Islands in the Fog (35 page)

He strode through the grass, tramped across the rocky beach, then splashed into the knee-high surf. Gunther met him at the rails and helped Ulfrik aboard. The crews drew up their anchor stones and struck their sails. Ulfrik squeezed out the water from the legs of his pants.

"A lot of yelling, and nothing to show for it," Gunther said, then spit on the deck. "We don't need a man like him with us. He's no warrior, no killing instinct in him. I wonder if he worries about how loud he should fart?"

"What did Ragnvald say?" Snorri asked as Gunther laughed at his own joke.

Ulfrik watched the thin line of Ragnvald and his hirdmen standing in the waving grass. He thought of standing stones, like those left by the old people. Ragnvald was one of those lichen covered giants, sunk into the earth and never to be moved.

"He told me I'm proud and that I waste the lives of my people for it." Ulfrik waited for an answer. The deck rocked as the ship hit deeper waters. When no reply came, he turned behind and found Snorri had left to join others in getting the ship on course.

"So you say the same, old friend," Ulfrik muttered to himself. The shore rapidly fell away, all while the black line of Ragnvald's men stood watching. "If the gods would grant me another way, I would take it. But Fate draws me to this doom with Hardar, and only one of us will live."

Ulfrik stood in the prow of Gunther's ship, hand resting on the fearsome dragon head fixed to it. He glimpsed small boats frantically rowing over the horizon. He smiled grimly, final confirmation Hardar knew the time and direction of attack. Those boats had probably been manned in shifts ever since his spies had been caught. He drooped his head and stepped down from the prow.

The sail formed a belly in the wind, and sea spray flew over the deck and flecked him with cold water. Gunther steered his ship, singing a song about a dragon-slaying hero who won gold and glory. Such battle songs gave men heart. With Hardar warned, the men would need heart to climb the slope that formed the only approach from the sea.

A thin fog clung to the islands where the cliffs dampened the winds. He spied milky blue outlines of the mountains surmounting the fog on the horizon. Snorri appeared at his shoulder.

"Never thought we'd have to take that slope ourselves."

"It was your idea. I wanted to build further up."

"No, it would've cut into pasture land. We built in the best spot."

They stood at the center of the deck. The others were already wearing their mail and readying weapons. No one rowed, saving strength for the battle ahead. A group of men were dividing arrows into sheaves. Ulfrik swallowed hard.

"If I fall, flee the field. Look for my family and if they still live, care for them."

"If you fall, I am already dead. Ask someone else to flee."

As they closed the distance to Nye Grenner, men passed skins of mead to steady their nerves. Ulfrik normally would not bother, but this day he gladly took the skin and guzzled until his belly warmed with drink. He handed it to Snorri who likewise drank. Gunther called his men to prepare for landing, then gestured for Ulfrik to join him.

"If this slope is the Valkyrie home you claim it is, you better have a plan to lead my men up it." Gunther's fixed his single eye on Ulfrik. "We're expecting easy work here. I don't have another eye to feed to a spear."

"It will be glorious. I will lead the charge, and Odin's hand will sweep away the arrow storm. Then we will smash their shield wall with the might of Thor's hammer. Nothing but death will be in our wake."

"Better come up with something besides bad poetry if you want me to follow."

"Once we start moving, don't stop. That was Hardar's failure. There is a dip where we will drop out of sight. Get there fast, then it's a sprint to the top. You are always safer going up than going down. Besides, arrows are costly and both Hardar and I spent most of ours already."

Gunther frowned at him. "I hope I wasn't wrong about you."

"I will lead the way, and if I die and you were wrong, then don't follow."

Ulfrik now donned his mail, strapped his sword and long knife around his waist. He took a throwing ax, smiling at Snorri as he did. His old friend was also his battle mentor during his childhood, and had emphasized the value of throwing axes. Snorri stuck two into his belt. "Seems like Gunther has plenty, and you know how useful they are."

The ships bumped and glided across the final stretch. He returned to the prow, where many warriors now crowded, shouting curses and laughing at the distant shadows of the enemy. They boasted of the easy killing, and spoke of what plunder they hoped to find. Two men worked to fix Gunther's battle standard to a pole. It was a wolf's head with open maw that dripped blood. It was faded and worn, flown many times in hard weather. They raised it up with a joyous shout from the crew.

Ulfrik's standard lay trampled in his hall. His eyes drew to slits, thinking of flying it once more. For now, he reached into his bag and withdrew his helm. It was the nearest thing he had to a standard. Gunther had recovered it from Kjotve's spoils and returned it to Ulfrik. He slid it onto his head, drawing the cheek plates over his face. His brother, Grim, had once worn this helm. Now he wore it and remembered all the struggle it represented. It bolstered his resolve. He closed his eyes a moment, summoned memories of his father and his uncle, of his wife and son. He gritted his teeth and felt his arms tremble with power. When he opened his eyes again, the shore had drawn near.

Hardar had sensibly pulled his warships onto land, though the boats that had been picketed at sea were hastily beached. At the top of the grassy slope, in the swirling vestiges of fog, stood Hardar and his men. They formed a block, dark and solid. Overhead Hardar flew his banner of a running stag with blood tipped horns.

Gunther's two ships glided to the shore, almost jauntily, and disgorged the men. One hundred snarling warriors assembled on the beach, crowding into a mass of glinting iron and clacking shields. Gunther stood large and proud at the center of the line, as did Ulfrik. Snorri was to his left and the rest of Ulfrik's men filled the front ranks. The wolf head standard went up, and the men roared. Hardar and his men did not waver.

"Seems like the old fool learned some sense," Snorri muttered.

"We outnumber him," Ulfrik scanned the spear tips blinking at him in the evening sun. Then he scanned the rocks to on either side, detecting nothing hidden. He noticed severed heads had been posted at the empty docks. Ulfrik could not identify them, but knew they were his people. His pulse quickened.

"The barracks might hide more men," Ulfrik said to Gunther. "Either inside or behind. If you try to flank those rocks on our right, the buildings will funnel you into bow fire. The straight path up the slope is safest still."

Gunther nodded. "Is the fat one Hardar? Why doesn't he do something? What is wrong with the jarls of these islands? No one loves action?"

"Hardar, you oath-breaking turd," Ulfrik screamed, sliding his blade from its wooden scabbard. "Ulfrik Ormsson is here. I am the blade of the gods, come for vengeance. Stand down and face justice."

A ripple went through the front ranks. Ulfrik could not see Hardar's reaction. As he was about to bellow another taunt, Hardar and two other men came forward. He held a dried branch above his head.

"We've got to fucking talk about this?" Gunther said, slamming his sword back into its sheath.

"Come with me to the parley, and you too, Snorri."

"That can't be a hazel branch, so we don't have to honor it," Gunther said.

"It's not, but it's the same meaning. Let's discover what shit will drop from his mouth."

Ulfrik climbed the slope with as much careless ease as he could muster. A war leader's every action was a signal to the men who followed him, and he wanted to communicate strength and certainty. Hardar descended carefully, angling his way down so as not to slip. His motions looked clumsy and afraid, which Ulfrik relished.

The two groups met in the middle. Gunther and Snorri flanked him, their expressions stony. Ulfrik looked Hardar over as if estimating a trade horse. He was still fat, his eyes flinty. Coppery gray hair flowed from beneath his iron helmet. His mail, however, had patches of rust in the deep links. Ulfrik did not recognize the two men with Hardar, but they all shared the pug noses that ran in Hardar's family.

"So the dog returns to sniff his shit," Hardar said, a sneer creasing his face.

"You're standing on my land. Surrender or die. What's your choice?"

Hardar exploded in laughter, though the other men remained unimpressed. "I don't need to make a choice, Ulfrik. You do. You stole my family. Not content with my daughter, you took my wife too. So I am justice and vengeance, not you. I offer the same choice: surrender or die."

"You're outnumbered," Ulfrik pointed past Hardar. "And these men look like farmers playing at warrior. See the men I bring to battle, fierce warriors every one. You are finished."

Hardar shook his head. "I'm not coming down this slope. You can send your men into my arrows. They're not fighting for you, but for the easy victory. They'll run to their ships when they taste of the arrow storm." Hardar looked directly at Gunther. "Am I wrong, One-Eye? You're not sacrificing men for this foggy island of rock and grass."

"Wasn't planning on it until I found out what a fucking maggot you are. Now I look forward to pissing on your entrails."

Ulfrik jabbed a finger at Hardar's chest. "I'll meet you at the top of this slope. When I get there, you die."

He whirled away and began to return to his lines. Then Hardar called his name.

"There is another way to settle this."

Ulfrik stopped, but did not turn. "There is no other way. You've brought this on yourself."

"Single combat, you and me to the death. Let the gods decide who is just."

The offer hit Ulfrik like a rock. He turned slowly, confusion written on his face. Snorri and Gunther appeared equally surprised. Yet Hardar and his cousins stood resolute. Hardar stepped forward, raising his voice. "I challenge Ulfrik Ormsson to single combat to the death. Will he accept?"

The decision had to be swift. He looked to his companions, whom he could not read. He did not fear declining the challenge, for despite his poor positioning he had an advantage in experience and numbers. But Ragnvald's words came back to him. He thought of Hardar's men, as strange as it was to consider the enemy. He padded his ranks with mercenaries, but otherwise he mustered the locals, maybe even people from Nye Grenner. Ulfrik would be killing local people. Gunther's foreign men would be killing local people at his command.

"I will accept."

"Ulfrik," Snorri stepped toward him. But Ulfrik held up his hand to stop him.

Hardar smiled, and instantly Ulfrik realized he was led into a trap.

"But only if we fight on the ground of my choosing."

Hardar's face flinched. "We are all assembled now. We fight here, and end this struggle."

Ulfrik took two strides toward Hardar, and his cousins reached for their blades. He stopped short, now certain of the trap. "I choose the ground or nothing. There is nothing special about this slope unless you've laid a trap here. Decide now."

Hardar and Ulfrik squinted at each other. Then Hardar's eyes faltered. "You choose the ground," he said.

"The field where we held the summer games, just behind the village. We fight there. You bring your men, and allow my men through to the place. Then let the gods decide who is just."

They parted, Hardar tramping back up the slope while Ulfrik walked lightly down to his lines. Snorri caught his arm. "What are you thinking? You're not afraid of taking this slope? We've got him beaten."

"This is between Hardar and me. No more people die for our quarrels."

"My men aren't afraid to die," Gunther said. "And not many will. We've faced tough charges before, you know."

"It's not your men I care for."

Snorri released his grip. Ulfrik pulled ahead. He knew death shadowed him now. He looked skyward for a sign, but the gods withheld their auguries.

CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

Ulfrik prodded the ground with his foot, smiling at the mud clinging to his boots. "Rain and fog, never have I welcomed you as I do today."

He studied Hardar, who spoke hurriedly with men. His cousins shouted at him and his face grew red. A hirdman stood behind, carrying a large shield with an iron boss and rim. Red and white adorned the wood, Hardar's colors. He shoved one of his cousins away, then took the shield, and donned a new helm, one similar to Ulfrik's. His hirdman leaned into him, speaking in his ear and grasping Hardar's hand. They parted with a nod, then Hardar lumbered into the center of the field.

Ulfrik scanned the expanse. Hardar's men formed a tentative line. He noted some betting, reflecting their lack of discipline and loyalty. He hoped they also lacked a will to fight. To his right, Nye Grenner sat empty and silent. He had searched for familiar faces, and had found none. He prayed they were not in Hardar's battle line.

"This is madness," Snorri stated. "But I should have expected it from you. It is in your family."

Ulfrik gave a wan smile, then handed his sword and knife to Snorri. He removed his helmet and dropped it into the grass with his shield. "Gunther, help me out of my mail."

"I was only joking," Snorri said, his eyes wide. "What are you doing?"

"Making myself lighter and faster than that lump of iron and fat standing across from me. Feel the ground; it's muddy. It'll hinder his footing with all that weight." Gunther laughed as he helped Ulfrik out of his mail. Snorri kicked the ground and frowned.

"You've made it so he only need hit you once."

"He won't hit me once." Ulfrik took back his sword and knife, then scooped his shield from the grass. Gunther slapped his back.

"Gods guide your sword," Snorri said. "And come back with that pig's blood on it."

Ulfrik winked, then stepped into the field to meet Hardar.