by A. E. Rayne
‘Sigurd!’ Reinar tried again, sensing that Bolli was slowing Dagger down. Men were reefing the red sail, or attempting to. His eyes didn’t linger long on their efforts as he sought out the woman in the green dress again.
Sigurd leaned over the gunwale, waiting for Fury to get closer, head low, trying to avoid the sting of the rain as it pelted down. And then Reinar was there.
Rutger, deciding that his best hope was to simply face his lord and blame Sigurd, joined him.
‘What does that woman want?’ Reinar yelled, hands cupped around his bearded mouth.
Sigurd was surprised by the question. He shrugged.
‘You didn’t ask her?’ Reinar looked wild. He was a big man, broader and taller than his already tall brother. He rose up, chest expanding, eyes searching the ship, trying to catch a glimpse of her again. ‘Go and ask her!’ And flicking a hand in annoyance, he strode towards Bjarni, who was happy for a chance to get away from Torvig. ‘Sometimes I wonder about Sigurd!’ He directed this past Bjarni to where Torvig met his eye, nodding in agreement.
Reinar muttered to himself, waiting as his brother untied the woman, holding on to her with a firm grip, Ludo clinging to her other side, determined not to let her go.
‘Tell me,’ Sigurd hissed in her ear, eyes sharp with impatience. ‘For some reason, my brother wants to know what you want.’ He felt irritated, still haunted by the woman who had thrown herself overboard.
Not a woman. A girl.
He blinked. ‘Tell me.’
‘There’s an ambush. I see an ambush around the headland! In the estuary. Three ships are waiting for you! Men dressed for battle!’
Reinar’s blue eyes, usually hooded and wary, suddenly popped open. He’d heard her. Despite the howling wind rushing between the two rocking ships, he’d heard everything she’d said. ‘You’re a dreamer?’
Alys turned to him, shoulders hunched up to her ears, nodding.
Sigurd glared at her, before turning to his brother with a sigh. ‘She doesn’t want to go to Goslund!’ he cried. ‘She doesn’t want us turning down the estuary! It’s just a trick! You can’t believe her!’ He snorted, prepared to take her back to the rest of the women.
But Reinar wasn’t listening to his brother. His eyes were on Alys. ‘How many ships?’ His own ship creaked and groaned around him, drenched men filling the gunwales now, curious about why they had stopped.
‘Three! I saw three!’ Alys panicked, trying to bring her vision back to life. The rain pummelled them harder now, the waves surging, her stomach heaving. She saw a glimpse of her children, knowing that she had to do everything in her power to keep herself alive. ‘I saw a red banner! With a boar! An angry boar!’
They all turned to her then. Sigurd and Ludo. Rutger.
Reinar and Bjarni too.
The boar banner belonged to Hakon Vettel.
Reinar was surprised, then quickly disturbed. It made sense, of course, though it was an escalation he had not anticipated coming so quickly. ‘We turn back!’ he cried across the swelling waves to Bolli, before moving towards his own helmsman, whose yellowed eyes were blinking fast.
Torvig held out a hand, frowning. ‘Sigurd’s right to be suspicious. You’d change our plans for a woman who claims to be a dreamer? How do you know she is? She doesn’t want to be sold, Reinar! We need to get to Goslund!’
He wasn’t wrong, Reinar knew. But Torvig didn’t know what Reinar did.
And what Reinar Vilander knew was that the woman in the green dress was most certainly a dreamer.
He turned back to his brother, who appeared ready to fight Rutger again as they stood, eye-balling each other on the rolling ship, mail-covered chest to mail-covered chest. Reinar had no time for it, though. Rutger and his men had provided the extra hands he needed, but they were starting to cause problems. Even he could see that. ‘We’ll head down the coast and find a cove! Camp for the night! And Rutger and I can have a little talk about his habits with my slaves!’ And bear-fur cloak swirling, Reinar spun away from them, heading for Holgar, wanting to make a quick exit.
But Rutger wasn’t satisfied with that. ‘And who among you know this woman as a dreamer?’ he shouted at the shivering mass of women. ‘You all look surprised to me. Perhaps she’s a witch, not a dreamer? A trickster? A temptress!’
Sigurd growled, ready to shunt Rutger away. He had more to concern himself with than that blathering fool. They needed to get moving quickly, so turning away from Rutger, he inclined his head for Ludo to take the dreamer back to the prow. ‘Tie her tightly!’ he warned. ‘Do not let her escape!’
Ludo was happy to. Eager to get away from Rutger himself, he gripped Alys firmly, pulling her towards the prow.
‘Wait!’ Alys worried that she was about to be sick. She was suddenly so hot, despite the howling wind that had frozen every part of her, despite the cold water sloshing over her bare feet. She spun around, listening. ‘Something’s coming! Now!’
The whistle of arrows was lost amongst the groan of the masts and the creak of the strakes as Holgar and Bolli started bellowing at their crews to get to work. They needed to turn away from the estuary, and quickly, before the waves and the wind pushed them somewhere they didn’t want to go.
The first arrow hit Rutger in the back, tipping him forward with such force that he struck the gunwale, chin first. The second hit Sigurd in the shoulder, piercing his mail.
On Fury, Reinar spun, watching his brother fall. ‘Sigurd!’
And then they saw the three ships surging towards them.
Ludo threw Alys to the deck. ‘Crawl back to the women! Get them down, and stay there!’ And rolling off her, he wriggled towards the shield rack, listening as another wave of arrows whipped overhead, thudding into the mast, piercing the sail.
Alys crawled to the Ullaberg women with speed, tugging on Stina’s leg. ‘Down!’ she yelled, urging them down to the deck; though bound and tied together as they were, it wasn’t easy. Marren shrieked, shot in the back. She fell, knocking them all sprawling in a tumbling mess.
‘Shields!’ Sigurd screamed, trying to yank his from the shield rack, but another arrow hit him between the shoulder blades, and he staggered, falling onto Rutger, who was struggling with his own balance.
Ludo was on his feet now, hurrying towards Sigurd, one shield up high, protecting his head; the other he handed to Sigurd, who looked at him with a frown, as though he didn’t recognise him. And, in the next breath, Sigurd’s legs gave way, and he tumbled forward, onto the deck.
Reinar caught a glimpse of his collapsing brother, before bellowing to his men. ‘Archers!’ And as Holgar pulled on the tiller and Bjarni barked at everyone to get down, Torvig was busy handing out bows and arrows, his face beaming.
Rutger lay on the deck, blood running from his chin, trying to get back to his feet, but the arrow had hit something important; he could feel that. Everything looked oddly dark around the edges, and he was struggling to see; struggling to gather the strength he needed to get back to his feet. He could see Sigurd Vilander lying near him, though, and he could see the arrows sticking out of him as that long-legged dolt leaned over, trying to wake him up.
And if he was going to die, Rutger Eivin was determined to take Sigurd with him. So pulling his knife from its scabbard, he stabbed it into the back of Sigurd’s thigh, dragging the blade down his leg with all the strength he had left. And collapsing forward, blood draining from his back, he passed out.
‘Aarrghh!’
Ludo’s attention had been torn away from Sigurd by the screams of the women, who were lying down on the deck now, trying to put their hands over their heads. He looked back at Sigurd in surprise, eyes on the long wound Rutger had made in the back of Sigurd’s leg; blood pumping from it, quickly washed away by the rain.
More arrows. And now, thunder booming.
The goat was bleating, trying to escape the barrage of arrows and the warriors who were scrambling with the yard and the sail; those lining the gunwales now with b
ows and arrows, hidden behind a row of shields.
Reinar could hear them from on board Fury, but his attention was fixed on the three ships charging for them out of the estuary; two of them aiming straight for Dagger.
He still couldn’t see his brother and that worried him.
Dagger was taking the brunt of the arrow storm, Fury being further away from the enemy ships. And though instinct told him that they needed to get away, Reinar wasn’t about to let his brother’s ship be overwhelmed. ‘Holgar!’ he shouted. ‘Head for Dagger! We have to help them!’
Torvig spun around, irritation in his eyes. He masked it quickly, though, swaying over to his brother-in-law, bow in hand. ‘You’re sure?’
‘I’m not leaving Sigurd! And I’m not losing that ship!’
Ludo could hear Bolli screeching at their archers to shoot faster. He didn’t blame him. Hakon Vettel’s men appeared to have enough arrows to fire in a continuous stream. He crouched down, creeping towards the women, two of whom had arrows sticking out of their backs. ‘I need your help!’ Ludo called, grabbing the dreamer’s hand. ‘Please.’ She was the only one not bound, and he dragged her away towards Sigurd, urging her to keep low.
Alys could barely see as the wind blew the rain into her eyes. She blinked, trying to clear her vision as she crept towards the body.
‘Help him!’ Ludo cried. ‘Please help him! I have to go!’ And shield up, he rushed to the gunwale where those with bows were doing their best to damage Hakon Vettel’s crews. ‘Bolli! Get us out of here!’ he yelled, realising that with both Sigurd and Rutger down, he was going to have to take charge.
Alys could hear the men bellowing around her. She jumped as the ship was shunted, knocked forward onto Sigurd, who groaned, his eyes flickering open.
He tried to move.
‘No,’ she urged, pushing herself off his back, hearing a woman’s scream, hoping it wasn’t Stina. ‘You’re injured.’ Alys ran a hand over Sigurd’s thigh, tearing his trousers. Though his blood was flowing thickly, the rain was washing it away, making it easy to see just how deep the wound was.
Two arrows were sticking out of his back too.
Alys hesitated for a moment. She didn’t want to help him, but he would die if she didn’t, and that wouldn’t endear her to anyone on board. This was the man who had killed her husband, and in a strange twist of fate, she felt she owed him something for that gift. So, tearing off a few soggy strips from the hem of her green dress, Alys padded them into Sigurd’s leg wound, listening to his moans of agony, feeling him writhe around, awake now. And then, suddenly, more shunting and she fell forward again as the ship was boarded; Hakon Vettel’s men jumping over the gunwale, gleaming swords carving through the late afternoon gloom.
Reinar was furious, watching the catastrophe unfold. ‘Get me onto that ship, Holgar!’ he bellowed. ‘Now!’ He could feel Bjarni come up on his right. ‘They’ve run out of arrows, thank the gods. But now they’re just going to carve them up and take our slaves!’ Rain ran down from his forehead, dripping onto his mail. He shook his head, wanting to see clearly, but the storm was intensifying, the sky and the sea almost impossible to tell apart now. ‘Holgar!’ Reinar screamed, turning as Fury rode the waves towards Dagger. ‘Hold for half of us to get on board! Bjarni, you stay. Get those other ships down. Try spears. Axes. I want their masts in the sea. Tear their sail! Kill their helmsmen! Quickly!’
Reinar was frozen to the bone, but he tore off his bear-fur cloak, leaving it in a wet heap at his feet. And drawing a short axe from his belt, he nodded at Torvig, who gripped his sword, teeth gleaming in the storm. ‘What do you think, then? Time to put an end to this shit of a day?’
Torvig nodded, smiling as Fury bumped up against Dagger’s hull, following Reinar over the gunwale, body humming with the thrill of battle.
Reinar chopped his axe into the scarred neck of a black-haired man.
He chopped it so hard the man’s head nearly came off as his body crumpled into a heap on the bloody deck. Reinar saw Torvig out of one eye, Ludo out of the other, swords scything through the storm, blood splattering through the air like red rain. Swinging around, Reinar hacked into a man’s middle, spinning again, axe flying into another’s face.
Reinar Vilander, cursed and abandoned by the gods he worshipped, was not going to surrender. He was not going to give Hakon Vettel his ship. Nor was he prepared to give Vasa, Goddess of Death, his only brother. And he was most certainly not going to let anyone take that dreamer away from him. He could see her as she turned her eyes down, working hard to help Sigurd; Sigurd, who didn’t appear to be moving at all now. She had snapped off the arrows poking out of his shoulder and back. Now she was wrapping more and more strips of cloth around his leg.
Reinar looked away, forcing himself to focus.
He heard a crash, voices raised in shock, and down came the mast from one of Hakon’s ships.
Reinar doubted Hakon Vettel was on it, certain the weasely boy would only have his eyes on Ottby, not on a little sea skirmish. But how he’d managed to find himself three ships after they’d burned his entire fleet, Reinar wasn’t sure. Still, once Holgar was finished with that one, there would only be two left. Two ships with two crews perfectly capable of sinking both Dagger and Fury.
Sigurd was wide-awake now, in pain, growing frantic. ‘I have to move!’ he growled into the bilgewater, trying to lift his head so as not to drown in it. The pain in his body made him want to vomit, but he could hear Reinar, and he could hear Ludo, and he needed to help them.
And then a horn.
Sigurd squirmed, trying to move, but the dreamer’s hand was firmly on his back, urging him to stay down. He groaned, attempting to fight her, trying to push himself up, but in another breath, everything suddenly went dark.
Alys could feel Sigurd’s body collapse beneath her hand, and she panicked, hoping he wasn’t dead. She leaned forward, hand at his neck, feeling for a pulse as all around her screams rose. The goat, stained a watery red now, skipped up and down the deck as men fought over and around it, weapons scraping together, rain teeming down in a thunderous roar.
Reinar didn’t know what the horn meant as he dropped to the deck, trying to grab the axe which had slid out of his wet hand. He felt a kick in the back, and coughing, winded, he flopped forward into the bloody water, fingertips reaching for the axe haft. Firming up his grip on that familiar piece of wood, he swung around, rising first onto one knee, then quickly onto both feet, lodging the blade into his attacker’s cheek. The man shrieked, dropping his sword, falling back onto the deck in a heap.
Another plaintive cry of a horn.
Not theirs.
And staggering as the ship dipped down into the sea and many lost their balance, Reinar could see Hakon Vettel’s two remaining ships turning away, one mast left standing between them, and that mastless ship already appeared to be foundering.
He glanced at Fury, blinking through the rain. And there was Bjarni, blonde hair plastered to his round face, bright red cheeks, bellowing orders, arms flailing.
Reinar spun around, axe in the air. ‘Your ships are leaving without you! Your men have abandoned you!’ He sucked in a cold breath, trying to keep his balance as a wave slammed against Dagger’s hull, making him stumble. ‘Seems that Hakon wants his ships more than he wants this victory! More than he wants any of you!’
Fighting stuttered, thunder crashing now, as bloody, wet, dripping warriors froze in place, chests heaving, eyes narrowed, listening to the Lord of Ottby.
‘So, I give you a choice!’ Reinar continued. ‘Join me or die! I need men, and you can fight. Forget Hakon Vettel, and come, join me!’
The men looked surprised; mostly distrustful. The thought of living was appealing, naturally, but Reinar Vilander was a Southern lord, their sworn enemy, and they could no more serve him than the treacherous King of Alekka himself. So, shuffling slowly together, securing their grips on their slippery weapons, blinking the icy rain from their eyes, Hakon Vettel’s m
en charged.
4
The rain had stopped. The thunder and lightning had retreated too, but night was falling, and they had to get to shore quickly. There were many wounded on board both ships, but none Reinar cared more about than Sigurd.
He stared at the dreamer, trying to see her eyes, wanting to seek out any lies she might be weaving to save her own skin. ‘Will he live?’
Sigurd floated in and out of consciousness. He hadn’t spoken.
Alys didn’t know. Their attackers were dead, the enemy ships long gone, and she was wet through, shaking with cold and fear, worried about her children. Worried about her friends too, who she hadn’t been able to get back to since the attack.
Leaning forward, she placed a hand on Sigurd’s back, closing her eyes, feeling him shiver. ‘Yes,’ she said quietly, turning to Reinar. ‘I believe so. I need to stitch him quickly, though. Is there any thread? A needle?’
Reinar spun around, pointing Ludo to the chests pushed against the gunwales. ‘Look for some thread! And a needle! Bolli likely has some.’
‘I do!’ Bolli called, hurrying to his chest.
Sigurd groaned, trying to roll over again.
‘Stay where you are,’ his brother growled. ‘There’s nowhere to go now. Not yet. Hakon Vettel’s men have gone. Those who still live. We killed the rest of the stupid fools. Now we’re going to find our way to a cove. Somewhere to stop for the night.’ His teeth started hammering together, and for the first time, Reinar realised how cold he was. ‘Somewhere to make a fire!’ He patted his brother on the head and stood with a yelp, surprised to discover that his leg was running with blood, though there would be time to sew that up later. For now, they had to get the ships out of the water, and themselves out of the storm. ‘Stay with my brother. Bolli will bring you what you need to stitch him up. And a good knife, Bolli! She’ll need to get those arrows out!’ Reinar called, nodding at Alys before heading away to talk to Torvig. They needed to clear the ships of the bodies quickly.
Alys watched him go before turning her attention back to the man lying before her, his back and leg soaked in blood. ‘Ssshhh,’ she whispered, feeling odd. Conflicted. These men had stolen her. Torn her away from her children. But she was going to need them to get back home, so she had to prove herself useful. And quickly.