Free Fate's Needle by Jerry Autieri

smile revealed his few remaining teeth. “They are out east. Grim won’t look for them so soon, not now that his face is wrecked. Besides, he’s looking for you two, not me.”
    “We are headed north, to Auden,” Ulfrik said, glad of Magnus’s help. “We cannot go directly, so the trip will take longer.”
    Magnus shrugged. “I’ve already done this much. My family will hold up until I can send for them.”
    Ulfrik nodded. As they slipped back into the trees, Magnus glanced back just once. Then he handed them two swords and two skins of water from his makeshift sack.
    Ulfrik smiled. All they needed to do now was get to Auden. With Magnus’s help they could make the journey without delay. Maybe, he thought, the Fates have spun me a better strand than I imagined.
    Somewhere an owl called in reply.

Eight
    Runa shivered, remembering the clang of metal as Yngvar had drawn his sword. Every time she heard that sound, it meant disaster. It meant: run. So she had run—first to the shadows between the buildings, and then onward as the rain became fiercer. As she ran, she heard a horn blast and the shouting of men, and then Yngvar’s roar and the collision of swords. She did not look back, instead fleeing to a storage shed that was close enough to allow her to see. Through the rain and wind, a shriek reached her. Her stomach boiled with shame, hoping it was not Ulfrik. Her disguise now useless, Runa wriggled out of the bulky mail and sloughed off the sodden cloak. She fingered the slave collar that chaffed at her neck and a rusty tang filled her nostrils. So close to having it removed , she thought wistfully.
    Pressed up against the shed wall, Runa closed her eyes to the rain that streamed into her face, having half a mind to add to it with tears. She had nearly escaped, and now she was back. She cursed herself for trusting such a foolish plan. Why did I let Ulfrik dazzle me? He probably never intended to honor his promise. No doubt he would have just raped me and given me to Yngvar as a reward. That’s all I am now: property to be handed out. Booty.
    Horns blasted again and Runa saw torches blooming in clusters around the barracks. She folded herself against the wall and begged the gods to keep her hidden. Men fanned out in all directions, some toward her.
    Her heart thumped and her breath was short, but she knew running would only expose her. The torchlight jogged closer. Two men were approaching.
    “Search that shed,” one called to the other.
    “A waste of time,” the other shouted over the rain. “It’s locked.”
    They hurried to the corner of the shed, the light from their torches casting a yellow ring that almost illuminated her feet. She heard one of them try the door. Locked. Runa held her breath.
    “So is Lord Grim dead? Will we still get paid?” one of them asked.
    “I didn’t see if he died. They dragged him into the barracks too fast. But he was screaming and cursing. So—”
    “Hey, there they go!” the other voice interrupted.
    Runa heard them splash off through the rain, calling to other men. She smiled. Ulfrik had escaped, and Yngvar was still with him. It seemed that Grim might even be dying. The gods are certainly involved , she thought.
    Runa knew where Ulfrik’s room was in the hall. She merely had to grab the sword and escape to the northern track. From there, she could meet up with them and travel to Ulfrik’s uncle’s hall, where he would restore her freedom. If she recovered his precious sword, Ulfrik would have to honor his promise. After all, warriors valued their oaths, even if made to slaves. And Runa was certain Ulfrik was better than most. He reminded her of her brother—the same proud gait, the same stubborn resolve. He had even thanked her when she served him stew a few nights ago. He would grant her freedom, as he had promised.
    Yet still Runa stood rooted to the spot, listening to the men shout through the darkness. A blind run would end in her crashing into one of them.