by A. J. Smith
Wulfrick had pushed Jalek back to the railing of the ship and, with a shout of defiance, he raised his axe high overhead and cleaved in the other man’s skull. Men of Jarvik roared in anger at the bloodied mess that used to be their axe-master and the fight became even more brutal. Now it was deeply personal on both sides.
Then Algenon jumped atop a nearby crate and growled out over the melee, ‘I am Algenon Teardrop Ragnarsson, high thain of the Ranen, and I name you traitors and cowards.’ He was clearly injured, with blood seeping out from under his cloak and a cut visible across his chest.
An answering roar of agreement sounded from the loyal men aboard the Hammer of Fjorlan, and a shout of defiance came back from the attackers. Halla joined in as she killed another man, beginning to lose track of the dead around her. Borrin had disappeared into the scrum of bodies and she hoped he would find a way to stay alive.
Wulfrick was red-eyed and foam could be seen at the corners of his mouth, his axe moving in deadly circles, killing men by the three and four, not waiting to fight individuals. Slowly the attackers were pushed back until the majority of Ranen aboard the ship were defenders, mostly battle-brothers of Tiergarten.
Then a distant horn sounded. The noise was deep and rumbled up from rock and earth, cutting through the fight to be heard over steel biting flesh and men screaming challenges. Almost instantly, the traitorous men of Jarvik began to withdraw, turning back to their own ships and fleeing from the defenders. The dragon ships of the Deep Cross that had joined the fight had cleared one of the attacking ships, and another was lost to a flood of loyal warriors, but four of Rulag’s ships quickly disengaged in a planned manoeuvre.
The sound of the horn stopped any celebratory cheering from Algenon’s ship and the hundred or so warriors who remained on the Hammer of Fjorlan fell deathly silent. Even Wulfrick just stood, blood-covered and panting, with no insults or shouts to see off the attackers.
Algenon stepped down from the crate to stand with his men as Halla’s battle-brothers mingled with the thain’s. ‘Good to see you, Summer Wolf,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you know what that sound is?’ Sweat was pouring down his face and he had a look of intense pain in his eyes.
She glanced at Wulfrick who, for the first time since she’d met him, looked afraid. The huge axe-master of Fredericksand had frequently said he feared nothing that could be killed with his axe, and Halla began to feel her own dread rising.
‘That’s the horn of the deep,’ Algenon almost whispered. ‘Rulag is trying to wake the Krakens.’
Halla’s breathing speeded up and she looked across the deck. Behind her lay the body of Borrin Iron Beard, face down. An axe was buried in his back and his brown eyes were strangely peaceful.
Wulfrick darted back across the deck and looked up at the broken sail. The ship could not move and the vessels around it were in no condition to make way, with hundreds of men dead and more than one of the ships slowing sinking.
‘Halla, will the Sea Wolf sail?’ Wulfrick asked.
Several of her men had sat down heavily when the fight had ended and she saw the light leaving their eyes as the adrenalin of battle left them. One of them nodded at Wulfrick’s question.
‘She’s splintered, but whole, my lord.’
‘Get as many as can be saved to your ship. Do it now.’ He moved quickly to Algenon, who was leaning against the railing of his ship.
Halla was glad of the obscuring fog as she ordered her men, ‘Get the wounded over, anyone that still breathes.’
Her helmsman took over from Borrin and all of Algenon’s men joined in, moving men too wounded to walk and those standing in shock amidst their dead battle-brothers. Death had a strange effect on the warriors and the bloodied flesh and bone disquieted them even as they prepared their escape.
Men from the other ships began throwing ropes across to the Sea Wolf and leaving their own stricken vessels. Warriors of the Deep Cross, Hammerfall, Fredericksand and Tiergarten moved in groups to the benches of Halla’s ship. The oars were still intact and they sat quickly and stowed their weapons.
The sound of the horn trailed off and silence once again came over the fog-shrouded sea channel. Halla moved to join Wulfrick in assisting Algenon and the three of them were the last to leave the Hammer of Fjorlan.
‘I’m sorry I had to kill your father,’ the high thain said weakly. ‘He deserved better.’
‘Later, my lord, later… we need to leave… now,’ she replied, a slight panic sounding in her voice.
Her arm was round Algenon’s waist and she could feel the wetness of blood flowing down his back. He was strong, but she could tell he was badly hurt, and Wulfrick’s tight jaw and grim expression showed that he, too, thought the thain would not survive.
A little more than two hundred warriors had survived the battle and the Sea Wolf was full to bursting as Wulfrick placed Algenon down on the deck and stood facing the crew.
‘We’re still alive, boys, no drinking with the Ice Giant for us.’ The words were boisterous and Halla envied him his commanding presence, but fear remained in his eyes. ‘Now, row for all you’re worth.’
Algenon’s eyes were beginning to close as the loyal men of Fjorlan extended the oars and heaved away. Halla crouched down next to the dying thain and raised his chin the better to look at him.
‘You did well, Halla,’ he said, registering her presence. ‘Maybe it is time for a thainess after all.’ He was smiling and Halla thought he no longer felt the pain of his wounds. ‘Stay close to Wulfrick. If there’s a way to survive, he’ll find it.’
‘Are there no priests among your men?’ she asked, with a note of desperation in her voice.
‘There were, but they were the first killed. I am spent, Halla… no priests, no healing, no tomorrow.’ The last words trailed off as his eyelids drooped again.
Wulfrick came to join Halla next to the dying thain. The Sea Wolf began to move away from the Hammer of Fjorlan as the axe-master firmly grasped the hand of his lord.
‘We’re still alive, Algenon,’ he said gently.
‘Speak for yourself,’ the thain replied with a pained chuckle. ‘I am leaking all over your ship, Halla. I deeply apologize.’
The pool of blood was spreading from Algenon’s back and his skin was pale and his eyes dark. Wulfrick’s jaw was tight and the huge axe-master’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped Algenon’s hand.
‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said, with tears appearing in his eyes. ‘I always know what to do…’ Halla thought he was wavering on the edge of despair as he looked at the dying man. ‘I’ve let a traitor kill you. My honour is tied to yours and I’ve let you die.’
Algenon’s eyes widened and he turned towards his axe-master. Grabbing his shoulders he pulled himself up to look into Wulfrick’s eyes. ‘You are my battle-brother and my friend. You are strong and you remain so. Tell my son…’ He spluttered as blood appeared at the corners of his mouth. ‘Tell Alahan… to rule well… and… to keep his axe sharp. Keep him alive, Wulfrick… keep him alive.’ His voice trailed off and his head rocked limply forwards. Halla waited for more words, but none came and Algenon Teardrop Ragnarsson, high thain of Fjorlan, was dead.
Wulfrick didn’t move from Algenon’s side and sat with his head bowed, mouthing a silent prayer over the fallen thain.
‘My Lord Wulfrick.’ The words came from Rexel Falling Cloud, an axe-master of Hammerfall who had approached the position where they sat. ‘We are but two hundred men and no thain has survived. What do we do?’ There was a note of desperation in his voice.
Wulfrick ignored him and continued his prayer, his eyes closed. Halla took a deep breath and stood to face Falling Cloud.
‘We row for the coast as swiftly as our backs will allow,’ she said in a commanding voice.
Falling Cloud looked as if he were going to object to Halla’s impertinence, but, after a momentary pause, he saluted her by smacking his fist on his chain mail. ‘You are a brave woman, one-eye… you fought wh
en you should have run.’ He nodded his head in approval.
Halla let the name slide and stepped past Falling Cloud to look at the frightened faces crammed into her ship.
‘Rexel,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘check how many axe-masters we have and organize these men properly, strong men to the rear and axe-men to the fore.’
Rexel Falling Cloud stepped next to her and said, ‘You’ve a stomach of iron, Summer Wolf, but your words are wise. It shall be as you say.’
He moved quickly between the lines of benches, barking out orders at the rabble of men trying to row. A few axe-masters from minor towns in the Deep Cross and Hammerfall identified themselves and were quickly sent to Halla for instructions. None of them argued at being ordered around by a woman, as the name of Summer Wolf made her the senior warrior aboard the ship. Even Wulfrick was merely an axe-master with no claim to leadership once out of Fredericksand, whereas Halla was the only child of a deceased thain and her lineage was sufficient to make these men listen to her. It was possible that thains had survived on other ships, or had found a way to escape north, but the survivors of the Hammer of Fjorlan numbered no lords among them.
‘The Sea Wolf is overburdened and cannot move swiftly, therefore we must ready ourselves for further attack,’ she said to the assembled axe-masters. No one mentioned the Krakens, but all knew they were what she was referring to.
‘What of the betrayer?’ asked Rexel angrily.
‘Time to hunt down Rulag Ursa is a luxury we do not have, Falling Cloud. His day will come. For now we must focus on keeping ourselves and our men alive.’
Halla was trying not to think too deeply, but to let her instinct come to the fore. She knew what to do, but had always been afraid of doing it for fear of appearing inadequate. However, as she looked into the thick fog around her ship and saw no sign of land or of other ships, she knew that someone had to take charge, and Wulfrick was still silently praying over Algenon’s body. Borrin was dead and could no longer lend his voice to her instructions, leaving her alone and in command.
‘Those benches are overcrowded. No more than four men to an oar. See to it at once,’ she said to a minor axe-master, who instantly moved to carry out her orders.
‘You,’ she pointed to a man of the Deep Cross, ‘set a fast stroke at the fore, enough to get us moving quickly.’
‘Rexel, make a check of weapons and armour… and move the injured aft.’
‘At once, my lady,’ Falling Cloud replied formally.
Halla was glad of his assistance as it encouraged the lesser axe-masters to comply with her orders with equal alacrity, and within a few minutes some semblance of order was restored. Halla didn’t want to admit that orders and activity were ways to distract the men from thoughts of the horn of the deep and the blind, mindless Krakens of the Fjorlan Sea.
As the Sea Wolf began to pick up speed and to move in the direction of Kalall’s Deep, Halla turned her attention back to Wulfrick. The axe-master of Fredericksand was sitting next to his lord’s body with a look of despair on his face. Halla offered him her hand.
‘Would you like assistance in standing up, Master Wulfrick?’ she asked.
He slowly cast his eyes upwards to glare at her. ‘I can stand,’ he said softly, pulling himself up, leaning on his huge axe. ‘You seem to have found your balls, young Halla.’ There was little humour in his words, however.
‘Should I be insulted at your comparing me to a man?’ she asked, with a similar absence of humour.
‘Don’t take it personally. You’ve done well.’ Wulfrick nodded with tacit approval, composing himself. ‘How far from land would you say we are?’
‘That’s not the important question, Wulfrick. The important question is how far from a landing are we… we saw cliffs on either side as we came into the channel. There was no low ground or beach that I could see.’
Before Wulfrick could say anything more a sound was heard from behind the Sea Wolf. It started as a low rumble, accompanied by rushing water, and began to rise in pitch to something akin to a throaty whine, echoing through the fog. The sailors paused in their rowing, and the sound felt louder without the noise of oars breaking the water.
‘Who told you to stop fucking rowing?’ roared Wulfrick, instantly making every man resume his duty.
The sound of displaced water continued from behind the Sea Wolf and Halla peered into the fog looking for signs of pursuit. She gasped as a shape darted across her field of vision, appearing and disappearing within a second, the fog rendering the movement indistinct. Then came another sound, deeper and more resounding – it seemed to be coming from all around the ship and the huddled men of Ranen looked close to panic as Falling Cloud ran among them, slapping backs and urging them to continue rowing. Halla felt her breathing quicken as she stared into the fog behind the vessel. A roar sounded from somewhere, a terrifying sound that no human mouth could make, growing from a grumbling murmur to a primal sound of anger.
Wulfrick had a look of stern defiance on his face as he came to stand next to Halla. ‘Rowanoco save us,’ he said, as both of them saw a huge shape rear up into the fog behind them.
The shape was taller by half than the mast of the ship and wider than the banks of oars. Halla was thankful for the obscuring fog, but the sound penetrated deeply into the minds of all the Ranen – a sound that none could ignore and none would forget. It was a growl, as if a beast had been awoken from its slumber, and it continued to grow louder and louder until a single greenish tentacle, the size of a broad tree trunk, swung sharply downwards, smashing into the rear of the Sea Wolf, feet from where Halla and Wulfrick were standing.
Shouts erupted from the oarsmen. Wulfrick continued to mouth prayers to Rowanoco as he pulled Halla against the railing and away from the splintered deck where the Kraken had struck.
‘Row for all you’re worth, you troll-fuckers… row for Fjorlan… for Ranen and for Algenon…’ Wulfrick was wide-eyed, but he was thinking clearly.
They both leant over the rear of the Sea Wolf to look at the immense black shape undulating and writhing within the dense fog.
Then a momentary break in the mist gave them a glimpse of the creature. All at once and whole they saw the Kraken that pursued them. It was larger than any ship and rose, as a column of flesh, up from the ocean to move quickly forwards by an unseen means of locomotion. It appeared, to Halla’s eyes, to have only a vague physical form and to comprise a pulpy mass of greenish-black ooze, with gummy, toothless mouths and sickly green tentacles appearing and disappearing within its gelatinous body. The oarsmen, all of whom were looking back, screamed in abject horror as the Kraken roared. Several men lost their senses upon seeing the beast and dived overboard to their deaths in the freezing water. Several more clasped their hands to their heads and screamed as if the beast had entered their minds.
Halla turned away and pulled Wulfrick down after her. They sat, their backs to the railing, looking at two hundred Ranen sailors with madness in their eyes.
‘Don’t look at it,’ shouted Wulfrick, but his words were largely useless as the men were unable to tear their eyes from the horror that pursued them.
Falling Cloud was standing in the middle of the deck, following the erratic movements of the Kraken until the fog once more began to engulf the creature. Whether it was Ithqas or Aqas, Halla didn’t know, but whichever of the blind, mindless Krakens chased them, it was far removed from the stories she’d been told as a child. There was nothing exciting or awe-inspiring about the beast, only primal terror.
Then another sound arose from in front of the ship and two huge tentacles, dripping with black slime, slammed on to the deck and sent a dozen or more Ranen into the water. The second Kraken was in front of them and the Sea Wolf was swiftly moving towards its destruction between the two mindless beasts. The ship was holed and water began to shoot up in a plume from the middle of the deck.
Halla held tightly on to Wulfrick and they looked deep into each other’s eyes as the ship began to l
ist and the sound of splintered wood signalled that the Sea Wolf was stricken.
She was glad the fog hid the approach of the Krakens as Wulfrick roughly grabbed her and jumped overboard, holding her in his arms. She felt the icy water fill her mouth and pull the breath from her lungs before she blacked out.
* * *
Halla awoke slowly. Her single eye opened by degrees and she saw a bright, glaring sky. She was numb with cold and could feel nothing below her neck as she blinked quickly and turned her head. She lay on a rocky beach with snow and driftwood all around her, her legs resting within the slowly rolling wash of the sea. It must have been freezing cold but she could barely feel it, and her breathing was shallow and caused a grating sensation in her throat. Halla could hear moaning and the sounds of discomfort coming from nearby. On both sides of her were other survivors of the dragon fleet, washed up on a rugged coast somewhere in the south lands of Ranen.
There was no longer any fog and she could see across the low, featureless expanse of the ocean, where there was no landmark in view. She began to move slowly, first her fingers and then her hands, gradually flexing her arms to relieve the stiffness. She reached to her hip and was gratified to feel that her axe was still at her side. With enormous effort she placed both hands on the rocky ground and pushed herself up into a seated position.
A fresh breeze hit her face and she closed her eye and breathed in deeply before opening it and looking around. The rocky coast stretched as far as she could see in both directions, and along the length of the beach lay smashed wood and broken bodies. Axe-heads, ripped chain mail, planks of wood with splintered edges and, near to where Halla lay, she could see the huge figure of Wulfrick lying spreadeagled across the rocks, still adorned in his smelly troll-hide armour. Just past the motionless axe-master of Fredericksand, Halla could see several battle-brothers of Tiergarten, her men from the destroyed Sea Wolf. Some were moving, but most were mangled into grotesque shapes and clearly dead. More worrying were those who were alive but who sat staring blankly out to sea with deranged and bloodshot eyes. The sight of the blind, mindless Krakens had robbed many of her men of their sanity, and Halla was thankful that she at least felt clear-headed.