Odin's Ravens (Descendants Saga Book 2)

by Jerry Autieri

  Sensing his pensive mood, the crowd calmed and allowed Yngvar his own space. Their faces were fresh with blood, both of the enemy and themselves, yet all smiled. Many stood with arms over a companion's shoulder. Thorfast and Bjorn both stood before them, arms folded and faces full of fierce pride. This was a crew that had forged bonds in many battles. They would never be broken apart. He could not help but smile as well.

  "That you are all still here shows how well you listen to my orders," Yngvar said. The men chuckled as he continued. "I am glad you know when to listen and when to ignore me. Without your persistence and sacrifice, neither I nor Brandr and Alasdair would be alive now. I owe all of you more than I can repay. Whatever gold may come of this I will split my part with all of you. It will still not be enough for what you have done."

  "Are you planning to talk all day?" Bjorn asked. "There's a message we've got to get to King Hakon."

  "Not to mention we've been out of food for a day," Thorfast said. "We'd take fish over gold right now."

  Yngvar raised his hands. "Very well, then I will take an oar with you. Let's row for Norway and pray that we still have time to warn the king."

  The crew gave a cheer and broke up. They looted enemy corpses and threw the bodies into the sea. For their own dead, they laid them by the mast and covered them as best as they could. Yngvar helped as well. He kept an eye on the horizon for more enemies. But Waldhar's fleet had abandoned them and Gamle had pulled back. Whether he escaped Waldhar or not, Yngvar could not know. He hoped the bastard would be caught and killed, but Gamle was as canny as his father. He would live and return to cause more trouble.

  When they had cleared the decks, the crew settled onto their sea chests and slid oars into the water. Yngvar nodded to Hamar, who had not surrendered the tiller to Brandr. He had earned his place at the steering board. Yngvar followed the beat of the lead oarsmen, the water resisting his pull. Yet the ship lurched forward and they turned north.

  They were going back to Norway and he hoped it would be in time.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  The sight of Norway's coast drew cheers from every man on deck. Yngvar's stomach both fluttered with anticipation of his homecoming and growled with hunger. He had not eaten anything but hard bread since his capture, and with rations gone he had only water to fill his belly. The rest of the crew was in the same condition. They could have pillaged supplies before heading north, but time was precious. No one knew if the killer had been dispatched to Norway yet. Not even Brandr, who now had the best idea of Gorm the Old's plans.

  So as the gulls flew overhead, searching the decks for anything they could snatch, Yngvar's ship pointed toward the coast and the men redoubled their efforts. They had rowed until nightfall, then slept aboard deck while Hamar and Brandr traded shifts to keep them on-course. Now they glided into the shore with the morning fog.

  "Keep us away from other ships," Yngvar said to Hamar. "We cannot afford to be caught now."

  They were still outlaws as far as anyone in Norway knew. While he had understood King Hakon's rationale for doing so, it had proved to be unimportant. Gorm the Old never had a moment to question his story and no spies ever reported on them. So now it was just an impediment to completing his mission for the king.

  "My gut hurts just seeing this coast again," Thorfast said, then put a hand to the wound he had taken in the battle with Rognvald's crew.

  "How is the wound healing?" Yngvar asked. "I hope it's better than that cut on your brow. That's going to leave you uglier than ever."

  Thorfast raised his shirt to display a horrid brown scar with scabs still clinging to the flesh. "At least it won't open again. I look like a fish someone tried to gut and then decided to close up."

  "You smell the same, too," Bjorn said as he joined them.

  "All of us need a bath and a good meal," Yngvar said.

  "And a woman," Thorfast added. "Let's hope King Hakon is generous with women. I don't want prayers for our health."

  Brandr had gone to converse with Hamar, who was eager to learn the tricks of navigation as well as more about the ship he steered. But now Brandr had stopped talking and stared intently at the horizon.

  Brandr was an experienced seaman and his eyes were sharp for dangers both from nature and man. Yngvar strained to see what had captured his attention. On the foggy horizon, a thin, dark line of a mast showed.

  The others noted Yngvar staring and soon more and more men were looking toward the horizon.

  "We will have to face ships sooner or later," Yngvar said.

  "This far from the coast we are targets for the ambitious," Thorfast said. "We're too worn out for a fight."

  Yngvar sighed. "No one knows that but us. We must look strong and hope it is enough to instill caution in others."

  They continued to work along the coast, plying north while keeping the blue cliffs of Norway to their left. The fog did not relent, and the wraith-like shape of a ship trailed them. Yngvar had switched to sail power alone, though it slowed them. If another battle came, the men needed their scant strength to fight.

  It was the dance of predator and prey. Both sides attempted to hide their intentions. The Norse ship moved in the fog of the horizon with its crew believing they remained unseen. Yngvar moved as if he were unaware of their pursuers, yet he had Hamar guide them ever closer to rocky, pine-topped islands where they could lose their enemy.

  This lasted all morning, and then the Norse ship made a deliberate turn out of the fog toward them.

  "To the oars," Yngvar said. "Ten men a side, thirty strokes then switch out with another. We have to keep fresh."

  Brandr worked the sails to get as close to the wind as the ship allowed. He knew the possibilities of the ship like no one else. The quickened pace sent water over the sides and drenched the men on oars. Behind them the low profile of their pursuers drew to a thin point as it aimed for them.

  "We might lose them in those islands," Brandr said. "But if they have any sense they will just keep on the inland side and force us out to sea. We might be better in open flight."

  The choice was Yngvar's, and he knew this ship was lighter and faster than most. It was also not especially good at the open sea. This ship was always one strong gale from being capsized. He could not measure the speed of the other ship. Perhaps it was just as fast. Already it seemed to have rapidly closed the distance, growing both darker and larger as it approached.

  "Head for the islands," he said. "They will have to decide what end of the islands we will escape from. If they guess wrong, we will not be caught."

  The crew was silent but for their grunting. The deck creaked and the oars splashed in a steady rhythm. The men made long and slow strokes to conserve strength while maintaining speed. Four islands arrayed before them and several other rocks poked above the iron gray water.

  Yngvar remained at the stern and observed their pursuers. Their ship was a low and sleek raider like his. A race between them would be a near thing.

  Relief came as they vanished behind the islands. Yet Brandr ran from side to side watching for hidden rocks or strange currents. It occurred to Yngvar their pursuers might know these waters better.

  Brandr began shouting out commands to Hamar. They missed a sandbar only to find themselves facing rocks hiding under the calm waves. Had the seas been rougher they might have torn their hull on them.

  "This was a shit idea, I don't mind saying," Bjorn said.

  "Yet I mind hearing about it," Yngvar said. He was now working with Brandr to seek hidden dangers. "We won't linger here more than we must."

  "Lord, they are coming," Alasdair said. He was small against the curved prow of the ship and stood upon a sea chest for a better view. His hand was cupped over his eyes against the glare.

  The ship slid from between two islands. Despite the inconvenience, they had racked shields to make themselves seem more formidable. While too distant for details, the ship seemed to hold a full crew. Yngvar discerned the shaggy heads of fighting men
bobbing above the gunwales.

  "We can't risk racing through these waters," Hamar said. "There are too many rocks and not enough deep water to be safe."

  Yngvar rubbed his temples. He might exhaust his crew in a sprint for the open sea and then let the wind carry them. If caught they would fight poorly. The enemy expected it too, as they held to the east where they could pull into open water and cut off escape.

  "A pointless fight to leave this place, and now another to return," he said to himself. "We can't risk it."

  He turned to Brandr. Their eyes met and a silent exchange took place. His cousin shared the same blood, the same recklessness that either led to glory or death.

  "You take the tiller from Hamar and we will call the dangers to you. Can you steer us out of these traps at our top speed?"

  Brandr smiled. "I will show you."

  Hamar's face fell when Brandr took over the tiller, but he did not protest. Yngvar patted him on the back, silently recognizing his accomplishments. Once Brandr had the tiller in hand, he set himself, Alasdair, and Thorfast in the prow to watch for hazards. Bjorn he set as the lead rower, and with a nod to his cousin, Bjorn bellowed out. "Row as hard as you can!"

  Those not rowing set the sail to the wind, and the ship lurched forward. Yngvar grabbed the rails and held on as his ship sped forward.

  Blessed with calm waters, they could see the chains of rocks and sandbars that laced the sea between the islands. The sailing here was particularly treacherous, which was probably why no one made a home among these islands. This also indicated to Yngvar that their pursuers were unfamiliar with this passage. Only a fool or someone who did not know the water would deliberately sail into this mess.

  Yngvar spotted what seemed to be rocks and called out to Brandr, pointing to them so he would know where to avoid. The ship did not slow but moved to the side with ease. Yet opposite, Thorfast shouted his own warning, and Brandr had to move back towards Yngvar's hazard. Still, he slipped between the hazards with ease and the ship never lost its pace. The men groaned with their efforts at the oars. Bjorn set a relentless pace, which was why Yngvar had set him in the lead position.

  They continued on, shouting their warnings. Brandr jerked the ship around each one, his teeth gritted as he hauled on the tiller.

  "The enemy is slowing," Alasdair said, standing on his sea chest.

  "Great!" Yngvar said. "But you're supposed to be watching the water."

  Despite his reprimand, he could not help but glance behind. The enemy did seem more distant, and he felt his heart lift at the sight. He had made the right choice.

  He turned back to the water, and it seemed like a beach was fast approaching. Only they were in the middle of the sea between the islands. He and the others all shouted at the same time. "Sandbar!"

  "It's too wide to avoid," Thorfast said, his eyes wide. "We can't slow down in time."

  "Don't slow down," Bjorn shouted. "Speed up! Where's the narrowest part?"

  Yngvar leaned so far over he might fall over the rails. It seemed there was a thinner section and he pointed at it.

  "Row harder!" Bjorn shouted.

  The ship hit the sandbar. Yngvar stumbled forward, holding the rail to keep from falling. Stacked oars clattered and stacked chests thumped to the deck. Alasdair fell off his chest and thudded to the boards.

  The ship raised out of the water. The hull groaned with the effort, but it continued to plow through. Bjorn and other rowers withdrew their oars and leaned over the sides. They used oars like poles to help force the ship over the sandbar.

  Just when it seemed the hull would drag to a stop, the fore of the ship sank back into the water. The rest of it soon followed and the ship rocked. Again Yngvar had to seize the rails or else stumble. They had cleared the hazard and were now facing the open sea.

  "We can ease up now," Bjorn said. "Look behind us."

  Yngvar and the others saw their pursuers stuck on a rock or sandbar of their own. Their ship listed to the right, and despite a full sail, they seemed motionless.

  They all cheered. Yngvar helped Alasdair to his feet and placed him back atop his chest. They both leapt with joy at having shaken their pursuers. Bjorn wiped sweat from his brow and laughed. Soon they were under sail again along the coast. They laughed and sang songs all the way up the coast into Vestfold.

  At last they were intercepted by King Hakon's ships for the final leg of their journey. Yngvar peacefully awaited their approach, and as he offered no threat, the ships did not attack. He greeted their leaders with his best manners and told them he had important news for the king. When both leaders scoffed, he mentioned King Hakon's personal bodyguard, Fridlief.

  "You can at least take us to him," Yngvar said across the water to one of the leaders. "But let us not delay another moment. We've come far and at great cost in both money and lives. The king cannot wait for this news."

  The leader nodded and gestured Yngvar should follow him in. Yet as he turned back to his crew, Yngvar noted several of them casting dark looks across the gap.

  "What is that for?" he wondered aloud.

  Thorfast gave a dry chuckle. "Probably friends of Rognvald. We're not going to be heroes to everyone on this homecoming."

  Yngvar tilted his head back. It seemed a lifetime ago, but he had forgotten how he had slaughtered Rognvald and his crew. Widows and aggrieved families were awaiting them in Haugar as well as the king. It might not all go so smoothly after all.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  Yngvar stood outside King Hakon's great hall. The town of Haugar remained unchanged in its prosaic bustle, only now it was colder. People went about their chores bundled in wool cloaks with their hoods up. In the late morning, the air was chill enough to see one's breath. Yngvar blew into his hands to warm them as he awaited final permission to enter the hall. Apparently, King Hakon had been occupied during their arrival but was now eager to hear news. Despite the king's urgency, Yngvar felt their meeting was taking overlong to prepare.

  Their four guards stomped their feet and stared into the distance. Only Yngvar and his wolves, plus Brandr, were to approach the king. The rest of the crew were left with the ship. Yngvar cast worried glances down toward the shore. He did not doubt news of their arrival would have spread fast among their enemies. Rognvald had not been popular, but his crewmen were another matter. Yngvar feared hotheaded kin bent on vengeance storming his ship on the beach. He kept looking downhill expecting a column of black smoke where thatched rooftops hid his ship from view. So far, he saw only gulls and the distant glitter of the iron gray sea.

  At last the doors opened and Fridlief himself answered. He had met them at the shore so promptly that Yngvar thought he had been expecting them. The subsequent wait had dispelled that notion. Now Fridlief's carefully pointed, gray-streaked beard wagged as he asked them in.

  "King Hakon is anxious to hear your report." He nodded at the four guards. "Watch the hall and let no one approach no matter who it is. I will tell you when we are finished."

  Fridlief led them into the brightly lit hall. The hearth crackled with new flame and a young girl in a dirty white smock poked it with an iron. Fridlief took the iron and sent her out. He was an older man wizened by sun and battle. Yngvar guessed he could still best the younger warriors.

  Yngvar's pulse beat in his neck as he crossed the long hall to where King Hakon sat upon his chair at the high table. Tears stung his eyes thinking of all the sacrifices and lives lost just to stand here again. He also straightened his back with pride for his companions. Without them none of this could ever have happened. He owed them his very life.

  They all knelt before Hakon, who immediately waved them to their feet.

  "I respect the formality, but it is just us now. Do not tarry with your news, but tell me what has brought you back so soon. The first snow has not even fallen and already you return."

  Yngvar stood and scratched his beard. He had salvaged clothes from enemies and even from his dead crewmen. He had needed better clot
hes to stand before his king. Now to emphasize the trials of his journey, he let his cloak slip to reveal the brown stains of old blood on his shirt. Yet Hakon paid no mind.

  "Your life is in danger, my king." Yngvar bowed his head as he spoke. "Gorm the Old is sending a killer to your hall disguised as a priest from Wessex. I feared we would not reach you in time before he attacked."

  Both Hakon and Fridlief shared a concerned look. Hakon leaned forward. "Timely news. I want to know all the details of how you came by it. Tell me from the very beginning. No detail is too small to omit."

  "It will be a long re-telling," Yngvar said. "The time may have felt short to you, but I have been gone a lifetime."

  "Then be seated all of you, but tell me everything I need know." Hakon's young face seemed hungry for a tale of adventure. Yngvar knew the look as he wore a similar expression most of his life, listening to his grandfather's and father's tales retold in mead halls across Frankia.

  He retold everything starting from their encounter with Rognvald. "Unfortunate, but he courted his own fate," Hakon said dryly. He told them of Lopt Stone-Eye and Sigvald, of his duplicity to both sides. Hakon laughed with delight at the stories of treachery. Fridlief was less impressed by anything he heard, sitting stone-faced at Hakon's right hand.

  "The beacons Lopt used to summon aid were fast and effective," Yngvar said. "Something similar along your shores would do well to alert the land of any Danish attack."

  He continued through his travails in Jelling. When he told of Gamle's wounds, Hakon's laughter subsided, and as the tale continued to Waldhar's ambush, Hakon's brow furrowed and his nose flared. "Gamle must stand with his father, I understand. But that does not mean I wish him disfigured or captured by Saxons. He is still my family. Did you see his fate?"