Silverlock (Prologue Books)

by John Myers Myers

  I looked, too, though there wasn’t anything to be seen but a blur against the afterglow. “Is that the Commonwealth?”

  “Yes, but I don’t know what part except that we’re probably somewhere north of Ever After Peninsula. Maybe I should know Brodir, but I can’t place him.” Abruptly he stopped frowning and chuckled. “I won us some armor and weapons. Brodir would have given us some, but I wanted to be sure we had the best, not somebody’s castoffs.”

  It took me a moment to see just what he meant. “Look here,” I then said, “we’re not in this, whatever it is. I’m willing to work my way, but I’m going to jump ship as soon as we hit port. Why should I fight for Brodir? I don’t even like the son of a bitch.”

  I had the discretion to speak low, and Golias’ retort was no more than a murmur. “We’ll take our chances fighting, because we won’t have a chance at all, if we don’t. If they saw us trying to get away, they’d be sure we were spies.” He gripped my arm to be sure he was impressing me. “I don’t know Brodir, but I do, too. He wasn’t fooling when he threatened us. Where he can’t get men to do his will, he’ll murder.”

  It didn’t take much thought for me to see that Golias knew what he was talking about. “I guess we’re in it,” I agreed, “though I may not last very long.” I wasn’t happy and didn’t try to look it. “Our boys haven’t got guns. Will there be guns against us?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s something. But what do I do? I don’t know anything.”

  “It’s an axe for you, then,” he decided. “Luckily you’ve got the build for it. I won us two swords, but I’ll see if I can swap one of them in for an axe.”

  He left me brooding until Brodir roared at us, ordering us back to the benches. Shuffling along the catwalk, I saw the rowers slipping on tunics and pullovers of linked metal. They were more talkative than they had been and betrayed their excitement by kidding each other and laughing a lot. The scene reminded me of a veteran crew in a locker room just before a race they felt sure of winning. It made me feel better, and I was able to put a smile on my face when one of the men I had had chow with hailed me. “Plant your butt, Silverlock. I thought maybe you’d run out on us.”

  “Didn’t anybody give you a byrnie?” my oarmate, Skeggi, demanded. “Or are you one of those goofy berserkers?”

  I didn’t know whether I was or not, but Golias joined us in time to answer for me. He plumped an armful of cloth, leather, and metal down between us.

  “Here’s his gear, but it’s new to him. Different from the armor he’s used to, you know. Show him how to put it on while I go for his axe, will you?”

  My ignorance caused amusement, but I felt more at ease with steel rings between my torso and anyone who might want to poke a sword at it. Ready to take my seat, I cast one more look at the Commonwealth, now no more than a black streak against the fading ruddiness of the sky. Inescapably, knowing there were hostile forces awaiting us, I felt angered as I looked. Men were there who wanted to throw me and my new fellows back into the sea; and I felt that I had had enough of the water. Unconsciously I spoke my mind.

  “If they shove us around, they’re going to have to try hard.”

  “Man talk,” a voice barked in my ear. I turned to find myself looking at Brodir. He was smiling approbation, wearing a likeable look which took me by surprise. “How’s that byrnie?” he asked, slapping my metal pullover. “Is it too tight?”

  “No,” I assured him.

  “And that axe now?” he went on. “If it’s too light or heavy, we’ll get you another one.”

  Golias had told the others that the clothes were new to me, but I didn’t have to admit I didn’t know anything about the weapons. I hefted the axe knowingly.

  “It feels just about right.”

  “It’s in good hands,” Brodir said, and turned away. While he strolled between the benches, quizzing others, my mind followed him warmly. He wasn’t a bad fellow after all. He knew a good man when he saw one, and he was counting on me.

  “Seems like a pretty good guy,” I remarked to Skeggi.

  He nodded carelessly. “The old man’s a fine one to follow, if you don’t care where you’re going.”

  The evening star hung over where the sun had disappeared when Brodir finished his check-up. “You there, Widsith,” he called as he climbed to the half deck astern. “Got that song ready?”

  “Any time you want it.”

  Golias stepped forward, and Brodir flung an arm around his shoulders. “None of those blasted kennings that nobody but the maker or a half-wit can understand,” he cautioned.

  “It’s honest,” Golias promised. “Start ’em rowing.”

  The stroke oarsmen leaned forward, and I was one with them. We took it slow and short until the ship was sliding through the water, then we reached farther. It was then that Golias started to sing.

  East of Agamemnon was a city he had sacked,

  West of him his heart went home to Greece.

  Good and ill wear each a mask which never can be cracked;

  He raced from what he thought was war to what he thought was peace.

  He was cuckold by his cousin, and he’d find his death blow,

  But he made them burn the thole pins, and still he called them slow —

  He made them brace and bend their backs and row, ho, ho!

  East of Ingcel One-eye were his kin without their lives,

  Westward was a chance to square the loss.

  Men will win and men will lose, and only Wyrd survives;

  He aimed his fleet for Eriu and flitted it across.

  He would conquer mighty Conaire, but that he couldn’t know,

  He only knew that he must strike and he must not be slow —

  He made them brace and bend their backs and row, ho, ho!

  It was too dark to see Golias’ face when my head came up for the pull. The disembodied voice came out of the night and took charge of us. Stroke oar lifted the beat, and we followed suit heartily. Golias knew what was what; and I put care from me. To man, never absent from danger, disaster was where it was found. Meanwhile I, who had no purpose except escaping the sea, had a positive course. It was no bad thing.

  East of O. van Kortlandt all the world was traced and known,

  West of him the land leapt off the map.

  Luck or loss, the dice won’t speak till after they are thrown;

  He stowed his gear and stepped aboard and dared Ginnunga Gap.

  He would come back to Communipaw, but that just happened so;

  He turned from men to mystery and did not travel slow —

  He made them brace and bend their backs and row, ho, hoi

  I liked van Kortlandt’s style. That was the thing to do. Take a chance and see what you come up with. Granted, some pressure had been needed to steer me right, but that’s what I was doing now. I wondered just how much of a kingdom Brodir was scheming to snatch. Maybe it would be worth while to stay with him, especially as I was lucky enough to be in his ship. I had seen enough of politics to know that the best place to be is in the boss’ eye. He had already noticed me, and I might do all right.

  Golias sang the above stanzas, together with some others, over and over until our beat was fixed at the fastest we could maintain. By then we couldn’t change it of our own volition. We could only slow when exhausted, like worn machinery. I was beginning to think that was bound to happen, when the ship jarred on bottom.

  “Pull!” Brodir shouted. “Once more, and peak oars!”

  We had landed on the Commonwealth.

  5

  A Day and a Night

  WE WENT OVER the side under arms, but wading ashore turned out to be a peaceful business. In place of anchoring, we dragged the ships up the beach out of reach of the tide. Forming ranks then, we marched to our bivouac on high ground. Brodir or some guide he had detailed had been there before and knew exactly where to go. As we had beaten both Sigtrygg and another ally called Sigurd there, we had the choice of place
.

  Brodir was pleased with himself and with us. To show his appreciation he served a grog called mead, double portions to oarsmen. It was a brew to take your head off, drinking for the fun of it, but after hours of hard rowing it was balm. Relaxed, I prepared to bed down, which wasn’t complicated. We had sleeveless cloaks to serve as blankets; shields if we wanted pillows. I for one slept well, if not long enough. They roused us while roosters were still clearing their throats.

  It was damp dawn with mist rising all around us. Nobody had much to say, but the word was that the enemy was expected. Chilled, sleepy, stiff, and hungry as I was, this seemed the least of many evils.

  “If those bastards are coming,” I grumbled, “why the devil couldn’t they have come along and killed me before I waked up?”

  Skeggi slapped a horned helmet on his head and let it sit crooked. “Come on,” he croaked. “We’ve got to find where they’re dishing out breakfast. If I don’t get my share, I’ll start the killing myself.”

  Food restored us to purpose. It was still too early in the day to laugh, but we stopped bellyaching. Between mouthfuls we speculated on how soon action would begin, whether we would attack or defend the hill we were on, what the relative strength of the armies would be, and more of the same. Nobody bragged, but we were husky men taking strength from one another. Nobody was apprehensive, even I who should have been.

  After the meal we formed by boat crews to receive instructions. Thereafter time slowed down while we waited for the mist to lift so we could see what we were up against. It was only then that I had leisure to wonder what I was going to do with the three-foot axe I held in my hand. Resembling a symbol for civics without the rods around it, it was sharp and well balanced. It was a dangerous weapon in the hands of a skilled man; and there would be practiced men, presumably, swinging just such tools at me. I gave much attention to my shield yet came to no conclusions. Made of hide and wood, studded with rivets, it was strong. But was it strong enough to withstand an axe with, say, two hundred pounds behind it?

  While I was fidgeting over that important problem, Golias joined me. Once I had thought him strange, but now he was my only landmark.

  “How are things going, pardner?” I yawned to show how nonchalant I felt. “When’s this thing going to start anyhow?”

  He wasn’t fooled. “Look, Shandon, I won’t be able to be with you; Brodir wants me out front. You’re new to this, but you’re strong and quick. If you strike first, you’re apt to miss and lay yourself open. Give your attention to guarding, and hold your axe for the counter stroke. When a man has struck — always providing he doesn’t nail you — is when he’s most ready for dissection.”

  “How about these shields?” I put my question to him. “Are they strong enough?”

  “No defense is ever strong enough,” he said, “but they’ll shed most blows and break the force of others. It’ll cover you well enough, if you keep your place in line. Hold shield lock at all costs.”

  “Thanks,” I nodded. “You take care of yourself, too.”

  He had been speaking in a low voice, but now he barely murmured. “If we lose, don’t wait around to surrender. Clear out, move fast, and keep going.”

  This was the first time anybody had hinted at the possibility of defeat. I was startled.

  “You don’t think we’re coming out on top?”

  “I don’t know,” he answered, “but it’s always one of two chances. If we win, that’s one thing. If we don’t, it’s every man for himself.”

  Men started shouting orders, and Golias talked faster. “If things go sour here, I’ll meet you at Heorot — H-E-O-R-O-T — in two weeks. I know where we are now, for I remember passing through here on my way to the Second Battle of Moytura. Heorot’s southeast, on a bight the other side of the Boss of Arden. Don’t follow the shore line, though; it’s too dangerous. If you get there first, wait around, and I’ll do the same.”

  “It’s a deal,” I said. I wanted to ask more specific directions, but Skeggi was roaring my name. Hurriedly I took my place beside him.

  A moment later the mist left us. The ground we stood on rose above the estuary where we had landed. It was not such a hill as I had imagined it to be, though there were hills not far away. Between them and our lines there was a plain of sorts. Mostly it was well-cropped grazing land, but there were patches of woods, outliers to the forest beyond. An excited murmur ran along our ranks, though not in appreciation of the scenery. Men were drawn up before a great grove not a half-mile away.

  They had been waiting as quietly as ourselves, but they waited no longer. Neither did we. The instinct was to rush, but under Brodir’s eyes we kept the pace down.

  “Walk and hold your lines!” he shouted. “I’ll kill the first man who breaks shield lock.”

  I knew that I wasn’t going to be that man, and not just out of fear of him. Knowing that someone stood on either side of me, helping to guard me, gave me a confidence I would not otherwise have had.

  Of the three allied groups, Brodir’s formed the left wing. Our crew was directly behind him and a picked vanguard, of which Golias was one. As we lined up by rowing benches, the two stroke oarsmen were on my right. One of them locked shields with me on that side, while Skeggi did so on my left. There was one supporting rank and a reserve group following at a distance.

  At every step we took I felt better. Who was to stop us or break us? Thinking they knew, the enemy suddenly came on the double. I had been wondering how I would act, but when the time came I had no leisure to wonder. There was then but one thing to do, and that was to destroy to keep from being destroyed. Shortening my grip, I crouched behind my shield, holding my axe hand cocked and trying to remember what Golias had told me.

  First they broke against Brodir and the van. Splitting on that rock, they whirled into us. There was lots going on, but my eyes picked out a rangy, red devil. He wasn’t headed for me; but a fatal instinct told me he would veer, and he did. He didn’t have armor, just a shield, and a sword longer than his gorilla arm. As he leaped in, he caught my eye and laughed, knowing we were for each other as surely as I did. Then his sword came down out of the air. It took a corner off my shield, but the blade was deflected. The hand which held it was exposed, and I took it off above the wrist.

  I don’t know what happened to the fellow beyond Skeggi, but after a while there was a different one there, stepped up from the rear rank. Then we were moving forward, as they backed away to reorganize. To cover their retreat they threw spears. One of them went through the thigh of the man on my right, causing him to drop out.

  In spite of heavy casualties, I thought we had them. So did Brodir. He let us break shield lock, so we could follow faster, and was himself the first to smash through their disintegrating ranks. It surely looked like we had the battle in the bag. Wrecking this wing, we would be able to outflank the center.

  Undoubtedly we could have done so except for one thing. Fresh enemy troops, as many again as those we were in the act of defeating, rushed out of a patch of woods towards which we had been sucked.

  I will say for Brodir that he was just about as tough as he thought he was. I happened to be close behind him in the pursuit, and he was killing with the easy precision of a stockyard slaughterer. He was probably the second best man in our part of the field. The trouble was that the best man was leading the counterattack.

  Brodir went down when they met. His armor must have been good, for he bounced to his feet. He lost the second round, too, then I temporarily lost track of him.

  We were too few to fight and too tired to run from fresh men. I owe my life to the fact that my foot slipped in some blood. The hostile line passed over me, leaving me no more than some bruises. When they had gone on, I saw Brodir getting to his feet once more. He made for some woods flanking the field to our left. I followed him, and so did a few dozen others who had survived the attack by luck or playing possum. The enemy was sweeping on to crush our reserve and let us go.

  Skeggi ha
d fallen, but Golias came through. We didn’t speak, though; nobody spoke for a while except to himself. We made it to the edge of the woods, then, finding we were not harried, stayed there. Hidden in the shadows, we watched haggardly to see if our allies could do what we had failed to do.

  We saw nothing to give us hope. Our center was retreating. We couldn’t see our right wing, but the very fact that it was hidden by the center showed it had been pushed back. A half-hour later the battle had broken down into group engagements, where detachments of our men were dying under the blows of ten times their number.

  While the rest of us cursed, fidgeted, and licked our wounds, Brodir was still as a snake, never taking his eyes from what was going on. Now he sprang up.

  “On your feet!”

  The rest of us stared at him, seeing nothing to do. “The shieldburg yonder,” he explained. “We can break through it.”

  I had noticed the guard in front of the grove where the enemy headquarters was apparently located. Although the battle never came near them, the men had stood shield to shield throughout. With victory a certainty, however, their commander must have given them “rest.” They lounged in careless groups, watching the mopping up.

  “Now’s the time. Now!” Brodir insisted. “They’ve won, but we can’t let them have everything. Am I going alone?”

  “No, we can’t let them have everything,” Golias agreed. We all felt that way and got to our feet. We didn’t expect to get out of that hostile district, and we wanted something in exchange for our lives. It was all there was left to matter.

  The distance must have been around five hundred yards, but nobody intercepted us. A small, disciplined detachment, marching behind the battle lines, was assumed to be friendly. Some members of the guard glanced our way but turned again to watch what remained of the action. We got to within a hundred yards of them, then sixty, then forty.

  “Jump ’em!” Brodir barked, and set us the example.