People of the Longhouse (39 page)

Ten feet away, Thyra stood up with a strip of sail tied around her waist and her Seidur sword clutched in both hands. Reeling, she cried out and lifted her sword to the heavens. As Gunnar staggered, fighting to stay upright, he stared in astonishment. Did she truly plan to do battle with Thor himself? Not a healthy idea.

A brilliant flash lit the air around Gunnar. At the same time, thunder almost knocked him from his feet. His eyes widened when the air started to sparkle.

Thyra shouted,
“Godi, watch!”

Gunnar tore his gaze from the sea.

The tip of her upraised sword burst into blue-violet flame, then a conflagration encased her entire body. The phosphorescent halo turned her pale skin and white tunic an unearthly shade of purple. Ecstasy twisted her beautiful face.

Thor’s fire …

Gasps and shouts erupted across the deck.

Thyra let out a deep-throated roar. As she thrust her sword higher into the storm, violet fire streamed down her arms, then spilled across the ship in glowing rivulets, flickering, dancing, sheathing every object and person with shimmering splendor. The tangled sail seemed to burst into blue flame. Just as the ship dove down another wave, a distinct hissing sound filled the fog, and the tips of every pointed object in sight blazed so brilliantly Gunnar let out an incoherent cry. An immense number of minute sparks darted though the air around him.

Bjarni’s attention must have wavered, for a wave broadsided
Thor’s Dragon.
The wall of water flooded over the top of Gunnar. He clutched the torn sail with all his might as the wave lifted him high above the deck. Holding his breath, he continued to see glowing points of blue-violet flame.

Where’s Thyra? What of my crew? Are we sinking?

An odd, long-buried memory flashed … he and his troop of forest-walkers, reeling drunk, beating a merchant to death for not bringing their mead with enough haste.
Gods, what sort of men would do something like that?

He felt empty, his bones as hollow as a sparrow’s. Had he done enough good in his later years to make up for his youth? Not likely. Some things, like killing the merchant, were not redeemable. If he had one more chance, he …

High above him a miracle spun to life. A fluorescent rainbow arched across the sky. The magnificent colors seemed too beautiful to be of this world. Was it the Rainbow Bridge that went from Asgard, the City of the Gods, to Midgard, the World of Men?

He tried to shift to see if the bridge also extended from Asgard to the roots of Yggdrassil, the sacred tree. Yggdrassil connected the worlds below to the worlds above. That bridge was reputed to be even more magnificent, and rarely seen by men, except at death.

When his ship swooped out of the sea, Gunnar’s body slammed to the deck like a hurled rock. He gasped a breath into his starving lungs and rolled to his back. The ship heaved and pitched beneath him, but patches of gray predawn sky shone through the clouds. As though being swept away by a huge hand, the arctic fog started to shred and thin.

Groans filled the air.

Gunnar blinked in disbelief and sat up.

The waves, still formidable, were no longer monstrous. As the terror drained from his muscles, amazement set in. He felt light-headed.

“Somebody help me?”
Bjarni shouted. “Help me pull Kiran aboard!”

Gunnar scrambled to his knees, saw Bjarni leaning over the steerbord side gripping a rope in his fists, and straining until his bulging muscles seemed about to fray.

Gunnar slipped and slid his way across the wet deck, grabbed hold of the rope and, hand over hand, helped Bjarni pull Kiran aboard. The big youth was half-drowned, spitting up water and gasping. His shoulder-length black curls straggled around his bearded face. His green eyes had gone huge.

Gunnar slapped him on the back, and as he did, he lost his footing. He felt himself falling, tilting, and he let out a yell just as he toppled over the side.

A granite hand grabbed his arm as he fell, and Gunnar’s body pounded the hull so hard it knocked the wind out of him.

“Kiran, help me!” Bjarni shouted.

Kiran scrambled to the edge, gripped a handful of Gunnar’s shirt, and helped Bjarni drag him aboard.

Gunnar gasped, “Gods, that was a close one, boys. Thank you!”

Kiran turned to vomit up a flood. When he could finally breathe, he rasped, “Godi, I’ve never seen Thor’s fire like that.”

“Nor have I. Now get yourself together. I need every man. Start looking for others who might have been swept overboard.”

Kiran coughed. “Yes, Godi.”

Gunnar, Bjarni, and Kiran dragged men aboard. Two were gone, swallowed by the sea. The empty loops that had been tied around their waists dangled from ropes over the side.

When he had eleven oarsmen and Bjarni back at their posts, rowing to keep the ship steady, Gunnar stumbled to the broken stump that remained of the mast and slipped his arm around it to look for Thyra, or others, who might be flailing out among the waves. He’d no idea how he’d rescue them, but he’d find a way.

“Thyra?” he shouted.
“Rolf? Sokkolf? Where are you?”

Fog drifted around Gunnar in tufts, but a narrow band of ocean had opened up beneath the fog, revealing water for quite a distance. Where the waves reflected the sky, they had a pink sheen. Sol’s appearance on the eastern horizon couldn’t be far away.

The change in the weather had been so sudden Gunnar still couldn’t believe it. Had Thyra’s bold willingness to do battle with Thor softened the Old Redbeard’s heart?

The toppled mast, ropes, and torn sail created a tangled mass that streteched across the deck, and floated upon the sea to the steerbord. There he saw a strange lump. Thyra had wrapped the sail over her head and shoulders, wearing it like a burial shroud as she floated in the icy water. Only her pale face showed in the midst of the white fabric. Her crystalline blue eyes seemed to peer through Gunnar to his bones. If he hadn’t known better, he’d think that gaze still flamed with Thor’s phosphorescent fire.

“Thyra! Are you alive?”

She threw her head back and laughed with what sounded like wild exultation. “I’m more alive that I have ever been!”

Weak with disbelief, Gunnar shouted, “Kiran, pull Thyra aboard! Bjarni, once she’s aboard, you need to help me cut the broken mast loose. We’re not safe yet.”

Kiran scrambled to extend a hand to help Thyra as she crawled across the extended mast, and when the young woman at last stood on the deck she walked straight to Gunnar. The storm had soaked her thin white tunic so that it clung to her young body like a second skin, outlining her small breasts. He smelled the perfume of her body. Mingled scents of sea and young womanhood, and something pungent, perhaps leftover by the blue flames that had swallowed her whole. Drenched ivory locks sleeked down her sides and back. The dark runes on her teeth flashed with her smile as she extended an arm and pointed to something over his shoulder. “Behold the reward, Godi Gunnar.”

Gunnar spun around.

A silver line etched the shape of the foaming water where it dashed itself against towering black cliffs. Smoke rose from what might be a village, but whether those fires belonged to their fellow colonists or the Unipeds he could not say.

Every crew member cheered.

Gunnar ran a hand over his face. “Stop gaping and get back to work! Kiran, keep searching the sea for Rolf and Sokkolf. They may still be alive out there.”

Tor and Forge titles by Kathleen O’Neal Gear and W. Michael Gear

Note: Within series, books are best read in listed order when noted.

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Thousands of years ago, small hunting bands crossed the fragile land bridge linking the Eurasian continent to the Americas and discovered a land untouched by humankind. Over the centuries that followed, their descendants spread throughout this land.

Bestselling authors and award-winning archaeologists W. Michael Gear and Kathleen O’Neal Gear bring the stories of these first North Americans to life in this magnificent, multi-volume saga.

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The Gears breathe new life into the vanished world of the Anasazi. Dive 800 years into the past—a world of danger, murder, and a power that transcends time.

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The Betrayal

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Thin Moon and Cold Mist

Sand in the Wind

This Widowed Land

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Long Ride Home

Big Horn Legacy

The Athena Factor

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