Rurik's Arc

Chapter 4 of 22

Bjorn's words hung in the glade. The wild folk had risen for Rurik moments ago. Now they turned on each other. A wild elf with blood-red eyes stepped forward from the beast-kin. She wore green cloth and feathers, and a red mark stained one cheek. Her hand rested on a curved blade at her hip. She was the thief Bjorn meant, and every elf behind her drew close, ready to bleed for her. "He calls us thieves," the red-eyed elf said. Her voice carried. "He crawls into our home and names us dogs." A fae figure hissed. Bows lifted. The alliance Rurik had won was cracking in front of him. Rurik stepped between them. He had to crane his neck to hold Bjorn's eyes, then turn to face the elf. "Bjorn." His voice was flat. "The blade waits. My people don't." Bjorn's hand stayed on his empty scabbard. He did not move. Thorin came up beside Rurik. The old dwarf looked at the drawn bows and said nothing at first. Then he spoke low, for Rurik alone. "He'll get us all killed over a sword. Or you fix it now." Rurik knew Thorin was right. He turned to the red-eyed elf. "Did you take his blade?" She met his eyes. "I took it off a raider two winters past. He came burning. I burned back." She drew the curved blade and held it flat. "It was never Bjorn's." Bjorn stared at the blade. His jaw worked. "That's my clan's steel. Six generations." "Then your clan's steel was in a thief's hand before it was in mine," the elf said. "I killed the thief. That makes it mine." The glade went still. Bjorn could swing, and the elves would answer, and Rurik's army would die here in the moss. Rurik saw it clear. He made his choice. "Bjorn." Rurik stepped close. "You want the blade back. She wants blood paid for it. Both true." He put his hand on Bjorn's arm. "Ride with me. Break my siege. When it's done, I'll buy that blade off her with the raider's gold we take. You get your steel. She gets her due. Nobody dies in this glade." Bjorn looked at the elf a long time. He looked at the empty scabbard. Then he closed his hand and let it fall from the hilt. "After the siege," he said. "Your word." "My word," Rurik said. The elf slid the blade back into her belt. The bows lowered. The fae eased into the moss. Rurik breathed. The quarrel was done, and the wild folk were still one. The red-eyed elf stepped closer to Rurik. "You held the fight off," she said. "But I don't march for a stranger's word. Show us this army you want us to bleed for." Behind her, the beast-kin and fae watched, waiting. Rurik had kept the alliance. Now he had to prove the siege was worth their spears.