Chapter 45 – Sindri

Sindri found the bard in the bottom of the valley. He stood with the biggest man in the world. Bigger than Red Gregor, bigger than Ulf the Bear, bigger than Cairn-Wolf in the sagas. A small blond boy hung around the giant's legs. Sindri wouldn't have noticed him, but for his eyes, deepest blue, like the summer sea.

The blood on his neck and chin had cooled. Sindri knelt at the river and splashed double handfuls of water into his beard, sluicing away the worst of the gore. Yekrin's heart had been a messy meal. He glanced at his leg where the knife had stuck him, nothing remained of the wound but a narrow black line.

He stood. The two men and the boy watched him from across the small river, more curious than alarmed.

"Ingold Stannith?" Sindri addressed the bard.

"At your service, Hearteater." Ingold nodded to him.

"You have a key. I want it. I would rather not have to kill you for it," Sindri said. No lie there. There's something in him that reminds me of Greyheart.

The big one smiled at that. A slow easy smile.

"I'd rather you didn't either, lad," Ingold said. "But I can't give it to you, my friends have need of it."

Sindri sighed. He leapt the river, landing in the shallows and scrambled to shore.

"What do you want the key for?" the big man asked.

"Corlothis asked it of me. The Ghost Raven told us to find him. Told us Corlothis was our salvation." Sindri didn't expect his explanation it to help.

"The Ghost Raven?" the big man smiled again, "You'll be from the Greyloft then. How fares the Castlebane? And Greyheart, he's a man to walk to battle with."

Sindri's shock must have shown on his face, for the big man laughed. "I've been to Sark in my time, boy. Wrestled a troll or two."

The child's voice came high and sweet. His eyes took on a far-away look. "I have spoken with a winged spirit, black as a raven, huge beyond dreaming. He speaks to your people and they name him Ghost." He stepped away from the giant. "Finding Corlothis was the salvation of your people. It was the finding, not Corlothis. The heart of the Greyloft is not in his dark hands. The power is in you, Sindri. For good or ill, it is in you. You hold the fate of the Greyloft. You are the key your father seeks. Open the right door, Sindri Hearteater, open the right door."

The boy swayed and fell. Ingold caught him before he hit the ground.

"Go home, Sindri," the big man said. "Go home. Tell your father that Gartus Redkin will pay him a visit soon enough. Go home and carve your own future. Let Corlothis and the Raven play their games. Men make their own way."

There are times to drink your poison, times to bind yourself irrevocably to your chosen course, for good or ill. And there are times to walk away. Sindri met the giant's even stare, met the bard's curious green eyes, nodded, shouldered his axe and walked away. Headed north.