The Valhalla Saga 01 - Swords of Good Men Read Free Page A

of feed had been piled topsy-turvy on the cart, and the jolt had proved too much. A quick inspection confirmed his suspicions. The other wheel would stay on, but this one was gone and would not carry weight. The cart would not be mended here, and there was hardly space to unload it.
    Audun took up a position at the rear end, feeling under the collapsed side for a grip. When he’d found it, he spat into the palms of his hands, rubbed them together and grabbed the edge of the cart.
    He bent his knees, straightened his back and growled low. Breathing through his nose, he slowly straightened his legs and lifted the corner of the cart. Moving his leg behind the wheel, he pushed it away from the wagon. The two men at the back stood by and gawped, as did the hapless farmer standing by the horse. ‘You two – help me, or by Thor I’ll drop it on your feet and smack you in the head!’ Audun hissed through clenched teeth. He turned to the front and snapped: ‘And you – get the bloody horse moving!’
    After a brief moment of confusion, the farmers bumbled into action.
    The two men in the back squeezed in on either side of Audun and tried their best to help bear the weight, and the third farmer started leading the horse. Sporadic cheers followed them through the gate and out of Stenvik.
    ‘Off the road!’ Audun commanded as soon as they’d cleared the gateway.
    ‘But …’ one of the farmers protested meekly.
    Audun bit off the words, each a measured threat. ‘Off. The. Road.’
    A couple of moments later the wagon was off the path into Stenvik, jolting among hastily pitched tents and rickety wattle huts outside the walls.
    ‘Down,’ he commanded. ‘Softly. Don’t break anything else.’
    The farmers complied, and slowly the cart was brought to a halt.
    While the two at the rear coughed and tried to catch their breath, the farmer leading the horse approached Audun, dragging his feet and staring at the ground.
    ‘Thank you for helping us. We could have been stuck there all day. Now we can—’
    ‘So this is yours?’ Audun cut in, bent double and breathing heavily.
    ‘What? Yes … yes it is.’
    ‘Seven silvers.’
    The farmer looked at him, stunned.
    ‘… What?’
    ‘Seven silvers.’ Catching his breath, Audun straightened up and looked the farmer in the eyes. ‘I go get the tools and fix your cart. You give me seven silvers.’
    ‘But … I’ve not … It’s been a poor market for us!’
    ‘If you’ve made enough money to buy and pile feed bags on your cart until it breaks, you have no cause to complain.’ Audun walked over to the single wheel on the back end of the cart. He put his foot up on the axle, casually testing how much weight it supported. ‘I could always convert it into a sled for you …’
    The farmer looked at him, dejected.
    ‘… Five?’
    Audun frowned, then nodded. ‘Five silvers it is. Stay here.’
    He turned around and headed back into town.
    *
    ‘Valgard! Come quick!’
    The boy who poked his head in through the doorway could not have been more than eight years old. Golden rays slipped past him, casting their light on dust motes dancing in the air in the tiny wooden hut.
    A slim man with sloping shoulders sat hunched over a workbench in the corner. Jars and bowls of various sizes were ordered all around him on the surface. A small carved wooden figure of a woman holding a bundle of plants looked down on the tabletop.
    ‘Calm down. What’s happened?’ His voice was soothing, but he did not move a single muscle to acknowledge his visitor.
    ‘A cart broke in the south gate and a farmer fell and hit his head. He’s not moving and everybody’s angry.’
    Valgard kept his eyes trained on the workbench. In his hand was a short but very sharp knife, on a small slate of stone in front of him a handful of black berries. He had just pierced the skin of a berry and was pressing it into a bowl, counting the drops. Sensing the boy was still hovering in the doorway, he