Read Online Fate's Needle by Jerry Autieri - Free Book Online

heading toward the open farmland, but it was their only path.
    As they fled, a spear hissed between them, but the blackness enfolded them. Within moments, they were away. Grim’s screaming must have delayed some of the arriving warriors. Through the thumping rain, Ulfrik could hear horns blasting and men shouting. They ran on, through the dark and the rain.

Seven
    As fast as was safe, they sprinted on through the night until, after what seemed like hours, a breathless Yngvar suggested they circle back toward the woods. Ulfrik huffed his agreement. Behind them, yellow points of light bobbed and gathered, coming together then separating. Some clustered and began to weave toward them.
    The woods were black as pitch against the night sky and Ulfrik’s side ached as they ran into the forest. At least the rain struck them with less intensity beneath the trees, but the darkness was absolute and tree roots tripped them, forcing them to slow. Ulfrik, soaked with equal parts rain and sweat, slumped against a tree. Beside him, Yngvar wheezed and fell against a log.
    “A bloody business,” Yngvar moaned. “Five men dead, four by our hand. All for your damn brother’s ambition.”
    Ulfrik did not reply; he was too winded. He knew it was true, and yet he could muster little concern. The men they had killed had all been given a warrior’s death—a place at Odin’s table in Valhalla. It was more than they had planned for him.
    “I don’t think I killed him,” Ulfrik said as he rolled over in the mud, his chest heaving. “He’ll have a scar. Maybe lose some teeth. It’s not enough.”
    They saw the bobbing torches before they heard the men. The enemy must have guessed their hiding place. Silently, they hunkered into the underbrush. Their few pursuers likely feared forest spirits, elves in particular. Had necessity not overwhelmed his hesitation, Ulfrik might also have worried. Instead, he and Yngvar remained where they were. No one approached, neither elf nor man. All Ulfrik could see was an errant gleam from Yngvar’s mail-covered shoulder. Soon, the rain ceased, lingering only in the drips that plopped from branch to branch. The mud and leaves beneath him warmed, even began to feel comfortable. Ulfrik nodded, and then, eventually, slept. He did not dream.
    ***
    He woke to birdcalls in the trees above him. Light slipped between the pines, touching him with vague warmth. The scent of moist earth against his face made him wonder what had happened to his bed, but when he stirred and the leaves above spilled their load of rainwater on him, he remembered.
    Fighting the instinct to leap up, Ulfrik lay still, listening to the woods: the erratic drips falling from high branches, the rustle of underbrush in the breeze, the birdsong all around. No sound of men, he thought. But that did not mean men were not watching.
    Yngvar still lay where he had the night before. Ulfrik prodded him, generating a snort as Yngvar rolled over onto to his other side. Assured, Ulfrik extracted himself from the muck and underbrush. He was wet, chilled, and sore, but he ignored it. One of Grim’s men could be within arm’s length, waiting for him to make a mistake.
    He scouted the surrounding area. Since his youth, he was seldom without a weapon, even if only a knife. He had the ridiculous sensation that being unarmed would make him easily spotted. But his scouting revealed no one, only boot prints that led away from his hiding spot. The men had come close, but not close enough.
    “They’ve probably caught the girl by now.”
    Ulfrik jumped at Yngvar’s whisper, and stumbled among the branches.
    Yngvar laughed. “Calm yourself, Ulfrik. We’re probably not far from a lookout.”
    The thought quickly sobered him. Ulfrik brushed down his legs to divert attention from the heat that flushed his face. “They probably know we’re in the forest. We must’ve left good tracks in the mud last night.” He pointed to the tracks he had just found.
    The woods