“I know that, my lady,” he said, looking away from her angry gaze.
“You have to follow my orders, Owen. You didn’t listen to me earlier, and you nearly drowned. If you had died, I’d be alone now among these people. Is that what you want?”
“I’m… I’m sorry, my lady. I was only trying to—”
“I told you before that I know who you are. I know how you came into my family’s service. I know you still have four more years of sentence as a guardsman for attacking your brother.”
Owen bit his lower lip and nodded.
“I can release you from that sentence, from your oath of service, Owen.”
“My lady…” He paused, uncertain how to bring this up. “You’re a… well—”
“A woman, yes. I know that, Owen. But I’m also the last Dain. Your oath to my father now binds you to me. You owe me the next four years of your life. Until I marry, I have the legal right to release you from that oath—and I will, if you follow my orders and help me get back to the kingdom.”
“You would do that… release me?”
“I will, Owen. I promise. Once we get to King’s Hold. But I need your help now. I can’t do this by myself, not if you get yourself killed trying to escape.” She thrust her small hand toward him. “Do we have an agreement?”
He stared at her hand for a long moment and then took it, gripping it firmly. “We have a bargain, my lady.”
#
They sailed for hours, and Owen found his excitement grew as he watched the waves speed past. Nearby, Lady Danika sat on a bench, lost in her own thoughts. As he had suspected earlier, they sailed within sight of the Fenyir Island chain and were now heading directly for one of the larger islands, a small speck on the horizon that had been growing steadily.
“Where do you think we’re going?” he asked Lady Danika.
“Great Drake’s Head Island,” Kora said as she joined them. “We’re sailing for Welmen Town, our home.”
“I’ve never heard of that island, or that town,” said Lady Danika.
“We don’t have much to do with you kingdom types,” she said. “We have our own ways, our own gods, our own lives. No doubt you’d be surprised to learn there are settlements all along these islands, dozens of other clans—the Windhelm, Seafome, Fangspray—far more of us than you and yours can imagine.”
The island grew in size as they sailed closer, and they could make out its shoreline, a thick forest, and high terrain. A small, dark mountain rose from the center of the island, its summit wreathed completely in mist. Rocks and reefs rose out of the waves as they came closer to the shore, but Fioni, her hand on the tiller, unerringly sailed them past the hazards, turning the ship, seemingly at random, back and forth. Soon, Owen saw they were heading for the mouth of a narrow river that emptied into the sea, surrounded on both sides by thick woods. The longboat lifted and fell in the waves as it entered the mouth of the river, before settling as the wind and the waves died.
In moments, they went from the open sea to this silent, dark-green world around them. Birds sang and darted about the branches, and insects buzzed their heads. The crew lowered the sail and seated themselves on the benches in even rows. As one, they began rowing in cadence, without a single word of command. The longship sped along the shoreline, practically dancing on the water.
This is amazing, he thought, watching the trees speed by. The kingdom had no ships like this, with such a narrow draft. Its construction was a technical marvel. As a soldier, he could appreciate the tactical advantages such a vessel gave the Fenyir. Not only could they sail faster than their prey, but they could also enter narrow rivers and sail far inland, striking settlements without warning.
Ahead, on the other side of a bend in the river, Owen saw a log-walled settlement rise from the trees, as if by magic. Along the water’s bank, a small flotilla of fishing boats sat on the grassy shoreline, with men and women tending to nets. As they rowed past, Fen Wolf’s crew waved and called out to them in greeting.
“I thought you people were raiders?” he said to Kora.
She frowned at him. “We raid—and fish and hunt and plant seed and raise livestock. You can’t eat silver. We raid for fun…and silver.”
As they came closer to the walled settlement, Owen saw a massive longship tied up beside a wooden dock. This ship, its hull painted dark green and red, towered over Fen Wolf and was twice its length. It too had a single mast, but it was higher by half than Fen Wolf’s and wider than a man could wrap his arms around. A gilded weather vane sat atop the mast. On its high prow, an elaborately carved figurehead of a woman with outstretched arms reached forward, as if she were trying to capture something ahead of them. The carved face of the woman had a bestial, catlike look to it, reminding Owen of the handle of Sight-Bringer. He glanced at Danika, and their eyes met in recognition.
“Iron Beard,” said Kora, respect in her voice. “Yarl Taios’s ship. Built and sailed by his grandfather, the legendary Serl Raven-Eye. That monster of a ship has travelled the world—once even sailing into the Feral Sea.”
“Really?” asked Lady Danika. “I thought that was impossible.”
“Impossible for mainlanders. Dangerous for us. Iron Beard is a drake-ship, not a serpent-ship like Fen Wolf. It’s a ship for a yarl—what you and yours might call a chieftain or a king. It needs more crew to sail but fully loaded can carry five hundred warriors and take on any six serpent-ships…well, maybe not six ships like Fen Wolf.” She paused, letting her gaze rest on the brightly painted hull as they slipped past. “She’s the pride of the Waveborn clan.”
Fen Wolf sailed past the massive drake-ship, giving Owen his first real view of the walled town. The forest pushed up against the log wall, with only a short space cleared for archers to shoot. Had it been up to Owen, he’d have pushed those woods back at least another hundred feet to make sure attackers had no cover. At the far end of the town, a large conical hill towered over the settlement. Atop the hill, another log wall surrounded a multistoried wooden longhouse. A wisp of smoke rose above the longhouse.
“Is that where your chieftain, your… Yarl Taios lives?” he asked Kora.
“Aye, that’s his longhouse, Shield-Breaker.”
“What kind of man is he, this Yarl Taios?” Lady Danika asked.
“He’s a killer,” said Fioni, coming up behind them and resting her hand atop Kora’s shoulder. “He’s a hard man who won’t tolerate ghost stories about long-dead blood fiends.”
“It’s no ghost story,” Lady Danika said. “Serina Greywynne is alive and—”
“Fioni,” said Kora, a hard edge in her voice. She was staring at the shoreline on the other side of the town, just now coming into view.
Two more longships, one as big as Fen Wolf, were pulled up onto the grassy shoreline, but a third, different type of vessel sat anchored a stone’s throw from the shore. The strange vessel, unlike anything Owen had ever seen before, was painted all black and was double masted, wide, and ugly. Its deck bristled with strange-looking men with dark black hair and narrow, staring eyes. On the beach before the two longships, a large group of men had set up camp with numerous fires and brightly colored tents. The men in the camp were also glaring at Fen Wolf.
Kora pointed at the larger of the longships pulled up onto the shoreline, a sleek vessel painted all red. “Is that—”
“Blood Raven.” Fioni spat the words out.
Vory joined them now, holding his two-handed axe-head against his wide chest. “Is this a joke?”
Fioni shook her head. Owen didn’t miss the fact that her fingers trailed over the hilt of her sword. “Of course it’s Galas. And the other longship is Thunder Killer. To think, all this time we’ve been out looking for my cousin, and here he is, waiting for us.”
Kora, her gaze locked on the bizarre two-masted ship, said, “That’s a Kur’teshi troop ship. Mercenaries. Galas has made new friends.”
Fioni snorted. “Galas doesn’t have any friends.”
“Fi
oni,” said Vory, a trace of caution in his voice. “If he’s been welcomed by your father…”
“We’ll see,” Fioni said softly.
“There must be a hundred men in that camp, with more on the ships,” muttered Vory, squeezing the haft of his axe. “That’s a lot of men to kill, even for us.”
Fen Wolf’s crew, Owen saw, was clearly agitated. Many had their sea chests open and were pulling out ring-mail coats and leather vests. Is there to be a fight? What should I do? He glanced at Lady Danika, making sure she was close by.
“Why now?” Kora asked. “He must know we’ve been out looking for him. Why come to us? Why the easterners?”
Fioni shook her head. “I don’t know, but I’m going to find out.”
“What orders?” Vory asked.
Fioni watched the camp for several tense moments and then sighed heavily. “Turn us back about and beach us as far from them as you can, alongside the fishing boats. We’ll go see my father.” She turned and glanced at Owen and Danika. “We can introduce our guests.”
Chapter 4
Danika
The grassy bank scraped beneath Fen Wolf’s hull. Danika watched as the crew jumped overboard into the knee-high waters and pulled the longship farther up onto the grass. As they worked, the crew kept a vigilant eye on their surroundings, particularly in the direction of the armed camp on the other side of the walled town. The promise of violence in the air was like a pile of tinder onto which someone had poured oil; it would take only a spark to set it off and burn them all.
A party of a dozen warriors in hardened leather armor augmented by what appeared to be plates of baleen—whalebone—approached Fen Wolf. Each of the warriors wore a silver armband around his left bicep.
“Yarl Taios’s House-Herd,” Kora explained to Danika. “His personal warriors.”
Fioni stood near the prow of her ship, her eyes on Danika. “There is no gangplank, I’m afraid, my lady of Wolfrey.”
Danika approached and looked over the hull, down at the water several feet below. With as much dignity as the situation allowed, she swung her legs over the hull, her booted feet dangling in the air. Owen rushed to help, grabbing her forearms and lowering her into the cold water, which thankfully only came up to her knees. He dropped down next to her, landing lithely.
Owen offered her his arm. “My lady,” he said as he indicated the waiting warriors.
She took his arm and pulled her cloak tighter around her. Fioni, now wearing a brightly burnished coat of ring mail and a dark otter-fur-lined cape, dropped down into the water next and splashed to the shoreline where the group of warriors awaited her. Vory accompanied her, his battle-axe resting across his shoulders.
Kora slipped up between Danika and Owen. “They’ve come to welcome Fioni,” Kora said with a smile, “but I think her father really wants to make sure she won’t do anything stupid.”
“Like what?” Danika asked.
“Like all the things that Fioni tends to do,” answered Kora. “Most involve blood, fire, and screaming.”
The leader of the warriors, a tall, broad-shouldered man with a burn scar covering most of his right cheek, stepped forward. Unlike the rest of his beard, which was dark brown, the hair that grew out beneath the scar was white.
The man placed his palm atop Fioni’s shoulder. “A fair wind brings you home, Fioni Ice-Bound. It has been far too long since last you upended the horn with us.”
Fioni rested her own hand atop his shoulder, linking their arms. “Rolf Fork-Beard, you smell as bad as I remember, but I’ll drink with you.”
Rolf smiled, exposing his teeth. “I’m not the one who’s been at sea for weeks, far from a bath, but it’s good to see you again, woman.”
She stepped back and tossed her head in the direction of the camp on the other side of the town. “Enough pleasantries. What are they doing here, and why aren’t you killing them?”
Rolf frowned, his face darkening. “Fioni, your father has offered the Gilt-Hair and his Kur’teshi friends ale and salt.”
“And he’s sent all of you just to make sure I behave?” she asked, shaking her head in disbelief. “Have your once-famous balls shriveled up in old age, Rolf?”
Vory grunted in amusement, and Rolf glared at him out of the corner of his eye. “Gods damn it, Fioni, act your age! I know you have no love for your cousin, but your father has made his decision, and you’ll respect it or get back on Fen Wolf and go cool your blood on the waves some more. These are our ways, recorded in the Book of Laws. Who are you to question the yarl’s actions? He has his reasons.”
Fioni, her body stiff, glared at Rolf. “What reasons?”
“Talk to your father. But I need your oath-word that you won’t pick a fight before you’ve spoken to him. Will you keep his peace?”
“Of course I’ll respect his peace,” Fioni snapped. “He’s the yarl.”
Rolf smiled. “That’s all I needed to hear.” He stepped forward, embracing her. The other warriors also came forward, now greeting the crew of Fen Wolf like long-lost brothers. Kora left Owen and Danika to join the exchange. Several of the warriors, Yarl Taois’s House-Herd, glanced at Danika and Owen with interest.
Danika lowered her voice. “Remember our deal, Owen. Once we get to King’s Hold, I’ll release you from your oath, but follow my orders until then. Fifty years ago, during Serina’s rebellion, most of the Fenyir clans supported her. We could be in great danger with these people.”
“Come, Lady Danika,” Fioni said. “My father awaits.”
Rolf and his men led Fioni, the two northerners, and Vory and Kora along a path that led to a gatehouse in the log wall leading into the town. At the gatehouse, four guards with shields and spears greeted Fioni warmly but eyed Owen and Danika with open curiosity before ushering them through.
Welmen Town was smaller than Port Eaton but much more densely packed, with many of the homes coming up against the interior of the log wall, as if the settlement had outgrown the defensive barricade. The buildings were mostly stone and turf, with elaborately carved wooden frames and roofs that appeared to be a patchwork of branches, turf, and loose joists. Dogs and children ran freely, chasing chickens, while pigs and sheep ambled about in pens beside small gardens.
Upon recognizing Fioni, the townsfolk called and waved to her. Soon, a small gaggle of children formed behind Fioni, asking her a series of nonstop questions about her voyage until Vory turned about and mock-roared at them, stomping his huge feet, his arms wide and menacing. The children ran away shrieking and laughing.
Rolf led them through the town to the hill and its longhouse. A long set of wooden stairs wound back and forth up a tower scaffold upon which was connected a hanging plank bridge that extended across the air to another guardhouse in the log wall surrounding the hilltop. Fioni and Rolf led them all up the wooden stairs to the hanging bridge. By the time Danika finally reached the top, she was winded. She held one of the bridge’s support ropes as she followed the others to the guardhouse on the other side. The bridge swayed slightly under their feet. It was, she noted, a long drop. The guards wore the same bizarre bone armor as Rolf and his men. They greeted Fioni warmly, pushing the gate open for them.
The longhouse, she saw, was built like a fort. It was several stories high, with a square wooden tower set atop its roof, and it must have taken years for master artisans to build this home, demonstrating woodworking talent not seen in Conarck. The thick wooden support pillars were elaborately carved with intricate design-work and runes. Thick tendrils of smoke curled up from a massive chimney atop the longhouse. When she smelled the aroma of stew cooking, she realized how hungry she was. Servants and children moved about the yard, tending livestock and seeing to other chores. One of the servants, a particularly heavyset matron of middle years and graying hair, shrieked when she saw Fioni and ran over, embracing the redheaded woman before lifting her into the air in a bear hug.
“Fioni, we were becoming worried,” she said, putting Fioni back down agai
n and holding her at arm’s length as she studied her face.
“Sif,” Fioni said, “where’s my father?”
Sif motioned toward the longhouse with a toss of her head. “He saw you sail in. He’s waiting on you. He won’t admit it, the old boar, but he was worried about you as well.”
“And Galas Gilt-Mane?”
Sif’s smile dropped. “What are you planning on—”
“I’m not going to do anything. I just need to know.”
“He’s not here. He’s either in town or in his camp.”
“Why is he here at all?”
“Your father has accepted his blood payment. This feud between you two is over.”
Fioni’s eyes narrowed, and she looked away. “Over, is it? I’ve accepted nothing.”
“Fioni.” Sif stared at her, lowering her voice so Danika had to strain to hear her. “It’s his right. You know this.”
“A murderer like Galas Gilt-Mane, a man with no honor, sails into town—with a ship filled with Kur’teshi mercenaries—and everyone is fine with this? At least tell me someone is watching them.”
“Please, you think us stupid?”
“My father should have met them with Iron Beard. He should have sunk their ships and killed every one of them—especially Galas. He’s becoming as foolish as he is fat and lazy.”
Sif advanced on Fioni, her face grim. “Any more talk like that, and I’ll smash your pretty face myself. He’s our yarl, your yarl. And the Gilt-Mane, like it or not, is one of us, your cousin. His men are Waveborn, too. They have as much right to see their families as you do.”
“And the Kur’teshi mercenaries?”
Sif snorted and glanced away. “Your father has his reasons.”
Fioni sighed. “It’s Daenipor again, isn’t it? Always Daenipor.”
“Ask your father.”
“Trust me, I have much to discuss with my father,” Fioni said as she walked away from Sif toward the open doorway of the longhouse.
“Fioni,” Sif called out, “don’t be a goose. You won’t like how it ends.”
The Vampire Queen Saga: Books 1-3: (The Vampire Queen Saga Boxset) Page 30