“If you two aren’t going back to your chamber, perhaps you’d look at these maps. I need your help completing the waterway you took from where you left Grímr behind to Erik’s family’s keep. We may need to use your shallow boat and some of the others if we sail inland.”
“Erik would be best at helping you, or have Lorna look them over.” Freya looked around and called to her mother by marriage. When Lorna arrived, she looked at the maps and tsked before shaking her head. “Lass, this is off by leagues. Who helped you with this? My son?”
Tyra caught the teasing in the woman’s voice. She nodded and laughed aloud when Lorna tapped Erik’s cheek. “He can’t steer his way out of a herring barrel. It’s a good thing Freya looks after him.”
Erik harrumphed but unfolded his arms when Freya gave him a smacking kiss and whispered none too quietly, “He knows how to find the most important port.”
Erik lifted his wife around the waist, before tossing over his shoulder. “We’ll be back. My wife needs a lesson in my navigation skills.” They were running to the jarl’s longhouse before anyone replied.
“Newlyweds,” Lorna mused as she moved around pebbles that represented various landmarks, then took the burned stick Tyra used to mark the skins that made her maps. As Lorna worked, she spoke to Tyra.
“It seems you didn’t get much from my long-winded story. Now you’re ignoring each other. What will you do when you are back to relying upon each other for your lives?”
“We don’t have to. I will partner with Strian--” Tyra halted when she realized Bjorn would not be partnering with Leif, since his cousin was not going. That meant Bjorn and Strian would partner. Freya now fought alongside Erik, and Lorna would partner with her husband Rangvald. Ivar was remaining to oversee both his and Rangvald’s settlements. This made her the odd one out.
“Exactly. You will have to trust him when you partner with both him and Strian. Neither of those men will trust anyone else to fight alongside you. That means they need to be able to trust you, too. I’m sure that won’t be an issue with Strian, but can you say the same with Bjorn?”
“Yes,” Tyra was emphatic. “It doesn’t matter what is happening between us once we’re in battle. I will always protect my friends and family. They come first.”
“And if he saves your life again or the other way around? Will we suffer a repeat of the last six moons? Both of you snapping at one another, denying what lies between you?”
Tyra stood up and looked at the older woman. Lorna was still the most stunningly beautiful woman she had ever seen. She appreciated how humble the woman was about her appearance, but she used it to gain an advantage in battle. Men were either too distracted by her or underestimated her. Tyra admired her skills, and now that she had learned Lorna’s history, she respected her even more. She had seen the similarities in her relationship with Bjorn as Lorna recounted about her story with Rangvald. Tyra just did not know how to fix her own actions.
“Lass, will you take a word of advice from someone older and perhaps a wee wiser?”
Tyra nodded.
“You have one life to live. You’ve known the man your entire life. I was told he was with his mother the day you were born, and his mother attended yours at your birth. Everyone knows you have been in love with each other for years, but no one speaks of it. Perhaps they should, then maybe neither of you would be so miserable. In this life, you can love or you can lose. Right now, you are losing time and opportunities for happiness. No one guarantees you happiness, but when the chance is there, you’re an eejit not to take it. Give the man a chance. Do that, really truly do that, and I’m sure he won’t disappoint you like you assume.”
Lorna gave her a hug and a kiss to the temple that had Tyra leaning into it. Lorna felt it and gave her an extra squeeze. “I’ll always be by your side, lass. Just look for me.” Lorna stepped back onto the dock and spoke with Ivar and Rangvald. Tyra looked out and spotted Bjorn watching her, but he turned away before she waved.
That evening, Sigrid cast the runes, reading her collection of bones and stones. The others waited with bated breath as she seemed to slip into her trance. She had not spirit walked since her first journey with Leif and the others. Her husband would not allow it, it had frightened him so badly. Now she eased out from her meditative state and looked around.
“Hakin is dead. Freya succeeded during the last attack. He bled to death. But Grímr lives and is healed. He has been training, but I did see where. Now that his wretched wife Inga is no longer running a slave trade, he has little money. It seems he will be hiding. There were both mountains and open fields, which describes most of the Highlands. The men wore black plaids, but they were not such a motley group as before. These men fought together and are very well trained, as if they were an army rather than random mercenaries.”
“Lass, did you sense any names? You wouldn’t recognize them, but I might,” Lorna inquired.
“No, Aunt Lorna. The only name was Grímr’s. It screamed at me. The Mackays, MacLeods, and Sutherlands joined us again. It did not seem like you had to travel that far once you arrived at the Mackays.”
“That’s all right, lass. I have an idea now of where we will have to go,” Lorna grimaced. “I can wager a guess who we will meet. There only three choices. The Sinclairs, the Gunns, or the Rosses. It wouldn’t surprise me if it’s the Rosses, since they live closest to where the three territories join. The Rosses and Mackays have no love lost between them. I hope the flames of hell reach as far as Ross lands. They will fit in well with the Devil.”
Everyone stared at Lorna, who only shrugged. She rarely referenced her Christian upbringing, so it was a startling reminder when she spoke of it.
“Bloodthirsty and lusty. Just how I love you,” Rangvald slapped her backside before they excused themselves for the night.
Five
They set sail the next morning, with Tyra’s ship leading the fleet. She relished the feel of the sun on her skin as the wind swept her hair from her neck. She wore it loose while they sailed because she enjoyed the feel of the wind lifting it from her back. It almost made it seem like she might take flight. Tyra was in her element when she was at the helm of her ship. She had been leading the fleet since just before her parents died. She had been four and ten when her father insisted that Ivar allow her to captain his ship and show the jarl her innate skills. It took one fishing voyage and a storm that broke apart four other boats to prove to the others she had a gift for sailing. The boat she captained suffered the least damage and the nets, trawling when the storm rose from nowhere, filled to bursting while the storm shredded all the other ones. When asked how she steered the boat through the storm when she had never been at the helm before, she shrugged and told the others the waves told her what would happen. She just had to look and listen. After that, no one doubted her ability. Her first two expeditions were spent waiting with the ships rather than going ashore to raid. Once her parents died, no one had the authority, other than Ivar, to stop her from fighting. She remembered Bjorn staying silent while everyone argued with her. He was the last to speak up, telling the others she would either survive or die, but better they partner her before they landed than go into the fight alone. That was when Strian, Bjorn, and Leif began fighting as a trio, allowing Freya and her to go ashore to fight together. She resented Bjorn’s flippant comment about her life, but now she realized he had done exactly what he needed to defend and protect her.
The first five days of their voyage were uneventful, so Tyra spent most of her time at the helm. She continued to enjoy the sensation of the sun beating down on her, and she guessed her skin was darkening. She suspected that if she looked in still water, she would find a smattering of freckles across her nose and cheeks. She breathed in the tangy salt air as she looked around at the other ships. Tyra observed Freya and Erik standing at the rails of their ships, speaking to one another. Tyra was aware Erik spent the night in Freya’s cabin with her, since they were still newlyweds, and it was a luxu
ry to have the privacy.
When Freya was ready to captain her own ship, Ivar insisted his only daughter have a space with a door to keep the men from seeing her. By extension, Ivar insisted that they provide the same to Tyra, who was much like a sister to Freya. Her eyes skipped to the door of her cabin, and a jolt of jealousy stabbed through her chest knowing she would not be retiring with a lover that night. As if that was not bad enough, as she looked to Bjorn’s ship her gaze alighted on Gunnhild, who was assigned to her crew. The woman worked hard and said very little, so Tyra attempted to forget she was there. Tyra noticed Bjorn talking to his crew, a mixture of men and women, as they rotated who sat to row. She looked over her shoulder to catch a glimpse of Lorna sitting in the crow’s nest of Rangvald’s ship. She did not bother to resist smiling at the sight of the woman who, at times appearing matronly, sat watch high above the water. Tyra grinned at Rangvald’s bellows carried, ordering his wife down or his wife’s equally vocal refusal to leave. Apparently she was comfortable. She scanned the rest of the fleet comprising ships from Ivar and Rangvald’s fleets. She noticed a man she had never met, standing at the helm of a boat off to the port side of her stern. He was handsome even from a distance. She watched his tawny hair blow in the wind, much like hers did. He held the tiller, wearing only leather pants and a fur pelt across his shoulders. The sun was warm only because Tyra had several layers on. She marveled at how the brisk air or the freezing spray of the surf did not affect him. No man had drawn Tyra’s attention in a long time, but she discovered she was very curious to discover who this man was. She turned away to find Bjorn watching her. He was too far for her to read his expression, but she sensed he was not pleased to witness her staring at the other man. She wanted to smirk, since the knowledge that he and Gunnhild had done something after her swim with Bjorn stung.
Tyra’s nose twitched. She sniffed and called her first mate over to take the helm. She was scaling the mast before her first mate asked what was wrong.
“What do you see, Tyra?” Bjorn called over.
Tyra shaded her eyes as she looked to the horizon. She sniffed again and was sure she smelled the storm before she spotted the waterspout far in the distance. Tyra watched the clouds vibrate and counted before the next one. She could not hear the accompanying thunder, but she deduced from how close the bolts were, the storm was strong. Her father taught her that the sounds of the waves had the ability to swallow the warning thunder before it would reach them. This storm was still a great distance away, but Tyra understood how the weather shifted at sea.
“There’s a storm brewing,” she called to Bjorn. “We have some time, but it will get very rough. Pass the word that everyone needs to leash themselves or the storm will sweep them overboard.”
Tyra shimmied down the mast and began giving orders to her crew as she checked the items stored in the hull. Once the rowers pulled all the shields over the sides and secured them under the benches, there was little to do but take the helm again. Tyra watched Bjorn speak to Erik and Freya even though no voices carried to her. She had already told her first mate to pass the word to the ships nearest theirs. She looked back to her stern and spied the handsome warrior again. He looked at her and nodded once before returning his gaze to the water, but she caught his grin. She twisted back around, annoyed that he was laughing at her for looking at him. Staring might have been a better description, but she was not willing to admit it.
She ordered her sails to remain raised as the wind began to pick up. She called out orders as she turned her boat parallel to the rising waves. They were not large enough yet for her to worry about them broaching. Instead, she wanted to make as much progress as possible before the wind inevitably blew them off-course. By sailing parallel to the waves, the current would knock her back to the route she wanted rather than pushing her away. Or at least that is what she hoped. The raindrops began as fat beads of water bouncing off her hair and nose. She looked up to the sky as the wind picked up. She ordered the sails lowered and the crew lashed to the deck. She handed the tiller over to her first mate as she climbed the mast again.
“Tyra! Tyra, get down!” Bjorn’s voice carried on the wind. Tyra sensed he was irate without looking down at him, but she ignored him as she scanned the seas. She observed the storm crashing just a few leagues ahead of them. Tyra watched as the swells shifted and grew with each surge.
“Breaking waves! Bows forward, sails down, oars in,” she called to the captains close enough to catch her orders. The others would follow those in front of them. She slid down the mast and made her way to the rail, looking over the edge at how the sea churned below her hull. She peered into the depth as water rushed below her hull. She did not notice any hint of a cross current, and she thanked the gods for that.
“Tyra!”
Tyra stood up and found Bjorn standing at the rail of his ship yelling at her. He wanted her tied to the tiller, but her stomach dropped as she looked past Bjorn’s shoulder.
“Bjorn, no! Hurry! You must tie down!” She pointed wildly as Bjorn furrowed his brow at her. She waved and pointed.
“Wave!” she screamed as the first one crashed over Bjorn’s bow. He grabbed the rail and hung on before the water swept him over the side. He kept his head tucked until the water settled. He stood and glared at her.
“See!” He called back to her.
Tyra was certain her ears deceived her. The insane man would use his near drowning as a lesson to her. She shook her head as she tied the rope around her waist. She watched him do the same.
For the next twelve hours, the raging sea battered and bashed their fleet about like a child’s toy spinning around a drain. Tyra ordered the crew to huddle between the benches. She gripped the tiller with both hands as she tried to keep her bow pointing into the waves, but it was getting increasingly difficult as the wind shifted and rather than heading into the swells, they now chased the fleet. This was far more dangerous as they surged up and under the hulls. The screams carried on the wind as the seas tossed boats that floundered. Tyra tried not to look back but focus on the waves around her. She accepted that her voice reached none of the other captains, so she relied on hand signals to tell those near her when to point their bows into the wave and when to angle into them. This avoided crashing into a wave head on when the water surged behind them. She prayed to Thor and Rán to be kind and merciful, even though the gods were rarely known for mercy. She watched the lightning and counted the time between the strike and the clap of thunder. When there was no time between them, she realized they were nearing the eye of the storm.
Just as fast as the wind and storm blew in, it subsided. While Tyra listened cheers, intuition told her the storm was not done with them. They had survived one side of the storm. They were in the eye and would soon pass back into the punishing gale.
“Stay tied down! No one move!” Tyra bellowed. She noticed Freya and Erik watching her. She strained to find Strian and Bjorn, but she breathed again when she was certain they were looking at her. She signaled for their bows to point forward and to follow her. She gave the signal for everyone to remain lashed to the hulls. Tyra listened to the voices on the wind as her friends carried out her orders. She wished she knew if Rangvald and Lorna caught glimpses of her gestures, and if they did, that they understood what they meant. Her mind jumped for a moment to the handsome man, but it whipped back to the storm as the next round of waves breached her bow. Tyra fought the tiller as it tried to lift her from her seat. She pulled hard to keep them on course, hands wrapping around her as he first mate anchored her to the bench. She counted her blessings for at least the hundredth time over the years that her first mate was a foot taller than her and nearly a hundred pounds heavier. She would go nowhere while he held her down. She nodded her head as she continued to steer them through the second round of the storm.
The storm ended with the waves calming and the sun trying to rise behind them. They had sailed through the night and made it to morning. When Tyra was confident no immine
nt danger remained for her to climb the rigging, she scurried up the mast. She looked in all directions, but the sky was clear as if the storm evaporated into the heavens. She surveyed the damage to the ships around hers. Some looked like the waves grazed them, but others listed. Much of the fleet limped along like an old man with aching joints. Tyra leaned as far forward as she dared to assess the damage, but a voice hollering her name made her roll her eyes and scoot back down to the deck.
“Woman, you shall be the death of me!” Bjorn’s ship sailed closer to hers now as they had all shifted position even though Tyra’s ship led. “I do not intend to die in these waters when I have to fish you out. We made it through the storm, but you would break your neck falling from your own mast.”
“Bjorn.”
“I know my name.”
“You’re overreacting. Besides, you are absolved of your duty to protect me.”
She watched as Bjorn’s gaze shuttered, and he backed away without a word or even a nod. She held her breath as he began ordering his crew to examine their ship for damage. Tyra returned to the tiller and tried to estimate their location.
By midmorning, Tyra was certain they were not as far off-course as she feared. The storm pushed them south which was the direction they wanted to travel. It also pushed them west toward the Orkney Islands. Before the sun set, she glimpsed the first hints of land off her bow. She suspected they were the chain’s uninhabited islands, but they would have beaches and timber. Those were her priorities for her own ship and the rest of the fleet. She guided the fleet toward them, and the sun sank below the horizon as they came ashore. The ships in the fleet's rear tethered together so they would not float away, and the crews wove their away over benches and planks until they waded in.
Tyra had to tap on Strian’s arm as he swallowed her in his embrace. He whispered into her ear.
Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3) Page 6