FICTION | FANTASY | STORMBORN

Stormborn: The Legend of Ylva, Chapter 2 —The Summons

It is a hot summer day when a messenger arrives to announce the jarl demands Ylva’s presence, not knowing she hates the heat and summons.

A towering warrior with shoulders as broad as a bull marched into Lifa’s and Fjell’s tavern. He held his horned helmet under his arm, prancing through the taproom toward the bar as if he owned the place.

“Lifa?” he called at the woman behind the bar, “Where is your daughter?”

The woman in her fifties wiped her hands on her apron and did her best to smile at the colossal man and hide her worries about the unexpected visitor. The warrior grabbed a tankard of old, warm mead and drank it greedily without asking. Everybody in town struggled with the heat. Not all did it in dignity, though.

Despite the blazing heat outside, the man wore chainmail, which was meant as a message. His armour and the engravings on his axe identified him as one of the jarl’s guards. Lifa wouldn’t have needed those identifiers to recognise Aelfred the Bull. Everybody in town knew the jarl’s enforcer.

Since the fight between Ylva and a group of raiders, interest in her daughter and her strange abilities had sparked again. Some of the townsfolk had started the rumour that Ylva was cursed. The wise women and men said no one could use magic that freely, not without training and not while fist-fighting four men.

“She just wants to be left alone,” Lifa said gently, “What business do you have with her?”

“I don’t have any business with her, Lifa. But the jarl has. So where is the damsel?”

At that moment, Fjell, Lifa’s husband, walked out of the backroom, smiling. He pointed toward the terrace along the quay wall.

“She is out there,” he said, followed by a mischievous snicker, “sitting right under a sign that says ‘Please, do not pick fights with Ylva’.”

Aelfred eyed Fjell suspiciously but left in search of the innkeeper’s daughter with a grunt.

“Why did you tell him?” Lifa scolded her husband.

“I want to see him calling her damsel to the face.”

“You are unbelievable!”

Fjell grinned and followed the jarl’s warrior quietly. His wife sighed and tried to catch up with Aelfred, shaking her head.

A couple of metres before them, Aelfred stepped out into the baking sun, immediately breaking a sweat in his heavy armour. He stopped in his tracks once he saw Ylva sitting on her favourite spot by the water, audibly clearing his throat. Lifa rushed past the colossal warrior to confront her sunbathing and bored daughter.

“Why are you sitting there in your underclothes?!”

“It is hot!” Ylva shouted, staring at the tiny waves splashing against the quay wall with barely a sound.

“Y-Ylva,” Aelfred stammered, “I am here on ….”

“You rude ox!” Lifa said, “Don’t you see she is not dressed for the occasion?!”

“Don’t worry, mother. I think he has that red face from the heat.”

Aelfred’s eyes widened, and his face changed to an even darker red. The towering brute seemed at a loss.

“Anyway, how else am I to cope with this heat? We are not those prudes from the South anyway.”

“Aelfred is here, on the order of the jarl,” Fjell intervened.

The towering warrior seemed to remember his mission at Fjell’s words and straightened his back.

“The jarl demands your presence!”

The laughter he received in return seemed to throw Aelfred off balance again. Helplessly, he looked at Fjell and Lifa, but while the latter avoided his eye contact, Ylva’s father smiled mischievously.

“By the order ….”

Ylva threw her table over while jumping from her chair. A cooling breeze suddenly picked up, ruffled Aelfred’s beard and picked at his clothes.

“Nobody orders me, Aelfred!”

Aelfred looked at the young woman and then at the sign over her head. ‘Please, do not pick fights with Ylva.’ Taking the sign’s advice, he continued more diplomatically.

“The jarl asks for your presence at his hall,” he announced with a deep baritone.

“Alright, it is not like I have anything better to do,” Ylva said while lifting the table back into its original position with one hand, “But please, father give that one something to drink before he dries up like a plum.”

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