A yelp of pain broke Kiera's concentration. Chocan's face was contorted in agony, his back arched. One hand reached over his shoulder, wildly grasping for something. When he turned, she gasped. An arrow was lodged in his back, just below his right shoulder. Past Chocan, she saw the eight kayaks. The nearest Thule grinned, the bow still in his hand.
In anger, Kiera dove into the bottom of the canoe. She ripped her weapon out from under the leather bags and was about to load it with an arrow when Chocan put his foot on top of the buried quiver.
“No,” he moaned through clenched teeth. “You mustn't. Pick up your paddle and slowly wave it back and forth.”
Every angry fibre in Kiera's body willed her to fight back, to ignore his plea and to start firing arrows at the tormentors of not only her people, but the Beothuck as well. But a higher calm slowly washed over her. Chocan was her friend. She trusted his judgment. She took a deep breath, sat back down and picked up the paddle. She waved it slowly over her head.
It took only a moment for the canoe to be encircled by the fast-moving kayaks. A man with a thick, dark moustache and craggy face started yelling fiercely at them. Kiera put down the paddle. Chocan answered back in a language she didn't understand. The Thule replied with less anger and paddled closer to the canoe.
Chocan looked to Kiera. “He wants us to paddle back to their camp. When I told him that I could no longer paddle, he told me to move into the middle of the canoe. He will paddle in the stern.”
Chocan awkwardly crawled into the centre of the canoe. When Kiera turned to Chocan in an attempt to help him with the arrow, more angry shouts erupted, and several spears and arrows were aimed directly at her.
“Kiera,” Chocan moaned, “this is important. Don't do anything unless I say so, and that includes helping me. They must believe that we won't cause any trouble. If they feel that we will fight back or try to escape, they won't hesitate to kill us. Do you understand?”
She nodded. The Thule climbed into the back of the canoe, and after tying the kayak to the stern of the canoe, he commanded her with gestures to start paddling. It was a solemn crossing under a darkening sky. Kiera was overwhelmed with fear and anger. She was not upset with her own capture but furious at herself for dragging Chocan into this mess. He lay behind her, injured, bound and deflated. How could she have done such a thing to the person who had so bravely saved her life?
The small armada of vessels pulled onto the far shore in the inky darkness of a moonless night. Their only beacon, a campfire, was roaring with life. The Thule disembarked and, with spears in hand, prodded Kiera and Chocan away from their canoe and up the slight rise to the circle of skin tents. Kiera scanned the crowd. Only men were present at the campfire gathering. The triumphant Thule hunters laughed and bantered with those who had remained behind, relaying the tale of the capture.
Kiera stared at the ground, trying to pretend she was anywhere else but here. She once again felt as if she was a prize to be fought over, as she was poked and pushed by the hunters. Memories of that horrible auction in Iceland flooded her mind. For the first time, she wondered what might happen to her. The thought of being considered property to such volatile men drove a knife of fear deep into her stomach.
The leader of the camp, the man who had paddled the canoe with her, grabbed Kiera roughly by the arm and dragged her closer to the fire for all to see. Her ochre had long been washed away. Even in the orange light of the fire, her green eyes glowed like sunlit emeralds. Her shimmering auburn hair framed her pale, worried face. The men gawked, her pale skin bringing a gasp of astonishment. Kiera shuffled her feet uncomfortably, trying to control the urge to elbow the leader in the stomach, grab Chocan and make a run for the darkened meadow.
A shorter man, from the opposite side of the fire, stepped forward. He stared at her in a different, more curious way than the astonished gapes of his comrades. He slowly circled around the burning logs and moved closer. Kiera's lowered eyes noticed the approaching legs. She willed herself to look up at the approaching stranger. Her eyes widened in shock. The artwork on his face was that of a mighty eagle's wing. He stopped in front of her, his nose almost touching hers. She could smell the evening meal of fish fried in fat in his sour breath. She tried to turn away, but the leader's grasp of her arm suddenly increased to the point where she yelped in pain. The shorter man roughly grabbed her under the jaw. He held her astonished face in a vice-like grip as he inspected her closely. Trapped, Kiera could feel a deep anger rise within her. Cool and defiant, she stared back into the eyes of her enemy. There was no doubt in her mind. He was the Thule that she had captured in the Viking village.
A sly smile spread across the warrior's face. He bent down towards the fire and picked something up off the ground. Kiera finally breathed as the warrior stepped away from her, retracing his route back around the campfire.
Then, with lightning speed, he pivoted, spun and swung. In the corner of her eye, she saw something racing towards her head, but being firmly held, there was nothing she could do. In an explosion of light, Kiera felt her world spinning in a whirlpool, down towards an unending darkness.
Kiera collapsed in a heap. Her attacker gazed with satisfaction at the crumpled young woman on the ground, gently tapping the log that he had used to attack her in his other palm. A bitter grin touched his lips as he turned and threw the wood onto the roaring fire, then walked away.
NINETEEN
Kiera fought through the unending waves of pain and nausea. Her head felt as if it had been split wide open. She tried to touch the throbbing wound beside her left eye, but to her dismay, her hand was not free to investigate. Her wrists were firmly secured behind her back.
Moaning, Kiera managed to squint into the bright light. She was surprised to find herself in the bottom of a ribbed, skin-covered boat. She also became aware of the rise and fall of the sea. Where was she? A rush of panic swept over her as she tried to recall what had happened, but her last memory was of paddling with Chocan through the majestic fjord. What was going on? She began to thrash against her bindings, dangerously rocking the skin-covered vessel. Someone yelled at her in a strange tongue.
“Stop moving,” said a soothing voice in her native Irish tongue. “You don't want to upset him again.”
She tilted her head back and saw an upside-down but concerned face. Chocan, also tied and bound, was wedged in behind her. Together, they took up almost the entire rear of the small vessel. The memories of last night slowly returned. She looked forward. The Thule who had attacked her sat on a bench just beyond her head. He was paddling with his back to them. A coat of caribou with a fur-lined hood hung from his shoulders. Bags and clothing were stored between his knees and the bow.
She looked back to Chocan. “Where are we?”
“We are being transported back to the Thule homeland. This warrior here thinks that, despite your previous encounters, he can mold you into a fine wife. He seems to be quite taken by your green eyes. He has decided that you are to live with his other wife and children back on the Thule mainland.”
Kiera gritted her teeth in anger. “Marry him? Good luck to that ever happening. What about you? Is he going to marry you as well?”
Chocan managed a smile. “If only I were so lucky. No, they have decided that I might be useful, since both the Thule and I understand the Tunit language. In exchange for my life, they want me to help plan future raids against the Beothuck.”
“Oh, is that all?” groaned Kiera. “How long have I been unconscious, Chocan?”
“About a day now. We left the camp at daybreak, and he has been paddling ever since. I would guess we are about a quarter of the way up the northwest coast of our island. Another week of paddling, then a journey across the northern strait, and we will be in the heart of Thule territory.”
“How's your shoulder?” she asked, looking concerned.
“It's been better,” he answered, grimacing at the thought of his wound.
“Don't aggravate it. Stay put while I ta
ke a look around.”
Kiera tried to sit up, but Chocan shook his head in alarm.
“I wouldn't recommend it. I've already tried. He said if I moved, he would do to me with the log what he had already done to you. ‘Either way,’ he said, ‘you will lie still on the bottom of the craft.’”
“Speaking of craft,” said Kiera. “I've never seen one like this. It's different from the kayaks that attacked us earlier.”
“It's what the Thule call an inuak. It's about the size of a Beothuck canoe with an open top, but it sits lower in the water. They use it for hauling cargo.”
A thought struck Kiera. “So the three of us are out here all alone?”
Chocan shook his head. “No. Four other kayaks are travelling with us. Each kayak is towing a newly-made empty kayak back to their homeland. Besides scouting out territory in order to plan further hostilities against us, they spent their free time during the evenings making more kayaks.”
Kiera pondered their situation. “Did you learn anything from the Thule last night?”
“They mentioned your village.”
Her eyes widened. “They did?”
“Our wing-faced friend here explained why he had hit you. It was in retaliation for you doing the same to him last summer. They went on to talk about the peace offering that your leader had proposed. It appears the idea of allowing your people to leave peacefully has split the Thule leadership. Some want to let your village leave peacefully and be done with it. Others still want revenge for past deaths in battle. These men are part of the group that want to seek revenge. They are deliberately ignoring the orders of their chief. They plan to attack your Viking village again with a large number of men in ten days. The empty kayaks we are pulling behind us are to be used by the warriors. From what I have overheard, the numbers in this attack are going to be overwhelming. Over a hundred armed Thule warriors. Your Viking friends may not get that opportunity to return home.”
“Ten days!” exclaimed Kiera, shocked. “We've got to…”
Kiera's assailant turned around, his face furious. He yelled at them both.
Chocan whispered. “He said he liked you better when you were unconscious. He told us to be quiet or else.”
Kiera, unwavering, returned a defiant look, but remained silent. Wing-Face flashed a cruel smile at the helpless woman, then returned to his paddling. Kiera leaned her sore head on the curve of Chocan's comforting calves. She tried to claw her thoughts above the constant throbbing in her brain. They couldn't give up. But what could they do? They were tied and bound, floating with a vicious warrior in a boat no bigger than a canoe.
She glanced down at her skirt. An idea struck her. Could it still be there? Slowly hiking up the skirt with her bound hands, she managed to reach the hem. Chocan watched her, his eyes widening with hope. Feeling her way along the material, her fingers finally touched its cold, narrow surface. She delicately removed her last needle from its resting place.
Twisting her wrists until the pain was almost unbearable, she aimed the needle at the leather strips between her hands. She then began to poke, over and over again, in the same location of the leather. Twice, she had to quickly hide the needle in her palm as their captor swung around to check on them. He seemed satisfied that his prisoners were behaving themselves and went back to the task of guiding the craft towards his homeland.
The sun hung low on the horizon. She knew they would soon be stopping for the night. Kiera continued to poke the leather. Her fingers were now so sore and raw that she was afraid she might drop the needle. When a drop of blood dripped from her fingertip onto the ribbing of the inuak, she knew that it was time to stop. She palmed the needle and took a deep breath. Gritting her teeth, she silently pulled against the leather straps with all of her strength. Her shoulders strained with effort. Nothing. She tried again. Her wrists began to burn with pain. She made a third attempt. A slight snap tickled their ears. Relaxing, she looked back at Chocan. He looked at her wrists and nodded encouragement. Taking the needle once again, she again worked feverishly on the same section of leather.
A minute later, she tried again. This time, a louder snap greeted her effort. She froze. Had Wing-Face heard the noise? She slowly lifted her eyes. Thankfully, he continued paddling, oblivious to what was going on behind him. Kiera quickly removed the leather straps from around her wrists then undid her legs. She quietly leaned her head back on Chocan's lap and released his wrists and ankles. Using hand signals and silent gestures, they put together their plan.
Kiera quietly twisted until she was on her hands and knees behind Wing-Face. Chocan leaned forward, using Kiera's back for support, until he was within arm's reach of the Thule warrior. Wing-Face must have felt the shift in weight because his head began to turn. In a lightning move, Chocan grabbed him hard around the chest and face. His hand slapped over Wing-Face's mouth to prevent a shout of warning to the others. Chocan then yanked the shocked warrior over Kiera's back, ignoring the paddle as it fell overboard, and allowed Wing-Face to fall hard onto his chest. Kiera grabbed the floating paddle and threw it back into the bow of the boat. Wing-Face, coming to his senses, began to struggle, but Kiera sprang like a cat and threw her whole weight behind her elbow, crashing it into the Thule's unprotected stomach. Wing-Face's eyes spread wide with pain as the wind was knocked out of his lungs. Chocan took advantage of the situation by releasing the Thule's mouth. He quickly gagged him with a thick piece of leather. Kiera, meanwhile, pinned his arms with her knees. Chocan slipped out from underneath Wing-Face, and together they tied him up.
Kiera scrambled up onto the seat. Had the others seen the skirmish? She gave a sigh of relief. Instead of looking up into the tip of an angry spear-holding Thule warrior, she saw the other four kayaks well out ahead of them. The Thule had their backs to the slower craft, and they were unaware of the scenario taking place behind them. She scanned the surroundings for a hiding place. To her dismay, they were in the middle of a huge bay that she had remembered crossing during the morning of their second day of sailing. The coast was far away to her right. She looked over her shoulder. Beyond the kayak they were towing, the southeastern tip of the bay was but a mere smudge on the horizon. With water in every direction, hiding was not an option. They needed another plan.
“Any ideas?” asked Kiera.
Chocan looked around the open water. “I suggest we get as far away from the other kayaks as possible.”
Kiera picked up the paddle. “I agree. You're injured. I'll do the paddling.”
Kiera turned the inuak around and started paddling hard towards the southwest tip of the bay.
“We've come further than I thought,” he said, noting the coastline.
“What about the other kayaks?”
He looked over his shoulder. “They still have not noticed our change in direction.”
“That's not going to last. Any ideas on how to improve our slim odds?”
Chocan bent over and lay down in the bottom of the boat beside the Thule.
“If they see two of us sitting upright, they will definitely know there is a problem.”
“All right,” she said, glancing over her shoulder, “that's a good idea. But they are still close enough to us to see that I'm not Thule.”
Chocan grabbed the hood of the Thule's jacket and tore it from the rest of the coat. Their prisoner, realizing what they were up to, began to thrash in anger. Chocan placed the hood on top of Kiera's head.
“The hood might be enough to fool them, at least for a little while. With a bit of luck, they might think that our friend has forgotten something, or is in need of a minor repair. Perhaps they won't bother to investigate the situation.”
“Well,” she grunted between pulls, “if it's all right with you, I'll just keep paddling with everything I've got.”
“By all means,” replied Chocan, keeping low.
He poked his head up and over the stern to keep an eye on the kayaks. Kiera was starting to believe that their escape might end up being
smooth after all. But their luck didn't hold.
“Uh-oh.”
Chocan stared at a changing scene behind them. The four kayaks had stopped. Three of the warriors had untied their unmanned kayaks from their sterns and passed the tow ropes to the single, remaining kayak. Free of their burden, the trio of warriors then turned around and began to chase the inuak.
“What's happening?”
“I'm afraid we have been discovered.”
Kiera turned to check out the dire situation. She threw the itchy hood into the bow.
“Any ideas now?”
Chocan reached over the stern, grabbed the tow line and pulled. Within seconds, their empty kayak was bobbing alongside their inuak. Chocan took a deadly harpoon in his right hand, then cut the ties that had bound the captured Thule's legs with his left.
“Get in,” he commanded in Tunit.
But the Thule didn't move. He simply glared back at him with an icy smile. Chocan moved a harpoon and placed the sharp tip against his chest.
“Get into the kayak, or you will soon be swimming home.”
The smile disappeared, and the Thule reluctantly climbed into the kayak. Without his arms, he nearly tipped the craft, but Chocan helped him collapse onto its ribbed hull. Chocan cut the tow rope. With guidance from only the wind and waves, the kayak began to drift out to sea.
“That should help us go a little faster,” said Chocan.
Kiera grimaced. “I can't say that I'll miss my husband-to-be.”
“Since our winged friend doesn't have a paddle, someone will have head out to sea and rescue him. It may force those who are chasing us to split up.”
Kiera tried to clear her thoughts and concentrate on her paddling. Chocan would have been a much stronger paddler, but with his injured shoulder, she realized that it would be up to her to get them to safety. Her wrists were still sore from being tied, but otherwise her arms were well-rested. The exertion, however, caused her injured head to throb like a bass drum. She heaved against the water with each stroke, frustrated that the distant ribbon of land ahead of her seemed frozen to the horizon. She knew their chances of escape were slim. But the horrid thought of being married to her Thule captor gave her all the motivation she needed to give each stroke a superhuman effort.
Stolen Away Page 12