Wolf Child - Lìfa-saga Book 1

III.

Later that night, as the feast slowly chilled down, the drunk and sleepy people returned one by one to their homes, or at least to what remained of them. Those, who completely lost their houses gathered up in the jarl's mead hall for the night. That was Thornvik's only building with its walls made of stone instead of wood. Egil was clever and rich enough to protect his property from assaults or from burning down with this strong, durable material.

The feast hall itself was at least thirty meters long and ten meters wide, with several columns with engraved designs holding it's wooden rooftop. With the gates open it looked like a huge doorway, leading deep into a giants mouth. On the inside, the walls used to be heavily decorated with tapestries, shields, and weapons from different corners of the world, with many torches among them to bring light to the hall. In the middle, huge tables lined up, bearing the scratches and stains of too many feasts and joyful rounds of hnefatafl* to count, or to remember.

In the center, a huge firepit took place, where the women used to cook, and where children gathered up on winter nights to listen to the skald's songs about distant lands. All along the walls, the ground was covered with small beds made of straw and thick fur of wolves and bears. Egil's warriors used to sleep here with their wives, or occasionally with the young, pretty servants. At the far end of the hall sat the jarl's high throne to watch over that empire of his.

Now, on the inside, the hall was just a weak shadow of its glorious self. The furniture was crashed and broken, the weapons were all gone and in general, the whole interior was a huge mess, covered with blood, ashes, and shards of what was left of the tables and chairs. Even Egil's throne couldn't survive the raid. It was torn down from its place and thrown into a corner. The women cleaned the ruins up as much as they could, so the homeless could put their heads to rest there. Fortunately, there was enough place in the building to give shelter to everyone who was in the need for it.

Lìfa wasn't one of them. Einar's small house was in almost perfect state since the man's murderer didn't have a chance to set that on fire. However, the girl didn't have the intentions of spending the night at home because she had a plan on how to get on Egil's knarr in the morning. She prepared a package for the big journey, including some of her clothes, armour, weapon and some silver hidden in the house. She decided to bring her father's sword, the Troll Cutter too. It was her only legacy left behind. Lìfa hid the package near the mead hall under a log, then blended in the crowd heading inside the mead hall. She curled up on the straw in one of the corners closest to the entrance, from where she could see everyone perfectly, yet she was out of sight.

She wanted to get some sleep and in the dawn, before anyone wakes she planned to sneak out and hide on the ship under the folded pile of sail.

There she could be hidden until they paddle out to the open sea and where they would finally need the sail. There it would be way too late to turn back and bring her to the shore. She could only hope though that Egil wouldn't throw her out into the sea, but it was a risk she willingly took.

As peace and silence settled on the warm darkness of the hall, dreamless, uneasy sleep found Lìfa. A few hours later the sound of heavy footsteps roused her from her sleep. She opened her eyes immediately, being afraid that she might be late and missed the ship but everything was still dark and quiet. She was about to put her head down again when, suddenly, something heavy pinned her to the ground and a hand covered her mouth.

"Egil may be forgiving and easy on you, but I didn't forget what you did out there!" a voice whispered in the dark so close to her that Lìfa could feel his unpleasant odour and stinking breath. "You accused me of not daring to fight you! You know what? I'm not afraid of a little brat like you! I could kill you with a single swing of my arm."