Averaging around sixty to seventy feet in length, the vessels were both warships. In the bow, they each featured an intricately carved prow, employing a thematic design that rose up and outward from the forefront of the ships. One ship’s prow was fashioned with the snarling visage of a wolf, and the other displayed a roaring dragon. The designs were echoed in the ornamentation of the sterns, providing appropriate tails for the creatures whose motifs graced the ships.
The hulls did not go very deep, constructed out of thin, horizontal planks of wood that overlapped downwards. Their main decking was comprised of loose timber planking, spanning between small, raised platforms at stern and bow.
They were both ships that had been designed efficiently for speed. The sleek forms had been expertly honed and crafted, reflecting the kind of workmanship developed over long years, spent by multitudes of seafarers traversing both ocean and river. As Janus could plainly see, the most formidable aspect of the ships’ design was the fact that they were usable in either river or ocean settings, lending their crews an advantageous level of flexibility not afforded to vessels confined to just one type of water environment.
Despite his interest in the details of the longships, soon Janus had become very uncomfortable standing around and watching all of the Midragardans laboring. He could see the fidgety signs of growing discomfort reflected in his companions as well.
Erika caught Janus’ eyes, her eyes narrowing as she asked him, “What’s wrong?”
“Couldn’t we help them? With the loading, that is,” Janus asked. “We’re healthy and rested enough, and they look like they are in a real hurry. We’re not doing much else right now.”
“Only one way to find out,” Erika responded with a shrug, and a slight grin.
She approached one of Eirik’s warriors, an affable fellow who had been left behind to accompany the exiles on their sea journey. She stopped him before he could pick up a cask that had been carried down to the shore by another man. Once she had the warrior’s attention, she inquired as to whether the exiles could help out with the loading of the ships.
The warrior readily agreed to her proposal, and none of the other Midragrdans nearby seemed opposed to the offer of help either. Within moments, Janus and the others were busy loading wooden chests, sacks, and barrels onto the ships.
Janus was eminently glad for the physical activity, as the labor gave him a welcome distraction from everything else that was plaguing his mind. He lugged a chest, trudging slowly up the wooden gangway from the beach to the ship. It was a tedious effort, and he felt the tautness in his arms and back as he slogged up the plank to the body of the ship.
Once aboard, Janus got a better look at the longship’s two small raised decks, as well as the loose, lower deck planking arrayed in between them, running most of the length of the ship. There were no benches on the flat lower decking. After making an inquiry of one of the ship’s crew, Janus learned that those rowing used the type of chests that he was carrying to sit upon when working the oars. They were perfectly sized for the position of the oar ports that ran down the ship’s sides at regular intervals. As the ports were not in use, circular, timber coverings affixed to the strakes slid down to close off the openings.
The seven exiles gradually settled into a sustained period of activity, one born of muscle and sweat. Janus assisted Logan in bringing a heavy barrel full of ale aboard, which he quickly found to be quite a laborious task.
Janus listened casually, as Logan began to strike up conversations with some of the Midragardans that had arrived with the two vessels. Logan was indulging his curiosities about the backgrounds of the ships that they were loading, and their crews, but Janus was most interested in the discourse as it revealed several new things about their Midragardan patrons, and Ave itself.
The Midragardans talked about the journeys that they had been about to undertake, just before they were diverted to bring the exiles back to Midragard. They spoke of a land called Kiruva, an extensive realm located to the east that had been their ultimate trading destination. They described it as a land of innumerable rivers, great forests, and vast, open steppes.
The Midragardans had been looking forward to reaching a large town or city there called Novgrad, in which a special section had been designated as quarters for Midragardan merchants. The men had evidently been looking forward to bringing back a good quantity of silver from the new season’s trading, a hope that was now placed in jeopardy due to their summons to convey the exiles to Midragard.
Yet despite the potential loss of trade, the men apparently had not been relishing the long river journey necessary to reach Novgrad. As Logan pressed them for more details, the men commented that the trek to the Kiruvan town would involve making it through at least one portage site.
The traders described how they would have to disembark the vessels at such locations, and take their ships over a short stretch of land to bypass violent, rocky stretches of the river, which were too dangerous to navigate. Rolling galleys across a series of logs that were shuffled constantly from the rear to the front, they would methodically bring the vessels across the solid ground, to where they could place them back in the water.
The men also appeared to be highly relieved that they were not going to be putting the vessels into shore to visit a particular man who lived in the eastern region of an island realm called Gael.
Janus quickly grew very fascinated with Gael, as one of the men lamented, “Who knows what is in the waters near there? Whether it is the islands with the water horses that are on the way… or the seal people and the fish people in the waters just off the coasts of Gael… nothing is what it seems in those lands. You would find few human women as fair as some among the strange creatures that live in those lands and waters. The foolhardy man has often learned the truths of such beings, far too late.
“It is no wonder that the people of that land are so devout in their religion, and fierce in their devotion to their kin. There is so much that can deceive them and bring them to ruin. Great beauty is perilous, and even the fairy folk that dwell within Gael can be very wicked.”
A thousand questions and curiosities rushed into Janus’ mind, but he kept his thoughts silent, and contented himself with listening to the ongoing conversations.
As Janus and Logan went with the men to retrieve a few more casks, the Midragardans spoke in hushed tones of a fearsome, wailing female spirit that they had come perilously close to encountering on their last sojourn to the lands of Gael. The demonic entity evidently inhabited a boggy area situated uncomfortably close to a crannog, which by their description appeared to be a fortified homestead of some sort, in which the Gael man that regularly traded with the Midragardans resided. It was very clear that the men believed that they would have met with certain death had they simply set their eyes upon the spectral entity.
Seeing the fear openly reflected in the hardy Midragardan men, during their discussion of the dark spirit haunting the bog land, Janus hoped that he would never have the ill fortune of personally encountering such a malevolent, supernatural being. It was certainly not very comforting to learn of the worrisome reality that such beings existed in the world that Janus inhabited.
Listening to all of their incredible stories, it seemed that the time would pass quickly enough, until they were finally ready to set off on their way to Midragard. They were almost finished loading the ships, when an unwelcome disturbance occurred.
An agitated murmur arose suddenly among the Midragardans, soon turning into clamorous outcries of distress and warning. The seven exiles, and those loading the boats, stopped what they were doing immediately. Janus and the others, exile and Midragardan alike, followed the frantic gestures of an old man who was looking out towards the sea, with a very distraught expression on his face.
“Enemies! They are coming!” the older man cried out in a raspy, fearful voice. “We must move inland! Now! It is an enemy that approaches!”
The words buffeted like an icy, biting
wind, freezing Janus’ blood. He and the others standing in the middle of the longship’s deck looked out to sea, where they beheld several more shapes approaching the shore across the waters.
The outlines were unmistakably different from those of the longships, though they were rowed galleys. The oncoming vessels were formed into a broad line.
The differences in the approaching galleys manifested more clearly as they drew closer. The galleys were two-masted, fitted with very lengthy yards from which great lateen sails were suspended. The masts were each crowned with small lookout nests.
Banners of blue and gold flapped from the bows and sterns of the vessels. Shields with surface ornamentation similar to the image on the banners were also positioned at the front and rear of the ships.
The bow of each galley featured a broad forecastle, with timber railing around the sides. Upon the raised platform, a number of archers and crossbowmen were gathered, weapons at the ready. A great spur projected from the front of the ship, carried above the waterline like the end of a menacing spear.
Though low to the water, the galleys were a little higher than the Midragardan ships, as well as being broader of beam. Staggered pairs of long oars ran down the length of the galleys, with over twenty-five such pairs per side.
The sterns of the galleys were fitted with another railed, raised platform. As with the forecastle, throngs of warriors arrayed for battle were situated on their surfaces.
Even more daunting, the line of rowed galleys were not the only vessels approaching the shoreline. Coming up just behind the galleys were a couple of slower-moving, round-bodied sailing vessels. The ships were much broader of beam, with a freeboard far exceeding that of the low-draught galleys. High platforms with battlement-like enclosures of wood had been affixed near bow and stern on the sailing ships, bristling with armed men. The sailing vessels carried banners and pennons that matched those upon the galleys.
Janus knew that there would not be much more time before the first of the oncoming ships drew near to the shoreline. A sense of grave danger flooded the air, washing over exile and Midragardan alike.
“We cannot take to the water,” a younger Midragardan warrior shouted out from the deck of the other prone longship. He moved over and lifted up one of the round shields from its resting place along the outer railing. “Those ships fly the symbol of Avanor. We must move fast. We…”
The young man’s words were suddenly cut off by an arrow that embedded itself deeply into his chest, fired from the direction of the beach. The warrior pitched over the side of the longship and fell onto the shore, at the water’s edge, as an incoming wave lapped across his body.
Janus turned swiftly, just as a large number of fearsome-looking creatures burst out into the open. They charged towards the shore, pouring forth from amongst the buildings of the Midragardan homestead.
The creatures wielded long, sword-like weapons, great spears, and lengthy two-handed war implements, fitted with elongated, single edged blades. Those with the sword-like weapons carried rectangular shields. Some had their heads bared, several wore what looked to be protective cap-helms of boiled leather, while one or two of the bestial figures exhibited rounded, iron half-helms.
Janus was thunderstruck by their fierce visages, which were locked into feral, snarling masks of battle fury, as they bore down upon the Midragardans.
Janus, Logan, Antonio, and Erika dived for cover along the deck of the longship. They all began to reach around in desperation, for anything that they could use as a weapon, as Janus listened to the throaty, guttural war cries of the attackers drawing closer.
Janus caught a brief glimpse of Mershad, Derek, and Kent as he peeked over the top strake of the longship to assess the enemy’s positions. The three had just been about to retrieve some chests along the shore to take aboard the ships, and were now forced to scramble away from the onslaught. Janus watched anxiously as the three raced towards the body of the second longship. They disappeared from view a moment later, maneuvering behind the farther side of the other vessel.
The Midragardans had been taken completely by surprise, and few were armed for conflict at the outset of the fight. They grabbed at whatever they could to defend themselves, some using tools, and a few others fortunate enough to be near weapons such as axes, swords, or spears. Others finding themselves more isolated quickly grasped the hilts of the single-edged knives sheathed at their waists.
There was no hint of surrender within the air, and as Janus looked out it appeared as if the entire homestead was girding to fight back with everything they had. Everyone, young and old alike, man or woman, strove to defend themselves, with the lone exception being the smallest of children.
The tall, burly beast-men reached the shore area and set upon the Midragardans ravenously, hacking, stabbing, and slashing at all within their reach. More arrows, coming from some of their comrades that had climbed up onto the thatch roofs of the timber buildings, continued to find targets within the growing melee.
Janus gnashed his teeth in helpless rage, as he saw one of the dog-faced entities pull a longbow back, and let a black-shafted arrow fly to pierce an old Midragardan man through the neck. The man’s eyes widened in desperation as he gurgled and gasped. He clutched at the arrow shaft in a vain attempt to stem the outflow of life-giving blood, before falling over at last.
Janus had spent over an hour alone with that very same old man, just the previous day, listening to some fascinating tales of Midragardan lore. The man was an old thrall, soft-spoken and kind-hearted, and in no way did he deserve such a brutal end.
A new round of furious cries arose from the combatants on both sides, as the first clashes of steel ripped through the air. It was almost impossible to imagine the pervading tranquility that had existed mere minutes before.
From the deck of the first ship, Janus shifted his position, and slid up the covering to peer through one of the oar holes spaced between two shields set in the outer pine-batten. The fighting among the two larger, beached longships was erupting at a furious pace, as more and more combatants were brought together in the deadly clash.
The Midragardans were responding strongly, having recovered from the initial shock of the unexpected attack. Several of the more experienced warriors among them had been able to reach their weapons by now, and they were fighting back with a vengeful fury.
An abrupt, heavy thudding noise just behind Janus caused him to whirl about. A huge beast-warrior had jumped aboard the ship. It did not hesitate for a moment, bearing down upon Janus with a look of unfettered malice.
The snarling creature had one of the imposing, two-handed weapons, like an axe, lance, and sword fused together, raised over its head, corded muscle bulging throughout its arms. Both of its massive, dark hands gripped the elongated haft, from which the heavy, lengthy, single-edged blade extended. The fearsome weapon was poised to crash down upon Janus’ exposed head.
Even though the gesture seemed entirely futile, Janus brought up a small hammer, of the kind that would have normally been used to strike a chisel for wood-carving. He moved to swing it at the knees of his powerful assailant, the only action that came to his mind in the split-second of time left to him.
Before the heavy steel blade could be brought down to bear upon him, a very large dog or wolf slammed into the beast-man from the side. The brawny warrior tumbled down onto the deck several feet away, knocked entirely off its feet. The inhuman figure cried out in rage at the interference, teeth bared in a particularly rabid expression that froze Janus’ breath in his lungs. It twirled about with astonishing litheness to get back on its feet and meet its attacker.
Janus caught the deep gaze of the wolf-like dog for only a moment, as its penetrating, golden stare caught his eyes. The dog had not continued its attack upon the Trogen, instead remaining close to Janus. Without a sound, it bounded fluidly towards the side of the ship, leaping high over the top to disappear from sight.
There was no time to indulge any curiosities, or e
ven pause to consider the bizarre intervention. The enemy creature was on its feet with its imposing weapon in hand, its eyes exuding a murderous intent.
Janus crawled, scrabbled, and lunged hurriedly for the bow of the boat, doing everything that he could to reach Erika while keeping his body below the top strakes of the vessel. She was crouched down, holding tightly onto a spear that she had retrieved from the equipment brought aboard the longship. He glanced back for any sign of the strange dog, but there was nothing to be seen of his canine savior.
The beast-warrior had its sights set squarely upon the two of them. The enemy warrior shook with rage, its powerful muscles flexing and bulging with its tightening grip upon the shaft of its great weapon. Janus felt lightheaded, as he saw the sharp canines now openly bared towards him, set just forward of a baleful gaze. The enemy warrior tramped resolutely forward across the decking of the longship, its heavy steps thumping on the wooden surface.
Janus stayed with Erika as they held their ground, for there were no good options left. Janus gripped the iron-headed hammer, while Erika clutched her spear. The beast-man strode rapidly down the length of the deck, readying its great, heavy blade to strike.
Using every bit of her might, Erika suddenly lunged forward and thrust the spear outward. Seeing her fast, desperate move, Janus reacted by hurling himself low, swinging the hammer at the creature’s knees with all of the strength that he could muster.
The hammer and spear attacks both met with success, catching the creature by complete surprise. The warrior emitted an angered, pained cry as it stumbled forward. The spear was lodged deep in its unprotected throat, blood draining in rivulets down the leather jerkin covering its upper body. Its broken knee, having caught the full force of the hammer blow, caused the creature to buckle and topple onto the deck.
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