger from his grip, leaving him with the sword. “I won’t tell anyone you fought like one of those women.” He squeezed Ragnar’s shoulder. “You kept your sister safe.” A smile split his bloody beard. “I’m proud of you, son.”

“I…” Ragnar licked his lips. “Thank you.”

“My lord?” a guard called from the hallway.

Ragnar followed his father along the corridor and stopped by a door.

“One of them is in there,” the guard said. “Maybe we can question him.”

Ragnar the Elder nodded and gestured for his son to open the door.

With a nod, Ragnar turned the handle and held his sword ready. “It’s over. Your raid has failed. Come out.”

His father narrowed his eyes. “Show yourself!”

The hanging drapes shifted, but no one emerged.

Ragnar reached inside, and dragged the sheets down, revealing a young man cowering in the corner. “Sven?”

Sven crawled out on his knees and reached up to Ragnar the Elder. “Please…forgive me, my lord. There were too many of them.”

“My son killed three alone. And you cowered in a cupboard? What would have happened if they had killed Ragnar and taken my daughter?” He ran a hand down his beard, his lip curling. “I should kill you where you stand.” He turned to face his guards. “Take him from my sight. I want him gone from Meerand by sunrise.”

“No!”

Two guards twisted Sven’s arms behind him and dragged him away.

“Please!”

Ragnar sagged with exhaustion as the fight seemed to evaporate from his bones. “What should I do?”

“Go back to your room.” His father raised his chin. “I will clean up here.”

Ragnar made a quick bow. “Thank you, Father.”

“Thank you, son.”