Descendants of the Wolf (Descendants Saga Book 1)

by Jerry Autieri

  "I can't wait to see his head spinning through the air," Bjorn said.

  "Erik is a fearsome enemy," Alasdair said. He was small enough to sit on the edge of the cart without falling off, though he waved like a wheat stalk whenever the cart hit a rut. "You should not make light of him. I will pray to God for protection against Erik's evil."

  "Just don't pray in the path of my charge," Bjorn said. "And ask your god to give me a good, clean strike at that bastard's neck."

  Yngvar leaned over the driver's shoulder, a young and inexperienced man like most of the others who had been left behind by their oath-holders. "How much longer? We were to arrive last night, yet here it is morning and it seems we will be driving until dusk."

  "Not much longer, lord," the driver said. "We are going up to follow the cliffside paths that overlook the fjord. The horses are struggling to pull us higher. It's what you asked to do."

  The constant drive uphill made Yngvar feel as if he would stumble out the rear of the cart. But he had wanted to survey the area first. It would not do to pull up to Jarl Ketil without first giving him warning. The fjord cliffs would be perfect for this scouting. Unfortunately, most travelers never took these paths, making them rough to traverse. The carts creaked and thudded as they rolled across mostly untraveled ground.

  Yngvar felt the cart leveling off. It was somewhat like being on the open sea, where you learned the feel of the waves and how they moved your ship. He stood higher to get his first glimpse over the rise. His hands went cold.

  Black smoke was a thin smudge in the gray sky.

  Worse still, black dots of birds circled lazily in place where the smoke dissipated.

  "We're too late." Ander spoke quietly from the rear of the cart. He recognized the signs as well. Erik was already upon Jarl Ketil.

  "Maybe too late to aid Jarl Ketil," Yngvar said. "But we might be just in time to catch Erik."

  Once they came to the cliff edges, the lead driver stopped his horses. The beasts were panting and slick with sweat. The driver immediately jumped down and began speaking softly to them. The rest of the men leapt out of the wagon, Yngvar leading the way. He stood at the steep cliff edge, looking southeast toward the smoke.

  The fjord was knife thin and nearly pincered off by cliffs at the entrance. Directly below, rocks sat in greenish water, but from the water's surface they might be less easily seen. It was a treacherous fjord that required skillful navigation.

  His eye traveled up the glistening water now reflecting the iron gray of the sky. The distant beach had four ships beached there. They were mighty ships of dark wood and high sides. Yngvar had spent all summer sailing beside them. Their white-and-red-striped sails were furled on the mast, ready to drop and speed these ships away from pursuit. From this point, he could not see much farther into the settlement. Trees and the land itself obscured his sight. But he could see the tips of yellow flames where the smoke rose. Erik had torched whatever he found and was still occupied inland.

  "What do we do now?" Thorfast asked in a quiet voice.

  He shook his head, not entirely certain. Throughout the day it had taken to travel this distance, he had come up with a dozen mad ideas. He was expecting to have to convince Jarl Ketil of the danger and then make plans accordingly. He had not expected to be Ketil's relieving force. The men he had taken with him were simply to shore up a shield wall that would have been fronted with Ketil's more experienced warriors. Now, he counted battle-hardened men on one hand.

  "Do you feel it?" Yngvar asked. He looked at both Thorfast and Bjorn, who had come to his side and were equally dejected at their prospects. Neither of them responded to his question.

  "I feel it. This is what we left home to find. This is the adventure we've craved. Only a desperate few, inexperienced men to face down a despicable foe and great treasure in the offering. Whatever happens today, it will be as glorious as anything our ancestors ever did. It might be more so. We came to a battle not just for gold but for revenge and for honor. We came here to pluck a blight from this world. However the coming battle ends, we will be cheered in Valhalla until Ragnarok begins the world again. We left home to become heroes, and so we are."

  "So we are," Thorfast said with a smile.

  "Heroes we are," Bjorn said.

  "The right choice is to turn back now, before we're seen." Ander Red-Scar stood behind them, frowning at the distant fires. "But then we would return home poor."

  "And as cowards," Yngvar added.

  "Better to die in glory than be named a poor coward," Thorfast said.

  "I'll never be called either," Bjorn said.

  "Then we need a plan that will take us home wealthy and famous," Ander said. His frown shifted to Yngvar.

  If Yngvar had prepared for this, he could have burned Erik's ships and trapped him in a land where he would eventually be killed. But not only was he unprepared to burn ships, he would derive no satisfaction or reward for it. He wanted Erik's head, and by extension Gunnhild's too. The death of her husband would destroy her hedonistic life. Folding his hands behind his head, he stepped away from everyone to think of what he could do.

  He stared idly at the rocks below and the white foam of waves crashing over their exposed tips. He guessed seals would sun themselves here and entire communities of birds made their homes in the cliffs. Ketil's people probably climbed these cliff faces hunting for eggs. This narrow strip was an entire world unto itself, a community of predators and prey.

  The narrow strip.

  Erik's ships would have to pass directly below this point to navigate around those rocks. He remembered stories of adventures recited in the hall on long winter nights, of how a handful of men defeated entire armies with their cunning traps. Of course, this was how to destroy Erik.

  He turned to the crowd at his back. They were mostly young faces, unscarred and thin-bearded, mixed with the harsher older faces of Ander Red-Scar and his companions. He had enough for what he planned, though the trick was in timing and luck. The gods would have to love him before he could hope for victory.

  "We cannot help Jarl Ketil," he said. "If he has survived, then it is well. But Erik will not turn back without his prize and so we must not count on the jarl's forces. It will just be us against three times our number. If any man wishes to turn away now, I will not call him a coward. He is, in fact, wise. We willingly run toward what must be death."

  A few of the younger men at the rear glanced at each other, as if daring themselves to flee. Yet everyone held, and Yngvar let go his breath.

  "But I've no wish to die yet, and so I have a plan. Erik has greater numbers, but we have surprise working for us. He is burning his enemy's home and reveling in victory. In doing so, he has lowered his shield before us. There is one thing that will drive Erik mad beyond reason, and that is to take what is his. Four ships are beached below. I will bring Ander for his skill at the tiller along with thirty men to make a full crew. We will steal his ship. Not one of his ships, but Erik's own. I know which one it is. He will return and find us sailing away with it, and of course he will give chase. He will pass right below here. I will be committing my life and the lives of those who sail with me to the hands of the men who remain atop this cliff. While I am stealing Erik's ship, you will be gathering rocks and logs, anything heavy enough to kill a man and break a deck. Throw these wagons overboard. Anything at hand. Let the first ship after mine pass, otherwise, the rest will have time to avoid your trap."

  He paused to be certain the men were understanding his plan. He also took the moment to scan the faces for those he would take. He had to leave someone here who could organize these men and make certain they did not run off before time. None of them could be trusted except for his own, but they would be the best fighters. Even leaving one man behind would not be enough to prevent the others from running off. He had to trust his life to strangers.

  "Lord, who will remain here?" Grettir asked carefully, but Yngvar heard the hopeful note in his voice.

  "Ten me
n who can be trusted not to flee. All gold will be shared equally with everyone. By all means flee if you see we are killed, but do not abandon us until that moment. Thirty men will be trusting their lives to you, and you will earn the rewards as well as if you were on the deck of that ship with me."

  Grettir nodded, and rubbed the crusted cut at his nose. "You were good to your word with me. I will stay and I will guarantee that Jarl Kar's men will not abandon you."

  Yngvar gave a slight bow of gratitude. "A mere ten of you will tell stories of how you killed six times your number and not be lying. Break those decks for us, and it will make us all wealthy."

  He turned to Thorfast and Bjorn then smiled. "For gold and glory."

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

  "Waiting is a mistake," Bjorn said, slapping his palm against the hull of Erik's ship.

  "I've explained this already," Yngvar said, summoning all his patience. He stood in the surf, sinking into the beach sand as cold waves washed over his naked feet. He scanned the gentle slope, across a stretch of knee-high, brown grass that swayed in the wind. Distant smoke and flames flowed into the sky as before, except now he heard shouts and screams and the occasional clang of weapons.

  "Explain it again," Thorfast said. "And maybe Bjorn will pay attention. Or so we hope."

  The majority of Yngvar's men stood in the weak shadow of Erik's high-sided ship. Only a dozen were aboard, Ander Red-Scar among them, and they would steer the ship and help the rest board once it was launched. From their humorless eyes, Yngvar realized more than Bjorn needed reassurance.

  "Erik has many horrible traits, but stupidity is not one of them. If we launch the ship before he arrives and sail in circles waiting for him, then he will know we are bait for a trap. It must appear as if he is just catching us in the act of stealing his ship. And he must not know I am here, or he will certainly know this is a trap. So we wait for signs of his return."

  "But he's not returning," Bjorn said.

  "Nor is he leaving any place to rest in the Ketil's lands." Yngvar pointed back at the smoke. "He's burning it to ashes. So they will return to the ships. And this delay is in our favor. It gives more time for the men on the cliff to build their trap."

  The sea slapped the hull and seagulls cried from distant rocks. They waited longer than Yngvar had hoped. He could've stolen all their ships as well as Jarl Ketil's two smaller ships beached farther away. Erik had not left a single guard behind.

  "We've been seen," Ander shouted from the ship. "They are coming."

  Yngvar's heart flipped in his chest. "Let's get this beast launched. Hurry now!"

  Glancing over his shoulder, he glimpsed a vague line of pale men at the top of the slope. He threw his shoulder into the prow of Erik's mighty ship and pushed.

  They had already worked it free of the beach while waiting for Erik. The hull slipped easily into the ocean, with dozens of hands to push it back. A horn sounded behind him as they were wading out into the gently rolling waves. A more distant horn followed it.

  Lines flung down from the ship, and men scaled the high sides and jumped the rails. Yngvar was halfway up when Alasdair reached down and pulled him aboard. His young friend stumbled back and landed on the deck. Yngvar could not help but laugh, as did anyone who saw it. Alasdair himself turned red, but smiled as well.

  He went for his boots, which everyone had removed and set on deck prior to launch. No one wanted to fight with boots full of sea water. Bjorn had finished wearing his when he hefted his ax over his shoulder.

  "When did you decide to fight with an ax?" Yngvar asked.

  Bjorn's face reddened as he mumbled his answer. "I don't have as much trouble drawing an ax as I do a sword."

  Thorfast whirled on him as if he had caught him stealing. "You mean, you can't forget to unhitch your peace straps with an ax like you do with a sword."

  "I get excited. I can't help it." Bjorn scratched the back of his head while Thorfast and Yngvar laughed.

  The rest of the crew were not as jovial. They scurried to arm themselves and recover their shields. Others obeyed Ander's commands as he wrestled against the tiller to turn the ship. It slewed hard to the side and most men lost their balance. Yngvar, who was in the midst of putting on his last boot, fell with the sudden jolt.

  "They're not happy," Thorfast said, holding onto the rails. "We've got their attention."

  Yngvar pulled himself up on the rail and saw the men streaming down the slope. They had dropped whatever chests and sacks of loot they had carried, and were now just at the beach. Yngvar was surprised at the distance they had already covered.

  "We don't want to outstrip them too badly," Yngvar said, turning back to Ander, who still fought the tiller with his teeth clenched. He shook his head, unable to speak as he struggled in the hard turn.

  "The wind favors us," Thorfast said. "We should be able to elude them in this fine vessel. You've seen how it flies over the waves."

  "I have," Thorfast agreed. Yet he had not spent much time studying the ship he had just stolen. This was a king's ship, and built as such. Forty men could easily sleep on its deck. The high sides would defeat attackers from a lesser ship. A thin rowboat long enough for twenty men rested beside a sunken hold at the center where the mast was set. This was filled with casks and sacks, most likely Erik's supplies. A sealskin tarp covered most of these items. He imagined Erik had plans to fill this hold with Jarl Ketil's gold. It made him smile to think he had defied Erik that much already.

  Ander grunted in relief as the ship turned straight. More horns blared and angry voices carried clearly across the water. At last from among the crowd of men flowing onto the beach, Erik's banner showed. It was a small triangle of white cloth with a red sword emblazoned at the center. Its tassels swayed as its bearer ran alongside what must have been Erik. From this distance, he was nothing more than a larger blur among others.

  At last able to answer, Ander shouted from the tiller. "You said not to make it look like we're bait. So should we delay and make it seem like we wish to be caught?"

  Yngvar waved him off. Of course, to slow down would be suspicious, and he had to keep Erik in a state of fury. Men glorified fury in battle, but Yngvar thought it a drawback. If a man cannot think, he can be played like a harp by those who can. If he kept his enemies blind with anger, they would walk into any trap he set for them.

  The ship raced across the narrow fjord, its square sail full and tight. Men crowded the prow and watched for dangers as they closed on the exit to the open sea. Yngvar stared at the cliff face. His hands trembled with cold. He saw no one up there, but from this vantage he probably would not. He hoped they had not become lax during the long wait for action. He had an even chance against a single ship, but no chance at all against all three.

  Shouted warnings came back as Ander cut close to the rocks at the exit to the sea. Yngvar trusted him, and instead looked past to his pursuers. One ship was in the lead, with two others trailing behind. The fjord rocks would mean they would have to stagger themselves to pass through, and therefore slow them down. They were also gaining, as they chose to row as well as rely upon their sails. The long oars shined as they rose and fell. Yngvar smiled, for their exertions would tire them before the fight.

  They slipped out into the open sea, and a cheer went up. The waves were choppier on the open water, and lashing two ships together for a battle would be difficult. Now silence came over the crew as they all went to the bow to watch their trap. Yngvar still did not see anyone atop the cliffs.

  "They've not left us," Thorfast said quietly. "I think Grettir is an honest man, don't you?"

  "Fear of death goes a long way toward destroying a man's honesty," Yngvar said. "I just wish we could see them, but then so would Erik."

  The first ship slipped through the rocks, a wide margin ahead of the other two, which were not rowing as hard as the lead. The first ship was undoubtedly Erik's, for only he would push his men before a battle. The other two captains had more sense to conserve th
eir strength. That lead ship, its red and white-striped sail fat with wind, cut the water with a palpable fury as if it were a fist punching through each wave.

  "Here it goes," someone shouted.

  Yngvar looked to the cliff and saw the dark shapes there. The first ship was just passing beneath when a wagon backed up just above it and dumped a load of rocks.

  Dozens upon dozens of rocks large enough to be seen from a distance hurled over the sides, crashing on the deck of the unsuspecting crew below. He heard wood thump and crack and men scream in shock and anger. But those rocks were only the opening salvo.

  The wagon went over as well, breaking up against the cliff as it fell. It clipped the rear of the first ship, sending its prow flipping out of the water. Yngvar saw crewmen falling overboard. The next wagon dumped logs and rocks on the second ship. These slammed and bounced off the cliff as they scattered over the second ship. Much of it plunged into the water, but one large trunk fell like a spear through the second ship. The hull broke apart like a child's toy, and men were leaping off to grab whatever debris would let them float.

  Yngvar cheered along with everyone else. They laughed and cursed Erik for a fool. The lead ship sped along, uncaring or unaware of the destruction behind it. With the rearmost ship sinking, the men on the cliff concentrated on the remainder of the first ship they attacked. More stones and logs fell, but these were ineffective or missed completely. The ship had not sunk. It wandered off course like a man staggered by a punch, but it was still sea-worthy. Though the ship steered closer to the cliff--perhaps the steersman had been killed--the debris hurled down was not enough to sink it. Soon the stones stopped falling, like a waterfall drying up before their eyes.

  The cheers lulled as they realized they might have a second ship to fight.

  The lead ship was nearly upon them.

  Then something huge fell from cliff. Yngvar could not understand what it was, for it was not shaped like a log or rock.

  Yet it crashed into the deck with resounding crunch of wood. The ship lurched and bowed at the impact, and more men jumped for the water. A second object fell, and finally Yngvar comprehended.