Stolen Away

by Christopher Dinsdale

  “But is that possible?” Kiera asked. “From what I've seen, we are not exactly welcomed guests.”

  “It's true that the skraelings are everywhere, but some are different from others. The first Vikings to make contact with the skraelings to the north of our settlement had a misunderstanding which led to an argument. A fight broke out. Men on both sides were killed. The northern skraelings still remember that ill-fated moment. We think that it is why we are still attacked today.

  “But Leif and I met other skraelings to the south who were friendly. That is where our hope lies. We are going to sail to the land of the Mi'kmaq. They were a friendly people and welcomed us as we resupplied our ship all those years ago. We will travel to their settlement and ask permission to build our own settlement in their lands.”

  Thorfinn paused, then looked carefully at the passing shoreline. “We are being watched.” Mats and Kiera turned their heads towards the shore.

  “Where?” they asked.

  “Among that clump of cedars over there,” he pointed. “Just above the rock face. Look for a dark red colour.”

  Kiera squinted in the afternoon sunlight and searched the shadows among the thick evergreens. What seemed like a dark red stone along the craggy shore suddenly shrank and disappeared.

  “I saw it!” she shouted.

  “Where?” complained Mats. “I didn't see anything.”

  “It's gone,” she said, excitedly. “But he didn't look anything like the skraelings that attacked our village. His face was such a dark red.”

  Thorfinn nodded. “Aye, you saw him all right. This tribe stains their skin with some sort of red pigment. Can't tell for sure, however. I've never met one face to face. They're like ghosts. You catch a glimpse of one, but only for a second. Then they disappear. I've never met natives like them. Curious about us, but extremely shy.”

  Kiera pointed. “Look! There's another one!”

  Another red face popped out of the shadows further ahead and to the side of a large outcrop of granite. The head didn't move, but Kiera could almost feel the eyes tracking the ship. Wait, not the ship. She swore that the eyes were tracking her! But before she could investigate further, the native vanished.

  The game of “Spot the Skraeling” carried on for the next half-hour. A face would suddenly appear among the bushes and rocks along the shore, and the crew would burst into a frenzied shouting match, debating who had spotted the red native first. The game helped to break the monotony of the day. A count had been started to see who had the keenest eyesight.

  Using the rudder, Thorfinn turned the bow into the wind as he prepared to pass beyond the famous southwest point of the island. The game was ended as the crew adjusted the sails for the change in attack. Thorfinn smiled proudly as he watched them work as one. Given the short length of time he'd had to train the crew, it was a minor miracle that the voyage had progressed so smoothly.

  Then, as the point drifted past and the south opened up into a wide vista of endless ocean, Thorfinn gasped in horror. His eyes were transfixed upon a distant black curtain of darkness that was sweeping the sea into a frenzied froth. The blistering edge of a darkened weather front was moving across the ocean at an incredible speed. The tempest was heading directly towards them.

  “Lower the sail! Oars in the water! Mats! Kiera! Get that sail down now!”

  Thorfinn glanced from the approaching storm front to the top of the sail that was slowly sliding in spurts down the mast. He timed the effort and looked back at the approaching curtain of death. It was going to be close. If the storm hit with the sail up, they would all be dead.

  The bow was still pointing west, and the storm was coming at them from the south. They had to move the bow directly into the storm or risk capsizing.

  “Starboard oars! In the water! Pull for your life! Hurry!”

  Kiera and Mats glanced at the approaching wall of cloud that threatened to destroy them. The wind began to whip and swirl around their legs. It was about to hit. They knew that the next few seconds would decide if they would live or die. They had to secure the sail.

  They worked the ropes feverishly, lowering the top boom until the great square sail rested upon the lower boom. The bunched-up cloth was already starting to thrash frantically against their working hands. Mats and Kiera flung short ropes around the circumference of the sail and booms, lashing them together to prevent the wind from attacking the cloth.

  The boat began to heave violently in the towering waves. Kiera lost her balance on the pitching deck as she and Mats tried to retreat to their seats.

  “Well done!” shouted Thorfinn over the ominous thunder of the wind and waves. “Quickly! Tie off the sail lines, then brace yourselves! It's about to hit!”

  Kiera quickly looped the rope around the stay next to her seat then hunkered down low against the railing.

  The storm was upon them.

  Now deep within the throat of the tempest, the wind screamed into the tiny vessel, tearing at every sailor on board the ship. An arcing tongue of lightning licked across the sky. The tremendous crash of thunder that followed had Kiera thinking that the entire earth had just been shattered. Lifting her head, she was instantly blinded by a sudden crash of sea water. Everyone held on for their lives. The bow rocketed up the face of a tremendous wave, and for a moment, Kiera felt as weightless as a feather. Her body left the bench until suddenly, she crashed hard into the ribbing between the benches as the ship zoomed down the back side of the wave. As the bow shot up the face of the next swell, a loud crack caused her to glance over her shoulder.

  A furious blast of wind had snapped one of the ropes holding together the lashed booms, allowing the wind to rip into the protected sail. The remaining ropes quickly burst apart, and with an explosive bang, the sail opened up its heart to the storm.

  The world around Kiera slowed to a crawl. Through the rain, she could read the terror on Thorfinn's face as the sail flew open. She saw the gust snap the boom upwards. The crack of the stay next to her echoed in her ears as it broke away from the side of the ship. She could feel the sudden jerk on her leg as it was snapped upward, her ankle caught in the loose coil of rope that rocketed skywards with the wooden boom. She could see Bjorn's eyes grow wide with panic as her body launched from the floor, upside down, and soared into space. Her mind went numb as she realized she had been catapulted far beyond the safety of the ship. The ocean and ship spun like toys below her. For what seemed like an eternity, she floated within the storm, hoping that by some miracle, she would continue her upward climb to heaven rather than fall down into the gaping mouth of what lay below.

  She fell. Face first, the ocean hit her body like a stone wall. The air was smacked out of her lungs, and she fell limp beneath the waves and into the eerie, serene darkness beneath. Only the sharp iciness of the water and her will to survive drove her arms into a drunken crawl for the surface. The seconds seemed like hours as the changing surface stayed terrifyingly beyond her panicked reach.

  Finally, her head broke the surface, only to be lashed mercilessly by the salty foam of the storm. She managed to gulp in a lungful of air and sea spray. Gagging, she tried again. Her hip seared with pain. Twisting, she scanned her obscured surroundings. The boat was nowhere to be seen.

  “Bjorn! Thorfinn! I'm over here!”

  Only the howl of the storm answered her calls. She tried to clear the stinging salt water from her eyes. As a wave heaved her helplessly up into the sky, she waited, timing herself for the peak. Then as the wave reached the apex of its swell, she raised herself up and looked in all directions. There! She could see a dark, rocky outline to her right, just before the ocean sucked her back down into the trough of the next wave.

  Moving her two arms and one good leg, she swam as best she could through the rough seas, waiting for each wave to lift her up in order to regain her bearings. The shore was not far, but the chilling cold of the North Atlantic had worked its way through her wool garments and was quickly draining her strength. She pus
hed herself onward, aware that each pull with her arms was weaker than the last. She was nearly there. The boom of the surf against the rocks was almost deafening. She briefly wondered whether she would make it to shore only to be crushed on the rocks. She had no choice. Her strength was almost gone, and death was not an option. She continued her laboured swim.

  The next wave grabbed her body and threw her forward. She bodysurfed within the curl towards the jagged shoreline. The wave passed by, and what now lay ahead terrified her. Just in front of her were two huge, jagged boulders. A small gap between them led to the stony shore beyond. It was her only hope. She could feel the next wave building behind her. There would be only one chance. With several kicks, she lined herself up as best she could and allowed the wave to rocket her forward.

  She almost made it. While her body flashed through the gap with the surging water, her injured left leg caught the sharp edge of the righthand boulder, sending fiery pain throughout her entire body. In agony, she crumpled into a heap amid the frothing surf. Kiera was washed up like a piece of driftwood onto a rough beach of pebbles and rocks, tumbling until the water's momentum died, and she was left groaning in agony. Another wave swept over her. She writhed and screamed as her leg twisted in the surf. Her mind tried to rise above the anguish. Staying in the surf would be death. She tried to crawl but couldn't. The next wave burst through the rocks, submerged her and again twisted her injured leg into unbelievable explosions of pain.

  The wave receded. Gasping for breath, she let her legs hang limply behind her as she dug her fingers into the slippery rocks and dragged herself, inch by inch, away from the churning water. How long it took, she had no idea, but somehow she pulled her body beyond the reach of the surf.

  The pain was simply too much. Exhausted and curled up at the base of a rock face, she could no longer feel the icy rain pelting her body. She felt her mind slip away from the horror of reality and into the comfort of inner darkness. She welcomed the peace that was awaiting her in the world beyond. Her life here was over.

  Then, before she completely submitted to unconsciousness, she felt something touch her. There was a slight tug on her neck, perhaps from her necklace. For a moment, she willed her burning eyes to open. In the dark twilight, she made out the outline of a face looking down at her. Where was she? The voice! The beautiful language of her birth tongue! Heaven! Only in heaven could it be possible. The voice of an angel had spoken to her. She allowed the darkness to envelop her once again. Before drifting away, Kiera let the glorious Celtic words sink into her memory.

  SIX

  It was as if she were trying to swim up from the depths of the darkest ocean. Kiera floated through layers of grey thoughts and foggy memories. She remembered the time she had burned her hand on the hot kettle, and the fiery tears as her mother bathed her injury in a barrel of cool rain water. She tasted the salt on the fish her grandmother had always prepared before the family attended evening mass. She felt the icy cold rain that had pelted her shivering body as she was led away, sobbing, in the hold of the Viking ship after the invaders had sacked her home and village. Kiera wondered if she was living her life in reverse. Was this the process of life after death? She searched for a beacon to follow, a light to guide her to the afterworld.

  Pain! Her cry of anguish cut ferociously through layers of confusion and opened a cruel portal back to reality. Somewhere deep within her mind, she was aware that she was being moved, and with each bump, an invisible knife sliced cleanly through her lower leg. Her senses began to return. The thundering of the ocean surf was now only a distant rumble. The scent of wet pine tingled within her nostrils.

  With great effort, she forced her eyes open. Perhaps she was still dreaming, for there was darkness everywhere. No. There was a strange shadow hovering above her. It looked like the upside-down and backwards silhouette of a man. In her delirious state, she found the angle almost amusing. What was happening? Under her, she felt a soft cushion that bounced in a rhythmic pattern. Her fingertips reached down and touched soft pine needles. It was then that she realized that she was being dragged on a thick bough of pine.

  Before she could completely piece together her thoughts, the improvised stretcher jolted upwards as it struck something large and unseen. The stranger grunted at the impact. The collision rocked her body onto her injured leg. Unbearable pain tore through her. It was simply too much agony to bear. Her ragged voice managed a hoarse whimper before her tortured thoughts disintegrated back into the comforting darkness of unconsciousness.

  Kiera's nose twitched at the tickling sensation of smoke. She wondered why she couldn't hear the children playing in the longhouse or the women chattering as they began the morning meal preparations. A gentle breeze kissed her forehead as she struggled to open her eyes. Something was wrong. The air in the longhouse was always stale and stuffy.

  Kiera squinted into the bright morning light. She gasped at the unexpected sight. Next to her was a crackling fire. Several pieces of fish were skewered on sharp sticks and were roasting above the heat of the flames. Her body lay within a small, shallow ditch that encircled the fire.

  Suddenly, the memories of the storm flooded back. The longboat. Her leg! Her hands reached along her body, checking for injury as her eyes continued to adjust to the morning sun. Her injured limb had been raised off the ground, supported underneath by several layers of folded fur. A large grey pelt covered her lower body, providing her with warmth against the cool morning air.

  Kiera ran her hands under the cover and found that her injured left leg had been secured from her ankle to her knee by several thin but firm pieces of hewn tree limbs and securely bound together by many pieces of leather twine. Whoever had immobilized her leg seemed to know what they were doing.

  From behind, a hand touched her shoulder. Kiera looked up, then screamed. Two concerned white eyes stared down at her from a female face stained blood red. The woman's exposed upper body, along with the knee-high leather skirt, were also stained a dark crimson. Her hideous skin colour looked like the hide of the devil himself.

  The reddened woman, holding a large wooden bowl, also screamed. She flung the bowl high into the air, its contents spraying Kiera and the surrounding ground as it spiralled skywards. The woman turned and sprinted away, disappearing into the forest.

  Kiera was alone again. It took several minutes to regain her breath. Where was she? Who was that strange woman? Could she have been the one who had rescued her from the beach? If she was indeed her rescuer, then she had frightened away the person who had just saved her life.

  Shivering, a thought passed through her mind. Perhaps they were going to kill her. In the past, other skraelings had not hesitated to kill. But why, then, would they have bothered to mend her leg?

  Tears began to trickle down her pale cheeks. She was crippled and alone with frightening people she did not understand. What was to happen to her?

  A twig snapped. She wiped her eyes with her arm and turned towards the sound. Appearing silently from the stand of cedars was a man, completely covered in the same red stain as the woman. He wore only leather breeches hanging loosely from his waist. Kiera dug her fingernails into the soft dirt, readying to drag her body away in retreat, if need be, from the skraeling.

  But the man approached no further. Instead, he slowly stepped sideways towards a birch bark basin. He knelt, held his stained hands up and opened his palms towards her. He lowered his eyes, cupped his hands and then began to splash water onto his face. With a piece of leather and what looked like a gob of animal fat, he began to vigorously scrub his skin. After a minute, he paused and lifted his head. Kiera's mouth dropped open in astonishment. His cleaned skin was much fairer than the dark complexion of the northern skraelings. His skin was, well, almost European. His handsome mouth was framed by high cheekbones. His dark, kind eyes crinkled slightly as his lips curled upwards in a friendly but cautious smile. Although he looked older than her, she could not guess his age. His skin was deeply etched as from a lifetim
e of wilderness survival, but his eyes sparkled with youthfulness.

  Again, he held up his open hands.

  “I no hurt.”

  It was the voice!

  “I wasn't dreaming!” she spluttered. “It was you who saved me!” She then realized she was speaking the language of the Vikings. She switched over to a language she hadn't used in nine years.

  “You rescued me!” she said in her Celtic mother tongue.

  “Yes,” he replied.

  “How is it possible that you know the language of my ancestors?”

  He shook his head. “Story long. You sleep two days. Tired. Hungry. Must eat.”

  The spoken words were choppy, and the skraeling seemed to struggle to find the right words, but his voice was one of the sweetest things she had ever heard. She stared at him in amazement. Was she dreaming all of this? This was impossible! How could she be speaking Celtic to a skraeling who was living an ocean away from her home?

  He cautiously moved to the fire and lifted a stick of fish. Then he turned and called into the woods using a strange language. The woman whom Kiera had seen when she had first wakened reappeared with another wooden bowl. She approached, her eyes fixed suspiciously on Kiera. Kiera noticed that above her left eye was a pattern of three black triangles that together looked something like half a flower.

  “Please,” Kiera said, soothingly. “I'm sorry. I didn't mean to startle you.”

  The man spoke to Kiera. “She not know.”

  He turned and spoke to the woman. She seemed to relax slightly. She then examined Kiera as if she was the strangest creature she had ever seen. Carefully, she set the bowl of water by Kiera's side, then backed away.