Contact (Crossover Series Book 2)

by Walt Socha

  A death. Samatu had seen many. But the necessity of a burial at sea had shaken him. How could they honor Todatu when his body was lost in the endless ocean? Samatu glanced at the dead man’s sea chest. He had written an account of Todatu’s death, his bravery in defending the ship and his fellow warriors. It would be returned to Haven to be added to the Sky Goddess’s Hall of Memories.

  A sharp intake of breath at Samatu’s side brought him out of his musings.

  “Birds,” said Brynjar as he dumped another bucket of water over the side and pointed. “Off to starboard. Maybe a few points forward.”

  Samatu nodded at the Icelandic youth as he moved to the stern, slipping his left arm into his shirtfront. With his right, he tugged the line that secured the position of the rudder, allowing his body to force the long wooden arm an inch toward port. He gazed toward the birds circling in the distance, relieved to be close.

  And dreading landfall.

  Chapter 14

  July 15

  Fergus tapped the stoneware plug, scowling as it shifted under his fingers. Still, most of the sulphur-filled amphorae had tight seals, and it wouldn’t take long to reseal this one.

  “Fergus,” a voice said from outside. High pitched, excited.

  His frown deepened. He straightened and maneuvered around the knee-high pots toward the door. Blinking, he stepped into the stark, midday Icelandic sunlight to find Ari hopping from foot to foot.

  “A ship just rounded the shallows. From the east,” the youth said. His face still betrayed his excitement at strangers, boats, and far-off lands, even though two of his nine years had been occasionally spent in the company of Haven sailors. “Come on, you can see it from the tower.” He turned and ran up the hill.

  Fergus’s eyebrows narrowed. He expected a boat from Haven but not from the east. Reykjavik being on the southwest shore of Iceland, any ship from home would navigate to hit the island further north. Once safely along the coast, it would then sail south until it hit the settlement. Navigating directly toward Reykjavik posed the danger of missing the entire island if the ship strayed too far south.

  His father was in the east, on the island of Eire. But he wasn’t expected back until early next summer. Unless he had run into trouble. Fergus shivered in the light breeze. He shifted his eyes to the small bay below him. On shore, the Dreamcatcher lay tilted on her side, her lines blurred by the smoke of the pitch pots. Along the nearby pier, two small fishing vessels bobbed with the incoming waves. Maybe he should take one of the fishing boats out to meet the ship?

  No, that wouldn’t save much time. The shallows were only a couple miles off. He turned and jogged to catch up to the young Icelandic boy. At the top of the hill he climbed a small tower to join Ari. Fergus’s eyes followed the youngster’s. About two miles off, the silhouette of a knarr cut through the white tipped waves that curved around the point of land that stuck out of the Reykjavik area like a human foot.

  “Looks like one of your boats,” Ari said. “Or maybe one from Danmark. But it’s been a long time since a boat has visited from there.”

  “I don’t see much activity on deck.” Fergus kept his voice even. He felt a chill in spite of the early afternoon summer sun that hung not much below its maximum azimuth of 50 degrees.

  After a few minutes, he laid a hand on Ari’s shoulder. “Thank you for letting me know. I’m going down to the dock.” He dropped his hand and turned to descend the tower’s ladder. As his foot rested on the top rung, he paused and looked at the boy. “Please keep watch. Let me know if anything else appears.”

  As the boy’s smile widened and his posture grew straighter, he continued down the ladder.

  * * *

  The sun had only moved a hand’s width by the time Stormchaser slipped into the harbor. Fergus stood frozen on the narrow pier, watching his father’s ship drift toward him. The sails fell and too few hands gathered up the flaxen cloth into clumsy bundles. On the starboard side, several of the top strakes were cracked, as if from an impact. Fergus felt the chill intensify as two of the faces became Samatu and Torben. Where was his father? He usually stood at the prow, beaming with pride at his wooden vessel, shaped by iron tools that he forged himself.

  The remaining three faces resolved into one Icelandic and two Haven sailors. Fergus’s heart hammered in his chest. Stormchaser had left with over two-dozen men. Including his father.

  In silence, Samatu threw a line one-handed. A bloody cloth covered his left forearm.

  Fergus caught the line and wrapped the hemp rope around a cleat. One of the settlement boys ran behind Fergus to catch a line from the rear of Stormchaser.

  “We were attacked by land and sea just after arriving at Ros’s farmstead.” Samatu’s words ran together as he looked directly at Fergus. “Your father and the others were on shore. They retreated into the hills. That was the last I saw of them as a longship attacked us.”

  Samatu turned toward a bundle in the prow. “Help me with Ramotu.”

  * * *

  Fergus redressed the cut on Torben’s head as Ari’s father, the local Godi, bustled around the great room of his sod farmhouse, trying to see to the comfort of the sailors. In spite of his worry, Fergus allowed a smile as Ari’s mother quietly countered her husband’s orders and brought organization to his chaos. He helped resettle Torben on a huge white fur skin, propping the old man’s head on a rolled up woolen blanket as one of the servants handed Torben a steaming mug of broth. The noise in the great room quieted.

  From the side of the sleeping Ramotu, Samatu rose, swayed, and sat back down. A mug of birch beer appeared and he took a long drink. Silence ruled the room as he finished the mug. “Since this was our second voyage to Ros’s farmstead, we expected no trouble.” The middle-aged warrior shifted his gaze to Urard, Cassan’s cousin. The two Eire youths had returned to Iceland with Larry after the first visit, both as a good will gesture and to teach the Eire language to the Haven traders.

  Urard returned his gaze, jaw clenched with worry.

  Samatu closed his eyes. “Yet Larry insisted that six of us remain on Stormchaser as guards.” Samatu opened his eyes and met Fergus’s. “Your father is a cautious man.”

  Forcing his face to remain blank, Fergus returned the older man’s gaze. Cautious? Shit, the old man was a danger to himself and his companions. He had always been crazy about training, driving everyone—especially Fergus—hard because of the Far Ones’ fear of the future. But after Mother had died, Larry had withdrawn into his trade voyages. He still had been fanatical about preventing the prophecies, but at least he’d been elsewhere. Now the old fool had got himself and his crew in deep shit and would have to be rescued.

  “He and the others went ashore armed and carrying overnight packs,” Samatu continued. “We watched as they marched up the path to the farm building, maybe a half mile. I couldn’t tell if Cassan’s father, Ros Suilman, was there. But no women were visible and I could see that Cassan was looking around as if something was not right. Then some sort of struggle occurred near the farmhouse and everything turned to shit.”

  “Armed men appeared from the rear of the farmstead’s main building.” Torben leaned on an elbow, his harsh voice cutting through the whispers. “Others appeared from outbuildings and from the twisted trees to the east. We hoisted sail, ready to cast off.” He slumped back in his makeshift bed.

  “Then a smaller group of armed riders swept in between the buildings and the dock, cutting off retreat for Larry and the others.” Samatu again met Fergus’s eyes. “The attackers were not expecting cold steel or Larry’s handgun. But the dog fuckers were of sufficient numbers to drive our shore party out of Ros’s farmstead and into the hills. I did not see any of our men fall.” He looked down. “But the distance was too great to see clearly.”

  Samatu glanced at Torben. “We cast off, intending to exit the harbor and to be ready to pace our comrades along the coast.” He took a deep breath, eyes closed once again. As he let his breath out, he opened them. “
A longship appeared at the entrance to the harbor. We had the two flintlocks and the bows. We sailed directly toward it, and then veered to starboard. It rammed our port side, but the guns broke their boarding party. We lost Todatu.” He rubbed his right hand over his face.

  “We fled. Sailed west out of the bay and stayed offshore overnight. In the morning, we approached land, only to find two longships patrolling.” He looked to Torben. “We had frightened off the first one with the guns. But they now knew we were few in numbers. With two enemy ships guarding the bay and coastline, we decided to return to Iceland.”

  At Torben’s nod, Samatu returned his gaze to Fergus. “To repair Stormchaser. And go back.”

  Fergus smothered his growing anger. Injured and with their ship damaged, Samatu and Torben could not have accomplished anything by staying in Eire. And there was the watch, their only means of determining longitude. Only three of the devices brought from the future by his father and the other Far Ones still worked. He nodded to Samatu and then gazed nowhere as he calculated the time required for the repair, the number of available warriors, and the provisions that would be needed. No time to alert Haven. And certainly no time to requisition additional weapons.

  Weapons. Fergus turned his head in the direction of the damaged ship. Damaged when rammed by the attackers. Images formed in his imagination. “Return we will.”

  Movement at the door interrupted any replies. A boy entered.

  “A ship,” the youth said. “From the west. Looks like Waverider.”

  Chapter 15

  July 21

  A groan escaped as Larry lowered himself onto the ground. He’d have to build a chair if Stormchaser didn’t show up soon.

  Maeve appeared in front of him, steam rising from a clay cup in her hand. “Tea sir? Breakfast will be ready soon.”

  “Thanks,” Larry said, giving the ex-slave what he hoped was a friendly smile. The refugees might have been wary of the Havenites, but the former slave women had been terrified. A male warrior was probably no friend to unprotected women on this island.

  Larry watched her as she returned to the cook fire to join Hatimu. The Havenites had been religious about daily bathing. They'd even set up a swimming hole just downstream of Sanctuary. Although most of the refugees were slow to adopt this habit, both Maeve and Niam had been less odorous lately, especially since both former slaves had started helping Hatimu with the cooking. Maybe they were even being a bit competitive around the still healing warrior.

  Larry sipped the tea and kept his face blank. The taste wasn’t terrible, just not good. Maybe he’d ask Teltina what plants she used? If she would even talk to him. That was one hell of a troubled woman.

  His mind drifted to other cook fires. Tended by a different woman on a different continent. He’d felt hollow since Sesapa’s death, finding partial solace only on trading trips.

  Larry blew out a long breath. On this last voyage he’d buried one of his friends and abandoned another’s body. He couldn’t even remember how many men he’d killed in the past days. Or even how many days had it been since the ambush at Ros’s. Death was his companion.

  Did it follow him or did he follow it?

  As Larry sipped again, a voice called his name. He turned to see Gatanu running his way, his sword slapping his thigh. Other heads also turned as the man approached.

  He slowed to a stop and stood before Larry. “I’ve just returned from the east pass.” Gatanu leaned over, hands on his knees. He gulped a deep breath and straightened. “When Hallur showed up to relieve me yesterday, we decided to check the view from a rise about a mile from Bald Hill. It's not higher, but it has a better view to the north.”

  Niam appeared at Gatanu’s side, holding a cup. He flashed her a quick smile as he took the tea. After gulping half, he looked back to Larry.

  “From there, we could see smoke at the mouth of the Laune River. Lots of smoke.” Gatanu turned in place, eyes scanning his attentive audience. “Ivar had said he thought there were several farmsteads at the river’s mouth.” He returned his gaze to Larry. “If so, there’re gone now. I immediately left Hallur to return here but had to hole up at sunset. Been running since dawn.”

  “See any ships?” Larry rolled to one side and pushed himself to a standing position.

  “Hallur swears he could see a vessel moving up the river. Probably one of the longboats that had moved into the estuary.”

  * * *

  A shadow crossed Larry’s fingers as they worked grease into the flax threads of his bowstring. He looked up to find Matuso blocking the hazy sun. “I’m just gonna take a look,” Larry said.

  Mouth twitching, Matuso looked east. “I’m going also.”

  Gatanu and Fistav appeared next to Matuso. “When are we going?” Gatanu asked.

  Heart racing, Larry stared at the twisted fiber in his hand. Events were speeding up. A wrong decision could lead to more and more fighting. If they hid out here in the valley, they might be able to stay safe until Stormchaser returned. He lifted his head to inspect the primitive camp they’d called Sanctuary. A couple of huts, several open shelters for equipment, and a cook fire. The refugees stared back at him. He’d hoped to leave them with this beginning of a safe farmstead when Larry and his crew returned to Iceland. Would he be able to do that if the raiders knew of Sanctuary?

  “Half the uninjured must remain.” He looked at Gatanu. “You’re exhausted. You’re in charge while I’m gone. Keep someone at the main lookout on Sui Finn mountain. We’ll pick up Hallur on the way.” Larry struggled to his feet, knees aching. “We leave in an hour. Someone check Hallur’s stuff for anything he’ll need. Find Ivar. The rest of you eat, shit, and get your weapons and packs ready. Bows and swords. We’ll be moving too fast for armor.”

  * * *

  Shifting his shoulders under his pack, Larry inspected his men. Matuso, Nanisu, and Disunu would go with him. Ivar had volunteered to accompany them, but now his eyes darted around like a trapped bird while his hands worried the strap on his pack. Gatanu, Kequit, and Fistav would remain to guard the camp. Hatimu, Tamatu and Sigfus were still recuperating from their injuries. The latter two groups looked unhappy. As would Cassan when he returned from the Sui Finn lookout.

  “How many arrows?” Larry asked, fearing the answer.

  “We gathered them all. Nanisu and Disunu each have nine. I think Hallur has eight. My left arm is still too weak for a bow so I slipped my last two into your quiver. You now have seven.”

  Larry turned at the sound of running feet.

  Deirdre broke into the men crowding around Larry, followed by Keelin.

  “Anya’s missing,” Deirdre said after pausing for a breath.

  “I don’t have time for this,” Larry said, eyes rolling. “Maybe she’s out foraging.”

  Deirdre took in a couple of deep breaths. “No, she is gone. Her bedding and Conal are gone too.” She turned to Keelin. “Tell him.”

  Keelin glanced around at the armed men. “She told me that she thought the Ur Neill were kin to her clan.” Her eyes bored into Larry’s. “I think she’s gone to find the raiders.”

  “What do you care?” Larry stared at Deirdre.

  She lowered her eyes. “She may be a whore. But she is the mother of my half-brother.”

  “Fuck me.” Larry closed his eyes and tried to sort through options for one that might work. He failed. “We’ll look for her on the way,” he said, opening his eyes. “Just hope she doesn’t run into those Northmen.”

  Chapter 16

  July 24

  “Where is he?” Larry stared at the farmstead. They had marched nearly all day, most of that time spent following a small stream that flowed east out of the pass near Bald Hill. Now, with the sun halfway down the sky, they had come upon this quiet farmstead.

  Too quiet. Nanisu had volunteered to scout it out.

  Larry blew out a held breath as Nanisu sprinted back across the field to their position. Beyond, the farmstead remained silent in the misty rain. />
  To Larry’s left, Disunu leaned against a gnarled pine, ignoring clumps of hardened sap, arrow nocked and half drawn. To the right, Hallur crouched behind a thick bush, his own bow held ready. Behind him, Ivar knelt, chewing on his lip, his fingers worrying a string of beads. Next to Ivar, Matuso stood, facing back the way they had come, his head cocked as if listening.

  “Empty,” Nanisu said as he came to a stop at Larry’s tree. “Or empty of living bodies.”

  Matuso appeared at Larry’s side, handing Nanisu a bow and quiver of arrows. “I thought I heard something,” Matuso said in response to Larry’s narrowed eyebrows. “Probably just a spooked animal.”

  “Let’s go.” Larry moved into a jog toward the farmstead, eyes scanning the three outbuildings as he approached the main farmstead building.

  Two bodies lay twisted on the ground as he broke from the field and into the cleared area in front of the thatched main hut. An older man lay in a congealing pool of blood; his head cleaved open and spilling brains. At his side, a youth stared upwards with unseeing open eyes. His intestines steamed in the cool air.

  “Search the place.” Larry pointed to the outbuildings that surrounded the open area in front of the thatched house. “See if anyone is alive.” In a corral at the north end of the compound, four horses neighed and stomped their hooves while two cows munched on a pile of fodder. “Why are they still there?”

  “Ivar,” Disunu called from the doorway of a small circular outbuilding next to the horse corral. “You'd better handle this. It’s a child.” Ivar jerked his head around and broke into a run. Disunu stepped out of the doorway to allow Ivar to enter. “It’s a storehouse for fodder. I saw a small foot sticking out of the hay.” Disunu looked back at the doorway. “It moved.”