Hellsbaene

by Aeryn Leigh

  "Vikings? The Republic? Elysium"

  "Did you go to school as a child?"

  "Yes?"

  "Just curious."

  "Jesus Fuck."

  "I'd answer that but I like my thigh."

  "Wait... monsters?"

  Every man in the clearing started talking, with the exception of Beowulf and Skippy, most of it being a variation on "What do you mean we can't go home?" and "Odin's what?"

  The Viking walked past a hesitant Lucius over to the injured crew-members and sat between them and the remnants of the fire. He put a branch on, then rummaged in his tunic, and withdrew a leather pouch. Beowulf opened it and put a pinch of chewing tobacco in his mouth. Skippy laid down opposite the fire on her side.

  Beowulf felt the cold metal against the back of his head.

  "Do you see my friend there?" said Lucius, holding his automatic. "You did that."

  The others came over.

  Beowulf nodded, and spat a wad of tobacco into the fire. "We did yes. I wish it had been different, but what's done is done."

  Lucius clicked the safety off. "You slaving son-of-a-"

  "Your warrior there," said Beowulf, "by his own hand, killed fifty-eight men, men I counted as friends." He leapt up and turned, so that Lucius’s barrel pointed right at his head, the metal touching skin. "Fifty-eight of my kin dead," he said, "all my war horses, another two score as badly wounded as these men — by one man." He shouted the last words. "One man. I think the debt's been settled, don't you? And you sunk my longboat."

  "Is that true, Laurie?” said Mick.

  "Yeah," said their Squadron Leader, eyes downcast. "A slaughter just like France." He looked up. "I killed them all. And I'd do it all again to save you lot. Right, Beowulf?"

  Lucius lowered the pistol. "Jesus H Christ, Laurie."

  "My command is no more," said Beowulf, "your berserker chieftain rendered it to splinters. I need to tell my father of this news, of you, of your arrival and your God-given weapons. And then," he said, dropping to one knee in front of Skippy, offering his palm for her to sniff, "we might all just live long enough to welcome old age."

  "Who's us?" said Andrew.

  "What is left of the Viking Empire, and if I can convince my father, joining the remnants of the Republic to join in battle against the bastard Inquisition and crush their new crusade."

  The camp ground fell into silence.

  "What's going on?" said Amelia, her voice small in the clearing. She still clung to Griffin's leg.

  "My family?" said Griffin, looking at Laurie.

  "Is gone," said Beowulf.

  "My Mum?" said Mick.

  "Your mother and every soul you knew is still alive, on the other Earth. But there is no getting from this world to the one you left, even though many have tried."

  He took out a sharpening stone and sharpened his sword. "The best you can do, any one of you can do, is to make peace with yourself and your Gods, and remember why you fight. Evil is still here in this world, pain and heartache join together in its bed, and there's no greater glory than fighting that with every breath you draw." Beowulf drew the blade across his palm, cutting it deep, and walked to Lucius.

  "My blood is your blood now," he said, and offered his bleeding hand to Lucius. "Will you fight alongside us?"

  Lucius looked around. The pride of Damage Inc. stood before him, and one by one they nodded, Griffin the last.

  Lucius took the dagger and sliced into his right palm, looking the Viking dead in the eyes. He shook Beowulf's hand. "I'll not see my brothers and sisters in chains again," he said, still squeezing.

  Blood fell onto the ground in drips.

  "You have my word."

  "Then yes, the crew of Damage Inc. will fight."

  "Lads?" said Laurie.

  "As long as they've got fucking beer," said Mick.

  Chapter Forty-Nine

  Nothing To It

  Snorri Hornklofi lifted the last wounded man to die onto his shoulder, and trekked to the funeral pyre and laid the body with the others. He climbed off the pyre and stopped by the river's edge, the long boat right in the middle. He reached into his tunic pocket and held up the long brass cartridge into the sunset's light. The hollow tube glinted, tapered at one end, and smelled unlike anything Snorri had experienced. Well apart from the muskets and the cannons, he thought, but their smell was diffused, lighter. He sniffed the .50 spent casing. It stank as rich as the death it wrought.

  He sighed and put the round back in his pocket, then a shout came from the wall lookout.

  "They're back," said Magnus Olfur, waving to him from the top of the fort's south wall.

  "How many?" said Snorri at the mangled main gate, his neck arched back looking up at him.

  Magnus peered through the ancient telescope. "Ten, plus two on stretchers, the child, and the wolf."

  "And Beowulf?"

  "Alive and waving to us."

  "It's a start then," said Snorri. "Maybe one of them can snap their fingers and raise the boat."

  "Could they?" said Magnus. "I'd prefer not to walk."

  Snorri regarded Magnus for a moment. "Well we can ask them soon enough."

  Beowulf and the newcomers started down the same path towards the fort, leaving the forest behind, and as they got closer, the wrath of Laurie became clearer. The funeral pyre loomed large next to the river. A boat lay half-sunk in the river next to it. They passed the point where they'd left Laurie yesterday. The ground, tufts, and grass, lay splattered in red pools where life had blotted away. Red smeared in straight lines from where hand carts dragged bodies away.

  "Did you do this?" said Amelia, walking next to Laurie's side, Skippy next to her.

  "Yes," said Laurie.

  "Oh," said Amelia. She paused. "Have you seen Zia?" Laurie shook his head. "Oh," she said. "Zia." Louder, "Zia."

  "She'll be around," said Andrew, falling in next to them. "Tell you what, I'll help look when we reach the fort, ok?"

  "Okay," said Amelia, her shoulders slumping.

  They arrived at the fort. Snorri met them at the gate. Beowulf gave brief introductions, and beckoned them into the fort.

  "Smells like a charnel house," said Daniel. He stood at the back of the group, staring at the great pile of bodies and horses. The sickly-sweet smell of decay wafted in off the breeze, and he followed them into the hall. He took one step inside. "I prefer it outside," he said to Griffin.

  Was this how medieval people lived? Straw hay ankle deep littered the floor, bones and rotting meat scraps from discarded meals spread here and there. Two long wooden tables split the middle of the hall, and in the centre, a huge fire-pit, with an open hole in the roof above.

  "Vikings," said Andrew, excitement overruling his sense of smell. "An honest-to-God Viking hall."

  "How many are still alive?" said Laurie. He couldn't see many wounded compared to before when they'd left at Sunrise.

  "Two," said Snorri.

  "It's the hydrostatic shock from the rounds," said Lucius. "Hell of a thing to be hit by."

  Amelia tugged at Andrew's sleeve. "Can we look for Zia now?" she said.

  "Take Griffin with you," said Lucius.

  "Yay," said Amelia. "Skippy?" Skippy ignored the child and continued gnawing on the bone in front of her.

  "It's ok," said Andrew, "she's worn out from the walk. Ready Griffin?"

  "Gimme a sec," said Griffin, removing Betty's firing pin. He hefted the grease gun. "Ready."

  The three walked back out, as Mick took charge of the wounded. "Abe, James, both on the table here. And get those men off the fucking floor and up onto the table there."

  "What were Vikings?" said Amelia. "Warriors?" He glanced up and saw Magnus back up on the wall. They headed over to the river and in the direction the cat was last seen.

  "Basically," said Andrew. "Warriors from Denmark and around those cold Northern areas. Fascinating." He stared at the half-sunken longship. "From around the eighth and ninth century I believe? Sea rai
ders that swept all in their path, I think some even got to North America."

  Amelia ran ahead and started calling for her cat.

  "Africa?" said Griffin, poking at his bandaged arm.

  "I'm not quite sure," said Andrew. "They'd surely have to, given slaves were a highly-prized commodity and North Africa isn't that far away." This was the longest conversation he'd had with Griffin yet.

  Griffin looked at him. "Slavers." He spat. He rubbed the bandaged arm with the heel of his good hand. "When does it ever end? We almost ended up slaves again here and look what happened."

  "I don't know my friend," said Andrew. "Hopefully one day we'll sort our shit out." They walked in silence, Amelia singing her fetch Zia song she'd made back at the farmhouse.

  "Kids," said Griffin. In that word contained an expression of hope and loss.

  "You have two, right?"

  "Yeah, two baby girls," said Griffin. "Glory and Ruth. Their birthday is next month." He showed Andrew the photo.

  "I'm sorry," said Andrew. What else could you say?

  "Yeah," said Griffin. "You?"

  "Just my Mum and Dad."

  Griffin stared at Amelia. "Shit." He sighed. "Going to miss their Momma too." He shook his head and started scanning around them once more. "Do you believe the Viking?"

  "Unfortunately, he's said nothing that contradicts what we've seen here," said Andrew. "And if what he says about the Inquisition, that they made it here too and are thriving — well Griffin – it makes the Vikings here look like small beer in comparison. The Inquisition was as bad as the Nazis."

  "Fucking Nazis.”

  "Griffin," said Andrew, "I've been meaning to ask you – how did an all-black bomber crew end up on a night-time bombing raid? You're not even RAF."

  "Ask Lucius or Jimmy," said Griffin, "but when War starts, even poor black folk suddenly become helpful. Or too helpful. Didn't help our last C.O. was a ninety-day wonder."

  "A what?" said Andrew. "Sorry, don't know much U.S. slang."

  "Heh. New officer with ninety days in Officer Candidate School greener than that grass." He pointed vaguely at the ground.

  "Ah."

  The main sun started to dip over the horizon. "We better find that cat."

  The new-bloods listened to Beowulf and Snorri tell their tale. They stood and sat next to the funeral pyre, in a small cleared area next to the wall where the river ran past. The last sun had almost gone when Griffin, Andrew and a dejected Amelia returned.

  "Ah," said Thorf, whispering. "No cat."

  "No," said Andrew quietly. "What did we miss?"

  "Not much," said Lucius, speaking too loudly, "we're still at the, my father's, father's, father's, great-grandpa's, uncle did this bit."

  The two Vikings stopped.

  "Sorry," said Lucius, smiling.

  Griffin sat on the ground, while Amelia sat on top of his knee, hugging Message Bear.

  "It is said," Beowulf took up the story, "that Odin banished King Haruldur's brother Leifur, and his entire clan, and he too ended in this world after navigating a great storm. Leifur united the Vikings already here and settled the first city in Norseland."

  "That city is Odinsgate, and there we must go," said Snorri, staring at the pyre.

  "It's the last city left," said Beowulf. "The others have fallen. Destroyed. Like the patch of black in the heavens. Some say it is a sign from Odin, that we have lost our way."

  “Has it always been there?” said Andrew, staring into the night.

  “Until five generations ago, no. It grows larger every passing year. Stars simply burst into light, shining brightly, then fade to black.”

  “Supernovas,” said Andrew and Daniel, more or less together.

  The gathering fell silent.

  "Do any of you know how to raise a boat?" said Snorri.

  "Why?" said Daniel.

  "It's three-weeks by horse if we can't, over a mountain range no less. And your friend here killed what steeds we had. One or two fled into the woods, and have come back, but it's not enough," said Snorri.

  "The river is our lifeblood," said Beowulf. "In the morning, we need to raise my ship, my beloved Hellsbaene and repair her. I hope for your sake Laurie, you know how to repair a boat as well as you sink them."

  "Ah," said Laurie. He hated sailing. "I'm sure between us we know something."

  "You have rope?" said Rob. "And tackle? You must have to get those cannons up onto the walls?"

  "Yes?" said Beowulf.

  "Well then," said Rob to the gathering, "nothing to it."

  Chapter Fifty

  Hellsbaene

  In the morning, Mick muttered to Andrew next to him. "'Nothing to it', he said. Fucking hell." Sweat poured off his brows and stuck his shirt to his back. Every able man and horse tried again and strained burning muscles, pulling on the rope, in pairs down its length.

  The half-submerged longship that the Vikings called Hellsbaene inched along, her bow now turned around in their direction.

  "At least it's a flat keel," said Andrew, puffing with exertion. "It's how they got around raiding so well, shallow draught meant they could go up rivers where other boats couldn't."

  "Is there anything you don't know?" said Mick.

  "Actually I —" said Andrew, before Mick cut him off with a look.

  "Pull," yelled Amelia, standing on the loading jetty, Skippy by her feet. "No talking."

  Mick exchanged glances with Andrew. "Queen Amelia is thoroughly enjoying herself up there." They both grinned. "Too much."

  "That means you too Mick," said the Child in Charge of Operations, an Important Title she'd declared an hour earlier. "Almost there everyone!" The longship's prow nosed out of the water towards the line of cut logs that would act as rollers to help the ship out.

  "Pull to the right," Amelia said. "Pull!"

  "Where is she from?" said Beowulf to Lucius up the top end of the rope, behind the only two horses.

  "Germany," said Lucius, wondering how he got stuck next to Beowulf.

  "Generally only warriors are snared by the Storm," said Snorri in front of them.

  "Ssh. Pull!"

  "Her mother doesn't sound like she's the kitchen type," said Griffin, alongside Snorri. "A female Luftwaffe test-pilot —"

  "That killed Horace," said Lucius. "She flees Nazi Germany and then attacks us. Crazy woman."

  The longship touched the first roller log. Water streamed out of the holes on the side in myriad fountains, and out of the pair of swivel-cannons mounted on the waists.

  "The boat has reached the rollers," shouted Amelia. "Do we keep pulling?"

  "Yes," yelled Beowulf. "Keep it going everyone. Out my Hellsbaene." The men dug their heels into the earth and braced with every heave on the rope. The ship inched itself out of the water, as Amelia jumped down and clambered up onto the boat with a wooden bucket and started bailing.

  "Pull," she said, tipping water over the side with a great deal of effort. This is fun, she thought. And then a body floated to the surface in front of her. "Ah," said Amelia, "there's a dead man right here."

  "Keep going," said Laurie, closest to her. "Just don't look at it okay?"

  "Okay," said Amelia, her voice trembling but defiant. "Pull."

  "Missed one," said Snorri. "That must be Osten."

  "She has the blood of a Valkyrie," said Beowulf, eyes twinkling. "Good to see."

  By the time the sun shone directly overhead, the boat laid on the rollers, flat and mostly empty of water. Amelia played fetch with Skippy in the field opposite, Manx stealing the stick at every opportunity.

  Hellsbaene sat on the rollers, wedged at either end. Daniel paced the length.

  "Seventy feet," said Daniel to the bomber crews. "And this was the scourge of Europe?"

  "In our world," said Griffin, "they sure as hell didn't have gunpowder cannons helping 'em," he said, pointing at the large artillery piece mounted on the longship’s front, the culverin smoothbore’s barrel full of river weeds.

&
nbsp; On the other side of ship timber, Snorri and Beowulf sat inside the ship. "What did he do to you?" said Beowulf, his hand resting upon a crossbeam. "How quick can we sail?"

  "There's a small amount of work to be done," said Snorri. He put his fist through one exit hole caused by God's Hammer. "Both our shipbuilders are dead. Magnus is the nearest thing we have, and that's only because of his brother in Odinsgate."

  "We only need to get to there," said Beowulf. "She can be fixed properly once we’ve arrived."

  “Okay,” said Snorri. They both stood up and jumped over the side.

  Magnus led the repair work for the reminder of that day, and into a good part of the night. Zia appeared at dusk, meowing like no tomorrow, and Amelia fell asleep not long after wearing the world's biggest smile.

  At the end of the following day, as all the men from the Old Earth nursed blistered hands and aching muscles, Magnus declared the work finished, and time for a sea-worthy test.

  Once back in the water, she sprung a few leaks, and Beowulf, giving Amelia the bucket, told everyone they'd depart at first light. They heaved the longboat back out of the water, and into the longboat went supplies of all kinds, shapes, and smells.

  Daniel and Snorri took first watch of the night.

  "What are we watching for?" said Daniel.

  "Oh, this and that."

  Daniel looked at him. "Something snatched one of our men where we crashed," he said. "Laurie saw it, said it flew up into the air holding Steven as he screamed."

  Snorri said nothing. From the top of the fort's wall they could see the fields around them all the way to the forest that ringed them, and mountains to the south and north.

  "I have nightmares about it," said Daniel. "Flying monsters. Urgh."

  "You landed in The God's Arena," said Snorri. "Some Greeks speak of an ash-black half-lion, half-eagle that claims the arena is it's hunting ground, and all that pass must offer a sacrifice. Not that any sane person would go there. We go there rarely."