Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (33 page)

"Any hovedsmann worthy of the name will know how large a ship had beached there and when." Gunnar growled at the strain of holding the tiller in place as the ship lurched around and caught the wind. She threw her own hands atop his and pushed as well. Gunnar laughed. "I've got it, Mother. Save your strength for picking Aren off the deck. I think he needs to steady himself."

Runa twisted back to see Aren on hands and knees at the middle of the deck. Finn's sword held him down like an anchor stone. She felt heat rise in her face for his shame. "Konal never trained him properly."

"Father will mend that problem," Gunnar said, then as the sail filled and the mast creaked forward, he bellowed at his crew. "Row, you dog-loving turds, or I'll strip the skin off your ribs! Keep the pace."

From her position at the stern she peered down the river toward the bend, but still saw nothing. The crew continued to drive hard, and she turned toward the prow and saw nothing but straight river until it shaded away to a bland misty horizon. "They'll see us no matter what."

"True," Gunnar agreed. "But if these bastards row like real men, we sail close to the wind we'll outpace them."

"We'll have to return to Hrolf, then?"

Gunnar shrugged, easing off the tiller with a sigh. "If they pursue us, we will have no other choice."

"We could fight them, make sure they never get word back." Runa stared at him, hoping he would agree, but his face twisted into a scowl.

"That's not how it works. If a ship doesn't return they'll send three more out to find it."

Runa's hopes fell as she saw the enemy sail round the bend. It was far enough away to seem no bigger than a toy ship, but to her the ship seemed a giant blocking the river. "We're leaving them all behind."

"For a short time," Gunnar said, his voice far less fierce than it had been. "We'll return in another day. Finn will wait for us if we are not there when he returns. Don't worry for it."

She leaned on the rails and watched the enemy ship's oars lift and fall like the legs of dragon crawling over the water. She closed her eyes and swallowed hard. "He is still without help."

CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT

Ulfrik sat in the blackness of his dank cell, the scent of mold heavy in his nose. Black iron bars framed a window in a heavy wood door, and a square of orange light filtered in with the rotten scent of burning tallow candles. The floor was cold beneath him, all hard packed earth with any rock larger than a walnut dug out of it. He had pried at the dirt, but found it impossible to lift more than a fingernail's worth of it at a time. He flicked the grime out of his nails now, and rested his head against the stone wall.

"Are you still there?" he called out in Frankish, and when no answer came he tried again in Norse. His guard had only appeared to him once with a mug of gritty water and a wooden plate of hard bread and stale cheese. Time disappeared inside this cell, but judging from the growl in his belly, a day must have passed since that poor meal. He had not lost hope for a way out of this trap, but one had not revealed itself to him yet.

If Count Amand had not stopped him, Grimnr would have struck off Ulfrik's head in one blow. That was his mistake, and Ulfrik waited like a spider on a dark web for his moment to strike. He feared death and knew it was near, but the gods would not have taken him this far merely to dangle him from a rope before a gawking crowd until he pissed his pants in death. Just like his imprisonment in Iceland, the gods would present a path out that led through pain and blood. He would tread that path willingly and set the gods to dancing for joy at his exploits.

Until then, he tried to forget the reality of being stuck into cell with no chance of escape.

When no voice answered him, Ulfrik shifted to the door. He banged on it with a flat palm. "Talk to me, you fool. No harm in that, and I just want to know how much longer I've got to live. You can tell me that, at least."

Someone shushed him from outside the door, then a familiar voice whispered. "Be quiet while I get the key for the lock. I've never seen a real lock before."

Ulfrik began to laugh and his limbs trembled with excitement. He clapped his hands and spun around inside his cell. "Finn, your voice is a song to me."

Metal scraped against the door, and Ulfrik attempted to peek out the small window, seeing nothing but stone walls and the glow of candlelight. He glimpsed the top of Finn's head against the door.

"So, this is how it works." Ulfrik heard a click and then more metal shaking against the door. "Time to get you out."

The door swung into the cell, sweeping Ulfrik away, and Finn stood framed in the center. His innocent freckled face was splashed with drops of blood as was his gray linen shirt. A sax and dagger hung from either hip and he threw his arms wide, throwing back his dark brown cloak. Ulfrik embraced him with a slap on the back.

"Hrolf sent you?"

"Jarl Einar sent word to him, and he sent me to you. Here's a dagger for you, in case we have more killing to do on the way out."

Ulfrik searched his surroundings, finding a narrow stone hall lit by candles and several rows of doors matching those of his own cell. When Grimnr dragged him down here, he was hanging upside down between two guards and was flung head first into his cell. He never got a look at the prison. "The blood, from the guard?"

Finn rubbed his cheek, smearing the blood into a streak. "There was only one for this entire hall. I got him from behind and shoved him in the first cell. This place is empty but for you."

Tucking the dagger into his pants, he clapped Finn's shoulder. "We should get Vilhjalmer and leave. We're already beneath one of his towers, not sure which one. But Vilhjalmer is in the southwestern tower on the top."

Frowning, Finn shook his head. "We've got to get you out of here. It was a lot of work getting inside, and every guard in this place is standing on his toes looking for an enemy. We'll have to come back for Vilhjalmer."

"After I escape, they'll move his location, maybe out of this fortress altogether. We take him now."

"With two daggers and a short sword between us?"

"That's one blade for each of us then. Besides, I thought you dreamed about being a hero?"

"That was before I understood how bad it hurts to get your guts sliced open. Now we've got to move before another guard shows. There's a back gate out of here we can exploit. It's where I got in."

He let Finn lead, and kept his hand on the hilt of the dagger. At the end of the hall, stone steps lifted up toward a mellow light of an opened door. A splash of dark blood glistened on the wall beside the stairs. "I know you want to get to Vilhjalmer," Finn said. "We won't be able to talk much after we get out of here. So I want to warn you I'm not alone. I've met your wife, Runa, and she's waiting on a ship nearby to use in our escape."

Ulfrik stepped back as if he had been slapped. "She found out from Snorri, didn't she?" Finn nodded and he growled. "Why tell me now?"

"In case we've got a bunch of angry Franks chasing us to the ship, I don't want you so surprised it causes you to make a mistake."

"Good thinking. Let's go." Finn barred him with an outstretched arm.

"The ship belongs to your son, Gunnar the Black. He returned after he heard about you from our time in Yorvik. He looks a lot like your wife and is a bit scary, to be honest."

"You're a world of surprises," Ulfrik said. "I'm glad he's not dead, but this is the wrong time for a family history chat. We've got to hurry."

Finn opened his mouth to say more, but Ulfrik grabbed his shoulder and spun him around toward the stairs. With a gentle shove, Finn swooped up the steps, keeping low as he peered out the door. He remained motionless like a cat watching a bird on a fence, then without looking back he waved Ulfrik forward.

The two piled out into a room where another man lay face down on a bed, a line of blood dripped from the side and pooled by a set of boots. Finn whispered, "He was asleep already, just made sure he stayed that way."

The candles lighting the small guard room fluttered and danced as the two shuffled to the door opposite them. Finn peered out, again staring like a predator on the hunt until he turned back. "I can't see the whole courtyard from here. The southwest tower is directly opposite and is also the wrong way for us to escape."

"This is not about rescuing me," Ulfrik hissed. "We need to take Hrolf's son, or you should've left me to die."

Finn's normally sunny expression went dark, but he nodded once and cautiously opened the door. He slid against the wall beside the door, and his hand appeared to wave Ulfrik outside. As he exited into the predawn darkness, he pulled the door closed and flattened against it. His legs trembled and his breath was short, but a smile creased his face. Only a moment ago he was a helpless prisoner, and now he was again a skulking devil preparing to sow confusion among his enemies.

"There are no guards around," Finn whispered. "We might be able to do this."

"They're about. We just haven't spotted them." They waited on Ulfrik's suspicions, but when no one appeared, they began to slink along the darkness of the courtyard edges.

Pausing at the last stretch, Ulfrik drew his dagger. "That tower door is guarded inside, and I'm sure it's locked. We might have to find another way inside."

"You're telling me this now?" Finn's eyes were bright in the murky black.

"I'll try the door, and you hang back. These towers all connect at the higher levels, though maybe not that one." He scanned the walls around them, but without a moon he could not discern anything more than a darker patch on the night sky.

They stared at each other, and Ulfrik set off for the door.

Torches flared into light and men rushed into the courtyard. Ulfrik froze and for an instant believed if he was still he would remain unseen. Only he was the cornered rabbit and the fox was Grimnr and two dozen guards, half of whom had arrows stringed and pointed at him.

"I'm right here," Ulfrik called, hoping to distract them from Finn. Grimnr stepped forward with his sword drawn, and it flashed with torchlight as he pointed it directly at Finn.

"We saw him enter the prison," Grimnr said. "So you're working with others after all. Put down the dagger. Even if you throw it through my neck you'll get ten arrows through your own in return. Not a good bargain. Same for your companion."

Ulfrik's blood roared in his ears and his head grew warm. He ranged the dagger before himself, snarling at Grimnr. "You're a traitor to your people."

"Don't you think I've heard that talk before?" Grimnr asked, approaching with his sword held low. Behind him the points of arrow tips gleamed with orange light. "I am loyal to my word, and I give that to whoever pays me the most."

"Mord will pay anything you ask for that boy. Give him up and you will be wealthier than that old Frankish turd you serve."

Grimnr's feral smile widened, and he tilted his head like a hound trying to understand a new command. "Mord can pay so much? Are you sure it's not Hrolf the Strider who would pay?"

Ulfrik's hands went cold, and Grimnr laughed. He stopped before Ulfrik just as his sword point touched Ulfrik's dagger. Somehow he had discovered Vilhjalmer's true identity. Time had run out, and Ulfrik had failed. He glanced at Finn, who resolutely held his sax against a dozen archers.

Throwing his dagger at Grimnr's feet, Ulfrik lowered his head. "Set my friend free. He's here just to save me and knows nothing of what I intended."

"Oh, he'll be freed," Grimnr said. "But he's leaving with you on the hanging tree as soon as the sun rises. You've got about an hour until the two of you can greet each other again in Nifelheim."

CHAPTER FORTY-NINE

Ulfrik sat on the dirt floor and rubbed his face. The small shed smelled like sweat and urine, much like his old cell beneath the fortress, but this one instead was outside Grimnr's hall. Three men might have fit into the space, but Finn had been separated from him, leaving Ulfrik with enough room to lie down if he had wanted. Instead he sat ready to face whatever came through the door in front of him. Currently it was only the stains of morning light, and he heard the roosters crow with the day. Through the rear wall of his shed, he heard low voices of men, but their words were indistinct.

He sucked his bottom lip as he considered the events of the morning. His chest burned with the anger and frustration at being caught yet again, and now he had Finn's welfare to consider. He tried to rethink where all of this planning had gone wrong, but soon shook the thought from his head. He could worry for the past once he survived the mistakes that had led him to this moment. As the deep voices beyond the walls of his prison shack grew louder and more numerous, he realized time for planning was at an end. He had to decide the next move or else end up swinging from a noose.

That Grimnr held him in his own camp rather than turning him over to the Franks indicated Count Amand had either lost interest in questioning him or did not know of the escape attempt. Ulfrik believed it was the latter, and Grimnr was eager to erase the embarrassing stain on his judgment by hanging him at dawn. Nor had he bothered to tie him or Finn. Seeing how they were surrounded by hundreds of enemies, binding them would have been a waste of rope.