Beyond the Sea Mist (15 page)

Thorvald nodded, his face expressionless.

“I need this tent for the women.”

Thorvald gazed at him a moment, then grabbed a beverage skin and crawled out.

As Magnus held up the opening, Ailinn crawled into the hide structure and sank down wearily. She looked very pale, except for the left side of her face, which was red where Croa had struck her. Magnus felt a jolt of fury. A pity Croa had died so quickly. He would have liked to have seen him suffer a little more.

“Don’t leave this shelter,” he told her. “I’ll get the other women and bring them here. If anyone bothers you, just threaten to curse them as you did Croa. The men who believe in the curse won’t risk angering you, and those who don’t will have no reason to disturb you.” He felt no certainty his words were true, and yet he knew he had no choice but to leave her for a time. He must help the other men offload the cargo or they might all drown.

Still, it was wrenching to leave her. He took her hands in his. “I’ll come back as soon as I can. I promise.” He wanted to pull her into his arms and kiss her, but there wasn’t time. Releasing her, he staggered back along the pitching deck.

When he reached the opening to the hold, a group of men were gathered there. They eyed Magnus warily as he lowered himself down.

He landed with a splash. The water was deeper than ever. He immediately saw Asgar, who said, “Hafgrim’s down here trying to separate the cargo from the supplies.”

“I thought he was Croa’s man,” said Magnus.

Asgar shrugged. “I guess he’s not so loyal now that he’s dead.”

Bragi joined them. “Without the ladder, it’s going to be difficult to get the cargo out,” he said.

“But it can be done,” said Magnus. “If there’s someone up on deck ready to grab the cargo, we can hand it up to them.” He motioned to Bragi. “Climb up. Asgar and I will stay down here. We’re both tall and have long arms, while you’re strong enough to manage things on the other end.” He worried that Bragi might object to this arrangement, but he nodded, then used a barrel to boost himself up and climb out of the hold..

Magnus glanced around the hold, wondering what to start with. Abruptly he remembered his promise to Ailinn to rescue her companions. “Let’s get the women first,” he said.

“Aye, the women,” said Asgar. “It would be a waste if they were to drown.”
 Magnus made his way into the cargo area, where he could make out two limp forms huddled against the pile of wooden casks. He picked up the first woman. She groaned and muttered something about dying, then fell silent. He carried her back to the opening. “Here.” He handed her to Asgar.

Asgar grunted as Magnus transferred his burden to him. “This one weighs at least as much as a barrel of fish.”

“Hold her up so Bragi or one of the other men can grab her.”

Magnus went back for the second woman. She was much lighter, weighing scarce more than a child. When he handed her to Asgar, the other man said, “By Freya, this wench is a pretty little thing.”

“I didn’t notice,” answered Magnus.

Now there was only the one called Gormlaith to worry about. Magnus wondered if she were even alive. When Croa dropped her, she’d fallen hard.

He called up to Bragi, “We need a lamp to see what we’re doing. Is there any way you can get one lit in this gale?”

“Aye,” Bragi answered. “I’ll take the flint and tinder into the tent where it’s sheltered.” Magnus knew a moment’s unease at the thought of the warrior being alone with Ailinn. Then he decided he could trust Bragi not to be distracted. The man was all business.

While he waited for the lamp, Magnus went back to the area where the women had been and gathered up the sodden leather bags containing their possessions.

He returned to the cargo opening and hoisted the bags onto the deck. “Don’t throw these overboard,” he called out to the man waiting there, named Esbjorn. “Take them to the tent and give them to Lady Ailinn.” He fixed the lanky young warrior with a fierce look.

“You think he’ll do it?” Magnus asked Asgar, when Esbjorn had left.

“Oh, aye. He’ll fear the witch will curse him if he throws her things overboard.” Asgar grinned.

“Do the men really think she’s a witch?”

Asgar nodded. “At least some of them. Trust me. It’s better this way. They’ll steer clear of her...and her companions. Which leaves things wide open for us.” Asgar’s grin broadened.

A moment later, Hafgrim appeared. To Magnus’s surprise, he was carrying Gormlaith. “I found her near the foot of the mast. She’s alive, but only barely.”

Magnus took the limp woman and lifted her up to a man on the deck. “Get her to the tent,” he shouted.

Bragi appeared at the opening just as Magnus finished handing Gormlaith up. As he passed a lighted lamp down to Magnus, he grumbled, “You’ve wasted a lot of time rescuing those wenches.”

Ignoring this comment, Magnus asked, “Do we have enough men up there to form a line to start throwing cargo off the side of the deck.”

“Aye. We’re ready and waiting.”

Another very tall crewman named Yngvar climbed down into the hold. “I thought I could be of use in handing things up,” he said.

Magnus nodded in acknowledgement and they began their task.

Using the lamp, Hafgrim motioned to the barrels he’d dragged out of the stern end of the hold. “These contain wine, and I’ll wager it’s fine stuff.. A pity it’s going to end up at the bottom of the sea.”

Asgar grunted. “Better these barrels than us.”

They began rolling the wine barrels to the opening. Then two of them would heave a barrel up to the men on deck, who passed it from man to man until it was finally pitched over the side of the deck.

In addition to the many barrels of wine, Magnus handed up several boxes of glassware, piles of water-soaked fleeces and bags of grain. The muscles of his shoulders and arms burned with fatigue. He longed to go up on deck and see how Ailinn was faring. But while the storm raged, he dare not abandon his task. The
Dragonsbreath
still rode perilously low in the water, and waves continued to roll over her deck and shower down into the hold. The ship might still founder, and then they would all die.

“Oh, Gormlaith! What did Croa do to you?” Ailinn cried in dismay as she gazed down on the young woman’s unmoving form. Gormlaith’s normally dusky complexion matched Brina’s pallor, and her skin felt like ice. When the burly, blond warrior brought Gormlaith to the tent, Ailinn couldn’t tell if the young woman was still alive. Only by holding her ear near Gormlaith’s mouth had she been able to detect the woman’s shallow breathing.

Poor Gormlaith
, Ailinn thought. And poor Brina and Ullach. They weren’t much better off. Although Brina had roused briefly after being brought to the tent, she still appeared far gone in the throes of seasickness. Ullach was the same. And all of them—including Ailinn—were soaked to the skin.

They desperately needed dry clothing, but there was none to be had. What spare garments they possessed were in the flooded hold and would take days to dry. Ailinn took off her cloak and spread it over Gormlaith. Now she was colder than ever. Huddling next to the other two women, she rubbed her arms to try to warm up.

Outside the tent, the storm still raged, lashing the ship with huge waves. Croa might be dead, but there was every chance they would soon follow him into the pitiless sea. Unless Magnus was able to save them from that fate, just as he’d saved her from Croa.

Ailinn felt a sense of awe as she recalled how expertly he’d thrown the axe, managing to strike Croa in a vital spot and miss her altogether. Of course, she’d done her part as well, judging the moment when Croa was off balance and giving him the shove that sent him crashing into the sea. Remembering the moment, she experienced a deep sense of satisfaction.

Jesu, I must be going mad! How can I feel pleased at a time like this? We may all die soon.
But she couldn’t repress the exhilaration bubbling up inside her. Croa was gone, and she was free! She owed Magnus so much. Although she’d dismissed him in the beginning, he’d turned out to be as brave and valiant as a hero in the old tales.

An awful thought came to her, dampening her mood. What if the ship went down and she never had a chance to thank him for what he’d done? After all he’d risked for her, it would be a terrible thing if she didn’t let him know how courageous and bold she thought he was. As she recalled some of the things she’d said to him, she felt ashamed. He must have thought her very haughty and rude. Yet, despite her attitude, he’d continued to try and help her.

Her conscience pricked with guilt. She didn’t deserve his kindness and concern. She was a shrew, and a proud, ungrateful one at that. Somehow she would make it up to him. But in order to do that, they must survive this storm, and that was something that seemed less and less likely.

Confronting the possibility of the ship going down, she made up her mind. She wouldn’t wait. She would go to Magnus now and tell him all the things she should have told him after he’d killed Croa.

She went to the tent opening and pulled it aside. It was still raining and the sky was a dark, heavy gray. Water continued to sweep across the deck. Ailinn felt a sense of dread. The ship was so small compared the vast waves lashing it. This might be her only chance to speak to Magnus. To tell him how grateful she was. To let him know she thought him strong and brave, kind and wonderful. He deserved some sort of reward. What could she give him?

A kiss. That was something she could offer to let him know how she felt. She touched her lips, and realized he would find no pleasure in the kiss if she were as cold as an icicle. She let the tent flap fall and intensified her efforts to get warm, rubbing her hands together frantically, trying to get the blood flowing through them.

Time passed and she made little progress. The chill seemed to have reached deep within her, as if her insides were frozen. Meanwhile, the ship might go down at any moment and she still hadn’t spoken to Magnus. There was no help for it. She must go to him now.

She climbed out of the tent, moving stiffly. Everything around her seemed hazy and she felt confused. But she wouldn’t let that deter her. She was determined to fulfill her plan. But what was it? She searched her mind, trying to recall what had seemed so important earlier. Oh, aye, a kiss. She was going to give Magnus a kiss.

She made her way across the ship, struggling against the wind. The rain and sea spray stung her face and penetrated her already soaked kirtle. She fell. Clutching wildly at a nearby pile of rope, she used it to get to her feet. Only a little farther. She knew Magnus was in the hold, because he’d rescued Gormlaith and the others. Blessed Jesu, that was another thing she must thank him for. Without his efforts, her companions would all have drowned.

She managed to get past the mast of the ship and reach the opening to the hold. There was no sign of Magnus, although there were nearly a dozen men there, arranged in a line. She tried to figure out what they were doing and couldn’t. “M-m-magnus!” she called out. Her teeth were chattering so much that the word came out all muddled. “I’m-m-m l-l-l-looking for M-m-m-magnus!”

The nearest man gestured toward the opening in the deck. She started toward it, then another man grabbed her. “Watch it. You’ll fall in and then Magnus will stick an axe in my chest like he did Croa.” The man gave her a lop-sided grin. Ailinn shook her head, trying to clear it. She couldn’t understand what he was talking about.

The man continued to hold her arm while he called down for Magnus. Magnus must have answered, for the man yelled, “She’s up here! Do you want me to help her down, or are you coming up?”

“I’m coming up!” she heard Magnus reply.

While Ailinn waited for Magnus, she experienced a sudden unease. There were so many men around and they were all looking at her. She was going to have to ask Magnus to take her someplace private. There was no way she could kiss him with all these men around.

Magnus climbed out of the hold. As soon as he was on deck, he seized her arm. “Ailinn, what is it? Why did you leave the tent? Has anyone tried to lay hands on you?”

“I-I-I-I...want-t-t-t-ted...t-t-t-toooo...tel-l-l you...”

“Thor’s hammer! Where’s your cloak?”

Had she lost her wits
? Magnus stared in dismay at the shivering Ailinn. “Why are you here? Did someone try to harm you or the other women? Tell me who it was! Are you well? Did they hurt you?”

When she responded, he could make out his name, but little else. Her teeth chattered so violently she couldn’t form proper words. But she didn’t appear injured in any way, only extremely chilled. Still, he’d seen men in her condition and knew it was dangerous. Taking her arm, he guided her back to the tent.

She kept trying to talk to him, but he couldn’t make any sense of it. He had to get her to shelter and get her warm. The best way would be to strip off her clothing and rub her skin with his hands. Or take off his clothes and hold her against his own nakedness. But he didn’t have the time to do such things, although the thought was tantalizing.
 He coaxed her into the tent. It wasn’t much warmer inside than on the open deck, but at least she would be out of the rain and wind. “Stay here,” he told her. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He crawled out of the tent and made his way to his sea chest. Moving his spare clothing aside, he took out his winter cloak. His sister-in-law Gyda had insisted he bring it, despite his protests that this was a summer voyage and he would never need such a heavy garment. Now he was glad she’d been so persistent.