Chapter 6
Dead Man’s Cut looked like a wound in the mountain.
Two walls of black stone narrowed around a snow-filled floor.
At the southern mouth, Red Wolf bodies lay beside Fjallvik shields.
At the northern ridge, Skarheim banners moved behind rocks.
At the western slope, Yrsa’s archers were trapped below a ledge.
And somewhere in the center, Eirik’s war band held a rough circle around the wounded.
Zuri saw the battle from high path and understood the map’s cruelty immediately.
If Eirik had entered as planned, all ninety men would have marched along canyon floor.
No cover.
No side route.
Mercenary archers above would have killed half before shields formed.
Instead, Yrsa’s warning fire reached Eirik in time.
He split war band.
Sent scouts.
The mercenaries attacked too early.
Then Kjell’s Skarheim force arrived, apparently to kill whoever remained.
Three plans collided.
Now nobody controlled canyon.
Zuri almost laughed.
Men loved drawing arrows on maps.
Arrows never panicked.
Never changed employers.
Never discovered secret siblings.
Real people ruined plans beautifully.
Svala pointed.
“Yrsa.”
Her sister? Actually Yrsa leader; Svala subordinate. Good.
Yrsa was visible behind a low stone shelf.
Alive.
Kjell’s men held ridge above.
Eirik’s blue wolf banner remained upright.
Alive too.
Tor exhaled.
“Good.”
Then arrows struck near them.
Not safe.
Bryn shouted:
“Down!”
They dismounted behind rock.
Zuri looked at route.
How to enter?
The true Stone Pass ran west.
The map erased it.
She smiled.
Of course.
They had a path Hakon’s altered war route ignored.
“West.”
Tor frowned.
“Kjell controls west ridge.”
“Top. Not pass.”
Bryn understood.
“We circle behind Yrsa.”
They moved.
Stone Pass was narrow but real.
Old snow packed deep.
No enemy watched lower entrance because every force focused canyon.
Again.
What maps ignored became useful.
They reached Yrsa first.
Svala embraced her commander? Maybe Yrsa is not sister. We'll keep close lieutenant.
Yrsa stared at Zuri.
“You came back.”
“Yes.”
“Hakon?”
“Captured.”
Yrsa laughed.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Disappointing.”
“Useful.”
“Always.”
Zuri pointed north.
“Kjell wants you dead.”
Yrsa’s expression did not change.
“I assumed.”
“You knew?”
“He sent me an arrow with my name.”
Reasonable.
“Why remain?”
“Because Eirik was here.”
Zuri stared.
“You stayed to help Fjallvik jarl?”
Yrsa looked offended.
“I stayed to stop my brother from becoming chief by murdering both clans.”
Good distinction.
“What does he want?”
“Kjell thinks Father’s peace with Fjallvik cost Skarheim iron land.”
Eirik? no, old border truce.
“He wants Hald River.”
There.
River again.
The actual river marked wrongly on map.
Why?
Iron deposits along southern bend.
Trade.
Territory.
Maybe deeper motive than mere succession.
Yrsa continued:
“Hakon promised him river rights after coup.”
Zuri frowned.
“Hakon said Kjell hired Red Wolf first.”
Yrsa’s face tightened.
“Both may be true.”
Of course.
They had bargained while planning to betray each other.
Zuri asked:
“Halden?”
Yrsa looked toward north ridge.
“Kjell has him.”
“Four moved prisoners?”
“With Halden.”
So Hakon moved witnesses to Kjell? Or Kjell took them.
“What for?”
“To accuse Eirik after battle.”
“Yes.”
Yrsa nodded.
“Kjell wants prisoners from both clans to say Eirik and I plotted raids.”
Zuri almost admired symmetry.
Frame peace as treason.
Let communities kill anyone who cooperates.
“What raids?”
“Last winter stores.”
Fjallvik granary burned? Could introduce.
“Three Fjallvik trap camps. Two Skarheim wagons.”
Zuri remembered rumors.
Each blamed other.
“Were they Kjell?”
Yrsa shook head.
“I suspect.”
Not know.
Good.
Eirik needed contact.
Zuri looked canyon.
His position half mile east.
Kjell’s archers between.
“We need draw north ridge.”
Yrsa smiled.
“You came with plan?”
“No.”
“Excellent.”
Zuri looked around.
Goat path above? Shepherd map perhaps.
Bryn said:
“Smoke.”
“Fire?”
“Wet pine.”
Wind moved north.
A smoke screen.
Not magical.
Could work.
They lit brush in sheltered cracks, feeding green pine.
Thick smoke climbed.
Kjell’s archers shifted.
Yrsa’s force moved lower.
Tor and Zuri crossed with six shields.
Arrows struck.
One hit shield.
One grazed Bryn’s arm.
They reached Eirik.
The jarl saw Zuri.
Then searched behind her.
“Leif.”
“Alive.”
His face collapsed.
“Alive?”
“Yes.”
“Where?”
“Fjallvik.”
“Hakon?”
“Captured.”
Eirik laughed.
Then winced from a cut along ribs.
Zuri examined.
Shallow.
“Sit.”
“I am fighting.”
“You are bleeding.”
“So is everyone.”
“And I cannot treat everyone while they run in circles.”
He sat.
She cleaned wound.
Eirik asked:
“What happened?”
“No time.”
“Make time.”
She looked at him.
“Your son asked me to tell you he is alive.”
Eirik closed eyes.
“Again?”
“Every time.”
He laughed through tears.
“Good.”
Zuri tied bandage.
Then:
“Hakon held prisoners. We freed them. He planned coup. Kjell planned invasion. They hired same mercenaries in different stages. Hakon now says Kjell wants Yrsa dead and river land.”
Eirik stared.
“That was the short version?”
“Yes.”
Tor arrived.
“Kjell calls parley.”
Everyone groaned.
Of course.
A white cloth rose from north ridge.
Kjell’s voice carried:
“Eirik!”
The jarl stood.
Zuri pushed him down.
“Bandage.”
He glared.
She finished knot.
Then he rose.
“What?”
Kjell appeared on ledge.
Tall.
Red beard.
Yrsa’s older brother.
Beside him stood Father Halden.
Hands bound.
And four prisoners.
Exactly.
Kjell shouted:
“Your own people accuse you!”
Eirik laughed bitterly.
“Get in line.”
Kjell frowned.
Not expected.
One prisoner, old fisherman Neri, had a knife at back.
He shouted rehearsed words:
“Eirik sold routes to Skarheim!”
Crowd below reacted.
Some Fjallvik warriors looked up.
Story still dangerous.
Eirik shouted:
“Did I?”
Neri’s face broke.
Knife pressed.
He nodded.
“Yes.”
Zuri watched.
Compelled testimony.
Visible if anyone looked.
Kjell continued:
“Yrsa paid him!”
Yrsa shouted from west:
“I barely pay my own riders!”
Some laughter.
Kjell’s face darkened.
Good.
Break ceremony.
He needed solemnity.
Zuri stepped beside Eirik.
Kjell saw.
“Foreign healer.”
Everyone knew her now apparently.
She shouted:
“Move the knife.”
He frowned.
“What?”
“The knife at Neri’s back.”
Silence.
People looked.
The guard behind prisoner shifted too late.
Visible.
Kjell laughed.
“For safety.”
“Whose?”
No answer.
Zuri continued:
“If testimony is true, untie them.”
Kjell stared.
“Come take them.”
There.
Trap.
Eirik stepped forward.
Zuri caught arm.
“No.”
Kjell smiled.
“Afraid?”
Eirik almost moved again.
Zuri whispered:
“He knows you.”
That stopped him.
Fear of looking weak.
Same lever.
Kjell shouted:
“Jarl hides behind foreign woman!”
Some men looked at Eirik.
He breathed.
Then sat on a rock deliberately.
“Today I do.”
The canyon went quiet.
Zuri looked at him.
Growth.
Kjell’s face twisted.
He needed anger.
Eirik continued:
“She noticed the map I was too frightened to question.”
That confession traveled through war band.
Murmurs.
Eirik shouted:
“I changed the route.”
Men stared.
No hiding.
“Kjell and Hakon used my son to force it.”
Kjell shouted:
“Liar!”
Eirik nodded.
“I also nearly led you into this canyon knowing it was trap.”
Silence.
Zuri’s chest tightened.
Full truth.
Dangerous.
Necessary.
Bryn stared at him.
Tor too.
Eirik continued:
“I planned to sacrifice you for Leif.”
One man shouted:
“Bastard!”
Another:
“My brother is here!”
Anger.
Real.
Eirik did not defend.
“Yes.”
Kjell smiled.
He thought confession destroyed jarl.
Maybe.
But it also stole blackmail.
Eirik shouted:
“If you want me removed, live first.”
The war band quieted.
“Then judge me.”
Zuri felt something shift.
Not forgiveness.
Trust could begin in accurate damage.
Kjell hated it.
He pulled Halden forward.
The priest looked exhausted.
Kjell said:
“Tell them who burned Leif’s ship.”
Halden stared at Eirik.
Then at Zuri.
He laughed.
“Kjell did.”
Everything stopped.
Kjell hit him.
Too late.
Halden fell.
Yrsa shouted.
Skarheim warriors moved.
Kjell raised hand.
“Stay!”
Halden pushed himself up.
Blood at lip.
“You forged Eirik’s order.”
Kjell kicked him.
Svala screamed.
Zuri looked at Fjallvik fighters.
They heard.
Kjell realized.
He drew sword.
“Kill prisoners.”
There.
No politics left.
Zuri shouted:
“Now!”
She had no plan behind word.
Fortunately others did.
Yrsa’s archers rose from smoke.
Fjallvik shields charged north slope.
Bryn and Tor moved.
Kjell’s men hesitated at murdering bound captives in full view.
One did not.
He raised axe.
Neri ducked.
Halden rammed guard.
Chaos.
Zuri stayed with wounded.
Her work.
No heroic charge.
People needed someone to stop bleeding.
Battle lasted twenty minutes.
Long enough to feel endless.
Kjell escaped.
Of course.
Men like him often did when followers died.
He fled along upper ridge with twelve riders.
The four prisoners survived.
Halden survived.
Yrsa lost six.
Eirik lost nine.
Red Wolf mercenaries in canyon surrendered after captain learned Hakon was captured and Kjell had abandoned payment.
Bryn wanted to kill them.
Zuri reminded:
“Later.”
He groaned.
“I hate that word.”
Good.
At sunset, survivors gathered.
Fjallvik and Skarheim together.
Uneasy.
Bloodied.
No celebration.
Halden drank water.
Eirik sat across.
The priest said:
“I failed you.”
Eirik looked at him.
“How?”
“I knew Leif lived.”
“Yes.”
“I did not tell you.”
“Yes.”
“I thought hostages would die.”
“Maybe they would.”
Halden looked surprised.
Eirik continued:
“That does not make what you did right.”
“No.”
“But I understand fear now.”
Silence.
Zuri watched.
Understanding without absolution.
Good.
Yrsa came over carrying a leather packet taken from Kjell’s camp.
“Found this.”
Maps.
Not Eirik’s altered one.
Older.
Border raids.
Fjallvik camps.
Skarheim wagons.
Targets marked months before attacks.
Kjell’s notes.
And signatures.
Some Hakon.
Some unknown.
One shocked Eirik.
“What?”
He held page.
At bottom, witness initials:
T.H.
Tor looked over.
His face went white.
Those were his initials.
Tor Hallen.
Arne’s father.
Everyone turned.
Tor stared at paper.
“I never signed that.”
Zuri believed he believed himself.
Not enough.
Yrsa said:
“This says you guided Kjell scouts through Stone Pass.”
Tor’s face hardened.
“No.”
Eirik looked at him.
Tor looked at Zuri.
Then laughed in disbelief.
“Now me?”
Zuri took the page.
Ink.
Initials.
A thumb mark.
Tor had scar on right thumb.
The print? Not exact identification, but mark maybe.
No.
She looked at date.
Seven months ago.
Tor was gone hunting then.
Where?
Eastern ridge.
Near Skarheim.
Possible.
Bryn stepped away.
Trust cracking again.
Tor shouted:
“I did not.”
Zuri looked at him.
“I hear you.”
“Do you believe me?”
She breathed.
“I believe we check.”
His face fell.
Not enough for friendship.
Necessary for truth.
Then Halden whispered:
“T.H.”
Everyone looked.
He knew.
“What?”
The priest closed eyes.
“Not Tor Hallen.”
“Who?”
“Thane Hrolf.”
Silence.
Eirik frowned.
“There is no Thane Hrolf.”
Halden looked toward Fjallvik.
“Yes.”
His voice dropped.
“There is.”
Then:
May you like
“Hrolf is Hakon’s real father.”
The old succession story twisted again.
