The casualties had been light, all things considered. Ten Blood Claws wounded, six dead. Two Long Fangs lost to enemy fire. Four men missing. It was not yet known whether they were dead or if their locator
beacons had simply been damaged. Doubtless all would become clearer as the morning progressed. Ragnar suddenly grinned, trying to find something that would dispel his black mood. 'Mikko for Grey Hunter.’ he said suddenly.
Old Brother Hrolf grinned back at him. 'Aye, he's about ready. So are Lars and Jaimie.' Ragnar nodded. Talk to the brotherhood. See if they agree to accept them. If they are, I will perform the rites myself this evening.’
Strictly speaking, Ragnar had no need to consult anybody before elevating a Blood Claw to the ranks of the Grey Hunters. It was his privilege as Wolf Lord to make that selection, but only a fool discounted the opinions of his master sergeant, and the men who would have to fight alongside the newly raised Claw. Initiation into the ranks of the Grey Hunters was an important rite for all concerned, not just for the men involved but for the company. It marked the passage from raw ferocious youth to something wiser, more battle-hardened, and above all, less likely to get his companions killed by his eagerness for combat. Blood Claws were furious young men; Grey Hunters had tempered their lust for combat with experience. Ragnar saw the sergeant was looking at him, as were all the other warriors surrounding him. 'What is it?' Ragnar asked, already knowing what was coming. It was part of the personal myth that surrounded him. The tale is that you were never a Grey Hunter, lord.’ 'Aye, that is so, more or less.’
'I thought it was impossible for a man to become Wolf Lord unless he had been initiated into the brotherhood, lord.’ said Zoran, one of the newest recruits to the company, a man who had been ttansferred in from Fenris as a replace- ment for casualties. Zoran had the fresh-faced look of a Blood Claw who had only just been accepted into the Grey Hunters himself.
'I thought every man must undergo the rites to become a Grey Hunter, to be bound into the brotherhood.’ 'I did not.’ said Ragnar.
'How can that be, lord?'
'It's a long tale.’ said Ragnar.
'We have all day.’ came someone's voice from the background. Ragnar could see they were all keen to hear it, even those who had heard the story many times before. The sagas were one of those things that bound them together as a Chapter, part of what made them a brotherhood. Some of the Blood Claws had approached and were taking their places around the fire. Ragnar looked at their eager faces, and smiled sadly. He plunged backwards into his memory, seeking the words that would, this time, enable him to tell the whole terrible tale correctly.
'It was a long time ago.’ he said. 'In the days when Berek Thunderfist was lord of this company...' ONE
'WHEN WILL WE ever get out of this bloody place?' asked Sven, a grimace of pure frustration twisting his cheerfully ugly features. Frost had gathered on his eyebrows, and hung like icicles from his sideburns. 'It's been nearly six months since Xecutor, and I am as sick of looking at bloody Fenris as I am of looking at your ugly face, Ragnar.’ Ragnar did not take the comment personally.