Islands in the Fog Read online

  Contents

  Title Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER TEN

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  CHAPTER FOURTEEN

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

  CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  Author's Note

  Islands in the Fog

  by Jerry Autieri

  Copyright © 2013 by Jerry Autieri

  All rights reserved. This book or any portion thereof

  may not be reproduced or used in any manner whatsoever

  without the express written permission of the author

  except for the use of brief quotations in a book review.

  http://www.JerryAutieri.com

  CHAPTER ONE

  "This is my last offer. All you need do is place your hands upon my blade and swear loyalty. Save your life and the lives of your men." Hardar Hammerhand squinted at Ulfrik from behind the cheek plates of his helmet and tipped the hilt of his sword forward. His gray-streaked beard wagged as he continued. "Go on, lad, and do what is right."

  "The next time you call me lad, old man, will be through broken teeth." Ulfrik's lip curled in a snarl. The parley was the waste of time he had expected. Hardar's men stretched into a thin line behind him, outfitted for war in furs or mail coats. They idled nervously with their backs to the sea and their faces to the sun. Their beached ships hid behind them, gangplanks down for a quick retreat. Ulfrik estimated fifty men, a slight numerical advantage over his own force.

  Hardar chuckled and elbowed the hirdman at his side. "Did you hear the threat, Dag? The lad plans to break my teeth."

  "He's a foreigner, after all, lord. He doesn't know your strength," said the man called Dag.

  "Enough of this," Ulfrik interrupted. He swept his arm across the background of grassy plains and blue mountain peaks. "These lands you claim, well, I'm here now. The families living here are sworn to me. You can threaten all you want. But like I told your messenger, Ulfrik Ormsson is no bondsman."

  "And as I warned, refusal to swear loyalty while on my lands makes you my enemy." Hardar glared at Ulfrik, then at the two men with him. Both his second in command Toki and his oldest friend Snorri flanked him. "I have been patient, until now. Your refusal means you must meet me in battle."

  Ulfrik laughed, shaking his head. "When did you last fight a battle? You are as fat as a walrus. Your men are farmers and boys. Look behind me, Hardar Hammerhand, and look upon the men whose swords clashed with Harald Finehair and his elite warriors. We are fresh from Hafrsfjord; the blood of battle still clings to our weapons. We are hungry for blood, still hot with killing fever. The lucky few of your men will crawl away with a limb or two intact, while we make chum of the rest. Return to your line and order the retreat, or die. Your choice."

  Ulfrik slung the shield off his back and turned toward his line. Toki and Snorri fell in as they stalked away. No one spoke as their feet swished through the tall grass. The summer sun struck Ulfrik in the face, and he smiled. An attack into the sun conferred advantage to him, yet another sign from the gods he belonged in these lands.

  Having fled High King Harald Finehair, he had gathered his men and their families and sailed in search of a new home. Ari, his old lord's navigator, told him of these remote islands in the oceans at the top of the world. Here was a place a man could be free, he believed. As the eldest son of the Jarl of Grenner, Ulfrik expected to inherit his father's title. In these treeless lands of grass and sheep, he established a hall and raised Grenner's standard. Ever since his brother dispossessed him of a home, flying the black elk antler standard had been Ulfrik's dearest dream. Though he flew it at Hafrsfjord, it was as a bondsman to Thor Haklang and his father, Kjotve the Rich. But Thor perished at Harald's hands and Kjotve died in a last stand on a surrounded island. Never again would he swear loyalty to another man, and especially not to one as base as Hardar.

  Forty men, hard-faced men in mail coats and dull iron helmets, regarded him as he arrived before them. Precious few had bows or throwing spears, and Ulfrik feared he would not be able to whittle down Hardar's numbers during their advance. He barred the concern from his face.

  "Listen. It's a hard thing to kill boys playing with swords, but that's what we do today. Hardar the whoreson thinks to push us off this slope and off our lands. But we will shove him and his boys into the sea and drown them in blood. Remember who you are: men of Grenner, heroes of Hafrsfjord!"

  The rasp of swords torn from sheaths mingled with the defiant shouts of his men. Ulfrik folded into the front rank, both Toki and Snorri joining him. Without being commanded, his men formed into a tight block and joined shields. Down the gentle slope, Hardar arrayed his men in a line. He appeared to dither, his line starting and stopping its advance as he shouted.

  "They're going to hit us flat. We'll roll them back down the slope." Ulfrik laughed.

  "Keep them off our flanks or we'll get lapped and minced up." Snorri touched his shield to Ulfrik's, and the two shared a glance. The cuts on Snorri's face had not healed since Hafrsfjord, leading Ulfrik to wonder if he would ever stop fighting.

  "Hold your spot in the line and slice a few bellies, and the bastards will flee. One look and you'll see they've no heart for this."

  "If this slope were higher and we had more bows, that line would make a fat target." Snorri spit on the grass, while Ulfrik watched Hardar begin his march behind tightly drawn shields.

  Ulfrik raised his sword. "Join shields, bows fire now."

  A line of archers drew off the back rank and aimed down slope. Most of Ulfrik's bows were lost when he abandoned his ship at Hafrsfjord, but enough remained to provide harassing fire. The archers released and arrows shrieked along either flank, angling into Hardar's line. Shafts popped into shields, and a few men crumpled to the grass. A second volley hissed after the first, and Hardar's advance stuttered as more arrows cracked into shields or thumped into flesh. A few men at the rear ranks fled back toward the ships.

  "Archers back in line," Ulfrik ordered. As he guessed, Hardar commanded his own line to charge the remaining distance. Though old, Hardar sprinted with surprising speed and his roar defeated the battle cries of his men. Ulfrik braced his shield, and the man behind bucked against him to hold the charge. A shining spear point lowered over his shoulder, the back ranks ready to weave death into the attacker's line.

  Shields collided in a hollow shudder of wood and metal. Men on both sides groaned. Ulfrik slipped back, but his heels dug into the soft ground and the shallow grade of the slope proved enough to stall the charge. The man behind shoved and a spear slashed over his head into the enemy. Battle cries turned to screams of agony as blades lanced under and between the shield wall. Men staggered, some unable to fall for being pressed onto their opponents.

  Ulfrik plowed his blade under his shield, shoulder to shoulder with Toki and Snorri who stabbed with equal vigor. The enemy faces contorted in pain. Hot blood followed screams. The enemy line already buckled, and Ulfrik shoved into the weakness. He flexed the line at the center, calling Hardar's name.

  "Fight me, you coward! Fight me before all your men a
re dead!"

  Hardar pushed with his head ducked behind his shield, too far along the line from Ulfrik to meet him in battle. Ulfrik's pulse throbbed in his neck. Victory was at hand, and enemy bodies piled like a tide mark at his feet. He roared laughter, shoved again, and found himself stumbling into the open. Hardar's line broke.

  Men streamed down slope, Hardar running with them. Ulfrik's men hounded them, but he called them back. "Don't spread out! Stay together!"

  The two ships Hardar had beached were now rolling onto the waves as men splashed alongside, helped aboard by their companions. Those who could not reach the launching ships turned back and flung their weapons into the grass.

  "Hostages," Ulfrik said to himself. Warm blood leaked over his leg where the cut he had taken at Hafrsfjord had reopened. Otherwise, he sustained the usual nicks and bruises of battle. He counted it a good day, despite knowing several of his men had fallen. Hostages meant ransoms.

  Hardar's ships rocked into the current, long oars extending like limbs into the sea. Toki and his men herded prisoners at the edge of the surf. The captured men staggered and wobbled, eliciting a derisive snort from Ulfrik.

  "Farmers and boys wasn't far off the mark," Snorri said as he joined Ulfrik.

  Ulfrik scanned the scene. Battles were like summer storms, all wind and thunder and fury. But once the fury passed only stunned silence and destruction remained. The detritus of battle lay all around: broken shields and spear shafts, bent swords and lost helmets. Blood watered the grass, glistening in red beads. The wounded and dying sprawled twisted and intertwined, friend and enemy alike.

  "So much death for a few moment's work." Ulfrik wiped his brow with the back of his hand. "We're an efficient crew."

  Snorri nodded. "He'll be back. Thought we were an easy mark, fresh from a battle and sea voyage. Now he'll fetch help before returning."

  "So I guess. We won this battle, but more battles will come. Ari has scouted lands south of here, a place with better natural defenses and good pastures."

  "We're running again?"

  Ulfrik watched Hardar's ships diminishing on the horizon. Toki ordered the prisoners seated on the grass with their hands on their heads. "We're not running. We're repositioning." Ulfrik pointed with his sword to Hardar's ships. "He's running."

  Five years later, Ulfrik stood in the fields surrounding Hardar's hall. In the same fields, the majority of jarls from all the Faereyjar clustered in small groups, greeting or avoiding each other as alliances permitted. Ulfrik had learned firsthand how cliquish the jarls of these islands behaved. The twilight sun would not set until well into the night, and the sky was a luminescent blue backdrop to the gathering. Orange lights from Hardar's hall, Trongisvagur, winked in the small windows. The sea breeze was chill and briny, the springtime still young. Ulfrik gathered his green cloak tighter and faced Toki.

  "Hardar knows we're here?"

  "If I assure you a seventh time will you listen?" Toki scanned the clusters of jarls waiting with their trusted men for Hardar to emerge and open the meeting. "I spoke directly to his second, Dag the Sword-Bender."

  "Well you didn't mention Dag before." Ulfrik sniffed and kept his face open and smiling as he vied for eye contact with others. "Hardar is in for a shock tonight. Come, let's stop hiding like two serving maids and ensure we have the support we need."

  No longer the desperate newcomer, Ulfrik counted himself among the greatest jarls in the islands. Five years he toiled, built halls, ships, and a forge. Men fleeing Harald Finehair came seeking the hero of Hafrsfjord and Ulfrik's army swelled to twice its size. They bought families and raised farms, and paid shares of silver to Ulfrik's already sizable horde carried from Norway. Traders sought the wealthy jarl of the Nye Grenner, and wood and iron flowed in while wool and hay flowed out.

  This night, at the springtime meeting of jarls, Ulfrik intended the rest of the islands to witness his success.

  Ulfrik hailed Jarl Ragnvald, a slender man with a handsome smile more suited to skald than a jarl. Ragnvald met him halfway. "Jarl Ulfrik, I feared you would not show tonight."

  "And why not? It's time Hardar recognize his closest neighbor. Besides, it would shame me to not show after seeking your support."

  Ragnvald nodded a greeting to Toki, then guided Ulfrik away from the others. "I think your idea is good, and your reasoning sensible. I've spoken to a few of my friends, and they are open to new ideas. But you will have to persuade them; you'll need to persuade me, for that matter."

  "I've no doubts." Ulfrik glanced back across the field, searching for other faces he recognized. "And I've spoken to others as well. We are all agreed Hardar does not dictate the location of the festival. It is for all freemen. I hope he will be reasonable."

  "If you carry the majority, he will need to be. I only hope this settles the peace between you."

  "There has been five years of peace between us. After we clashed, he never followed me south. I think that speaks to our relations."

  Ulfrik smiled, but Ragnvald guarded his expression. "He is proud and the summer festival has always been his to hold."

  "We shall see. There is one more person I must meet before Hardar begins." Ulfrik clapped Ragnvald's shoulder, confident of his support. He now sought another influential jarl whom he had traded with before the start of winter.

  "Jarl Hermind," he called as he strode back towards the center of the groups. The jarl turned, his protruding belly seemingly weightless. Men called him Hermind the Fat with good cause.

  "Jarl Ulfrik, so you have come. I was worried."

  Ulfrik drew close and embraced the jarl. He was hardly a friend, but Ulfrik's words were not for the crowd. "I have your support along with the others?"

  The two separated, and Jarl Hermind patted the gold armband Ulfrik had given him at their last meeting. "You certainly do. Make it easy for us, please."

  Shortly after speaking to Hermind, Ulfrik saw Hardar emerge from his hall. He came with a retinue of men, and his wife and daughter escorted him. At this sign, a hirdman threw a torch upon a bonfire and the expensive touchwood blazed immediately. The jarls and their companies gathered closer to the fire.

  Hardar appeared much the same as when Ulfrik last met him. Without his helmet, his snub nose gave him a boyish look for his age. The yellow firelight glowed in his eyes, and made his carefully braided hair gleam alongside the gold and silver he had adorned about his arms, hands, and neck. A few sycophantic jarls clapped at his arrival, though the majority simply assumed their spots in the circle.

  "His daughter has grown into quite a woman," Toki whispered into Ulfrik's ear. He had glanced past her, but now looked more carefully. In fact, she seemed past a marriageable age, though still pretty enough to have attracted suitors. Her hair was as white as her mother's but her nose was Hardar's.

  "My son is only five," Ulfrik whispered back. "She's a bit old for him."

  Toki stifled his laugh. "Wasn't thinking of Gunnar."

  Hardar welcomed the group, his eyes gliding across Ulfrik and Toki without a flinch. Ulfrik admired the facile charm and control he exhibited. He anticipated testing the limit of Hardar's abilities.

  Having never attended such an event, Ulfrik studied the others. Each stated their names and heritages and Hardar welcomed them as guests. At Ulfrik's turn, he proclaimed his name. "Ulfrik Ormsson, Jarl of Nye Grenner."

  The smile trembled slightly on Hardar's lips, but he managed to hold it. "Be welcomed, Jarl Ulfrik. We are glad you've finally chosen to join us rather than hide from us."

  Ulfrik laughed, overloud and out of place. No one smiled, but it suited him. "My intention has never been to hide. You might remember something of my arrival here, and why I've been guarded about joining these meetings."

  Hardar's smile tumbled from his face, but he continued around the circle until all were formally introduced. His wife, Ingrid, spoke a few words Ulfrik ignored, wrapped up on how to position his request to this assembly. Her perfunctory comments over, she departed with
her daughter. Now Ulfrik expected the true work of the assembly would begin.

  Discussion covered matters of law, trade, and news. Ulfrik sat with his hand over his mouth, allowing all the various issues pass without comment. At last Hardar clapped his hands for attention.

  "Now that business is done, time for more pleasant discussion. Summer is here, and time for feasting and games. The gods were generous again this winter, and deserve our gratitude. Like every year, I am pleased to host the festival."

  Hardar's face beamed and he shared his smile around the circle. He drew breath to continue, but Ulfrik stepped forward.

  "Nye Grenner wishes to host the festival this year."

  Faces turned to him in the yellow firelight. Ulfrik glanced at Ragnvald, who gave away nothing of his thoughts, and then the others. Wide eyes and raised brows met him, and a few gave approving smiles. Settling on Hardar, Ulfrik pressed his request.

  "My people are new, called foreigners by more than a few of you. But we have settled here, raised strong families and farms. Our flocks thrive and my hall is rich. We want to be part of these lands and be one with the people here."

  Hardar stepped into the circle as well, close to the cracking fire snapping at the center of the ring. "The festival is tradition of the old peoples of these islands. Trongisvagur has been home to the festival for years. I don't think you are a suitable host."

  "So Hardar Hammerhand decides who is suitable and who is not? Are you high king here?"

  "Do not insult me," Hardar said, forcing the words through an empty smile. "You could not understand the traditions we hold in high value."

  "Nye Grenner has been isolated too long from the rest of you. My people want to marry within these lands, make connections to others. But you would deny us that."

  "You are welcomed to the festival here."

  "Now you insult me," Ulfrik said, his smile genuine. He enjoyed Hardar's efforts to conceal his rising temper. "Only my men would come, and then not all. That is not what we seek. We have young women who want husbands, craftsmen who want trade, and I have a hall worthy of all of you. But most importantly, Hardar Hammerhand, it is not you alone who decides."