A/N AAH JUST THREE DAYS LEFT UNTILL I DIE... oh wait, no I don't die. My friends are coming for a bbq, on my birthday this firday and yep I'm probably going to die. Yes we're very, very weird. What did you expect from the school drama club? WEIRDNESS!
geeky43: YOU DON'T HAVE TO WAIT ANY LONGER MATTIE (very stupid nickname of mine) TO THE RESQUE! hehe I might be a teensy bit hyperactive... Thanks for your review.
moniquebowman: I'm sorry, I actually already have a plan for Gilan and... LALALALALA NO SPOILERS LALALALALA. But I can tell you this, I will mix things up a little soon.
DISCLAIMER: LALALALA NOT HAPPENING LALALALA (I don not own)
Chapter 3.
May.
Following the failed escape attempt, We were forbidden to move more than fifty metres from the huts. There was no more running, no more exercising. Erak managed to find a new range of tasks for the three of us to undertake, from re-weaving the rope mattresses in the dormitory to re-sealing the lower planks along Wolfwind's hull with tar and pieces of frayed rope. It was hot, unpleasant work.
Confined in this fashion, we couldn't help noticing the growing tension between the two groups of Skandians. Slagor and his men, bored and seeking distraction, had called loudly for us to be flogged. Slagor, licking his wet lips, had even offered to carry out the task himself.
Erak, very bluntly, told Slagor to mind his own business.
The situation explodes one night during the evening meal. Will is placing platters and several carving knives on one table. I'm Serving water and ale around. Evanlyn is ladling soup from a large pot at the other, where Erak and Slagor sit with their senior crewmen. As she leans between Slagor and his first mate, the skirl suddenly lurches back in his chair, throwing his arms wide as he laughs at a comment from one of his men. His hand jolts against the full ladle, spilling hot soup onto his bare forearm.
Slagor bellows in pain and grabs Evanlyn by the wrist, dragging her forward, twisting her arm cruelly so that she is bent awkwardly over the table. The soup pot and ladle clatter to the floor.
"Damn you, girl! You've scalded me! Look at this, you lazy Araluan swine!" He shook his dripping arm close to her face, holding her with his other hand. This got my blood boiling, and trust me that doesn't happen very often.
"I'm sorry," she says hurriedly, wincing against the pain as he twists her arm further. "But you knocked against the ladle."
"My fault, was it? I'll teach you to speak back to a skirl!"
His face is dark with rage as he reaches for the short three-thonged whip that he carries at his belt. He called it his Encourager and claims that he uses it on lazy rowers – a claim disbelieved by those who knew him. It was common knowledge that he wouldn't have the nerve to strike a burly oarsman.
A young girl, however, is a different matter. Especially now that he is drunk and angry. I let out a low growl and slowly put down the jug I was holding.
The room goes silent. Outside, the ever-present wind moans against the timbers of the hut. Inside, the scene seems to be frozen for a moment, in the smoky, uncertain light of the fire and the oil lamps around the room.
Erak, sitting opposite Slagor, curses to himself. On the far side of the room, I see Will quietly set down the pile of platters. His gaze, like everyone else's, is riveted on Slagor, on the unhealthy flush of alcohol on his face and in his eyes, and the way his tongue kept darting out between his crooked, stained teeth to moisten his thick lips. Unnoticed by the sailors, the he retaines one of the knives – a heavy, double-edged knife that was used to carve portions of salt pork for the table.
Now, finally, Erak speaks. My head snaps to where his voice is coming from. His voice is pitched low and his tone is reasonable. That alone makes his own crew sit up and take notice. When Erak blusters and yells, he is usually joking. When he was quiet and intense, they knew, he was at his most dangerous. Something I picked up on in the first week here on this blasted island.
"Let her go, Slagor," he says. Slagor scowls at him, furious.
"She scalded me!" he shouts. "She did it on purpose and she's going to be punished!" Again I let out that low growl, yet again nobody seems to notice this. Erak reaches for his drinking cup and takes a deep draught of ale. When he speaks again, he affects a sense of weariness and boredom with the skirl.
"I'll tell you once more. Let her go. She's my slave."
"Slaves need discipline," says Slagor, darting a quick glance around the room. "We've all seen that you're not willing to do it, so it's time someone did it for you!"
Sensing his distraction, Evanlyn tries to twist out of his grip. Tries, not succeeds. Several of Wolf Fang's crew, those who are most drunk, chorus agreement with his words. Erak sighs and leans forward across the table, speaking slowly, as he might does to a less than intelligent being. Which, is a pretty good summation of Slagor's mental capacities.
"Slagor, I've had a hard campaign and these two are my only profit. I won't have you responsible for the death of two of them." Slagor smiles cruelly.
"You've gone soft on these two, Erak. I'm doing you a favour. And besides, a good whipping won't kill her. It'll just make her more obedient in future."
"I wasn't talking about this girl," Erak says evenly. "I meant the boy and the other girl there."
He nods across the room to where Will and I stand in the flickering shadows. Slagor follows his gaze, as do the others untill they reach us.
"The boy? And the girl?" He frowns, uncomprehending. "I have no intention of harming them." Erak nods several times.
"I know that," he replies. "But if you touch the girl with that whip of yours, odds are one of them'll kill you. And then I'm going to have to kill him or her to punish them And I'm afraid I'm not prepared to lose so much profit. So let her go."
Some of the other Skandians are already laughing at Erak's speech, delivered in such a matter-of-fact tone. Even Slagor's men join in. I wonder if they'd still laugh if they knew who we are...
Slagor's brows darkens and draws together with rage.
"You've lost your wits, Erak," he sneers now. "The boy is about as dangerous as a field mouse. I could break him in half with one hand. And the girl… Well let's not get started on her now shall we." He gestures to us with his free hand, the one that isn't locked around Evanlyn's upper arm. Erak smiles at him. There is no trace of humour in the smile.
"Both of them could kill you before you took a pace towards them," he says. There is a calm certainty to his voice that says he isn't joking. The room senses it and goes very quiet again. Slagor senses it too. He frowns, started to speak, but Erak holds up a hand to stop him.
"I suppose we can't actually have him kill you to prove it," he says, sounding reluctant about the fact. He glances around the room.
"Shove that cask over here, Svengal," he asks. His second in command puts one hand against the small cask and sends it sliding along the rough table to his captain. Erak examines it critically.
"That's about the size of your thick head, Slagor," he says, with a thin smile. Then he picks up his own belt knife from the table and quickly gouges two white patches out of the dark wood of the keg.
"And let's say they're your eyes."
He pushes the keg across the table, setting it besides Slagor, almost touching his elbow. A murmur of anticipation goes through the men in the room as they watch, wondering where this is leading. Only Svengal and Horak, who have served with Erak at the bridge, have some slight inkling of what their Jarl was on about. They know about us.
"So, boy," Erak says, "How about you first. Those eyes are a little close together, but then so are Slagor's." There is a ripple of amusement from the Skandians and Erak now addresses them directly. "Let's all watch them carefully and see if anything appears between them, shall we?"
And as he says that, he pretends to peer closely at the keg on the table. It's almost inevitable that everyone else in the room should follow his example. Will hesitates a second, but with a short nod to him I signal he can trust Erak. Quickly, he draws back his arm in an overhand throw and sends the knife spinning across the room. There's a brief flash as the spinning blade catches the red glare of the oil lamps and the fire. Then, with a loud 'thwock!' the razor-sharp blade slams into the wood – not quite in the centre of the gap between the two gouged out patches. The keg actually slides backwards a good ten centimetres under the impact.
Slagor lets out a startled cry and jerks away. Inadvertently, he releases Evanlyn's arm from his grasp. The girl steps quickly away from him, then, as Erak jerkes his head urgently in the direction of the door, she runs from the room, unnoticed in the confusion. There's a moment of startled outcry, then Erak's men begin to laugh, and to applaud the excellent marksmanship. Even Slagor's men join in eventually, as the skirl sits glowering at those around him. Erak rises from the bench and moves round the table, speaking as he goes.
"So you see, Slagor, if the boy here had aimed for the wrong wooden head, you would surely be dead right now and I would have to kill him in punishment." He stops, close to Will, smiling at Slagor.
"As it is," Erak continues, "I simply have to reprimand him for frightening someone as important as you." And before Will or I see the blow coming, Erak sends a backhanded fist crashing against the side of the his head, knocking him senseless to the floor. He gestured to the unconscious figure on the rough wooden floor of the hut.
"Throw this disrespectful whelp into his hutch," he orders. He turns on his heel to storm away but the sound of Slagor's voice.
"So the boy can throw a knife. That doesn't mean anything. Many can do that." He says with another sneer. Erak turns around and looks at me. He nods and I narrow my eyes at the skirl in front of me. Let out the low growl a third time and run to him. Along the way I shift and jump up on the table. I stop merely inches away from his face. My eyes narrowed and teeth bared. I growl, then turn around. I slip past Erak and run to the sea. That'll leave him scarred for life.
I stop and stare at my image in the water. It isn't the sweet little fox I'm used to. It's a pitch black full grown wolf. One eye green and the other gold. A white thin line goes from my eyebrow to my snout. It's not a scar, it's just a line fo furr. The tips of my ears are the same colour. I look back and see that the tip of my tail is white aswell. I look up to the moon and the stars. I sit down and just stare at them. This is new. A wolf. Maybe it's all the skandians around me. Maybe it's the anger. I don't know, but I like it.
"Well this is something new." A voice behind me says. I look back and see it's Erak. "Seems like I'm right after all. You can call upon multiple forms." He says. I nod and look back at my reflection. "Mind changing back so we could talk?" He asks, without another word I do what he says.
"You're not going to knock me out aswell, are you?" I ask in a timid voice.
"Oh now that you mention it… No, I will not. He got what was coming for him. And besides I don't know if I can handle a powerfull shapeshifter as yourself." He adds with a wink. I blush and lower my head.
"I'm sorry." I tell him.
"Don't be. It's time we get out of here. In one week we leave. When we get to Hallasholm, I'll take you to your new master. I've sent a message to the mainland, and got one back this day. She accepts you as her student, and housemaid." Erak says. I nod.
"Wait her?" I ask.
"Yes, her. Her name is Freya Vanir."
A/N CHANGEEEEEEEE. CHANGEEEEEEE. Well anyway, here we have it. Her second form. Freya Vanir is a creation of ScbaStv. He won by guessing how old I'll become! AND I COMPLETELY LOVE HIS IDEA! You'll probably meet her next chapter! Now if you excuse me, I believe it's time for sleep. mmm sleep...zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz