Lord of the Seas

by Sabrina Jarema

  It wasn’t only because of what awaited her at home. She wouldn’t be one of many women he bedded, and she couldn’t live with the sight of him being with others. He was alone now, and perhaps that explained why he was attracted to her. Eventually, it would change. Right now, he was preoccupied with this battle. Afterward, he’d look for others to replace those who had left him. Like worn out pieces of furniture.

  The battle. She bit her lip as fear hit her. They hadn’t even left yet, and already she was shaking, her throat closing. Who knew how long they’d be gone? She couldn’t live like this for days or weeks. And why did she feel it at all?

  Always when she got the choking feeling, the sweating, and the pain in her chest, it was because someone she loved had gone to war. It had started when she lost her brother, then her cousin. Each time Wulf and her father had ridden out, she’d endured the fear until they returned. She loved them and that was the connection.

  Now Rorik was leaving. Her stomach gripped her with nausea as he and Thorir walked up the path toward the village. Early this morning, Lifa had read strange inscriptions on some flat stones she’d cast and had said the gods looked favorably on this voyage. But the priests always said God blessed the warriors as they left also. They weren’t always right. All around her, men gathered to speak to their families, friends, and lovers, perhaps for the last time.

  The familiar sense that she wasn’t truly there overwhelmed her. It was part of the fear. She looked at all of them as though she were on a mountain, very far away.

  She focused her attention on Rorik. He was an anchor keeping her from drifting in an unknown current. He smiled at her, but then a commotion drew his attention to the crowd.

  The people parted, murmuring. A tall, very beautiful woman walked toward them. Her light blonde hair was caught in a tight braid down her back and her silver-green eyes were slanted, with a very deep intelligence in them. She carried a bow slung behind her and was dressed in leathers and furs. Carrying herself with an obvious sense of pride, she moved with purpose, grace, and strength.

  As she drew closer, the reason for the crowd’s reaction was evident. Two wolves trailed her, one white and one black. They were massive, their golden eyes scanning the people on either side of them. She must be Rorik’s sister, the one who stayed alone in the woods. Wasn’t anyone in this family normal?

  Rorik strode forward without hesitation and embraced her as the white wolf sat against her leg, its tongue lolling out in a predator’s grin. The black one remained standing on her other side, watchful and still. “Ellisif. I thought you might come here eventually.”

  She leveled her sharp gaze at him. “I have seen the movements of your men and those of the jarls’ men in the south. They have come onto our lands and have gathered at their villages. I have also seen Eirik’s ships in the harbor and strange warriors here. You go to war.”

  “Yes. We believe Halfdan the Black is backing Oddr and Kolbienn. He wants to test me to see how strong I am and if I pose a threat to him. I’m sending him the message that I do.”

  “With a sea battle. You will stop the men on the seas before they get here, so close to Vargfjell. And, if I know you, obtain more ships.”

  He laughed. “Of course. Not just any ships, though. King’s ships.”

  “For a man who is all but a king in name.”

  He slashed the air with his hand. “King, jarl, no matter what you call it, I don’t want the responsibility.”

  “No matter what you call it, it is what you are. And one day, soon, when you accept all that you are to your people, you will allow them to speak the title.” She shifted the bow on her back. “I have come to offer my skills as an archer. You will make the first attack with arrows before you engage the men directly, ship to ship. I never miss. I would be an asset to you.”

  Kaia stepped over to them. “Yes, you would, Sister. But I am going and we cannot risk all of us in battle. If we’re defeated, someone must live to perhaps continue our bloodline.”

  “Is our bloodline so blessed of the gods that it should be continued?” Ellisif tilted her head to one side. “It’s no secret that I won’t marry, and yet you have allowed that you might. If any man can best you in battle. It would make more sense for me to go. There is no loss if I fall.”

  “There will be loss if any of us fall,” Rorik said. “To each other, if no one else.”

  “True.” Ellisif’s serene expression never changed. “But the Norns have decreed the moment of our deaths, so even if I remain home, I will still die if it is my time.”

  “We’ll fight hand to hand after that.” Kaia gripped the hilt of her sword. “That’s not what you do.”

  “I may not make it my life’s work to fight.” Ellisif pointed to the distant trees. “But I face animals, men, and the gods themselves out there, for I often see Odin walking over the mountains and speak with him. Thor passes me in the storms. I’ve survived. Don’t doubt my skill in slaying when it’s needed.”

  They spoke of death and their gods so lightly, as though they mentioned the weather. Ellisif stood very still, her face never changing. It was easy to see why she was such a skilled hunter. Patience and a calm astuteness surrounded her. She was like no one Elfwynn had ever seen.

  “I’m Jarl Thorir.” He’d remained where Rorik left him when he’d greeted his sister. He made a slight bow, his eyes never leaving her. “Rorik has mentioned you. I’m glad to meet the sister of such a great ally.”

  She narrowed her gaze on him, unmoving. “You live to the east. I’ve seen your hunters when they pass close to us.”

  “Then you must be within my boundaries.”

  “The animals I run with know no boundaries and neither do I.” She put her hands on the wolves’ heads and looked at Rorik. “You must have been speaking of how to secure your alliance. Look elsewhere other than at me, Rorik. I have my life in the forests and it suits me.”

  Without waiting for Rorik’s agreement, she stalked toward the ships. The two wolves trotted away from her and settled themselves in front of the longhouse. Were they going to wait for her there? The entire time she was gone?

  “I suppose that answers that.” Rorik shook his head as he watched her.

  “She was always stubborn,” Kaia said.

  “And that’s the sail deriding the clouds because the wind pushes them.”

  She shot her brother a sour look, then followed Ellisif to the beach.

  Rorik crossed his arms. “I knew this would happen. I had hoped to be away from here before Ellisif came, but I should have known better. She sees everything, and knows even more. It’s not enough I must worry about one sister, now I have to watch over two of them.”

  “It may well be.” Thorir clapped him on the shoulder. “But I have a feeling they’ll be the ones watching over you.” He also left for the shoreline.

  Rorik inclined his head to Lifa and Silvi. “I hope not to bring too many wounded to you afterwards.”

  “However many you bring, we’ll be here,” Lifa said. “May the gods grant we’ll have little to do.”

  Nuallen stood behind them and their eyes met. “If anything goes wrong here, Galinn will take my aunt, cousin, and Elfwynn to the seas for safety. Watch over them with him.”

  “Always.” His eyes were cold, but they softened as he looked at Lifa.

  Rorik tensed, but Nuallen left with Lifa without saying anything further. He gave Elfwynn a slight smile as his men moved out. “I don’t know how long we’ll be. It could be days or it could be weeks. It all depends on where and when we come across the king’s ships.”

  “It doesn’t sound too wise, warring with kings.” She couldn’t imagine her own father doing it. But then again, he did fight to keep Kenneth MacAlpin, king of the Picts, from invading the north. So perhaps it wasn’t much different.

  “With so many kings in our lands, it’s bound to happen sooner or later. I’m just doing it under my terms, in my time.” He looked at all the villagers gathered there. “Galinn a
nd many of my best men are staying here to guard all of you. Expect me back only when you see me.” His eyes, so silver and green, sought hers. He hesitated, then bent and kissed her, very fast. Studying her face, as though he was trying to remember it, he stayed for a moment longer, then followed the column of men and shieldmaidens down the path. She tasted him on her lips, shocked that he would do that in front of his people. She glanced around her, but everyone was watching the ships leave.

  The men pushed the vessels off the shore, climbing in once they were afloat. The larger ships were at the docks and Rorik jumped into the Wind. It was the most impressive, and would be his flagship.

  The crews hoisted the yardarms, the sails catching the favorable wind, a good omen. Rorik’s ship moved out ahead of all the others as he led the way into the main part of the fjord. Oslafa, Turold, and Finna joined her on the rise as they watched them leave. Turold had his arm around Finna, now that they were betrothed. At least they could show their affection.

  “He’ll return,” Oslafa said. “He always does.”

  As the lead ship, the Wind was the first to round the bend in the fjord and disappear. One by one, the others followed until the last one was no longer visible. The people turned away, going about their business, but Elfwynn stood looking at the waters, the breeze playing on her skin. Those same waters and wind would carry him into war and into a destiny she could never share.

  She looked up at the clear sky. Lord, it is said that all people are your children. Even though Rorik doesn’t hear your words, protect him. Let him come back to Vargfjell. And me.

  At home, when Wulf and her father went to fight, the only thing that kept her from going mad was weaving. She stayed at the loom day and night until, exhausted, she fell asleep. That way, she wouldn’t think too much, wouldn’t feel too much.

  But here, it wouldn’t help her. The more she wove, the sooner she’d finish the sail. And when the sail was complete, she’d leave him forever. There was an ancient tale of a woman who wove all day, only to unravel it at night, so she never finished what she wove. But that wouldn’t help her. If Rorik didn’t love her, she couldn’t remain here.

  If only she could be like their Norns who wove the destinies of men. She’d weave the threads of her life into his so tightly, they’d never unravel.

  She walked to the longhouse and into the weaving room. Running her hands over the cloth she’d woven, she loosened the bottom weft thread. It would be so easy to destroy what she had done, to make it take longer than it should.

  Weaving was the only thing she could do to keep the fear at bay, the only thing that would calm her, and make the waiting bearable. But it would also take her from Vargfjell that much sooner.

  Unless . . . She went to the shelves and picked out very fine, soft wool. It was a darker gray, natural to the sheep, and would set off Rorik’s coloring. While he was gone, if she wove this, it would keep her busy, and when she was finished, she’d ask Oslafa to make a shirt for him from the cloth. The sail would take longer this way, but that was the idea.

  Otherwise, the weaving she loved would take her all too soon from the man she loved.

  Off the coast of Norway

  Just north of the Moldefjorden

  The gods favored them.

  Rorik stood on the deck of the Wind, his hand shielding his eyes from the glare of the sun as he peered across the water. Anchored close to shore, just in his sight, one of his smaller ships had waited. No one would think anything of it, for ships often stayed in the calmer waters between the islands for any number of reasons. But it was crucial. He’d positioned it there to give him information on the fleet since the islands his fleet hid behind blocked his direct view.

  It raised a flag, a signal to tell him they’d spotted the king’s fleet moving north along the coast. It was almost the final piece of evidence he needed to know that Halfdan was, indeed, backing the two jarls. Before this, it had just been a feeling in his gut. Something that had saved him many times. He was, after all, related to Lifa, Silvi and Eirik. The gods gave such powers to families, whether related by blood or not.

  He moved the great ship farther behind the line of islands where he’d hidden his fleet and gave the signal to lay the masts down on the overhead supports. There was too much danger if they fell during the battle, and sails could catch on fire. They didn’t need them for fighting in such close quarters. Oars were more practical and they could turn with more precision.

  As the men worked, he studied the winds and currents. “Thor blows the winds with us, and Njord makes the seas flow north.”

  Eirik grinned. “As Lifa said they would. Just right for letting them pass us.”

  “When we come out from behind the islands,” Ellisif said, “you’ll let the winds and waters take us toward them, while they’ll have to row to meet us. We can use all our men for attack, while they’ll have to use many of their own to maneuver their ships. It is a wise move.”

  He didn’t reply. She didn’t expect him to. Speaking of her observations was her way of understanding, though there wasn’t much she didn’t know about. Rorik had insisted both of his sisters stay on the Wind. He could keep a closer eye on them. Since Eirik was with him, Asa, of course, was there as well. Three shieldmaidens on one ship. He sighed. At least the others were spread throughout the fleet. Once he got to the commander’s ship, it would be a rout and there were few fighters more vicious than a shieldmaiden. They’d be assets, even though it was one more thing he had to worry about.

  Halfdan’s fleet was keeping close to land instead of using the sea routes, passing between the shore and the islands, which was even better. The seas were calmer there and they’d be trapped between him and the land. If possible, he wanted to drive them onto the shore. This region was just north of the Sogn, where Magnus was well respected. Fighting in friendly territories would be to their advantage. Often the local men gave help to those they knew by killing off an enemy crew. They knew Magnus and Leif well.

  He also had contacts there and they were watching the outcome of this confrontation from the land. Over the past days, while they’d been waiting, they’d spoken with the local men and those discussions had paid off. If the king’s men tried to escape overland, they’d find a nasty surprise waiting for them.

  A sharp cry drew his attention to the skies. Two ravens circled overhead, staying over their ships. They dipped and turned, their glossy black wings shining against the bright sky.

  “There are Hugin and Munin,” Ellisif said, raising her head to them. “They will watch us and tell Odin of our victory this day.”

  The ravens of Odin wheeled again, then flew over the island in the direction the battle would be. Rorik grinned. The god had sent them to show his support. It was a good omen and the men cheered.

  The ship that had anchored to the east of the islands raised another flag. The fleet was in position, passing them now. He nodded to Thorir who was aboard his own flagship. One by one, the crews of each ship passed the word to the next vessel to move out from behind the line of islands. They all rowed out, in formation, the ships in the south heading out first. They came at an angle, so they would swing around and approach from the south, with the wind and currents.

  The enemy’s ships were large, beautiful, and well maintained. Each had a dragon on the forestem, proving they belonged to a jarl or a king. In this case, it was a king. Rorik had seen a few of them before and they were Halfdan’s. A warrior named Glóthi the Bloody-Handed usually led the crews. If he was commanding the fleet, they were in for a fight.

  Halfdan’s men cried an alarm and turned their ships around to face Rorik’s fleet. They couldn’t outrun Rorik since men filled the ships, making the vessels unseaworthy and difficult to maneuver. They were too spread out to form a line quickly, so they drew their ships together in twos and threes, all the while moving closer to gather into a longer line of defense.

  They had to row against the current while trying to lower their sails. It left few men to pre
pare for battle and as soon as Rorik’s ships grew close enough, he threw a spear over the heads of the enemy, making the first strike of the battle.

  “Odin owns you all!”

  He signaled his archers. They shot a volley of arrows into the scrambling crews. Amid the screams, men raised shields to protect the rowers, but it left even fewer to return the fire.

  Rorik nodded to Ellisif. She raised her bow, her face dispassionate, and let loose arrow after arrow. All found their mark. Even on the deck of a ship, she was as still and solid as the land itself. Her eyes never left their target, her hand was always steady. An arrow missed her by a hand’s breadth and still she shot without ceasing. One of Rorik’s men covered her with his shield. Acknowledging it with a brief nod, she continued her assault.

  Their father’s cold-bloodedness and their mother’s brutal death had stripped all emotion from her at a very young age. In its place were the strategic ways and calm mind of the consummate hunter. And now, she hunted men.

  Rorik hung back. Normally, he’d be the first one into the fray. But Glóthi would be in the center ship, the largest one, and the Wind was the only ship massive enough to take it on. Rorik wanted to pressure him and let him see his death coming before granting it to him.

  Magnus’s and Leif’s ships split off, each taking several others with them. Smaller vessels in the king’s fleet veered off and attacked them, but Magnus and Leif guided their ships through the fray and toward the two ends of the forming line. Because of the oars, they came in bow to bow at the same time and the king’s warriors rushed to defend their flanks.

  The twins had two of the larger ships and even though the enemy’s bows were high, theirs were higher. It gave them the advantage. Their men threw large rocks and spears down into the boats. The opposing crews had to defend upward.

  As though they were of one mind, Magnus and Leif simultaneously grappled their bows to that of the enemy’s and their crews poured onto the decks. Several of Rorik’s other ships pulled up behind them. His men jumped to the twins’ ships and followed them and their men to engage the defenders.