"Thorfast, Bjorn! It's me! Stop!"
The ship arrogantly glided past, the grunts of its struggling crew and the slapping of its oars echoing in its wake. Yngvar saw Bjorn's head pop up over the sides and he looked about. Then the ship was gone.
Yngvar and his men dropped their arms to their sides, staring after the fleeing ship.
"Bjorn saw us," he said. "He will get Thorfast to turn the ship."
"We've no time for that," Brandr said, pointing over the rolling waves. "Lucky us."
Gamle's lead ship had pulled ahead of the other two. Smaller and lighter, it slid above the waves like a swooping bird of prey. Dark shapes of men in the prow showed they expected to catch up to Thorfast in moments.
"Block them," Yngvar said. "They won't risk ramming us, and they're too close to shoot at us in time. They'll have to avoid us."
Brandr muzzled whatever protest he was about to make and took up his steering board. "Can't do it until you dogs row."
"Kill Danes?" asked the Saxon leader. Yngvar pointed him to the oars and nodded. The Saxons jumped to the oars, and along with their captured fisherman began to row.
Yngvar and Alasdair took down the sail. As he stuffed it into a corner, he watched for signs that Thorfast was turning. The ship seemed to have slowed, and it made him smile. They were arguing over what Bjorn had seen. He could hear the shouting now and see Bjorn's face growing red with anger as Thorfast's brow arched and he asked too many questions. In the end, Bjorn's stubbornness would win out. Help was coming.
But would it be soon enough, he wondered.
Now firmly in the path of the oncoming ship, Yngvar's heart sank. The enemy ship was turning, but not fast enough. Either by design or chance, the enemy was going to clip them and push ahead. He couldn't believe anyone would risk their ship's hull on such a maneuver, particularly when their own ship was so light. Yet the dark hull streaked forward at an angle.
"Hold on!" he shouted. It was all the time he had before the ships collided.
Their oars snapped, and their ship rocked to the side. Yngvar's feet flew out from under him and he thought their ship would capsize as he held on to the rail. Cursing and shouting from the enemy was a smear as their ship shuddered and bumped along the fishing ship. Spears streaked down on them, most clattering off the deck and into the sea.
One took the unfortunate fisherman straight through his neck then broke through his back. He flopped away with his eyes wide in shock. As the ship rocked and juddered, his body toppled overboard.
Then the enemy was past them, leaving the fishing boat with two oars and rocking wildly on the water. The Saxons had thrown themselves flat to the deck, clinging like frightened cats. Brandr held on to his steering board, and Alasdair hugged the mast. Only a splash of blood showed where the fisherman had stood.
Water was bubbling up from the hull like blood from a chest wound. Two more ships were fast approaching. They had already split wide to avoid Yngvar's fishing boat.
The Saxons leapt up, staring at the water flooding around their feet. "Kill Danes!"
The leader's frustrated shout was like a curse. Yngvar wanted the same, but they were now aboard a useless, sinking ship. The lead enemy ship had slowed its progress, but it was not sunk like this ship would soon be.
"They're coming," Brandr said, his voice flat. Yet when Yngvar followed his gaze, he saw Brandr meant Thorfast and Bjorn.
Their ship had turned, now a black shape against the glaring sun. They had swung around in a wide arc and were driving into the wind to reach them. Their pursuing ship was also turning to follow. But being shoved off a direct line of pursuit, they had more space to cover. Yngvar's maneuver had brought them some time after all.
"Row!" Yngvar shouted, taking up one oar. Without hesitation, another Saxon grabbed the last remaining oar and joined. Alasdair and the others used whatever they could find to bail. The ship was already lower to the water, but it only had to stay afloat long enough to reach Thorfast.
But even when they did, they would be caught in a triangle of warships. Yngvar was trading a sea grave for death at the edge of a sword. But at least that was a good and glorious death. Valhalla would open its doors for men who died thus.
"Yngvar!"
His name sounded clear above the hiss of the sea and the groans of their sinking ship. He looked up and saw Thorfast's white hair lit in a halo of fire from the backlight of the sun. He stood and waved both hands and staggered to hold his balance in the rocking ship.
"I told you," Bjorn shouted as he leaned overboard to extend his hand. Their ship pulled alongside their small vessel and Alasdair was first to grab Bjorn's arm. He hauled up the small man with a gusty laugh. "The gods love us!"
"If they do, then get us off this sinking wreck." Brandr grabbed a rope tossed down to them and hauled himself aboard. Before long all of them were on the deck. Yngvar stared, amazed that he actually had found his crew. Cheers resounded across the ship and dozens of familiar faces smiled up at him. Hamar leaned on his tiller and pointed across the waves.
"We are cornered. No way out of this trap."
"Kill Danes!" The Saxon leader and his two men raised their swords and faced their rescuers. When no one answered, he repeated his cry. Yngvar added his voice as well, seeing how the light ship that had rammed his would fall upon them in another breath.
"Who are these people?" Bjorn asked.
"Allies," Yngvar said, pushing past him to stand at the opposite rail. "Now ready for a fight."
The entire crew shouted battle cries. Thorfast handed Yngvar a plain wooden shield. They stood shoulder to shoulder as the sleek enemy warship slid up to them.
"We can maybe take this ship, but the other two are impossible. You realize that?" Thorfast stared expressionless at the closing ship.
"No man dies before his time. If today is that day, then I will soon pour you mead in Valhalla and we will drink until Ragnarok. That is not a bad end."
"No, but I had hoped for a longer life than this."
Bjorn growled. "Hoard your life and it's surely lost. Bring me the battle!"
The enemy lashed onto their ship, and no one denied them. Yngvar and his crew pulled back behind their shields to protect against the expected wave of throwing spears. Yet the enemy had wasted many on the fishing boat, so few sailed across the gap between ships that none found a mark.
The first wave of boarders jumped howling across their bow, and Bjorn leapt at them with careless grace.
His long-hafted ax was in his right hand and a spear was in his left. His shout could raise waves on the sea. He swept the ax at the first attacker and took his head like knocking an apple from a post. The man's body fell back against his companions. Then Bjorn cast his spear through the trunk of the man next to his first victim. He crashed into the water.
Bjorn's charge emboldened his companions, and their line surged forward to clash against the boarders. Now the clangor of battle filled Yngvar's ears. Men screamed, iron chimed, and the sweet smell of blood flooded the air. He leapt up with the others, driving his sword into the soft flesh of an exposed leg in the line of enemy shields.
Flashing blades darted back at him, and he weaved among the flailing edges. One Dane with bones woven into his long beard slashed at his head, but he pulled back. He stabbed in answer and his blade turned on wood, its power drained as the blade lowered.
Thorfast killed the warrior, driving his sword into the pit of the Dane's neck.
Both sides swayed back and forth, spreading gore and corpses beneath their feet. Bjorn's madness had hewed the enemies off their deck. He stood poised to jump onto the enemy ship and continue the slaughter. Yngvar reached him in time to haul him back. Bjorn swirled on him in a rage, and his gory ax was set to shave Yngvar's head from his neck.
"We've got to break off if we can," Yngvar shouted at his red-faced cousin. "We can't board their ship."
Bjorn roared and redirected his blow at an enemy who hid behind his shield. The wood was demolishe
d with Bjorn's mighty strike, and the man staggered aside. Bjorn continued to wade into the fight without a care.
Yngvar paused amid the carnage. They were winning this battle, but over the raised spears and axes that knitted the two battle lines across the bows of their ships, he saw doom approaching. The two other ships were no longer dark outlines but powerful, high-sided sea monsters bearing down on them. White foam peeled off their hulls like steam from dragon maws. Their red and white sails were bloated with a favorable wind.
"Cut the ties," Yngvar shouted. He pulled a man off the line and forced him at a hook and rope. "We've got to break off."
The enemy were happy to retreat to their own ship, knowing aid was at hand. Bjorn caught a final man in the back, hooking him with his ax and hauling him to the deck. In a fluid turn he chopped down clean into the hapless man's face. His brains sprayed like rotten fruit, horrifying everyone in reach of Bjorn.
"He won us another battle," Thorfast said. His white hair was splattered with gore and he bled profusely from a deep cut over his brow, turning the left half of his face red.
"But we're pinned," Yngvar said, pointing at the ships charging at them from either side of the hull.
Then the Saxons started to shout.
"Waldhar! Waldhar!"
The light-haired leader was hopping on his good leg. The injury on his other calf had reopened and blood flowed steadily over his foot. He also had taken a wound to his side and a hit to the face that had swelled his left eye and mouth. Yet his joy was obvious. He and his two companions had stopped fighting and looked toward a group of small islands.
At least a half-dozen long ships were speeding toward them from behind the concealment of the islands. The ships looked like any other Norse ship except the sails were yellow and black, and one had a boar's head crest sewn onto it. The Saxons pointed at it and continued to shout. "Waldhar!"
"Lord, that is Waldhar's standard," Alasdair said. He held a round shield large enough to hide most of his body and held a short sword that appeared to have actually been bloodied. "I remember it from when he held me hostage."
"That's not good," Yngvar said. "We're trading one enemy for another."
Gamle's light scouting crew had cut their own ties and were shoving off from Yngvar. He and his crew had prevailed. Despite the vicious battle of a moment ago, both crews now stared silently at the other as a few men on either side pried apart the two ships with oars and poles. Gamle's men were bloodied and ragged, and more of their corpses piled on Yngvar's deck than his own.
The two flanking warships had also spotted the oncoming rush of the Saxons. Already they were turning to outrun this new enemy. Gamle stood in the prow, staring across the water at Yngvar's ship. His face was wrapped in bandages as well as his right arm. He scowled at the ship but did not seem to pick out Yngvar from among the others. Yngvar decided it was best to remain part of the crowd rather than show himself to Gamle.
Waldhar's ships were now crashing down on them, the Saxons not rowing hung from the sides in anticipation of boarding enemy ships. Yngvar's Saxon allies did likewise, flailing their arms and waving. All were overjoyed at what must have been a miracle to them. One even had tears diluting the blood splashed on his cheeks.
"We're not even going to try to escape," Brandr said. "We'd just be running back into Gamle's ships."
Yngvar nodded as Waldhar's lead ship glided toward them. "We best save our strength for the next battle."
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
Waldhar's leading ship slowed to a halt beside Yngvar's. Rather than try to battle the Saxons off their deck, Yngvar had decided to cluster his men in a shield wall in the prow. He stood at the front with Bjorn, Thorfast, and Brandr. The rest of the crew formed a thicket of spears, swords, and white eyes full of terror.
Their Saxons stood before them, waving at Waldhar's ship and calling out in the familiar but incomprehensible language. The size of Waldhar's ship was now obvious as its dark hull overshadowed Yngvar's smaller vessel. All around them the other warships sped past in pursuit of fatter targets. Yngvar imagined them catching up with Gamle and overpowering him, then moving on to the next pod of ships they encountered. He did not look past Waldhar's ship, knowing that he would never live to find out what happened to Gamle.
"Waldhar comes," the Saxon leader said. He stood steadily now, his excitement overpowering the wound to his leg. "Saves us like he promised. Great leader, he is."
Yngvar nodded.
Thorfast leaned closer and whispered, "Do you think we could tell him it was all a misunderstanding?"
"Freeing Lopt's daughter, Gyna, might have actually been a bad idea." Yngvar reached for the hammer of Thor that normally hung about his neck, but was now lost. He took it as a poor sign of the gods' favor. "I don't think Waldhar will be in the mood for talking."
Yngvar squinted through the glare of the sun as the Saxon ship tied off to his. The Saxons remained wary of tricks, pulled behind their own shields while a daring few hauled on the ropes to drag the hulls together. Yngvar and his crew held their places, not prepared to move until they died.
Waldhar was the first aboard their deck. He was dressed in mail and carried a shield painted black and yellow. His fierce eyes swept over Yngvar and his crew. A dozen more men jumped down from their ship onto the deck.
The light-haired Saxon and his two friends ran to Waldhar and knelt before him. One man now openly wept. At first Waldhar stared at them as if he did not recognize these men. Then he lifted the leader to his feet and his face brightened. He began to laugh and then they embraced. The other two stood and joined, Waldhar dropping his sword and widening his arms to gather all of them together. They rocked back and forth, crying and speaking in their own tongue.
"A fine moment," Bjorn said with disgust. "Nothing like a good cry before the killing."
"Lord," Alasdair said, pulling at the back of Yngvar's pants. "You should speak to him now, while he is in a joyous mood."
"You were supposed to stay in the rear," Yngvar said over his shoulder. Alasdair had forced his way to the front to stand with him. It was a touching gesture but was also dangerous to everyone else. "Get back."
Indeed, now was the moment to beg mercy from Waldhar. He hugged these three men like they were lost children. The rest of the Saxons had pulled up short behind their leader, and as he had dropped his sword, the rest did not press an attack. Instead, the dark, misshapen line of dull iron helmets and glittering blades held along the rails of their own ship.
Yngvar stepped forward, and Bjorn, Thorfast, and Brandr did as well. He glanced at them, understanding none would get back in line even if he commanded. It warmed his chilled heart to have his wolves at his side.
Waldhar noticed him and the flare of anger was immediate. He pulled away from the reunion with his three fellows and tilted his head back defiantly. The Saxons were at first confused, but once the leader noticed Yngvar and Waldhar squared off, he began to prattle on in his language. Yngvar guessed from his gestures he described their imprisonment and escape. Waldhar never took his eyes from Yngvar's during the lengthy report. For his part, Yngvar held the Saxon leader's gaze just as long. He could not win the battle against the Saxons, not when so vastly outnumbered, but he would prevail in any individual contest of wills.
At last the Saxons had finished their retelling of their plight. Waldhar and Yngvar remained locked across the short distance. Finally the lead Saxon struck Waldhar in the chest, uttering what seemed a curse in his own language. It broke Waldhar's gaze, and he turned to speak to the three reunited men.
They went back and forth, with the Saxon leader clearly advocating for Yngvar. At last he threw his hands up in frustration. He grabbed Waldhar's arm and hauled him forward toward Yngvar. At first Waldhar resisted, but as the leader persisted, he eventually stepped forward.
"Come here," the Saxon leader said, beckoning Yngvar forward. He pulled Waldhar's hand up and reached for Yngvar's. When Yngvar did step forward, the Saxon leader grabb
ed his arm and then forced him and Waldhar to grab forearms.
"Peace," he said. "We want the peace. You saved us with key and barrels. Yes? You take us to Waldhar, yes? So now we make peace."
Yngvar resisted the lifting of his heart. Despite the promise of peace, he didn't expect it. He didn't deserve it. He had betrayed Lopt and Waldhar along with all their men. That he had saved these three was a circumstance of fate. Yet Waldhar clasped Yngvar's arm.
"You have delivered my brothers to me and you spared the life of my wife's sister, Gyna." Waldhar paused but continued to grip Yngvar's arm. "Honor demands I take revenge for Lopt, but it also demands I reward the rescue of my kin. So today you go free for the sake of my brothers. Next time we meet, if that day should come, I will avenge Lopt. Honor will be satisfied."
Yngvar tightened his grip on Waldhar's arm. "That is fair. These are your brothers?"
"I have ten brothers and two sisters. Here are three, great warriors each one. They will lead their own clans one day. For now I am responsible for them. Now be gone from me. I have Danes to punish."
The three former Saxon prisoners embraced Yngvar. The leader held him longest. "I'm Adalhard. You find me one day. I repay you then."
Yngvar watched in astonishment as the Saxons boarded their ship and pried free their hooks. Waldhar vanished into the fur-cloaked crowd of his warriors, but his three brothers waved as their ship plied away to follow the rest of his fleet.
"The Fates are strange creatures," Bjorn said. "I was expecting a good fight, but I got a homecoming."
"I've never been so glad for anything," Yngvar said, then he began to laugh. Thorfast joined in, and soon the deck was roaring with wild, relieved laughter. Released from their desperate shield wall, the crew stumbled around hugging each other and knocking their helmets together. The fear of death had uncoiled and the tension flowed off the deck. They swept Yngvar along with Brandr and Alasdair into their celebration.
When they set Yngvar back down, he again noticed the bodies stacked like firewood against the gunwale. White wood showed where boarding hooks had been torn from the rails. Blood thickened around all of it like a freezing lake of scarlet. Not every corpse in that pile was an enemy, though the majority were. It dampened his mood to know others had died to save his life, but those men were now being carried away in the arms of Valkyries to Odin's hall. He would thank them there when his own day came.
Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2) Page 23