Free Mask of Swords by Jonathan Moeller

in his saddle. A peculiar steel mask covered his features, looking as if miniature sword blades had been layered over his face like falling leaves. The effect was disturbing and grotesque, and Sigaldra felt the masked man’s eyes settle upon her with a heavy weight.
    She recognized the masked man with sudden shock, and then turned her attention to Earnachar. 
    For a moment they stared at each other, waiting for the other to speak first. 
    An idea occurred to Sigaldra.
    “That man,” she said into the tense silence, pointed at the sword-masked figure. “Why have you brought him here?”
    “I am a headman of the Tervingi nation,” said Earnachar. She even detested the sound of his voice. “I have the right to bring my thains with me.”
    “That isn’t a thain, but one of Ragnachar’s orcragars,” said Sigaldra, remembering the fierce, cruel, mad warriors that had served the cold hrould. “His name is Rigoric. I remember him from the fighting in the middle lands. He’s a worshipper of the Urdmoloch, bound to demons in a pact of dark magic.” That pact made the orcragars faster and stronger and more ferocious than normal men. With a flicker of unease, Sigaldra realized that Rigoric could likely kill her and half her men before he was taken down. “The hrould has banished the surviving orcragars from the Grim Marches and forbidden the worship of the Urdmoloch. Are you so bold, Earnachar son of Balnachar, that you would defy the hrould’s commands?”
    Earnachar laughed, and his lackeys followed suit. Both Rigoric and the hooded women remained silent. “And are you so timid, holdmistress of the Jutai? The presence of one warrior unmans you so?”
    “Given that I am a woman, I fail to see how I can be unmanned,” said Sigaldra. Her spearthains laughed at that, and Earnachar’s eyes narrowed. “But how I feel is unimportant. The orcragars are forbidden from the Grim Marches, and you have brought one back…”
    “He is not an orcragar any longer,” said Earnachar. “True, the hrould has forbidden the worship of the Urdmoloch. But do not all men say the Urdmoloch perished at Knightcastle on the day the runedead were defeated? How, then, could Rigoric be a worshipper of the Urdmoloch?” 
    “Men believe all manner of foolish things,” said Sigaldra.
    Earnachar scowled at her for a moment. “Is that any way to greet a guest, Sigaldra of the Jutai? Are all the holdmistresses of the Jutai so miserly and cold to guests?” He laughed. “Apparently they are, since I am talking to the only holdmistress of the Jutai.”
    “What do you want, Earnachar?” said Sigaldra. 
    “Simply to call upon my neighbors and wish them well,” said Earnachar. 
    “Well, you’ve done so,” said Sigaldra. 
    “Such a short discussion,” said Earnachar with a mournful shake of his head. Again his men laughed. “Truly, the famed courtesy of the Jutai knows no bounds.”
    “Likes the courtesy of the Tervingi?” said Sigaldra. “Like your men driving off our cattle and moving our fences? Like your men opening our barns and terrorizing my herdsmen?”
    “You think to lay these misdeeds upon my sworn thains and bondsmen?” said Earnachar. His smirk sent a wave of hatred rolling through her. “It is not my fault if you are too weak to protect your lands and people, holdmistress. Perhaps if the Jutai had a proper headman instead of a woman to defend them, the Jutai might sleep safer in their beds.”  
    “Perhaps if our neighbors were not deceitful rogues,” said Sigaldra, “we would have less need of protection.”
    “Even if you had different neighbors,” said Earnachar, “you would still need someone to protect you. It is a dangerous world, holdmistress. The Grim Marches are not as dangerous as the middle lands, true, but they are dangerous nonetheless. Someone must defend the Jutai people.” His smirk widened. “Someone must defend your fair sister. Where is she, by the by? I should like to greet