Soon enough, he wrenches his arm forward and one of the wolves comes into view, its body sliding through the snow.
The way it’s struggling tells me it’s still alive, but its snout is bound shut by a copper-colored chain that extends in a seemingly continuous strand, binding the wolf’s front and back legs. The chain is wrapped around the wolf’s body all the way from its hindquarters up to its neck, where the metal forms a solid collar.
Attached to the collar is another, thicker chain, the end of which is curled around the man’s right hand.
In the same fluid movement with which he heaved the wolf forward, he flicks the end of the chain toward the nearest tree.
Like a blade, it streaks across the air so fast that the copper chain is a blur before the sharp end hits the tree with acrack, embedding deep into the wood and tethering the wolf to the tree’s trunk.
The wolf scrabbles furiously at the ground, trying to free itself, while the man continues toward us without missing a step.
I fight my instinct to jump to my feet and defend the wolf, forcing myself to stay with my father, keeping my arrow pointed squarely at the copper-haired man’s neck as he continues walking toward us.
It’s as if he has no fear of us or our arrows at all.
“Blacksmith!” my father calls, his voice calm while his bow remains visibly taut. “Stop where you are.”
The copper-haired man slows his pace but takes two more steps before he draws to a halt, his cloak swirling around his legs.
“Humans,” he says, casting a dismissive glance at me before he shakes his head at my father. “Put away those pitiful weapons. They will offer you no advantage.”
“Don’t be so sure of that,” my father replies. “Blacksmiths bleed and die as easily as humans. I know it for a fact.”
As he speaks, Father turns his bow slightly, ensuring that the runes on the back of his right hand are fully visible to the copper-haired man.
The Blacksmith stiffens, appearing to quickly reassess my father, refocusing on his blond hair and then the ink on his hands. “Blond hair. Blue runes…” The corners of his mouth turn down as he mutters, “Fucking Einherjar.” He spits. “Nothing more than barbarians.”
Despite his contemptuous reply, his eyes betray a new wariness.
My father’s declaration implies that he fought and killed a Blacksmith in the past.
I can’t risk taking my eyes off the copper-haired man, but from the corner of my eye, I briefly assess my father’s expression.
I’m surprised to realize… he may not be lying.
Not judging by the clench of his jaw and the steadiness of his gaze.
Killing a Blacksmith would certainly earn him a reputation worthy of a leader under Einherjar law.
But now I wonder how many secrets my father has kept from me all this time.
To the copper-haired Blacksmith, my father says, “Come any closer and I will spillyourblood just as easily.”
Chapter 12
The copper-haired Blacksmith rallies quickly.
“Do not challenge me, human,” he sneers. “I am Kalith Silverspun. I stand at the right hand of Malak Ironmeld. Andyouare clearly outnumbered here.”
As he speaks, the other four figures draw to a stop at the edge of the clearing, all of them men.
Two are positioned to Kalith’s right, while the other two are on his left. They’re spread out, located far enough apart that it will take seconds to adjust our aim between them all.
The one on my far right has short, bronze hair and fierce eyebrows, while the man next to him wears a beard with sharply defined edges. The bearded man’s hair is a similar copper color to Kalith’s hair, but his brown eyes are nothing like Kalith’s pale-green irises.
Both of those men drag wolves beside them, each of the animals bound in chains. They tether the wolves to the trees with thudding cracks of metal into wood, just like Kalith did.
My father doesn’t wait for the sound of the thudding cracks to fade. “I challenge whomever I wish, Blacksmith,” he says, remaining scarily calm, which only makes his threat sounddeadlier. “If you want to live to see tomorrow, turn around. Release the wolves. And leave.”
