Islands in the Fog Page 16

  Njall and Thrand both appeared to accept Toki's reasoning. Only Einar seemed to still debate the idea.

  "There's an ill cloud over this plan. But I can't say what it is."

  "That's only because the plan is new to you. Give it time and you will see it makes sense." Toki looked to Njall and Thrand for agreement, which they gave. "Besides, we need time for Hardar's mercenaries to depart and that strange ship to pass through. So let's get back to sea and take advantage of this wind."

  Einar begrudgingly nodded. Toki scanned the distant sea, seeing nothing but gray fog obscuring the horizon.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  The ships appeared as flat water bugs stretched out on the sea. Oars formed their legs, pulling across the sparkling azure surface. Inside the ships, flesh colored dots swayed back and forth in unison with the oars. Each dot was a man and each ship held twenty men at ten oars to a side. Other men walked between the rowers or leaned on their tillers. Some sat idle in the prow.

  But the men at the oars labored, as they had for a full day. Their grunts were audible above the splash of the water and the creak of the hulls. They sat on sea chests, and some had their feet bound with seal skin rope. Those with free legs sang songs. Those with bound feet grunted or kept silent.

  Ulfrik had not spoken since being dragged aboard Kjotve's ship. His arms and shoulders burned from the strain of rowing. His back and chest felt tight and heavy. He kept his head down, focusing on the seawater sloshing around his bound feet. Though others sat before and behind him, he was alone. The foolishly brave men who had followed him into slavery were seeded throughout the other ships. The few on his ship were seated behind him. He hadn't dared turn around.

  Ulfrik's mouth was filled with paste. His throat constricted so even spit popped his throat when he swallowed. His hands and feet were cold, not from the ocean temperatures, which were mild, but from fear. The cold seeped into his chest, and were it not for the constant friction of rowing, Ulfrik would have felt like a naked man in a winter gale.

  But for all the physical symptoms, nothing matched Ulfrik's inner suffering. This was not how the plan was to work. Hardar was supposed to have shamed him in front of the other jarls. Toki and Runa would have had time to find allies, to build a resistance to Hardar. Kjotve should have been dead. Now Ulfrik was a slave to a blood-thirsty raider, rowing to an unknown destination. How would anyone find him again?

  For the first time in his life, Ulfrik knew fear. He had survived trials and battles that had left better men dead. He had faced the evil of his brother's schemes. He had been driven from his home to be chased by wolves and dark-hearted men. He had walked away from all of it.

  But this fear was different.

  Unlike everything else he had faced before, his actions now affected many. Thoughts of Runa and Gunnar filled his mind, envisioning them lost at sea or falling into enemy hands. His beautiful family, those he loved and swore to protect, were now on a hopeless mission. Their lives were ruined. He had caused it. He blamed his hubris, short-sightedness, and foolishness. He cursed his arrogance. What had he been thinking? Why had he refused to flee with his family? How had he made this terrible choice? How had so many people put faith in him, only to be ruined? These questions seized his mind and clenched out anything else. Worry turned the scraps of food he had been given to tasteless leather. Fear and worry refused to leave him, and enslaved him as well as Kjotve had.

  "Oars in! Raise the sail!" A voice boomed behind Ulfrik, and the rowers hauled in their oars with grateful moans. The wind had steadied at their backs, and would give them better speed to wherever they traveled.

  Ulfrik yanked in his oar and let it thud to the deck. He slumped to lean on his knees, but a heavy hand cuffed his head. "Don't drop it on the deck. Rack it, you stupid dog!"

  Ulfrik hoisted himself off the chest, dragging the oar from the deck. The man moved past him, finding other slaves to cuff. Ulfrik shuffled to the rack beneath the mast and flung the oar onto the pile. Others did the same. He met one of his former crewman's eyes as they stared at each other across the rack. Ulfrik had to turn aside, his stomach knotting at the hopelessness he read in his follower's expression.

  He slouched on the sea chest and stared down at his feet. Kjotve's crew stood and stretched while others hoisted the sail. The ship tugged ahead as the wind filled it. Someone handed him a wooden cup half filled with water. He took it, stared into the reflected sky in his cup, then drained it. When he finished, he found Kjotve seated on the chest across from him.

  "How are you enjoying life aboard my ship?" His thick forearms were folded across his belly as he smiled. "Nothing like a good day of rowing to renew a man. Don't you think so?"

  Words fled Ulfrik. A croak bubbled out of his throat, making Kjotve roll back with a laugh.

  "Never thought I'd find you without something to say. How far you've fallen, boy. Anyway, you've been boring me. I've been expecting a little more spirit out of you."

  Ulfrik stared at Kjotve's lusterless eyes. Years before, they had sparkled with passion, but now were like two nubs of old wood. Ulfrik's pasty mouth produced rough, dry words. "Your eyes say you died at Hafrsfjord."

  Kjotve laughed again, but false and short. "I lost everything at Hafrsfjord, if you didn't know. I lost my son, my ships, my fortune, my home. I lost my kingdom, and all with no small thanks to men who fled me rather than honor their oaths."

  "I thought you were dead. Harald had you cornered on an island."

  "You fled while I lived. The sheep herders on these islands might call you a hero, but I know you for a coward. I survived and learned who was true and who was not." Kjotve leaned forward on the sea chest and jabbed a finger at Ulfrik. "You broke your oath to me! After I took you in and gave you land!"

  "I gave my oath to your son, Thor. My duty died with him."

  "I was the Jarl of Agder, and that oath was mine as well. You destroyed your honor when you fled."

  "I thought you dead," Ulfrik mumbled. He dropped his head, feeling numb.

  "So you had hoped." Folding his arms again, Kjotve leaned back on his seat. "You know oath breakers should be killed out of hand. If a man can't honor his oath, then what's he worth?"

  Ulfrik met Kjotve's eyes and sneered. "I suspect you will tell me. You didn't kill me, and so must see some value."

  "You're value at market will tell me what you're worth," Kjotve said, his voice low and hissing. "You and your fool crew are going to the slave markets of Dublin. I'll recover some of the gold I wasted on you, and justice will be served."

  Ulfrik's heart leapt at the shock. He had suspected as much, but to hear his fate uttered aloud hit him as hard as an actual blow. Yet Kjotve's smug face turned his fear to anger, and he experienced a surge of strength. "Justice? Not even a chance to speak on my behalf, nor any other man to support your claims, and you call that justice. You took one too many hits on your fat head if you believe yourself. Don't waste your breath convincing me of justice. You're just a ruined man, pretending to greatness."

  Kjotve rolled back on his seat and guffawed. "Now that's the spirit I expected from you. Hope you can build it up, since it will be so much more fun to beat it out of you. Oh, but Fate has been kind to bring us together."

  A vision of strangling Kjotve flashed through Ulfrik's mind. His body nearly reacted to the thought. He was an arm's length away, his thick neck lay exposed. Ulfrik's palms itched to clamp around it and squeeze. But no sooner had the beguiling thought arisen than it yielded to reality. Ulfrik knew he would be run through a dozen times before he could harm him. The hateful power drained from his limbs, and Kjotve carried on oblivious.

  "I came here to raid, hearing that men lived on these barren rocks who paid traders in gold. When I learned that Ulfrik Ormsson was one of the wealthiest, I knew I had to come. I honestly considered sailing straight to your hall and gutting you right there. But Fate and bad information guided me to your enemy instead. That's where I found how much more fun things could be. These
islands are filled with men grown dull from tending sheep. They are led easier than lambs."

  Other of Kjotve's crew gathered to hear his bragging. Ulfrik, though wearing a scowl, was also interested to know what Kjotve had plotted.

  "While Hardar was away fighting you," Kjotve again stabbed his finger at Ulfrik. "I got his fool wife to tell me everything. There's a lot of fighting men here, as I had guessed with so much gold changing hands. So I realized that your little war would help me whittle down their numbers and aid me in my original purpose in sailing here. And was I wrong? Here you are rowing my ship while half of these islands are without men to defend them!"

  Kjotve laughed again, joined by his crew. Ulfrik's eyes drew to slits as he began to understand the real danger that had been growing while he and Hardar feuded.

  "So before we head off to Dublin, we're sacking Vermund and Hardar. Thanks to your warring, their lands are wide open. Let no one say Kjotve passes up opportunities to increase his wealth."

  Kjotve lumbered to his feet. A swell rocked the ship and he had to grab the rail a moment. Then he laughed along with his crew. Ulfrik sat glowering at him. The shame and fear he had been feeling was now giving way to a fierce anger. He agreed that Fate had brought them together, but not for the justice that Kjotve thought. Fate placed him next to Kjotve so that he might save these lands from the predations of this so-called sea-king.

  "Rest, Ulfrik," he said as lightly as if they were old friends. "Once these winds die you'll be at your oar again."

  "When ill seed has been sown, so an ill crop will spring from it."

  Kjotve paused at Ulfrik's words, turned with a frown on his face. "And so it is with your broken oath. Now still your mouth or I'll bind it too."

  Kicking the puddle of seawater at his feet, Ulfrik followed Kjotve as he returned to the prow. A nascent smile formed on his face. He was going to fight and win. Now he understood Fate's purpose for him. "The ill crop is not mine to harvest," he whispered to himself. "But it is yours and Hardar's. So Fate will show you both."

  Ulfrik watched the sacking of Hardar's lands unfurl in the same way as Vermund's. Kjotve drove his ships aground and his crew leapt the rails with battle-maddened howls. They streamed inland waving swords and spears, and fell upon anyone they encountered. Ulfrik stood on the shingle, in full view of the carnage. Hardar's hall and surrounding homes were laid out in a large basin surrounded by lush green cliffs. Orange bursts of flames from the buildings snapped at the sky. With Hardar and most of his hirdmen gone to subjugate Nye Grenner, Trongisvagur fell without resistance.

  The raid on Vermund's hall had yielded a dozen captives and piles of loot. Sheep were herded aboard one ship; Ulfrik guessed these would be traded within the islands. Sheep fared poorly on open sea. This meant at least one other jarl was aware of Kjotve's plans.

  Since now more slaves had to be guarded and sheep corralled on ship, the guards remaining behind herded all the slaves in a single mass. Vermund's people held to themselves, staring at their feet or else looking vacantly ahead. A mother and daughter clung together, their faces smeared with blood and dirt and eyes wide with terror. None made a sound or otherwise indicated they were alive. Kjotve's men had more trouble herding the sheep aboard their ship.

  Kjotve had left eight men on guard duty. They were outnumbered two to one, but Ulfrik understood no one had heart to fight. Bound feet made running impossible. So instead he gathered his men, whispering for them to pull closer while the guards watched the spectacle of Hardar's kingdom burning away. A distant roof crashed, sending a flurry of sparks twirling skyward. The guards laughed and hooted. Ulfrik used the moment to speak with his men. Snorri stood beside him; though haggard and tired, his stalwart presence bolstered Ulfrik.

  "We don't have much time to speak," he whispered. "Kjotve was a bad turn of luck for us, and my plan needs adjustment. But I am not defeated, even if you see me weaponless and foot-bound."

  Some nodded and smiled, a few held their expressions flat. Ulfrik pressed on, watching for the guards to catch him planning.

  "Fate has put us with Kjotve for a reason, and that's to rid these lands of him. Look at what he's doing now. If he had more room on his ships, he'd carry away everything in these islands. We're the only ones who can stop him."

  He scanned the tight circle of faces and read their doubt. "It seems impossible now; but who better than us? We are trained warriors, not sheep herders. Kjotve has forgotten that in his rush to claim victory and spoils."

  "Ulfrik," Snorri said, his voice low and tired. "You're right, but we're also underfed, overworked, and bound at the feet. Once in open sea, what can we do? We can't overtake six ships."

  "But we can overtake one, and we have twelve new captives to help. I just need a weapon, anything. We all have oars. The short oars for working the shallows are fine weapons."

  "I've never heard of battles being won with oars," Snorri said and laughed. A few other echoed him, and even Ulfrik smiled.

  "A skull will break from a hammer or a heavy shaft of wood. I'm just saying we are not without options. Look, I don't have the plan laid out, but it will have to happen when we are gathered like this. Kjotve was canny enough to put us on different ships. So he must fear we could overtake him. We must figure out what he fears and build off that."

  The others began to nod, and Ulfrik's spirits buoyed. He did not need them to be screaming mad and ready to run, but just latch to a strand of hope.

  "I'm also going to use what chances the gods provide. So I may be acting fast and you will all have to make your best judgments. We want to get our own ship, and have a head start on pursuit. Capturing a ship is something that will come easily. But the gods are with us, even if they seem distant. They want us to work for this, to entertain them with our cunning and bravery. If we can do that, then the gods will reward us with freedom."

  Kjotve's guards finally turned and caught them huddled. One called out for them to stop, while others shoved apart their group. Satisfied that nothing strange was transpiring, they turned away again. But Snorri remained close. He leaned into Ulfrik as he spoke.

  "Do you really have a plan, or was that just a talk to keep our hopes up?"

  "I don't have a plan, but I believe what I said." Ulfrik spoke without looking at Snorri. A guard eyed him, but then resumed watching for Kjotve's return.

  Groups of men like swarms of beetles emerged from the ruins of Hardar's lands. Kjotve's men were retuning, carrying their loot and driving their captives ahead of them. Ulfrik and the others silently observed the procession of destroyed lives. Only the young and strong were taken, driven at spear point. Ulfrik imagined the old maimed or dead among the collapsing roofs of Hardar's village. A young man tried to flee. Ulfrik stifled a warning shout. Without a thought, one of Kjotve's marauders speared him as he ran. The young man toppled with a shriek. The first strike had not killed him, and the marauder stabbed him repeatedly until the screaming ceased.

  Kjotve led the group, and was in great spirits. Ulfrik could hear his ragged laughter over the wails of women and their children. He had a woman thrown over his shoulder who kicked and screeched, though the giant Kjotve seemed bothered no more than if a fly circled his head.

  "Get aboard the ships," ordered one of the guards, emphasizing his command with a flash of his spear. "Make it fast."

  Ulfrik turned and shuffled toward the ship. His foot binding had enough slack for a curtailed stride. He hissed a whisper to those nearby. "Try to stick together as much as you can."

  Guards grabbed a few of his crew and shoved them toward other ships. But Snorri and most the others boarded Kjotve's ship. The guards' interest lay in learning what they had missed rather than herding captives.

  "More slaves, and I'll suppose you will want to save them too," Snorri quipped as they took seats by the starboard oars. He sat directly in front of Ulfrik.

  "I will do what I can; these are mostly farmers and their families."

  "Whatever you plan, it better work t
he first time or we're all dead."

  Ulfrik grunted, then decided not to think any more on it. "I'll look for the gods to give a sign."

  Men clambered aboard, throwing sacks of booty onto the deck or shoving captives aboard. Captives cried for mercy and their captors laughed or roared curses into their faces. Heavy bags of loot thudded as they landed on the decks. Men laughed and bragged. Some groaned at wounds given by others strong enough to fight back. From another ship the stolen sheep bleated in despair. Above it all Kjotve's voice carried as he ordered his crew.

  Though he knew his family was safely away, Ulfrik could not help envision Runa and Gunnar as these captives. A short man with red hair dragged a woman up the gangplank and dumped her on the deck. Her son, only a few years older than Ulfrik's, ran crying to her side. The red-haired man kicked the mother aside and he measured out rope for her bindings. Ulfrik swallowed and looked away, his hands and feet growing cold with fear.

  He scanned the fjord, trying to block out the sounds of defeat. Out there Runa searched for help to defeat Hardar and win his freedom. He wondered what would happen when they arrived and found nothing but ash. How would I even find them again, he worried. As long as they remain within the Faereyjar I can find them. But I beg you, wife, stay long enough for me to escape.

  "Now you're a spirited bitch!" Kjotve's shout broke his thoughts. He bounded up the gangplank with the kicking woman still on his shoulder. He let her down as lightly as if she were a child. As soon as the woman's feet alighted on the deck, she stood back and slapped Kjotve. But he blocked her with a muscled arm and laughed. "I hope you fuck like you fight!"

  The laughter of the crew was dull in Ulfrik's ears. He focused only on the woman: tall, fair-haired, and noble. She was Ingrid, Hardar's wife. She stood straight though her hair flew loose and wild over her face and her fine green dress was spattered with mud and torn at the shoulder. She struck him again, and Kjotve parried with his thick arm.