Sword Brothers (30 page)

The sun failed and day turned to night. Thor hurled lightning bolts with the carelessness of a child. Rain began to slash the sea, driven by a wind that tore at Ulfrik's clothes.

His crew huddled against the gunwales. He and Finn pulled the steering board onto the deck. Both stared into each other's eyes.

"I'm scared," Finn said. "I've never been in a storm like this."

"I have, and I am scared as well."

A wave crashed over the deck and the full horror of the storm was underway. Cold, foamy water doused the crew, knocking Finn to the opposite gunwale. Ulfrik opened his mouth to order him to tie himself down, but the next wave flattened him to the deck. For an instant he heard nothing but gurgling, rushing water and lay flat against the planks as the water pummeled his back. His shirt was over his head when the water receded, and he fought it down in time to see Finn holding onto the rail.

Only he was hanging over the water.

Ulfrik leapt to his feet, ran halfway across the deck before his right leg yanked back and he slammed to the deck again. His vision flashed white, and his mouth filled with coppery blood and salty water. The rain pooled and sloshed around his face and he lay stunned. He struggled to hands and knees, but relaxed when he saw another man dragging Finn onto the deck.

Ulfrik smiled and called out his thanks. In the next instant, the ship plunged into the trough of a mighty wave and the man who had rescued Finn disappeared overboard. Both Ulfrik and Finn screamed. The crewman had left too much slack in his rope. Ulfrik did not need to see what Finn did when he clawed up to the rail. The man would remain tied but still submerged in the water. Finn hauled on it in frustration, but it was taut and bending the rail. His curse was barely audible above the howling wind and hissing rain.

The rest of the crew huddled beneath their cloaks like barnacles on a hull. Ulfrik heard the distant crack and snap of a ship breaking apart. Shrieks and curses were indistinct in the terrible wind, and doubtless Ulfrik's imagination filled in much of what he could not truly hear. He knew all too well the horrid notes of that song. Ran sang a bitter tune to the new lovers sinking to her bed.

The ship rocked and tilted in the storm. After each breaking wave threatened to swamp his ship, he blew the sea water out of his beard and pulled the hair from his eyes to count the men. He could never finish the count before another wave doused him. His clothes were stuck to his body and his leg tingled from the rope tightening with each time he tumbled away. Chests and boxes had broke from their hasty ties and slid across the deck.

"Throw those overboard," Ulfrik screamed. Loose debris could kill a man as surely as drowning. But his strongest bellow could not defeat the volume of the storm, and those who heard him only glanced up before lowering their heads again. His men would laugh at a thousand spears arrayed against them, but none were brave enough to face the fury of a storm.

Grabbing the rails, he hauled himself to his knees and inhaled to shout his order once again. Instead, it died in his throat when a wave like a foaming fist of a sea giant loomed over his ship.

It punched down on him, flattening him into the midnight world of cold, tearing water. He flipped onto his back and twisted in the water like a fish on a hook. His tie pulled at his leg with enough force that he felt as if his foot would be torn away. Worse still, as he twisted, his knee buckled and a lightning strike of agony shot through his entire right leg. He opened his mouth to scream but water poured into it.

The wave washed over the ship, and while it was low in the water it had not swamped. The hold was a pond filled with shattered wood and his men were still aboard, though it seemed to him some had vanished. He noted a rope tied to the railing that fluttered in the wind.

Finn huddled against the rail, flopping as the ship violently rocked and rain stung them like tiny arrows. He would have seemed dead but for his tight grip on the amulet of Thor's hammer he wore at his neck. Ulfrik had no care for his. Thor had already decided what he wanted to do to Ulfrik's ships, and no prayer would persuade him otherwise. He felt bad for you his young friend, who was nothing more than a pale face in a gray world of rain. He called out to him, and when Finn finally noticed Ulfrik attempted a smile.

"This storm must soon blow out," he shouted, not knowing if he spoke the truth. "Hold steady a while longer. We will live, I tell you."

Finn smiled and it warmed Ulfrik to see it. He was truly a good man, one of the best to have ever served him.

Ulfrik nodded and crawled back to his place against the gunwale. Another wave slammed the ship and sent him sprawling head first into the deck. He rose again, each time more slowly than the last. He turned again to see his crew, but a wave counter-punched from the opposite side.

A cask launched into the air.

Ulfrik saw it, a smeary shadow careening for him. He scrabbled to his feet, but not soon enough.

The cask smashed into the deck before him, did not break, then bounced into him. It caught him flush in the gut, and like a blow from a giant fist it sent him flying back to the rail.

The small of his back flexed against the wood rail. His arms windmilled for something to grab.

Then he plunged backward over the side and his leg yanked tight with another excruciating bolt of pain. His head slammed against the strakes of the hull and water splashed into his face. He could not see anything, but hung inverted over the side of the ship, his head dragging in the water.

When the ship rocked, he was plunged beneath the waves. His screams were a gurgle and his eyes burned with salt. He came up just when he feared his breath was out. Again he saw nothing.

Unless the storm did blow out soon, he would die hanging from the side of his ship.

CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

Birds. Blue sky. Gentle rocking. A creak of wood.

Ulfrik raised his head and cold water crawled down the back of his neck. His mouth burned with the taste of salt. He was on the deck of his ship. His vision was blurred and cloudy and it did not clear with blinking. It was as if peering through a gap in raw wool. He felt a cooling breeze on his legs and hips, and again raised his head to see his pants had been pulled down to his knees. He began to pull them up, working slowly as every joint in his body fired with pain. The sopping fabric dragged against his flesh, but he shimmied the pants up to his waist. The effort spent him, and he lay facing the sky.

The dots of gulls overhead circled and he heard their faint cries. Land had to be nearby, but he was not certain. Part of him fought to look up and survey the damage and the other part suffered too much pain to move.

"Finn?" His words were feeble and he did not expect an answer. Were he not so exhausted he would have jumped in shock when a hand brushed his shoulder.

Ulfrik flopped his head to the side, and saw Finn lying facedown on the deck. His hair was flattened against his head and watery blood dripped from his nostrils. He smiled at him as if just awakening from a pleasant dream. Ulfrik struggled to his elbows and saw the rope still tied to Finn's leg, only it had been cut.

He remembered being knocked overboard and dunked underwater, but nothing more. Realization flashed and he gave an astonished look to Finn.

"You pulled me back aboard. Alone?" Finn closed his eyes and shook his head. Ulfrik's vision cleared though his eyeballs throbbed with every beat of his heart. Two other men lay unconscious near Finn, both facedown with their clothing torn and plastered to their bodies. All around debris shifted with the rocking of the ship and men sat or lay flat on the deck. Some were awake, staring listlessly into nothing as water dripped from their faces.

"You saved my life," Ulfrik said. Again Finn did nothing but shrug and kept his eyes closed.

Pulling himself up to the rails, he stared out across the flat ocean to the horizon. Faint dots marked ships, though he could not know whether they were his. Broken planking, lost shields, empty barrels, and other debris collected around the hull of his ship. He turned behind and saw a shore of dark pine trees where two other ships were already beached. Staggering across the deck, his legs lighting up with pain, he leaned against the rail, straining to see who waited on shore. Younger eyes might have determined who stood on the beach, but to him they were dots of color moving slowly. Several dots appeared to be waving both hands overhead, and he returned the gesture.

Now he returned to checking on his crew. By count alone he guessed seven men had been lost, which was better than he had expected. The hold was still flooded, meaning all of their armor and weapons would be ruined. His remaining gold, if it had not been thrown overboard, would also be submerged. The ship's boat still remained tied to the rack at the center of the deck, and enough oars survived so the ship could be rowed. The mast and sail were also in good shape. The fat knarr sat lower in the water, but she had survived admirably. He did not want to imagine the fate of his warships, for those smaller, lighter vessels would have fared much worse.

His activity galvanized the surviving crew to begin recovery. Soon men were bailing out the hold while others raised the mast and started work on the rigging. Finn and Ulfrik wordlessly set the steering board back into the water and used a length of broken rail to replace the lost tiller. They pulled together the remnants of their ship, and as the sun climbed to the top of the sky, they began rowing for shore. Another ship had beached farther north, and Ulfrik saw the crew filing down the strand toward the main group.

After pulling their ship ashore, Ulfrik and Finn both joined Gunnar who had come to greet them. He was as bedraggled as every other survivor, and he held Morgan to his side as if a breeze might blow her away. He did not smile as Ulfrik approached.

"Are my grandchildren safe?" Ulfrik asked as he worked through the loose beach sand. Each step was like a knife stab to each of his thighs.

"They are gathering wood for a fire," Gunnar said. "Have you seen Hakon's ship?"

Ulfrik faced the water. The waves lapped daintily at the shore, nothing like their monstrous shapes during the storm. Scattered shadows on the horizon had to be the remnants of his fleet.

"If he's not on the ship that landed to the north, then he must be one of those scattered to the horizon."

Gunnar lowered his head and released Morgan. She wiped a strand of hair from her face and gave Ulfrik a weak smile before leaving. "I don't know where we have landed. I sent men ahead to scout while we waited."

Ulfrik grunted. Broken shields and busted wood rolling onto the shore caught his attention. "The storm and the signs of wreckage will bring plunderers. Any wrecks will be claimed by the local jarls, or if this is Frankia, Hrolf will claim us. How are your weapons? My mail is ruined without careful drying and scrubbing."

"Same for us," Gunnar said. He waved at the ships leaning on the beach. "We had our extra weapons wrapped in sealskin, and those survived with only a touch of water. The rust can be cleaned from those blades, but like you our mail will need care or rust to nothing."

Ulfrik left Gunnar and moved among his people, offering what comfort he could. Men stacked casks of mead on the beach, at least half of which were tainted with sea water. Supply was enough to camp for three or four days, but they would soon be forced to move from the beach. Other men tested the sea-worthiness of their vessels, reviewing the hulls and sails. Two more ships joined them on the shore, bringing the total to seven.

By the late afternoon, Gunnar's scouting party had returned with news they had landed in Contentin where the locals still fell under Frankish rule. They warned off would-be treasure hunters, but Ulfrik still had men alert for danger. The news buoyed his hopes, as the peninsula that formed the bulk of Contentin was not far from his intended landing south of Hrolf's borders. Yet as the day wore on and many of those dots he had hoped were his own ships disappeared over the horizon, his stomach flared with burning anger.

"Of all the ships I returned with, only seven have landed," he said as he stood just out of reach from the lapping waves. He inhaled the crisp sea air, still scenting the rain that had scoured his fleet from the earth. "All either destroyed or scattered by Fate's plans. All my gold, sent to the bottom of the sea."

Finn and Gunnar stood behind him. Hakon was still missing. Finn broke the silence first. "But we are still strong enough to challenge Mord. We must have close to two hundred men, most of them warriors."

"Challenge but not crush," Ulfrik said. He smiled bitterly. "Then there is the matter of getting at Gunther One-Eye. He's the real force behind all of this. Mord is just living his father's dreams. We'll never get to him as long has he hides in Rouen behind Hrolf's throne. And there's the key--Hrolf. He will have to stand beside Mord in any battle."

"But he does not have to fight us," Gunnar corrected. "Unless Mord calls for his aid."

Ulfrik snickered at the comment. "Of course he would call for aid. He has no shame. He hired a killer to stab me in the back. What kind of man does that but a weakling and coward?"

The rolling waves and sounds of the camp filled the silence. A ship was in the middle distance, rowing for the billowing columns of smoke Ulfrik had set to attract his lost ships. He ran his fingers through his tangled, stiff hair. "I have no more than what I left with, and my fortune is spent. Fate has dealt me a harsh blow."

"But your sword is still sharp," Gunnar said. He grabbed his shoulder and spun him around. His son's face was puffy from injuries sustained in the storm, but his dark eyes were alight with ferocity. "Sharp enough to cut a snake in two. So we are no longer the mighty army we had planned to be." Gunnar spit on the ground. "That's what I say to that challenge. We are better than Mord, and our vengeance is righteous. I have made too many mistakes in this life. I will not make the mistake of leaving this chance for revenge. We are where the gods have placed us. So let us use that as we may, and gut that traitorous bastard Mord and his blind father."