Sigrunn's Saga III

Before the sun rose she halted, relieved the bleeding had stopped. She rubbed some dirt and spit together in her gloved hands to make fresh mud to cover the wound.  She avoided contact with any one she saw from the scrub as she headed north towards the mountain. The next afternoon she noticed a man was following her, he looked like one of her people and she suspected he was tracking her for the Jarl who surely wanted her as dead as she wished him to be. She did her best to avoid him but he was quickly overtaking her. He seemed to know where she was going and so she decided to make a stand.

She set a trap to injure him and laid in ambush. Soon he was close and she recognized him as the hunter Harard. Though she was over six feet tall, he was more than twice her bulk, heavily muscled and unarmored able to move quickly. She didn’t know where the quiet Harard’s allegiance was; with the Jarl and the new god or with her and the old way. She thought she could beat him as he had no shield or mail but worried who else would be sent and she coulnd't help but feel slighted to learn only one tracker had been sent to bring her down.

For his part Harard had no trouble tracking the heavily encumbered, wounded and fatigued princess, unaccustomed to long marches in the wilderness. She had taken pains to avoid detection meaning she had to take still more time moving through concealment blazing her own trail. This left an obvious path for any hunter could follow from more easily traveled ground. He had spotted her ambush from beyond bow shot but could not see her. He guessed where she was hiding and headed for the trap to lure her out. He reached the snare and called out “princess I am Harard, I come as an ally, show yourself!”

She readied her axe “go home while you still can hunter tell the Jarl I’ll be back for him in my own time.”

“Princess I serve you and Vatun. After you cut down the missionary the Jarl sent a party out to kill you but they ran into the dwarfs seeking the one who had killed two of their own near our village.”

She gave a look around to see if he had others with him. “Where is your hunting party Harard? Your sons?”

“I am alone but they are coming if the dwarfs did not clash with the Jarl's men, they’ll be following you too, following me and I have no sons.”

“Why are you here then?” she quizzed him.

“The dream, the wooden castle was a prison. The witch a servant of his foes - a warden! You saw his prison; I was with you trapped there too. I quit the hunting party when I had the dream, there are others in the village who would rally to your banner and kill the heretic Cuthbert men and make slaves of the dwarves.”

Sigrunn’s belly rumbled hungrily “You seek then to join me? To answer his call if that’s what this vision is?”

“Yes, if you seek to steal into his prison to free him I swear my life is yours to command, my steel shall not fail you!”

Arrogantly she asserted her rank “you seek only to enter my bed, and you will not no matter how cold the night! And we shall see how true your brave words are soon I sense…”

Harard sensing their shouted conversation has attracted attention steps closer to her hiding place, sidestepping the snare prompting her to show herself “Princess, you are beautiful and I will live to see you eat your words on both counts.” He raises his yew bow and notches an arrow turning away from her shifting his attention and aim towards something approaching. She looks past him squinting to see what approaches from out of the sun – it’s a pair of the Jarl's men. They hurl a spear over her head as a sacrifice to the god and advance drawing their heavy broad swords from their sides, one of the warriors speaks “good job Harard, now step aside.”

“I’m not done with her yet you’ll have to wait for your turn.”

Sigrunn wastes no time on talk she leaps to the attack finding her strength suddenly renewed she lands to the side of her foe, swinging wildly feigning incompetence and madness, bait the warrior takes. He lazily steps aside to strike her down, his foot falling into her snare and he howls as he hears his ankle snap, pierced by the spikes placed inside the concealed knee deep hole. He drops to his side dropping his blade as Harard draws fires point blank into the other man’s eye. The arrows haft punches out the back of his skull, knocking the helmet from his head. He falls in a crumpled heap. The screams of the wounded man becomes a pleading for mercy as Sigrunn kicks his sword away and knocks his helmet off with her axe. Raising her weapon over her head she turns to Harard “how many more?”

“There were eight of us princess” Harard answers sullenly – suddenly consumed with sorrow for the loss of the men – friends of his until now. 

The wounded man cries out “the others are with the dwarfs, as prisoners – they might be killed if we do bring you to them in three days’ time!”

 “Then they will die, traitors to god as shall you…”

“NO!” he cries his last as she brings her axe down across his throat cutting deeply into his chest. He falls over sideways, his head dangling backwards, partly severed from his body propped up by his armor, shield and her trap holding his broken leg in place.

Sigrunn warns Harard to “take their mail, if more come we’ll need it. Leave their bodies for the crows they deserve no peace in the other world. They die cowards without a name, forget them” she hacks away the dead men’s faces with quick strokes of her axe and helps Harard to strip them. Once their work is done Harard asks “why are we heading to the mountain princess, what do we seek there?”

“God knows, I do not. Before we go, do you have any food?”

He pulls a wrapped cake from his pack saying “the dead man’s wife made these for us” as he hands it to her.

Sigrunn unwrapped the tiny soft cake and stuffed it whole into her mouth, her eyes lit up happily “mmm…” she chewed and swallowed it and without a hint of remorse then declared “that’s good cake” tucking her axe away in its sheath. The pair started into a jog and made their camp with a mixed group of miners; men and dwarves that night. They had no knowledge of Sigrunn’s outlaw status and welcomed the pair. Though Sigrunn was uncomfortable with the dwarves she supped with them and the men who she thought smelled slightly less offensively.

Unable to eat the last cake, Harard trades it for wine at the miner’s camp. He gave that to the princess when he had his fill and she greedily chugged it, thanking him but reminding him again of his place saying “not tonight hunter, not so easily."