Islands in the Fog (26 page)

"Go, Dana!" Halla shoved Dana forward. She pounced on the man, her fist colliding with his face before Halla could start to run. The man yelled in surprise and pain. Dana left no time for the man to react. She swept him at his left knee, yanking him to the ground with both hands. Then she stamped on the man's crotch.

The man shrieked now. His hand sought the knife he had dropped. But Halla swooped past, scooping the knife as she ran. She did not look back, but heard Dana pounding the track behind her. "Keep running, Lady Halla!"

Dana caught up to her, nearly passed her, but slowed to keep pace. Halla ran with all her strength. The man's screaming was already fading into the distance.
I don't want to become a slave
, the thoughts poured through her mind.
I should have never done this. I was a fool.

They sprinted away into the ever-brightening distance. She hoped Toki was ready to sail when they returned. She hoped the man would leave them alone. But in the distance she heard an angry, frustrated roar.

CHAPTER TWENTY

The six ships fled across the emerald waves, harsh voices booming across the water, struggling to rise over the splash and swish of oars.

"Row or die, you dogs!" Kjotve growled from the stern. "Those ships are headed straight for our hearts!"

Ulfrik wished he could row. Anything was preferable to remaining tied to the mast. Every stroke of the oars jarred the ship and his bindings bit deeper. His knees ached from remaining locked. His back tingled with strange sensations, like ants crawling over and biting his skin. Kjotve had ignored him on the mast for three days. He loosened Ulfrik's bindings so his hands and feet did not die. But Ulfrik could not sleep except when exhaustion swept him into dreamless black.

His face mashed against the smooth wood of the mast, Ulfrik struggled to turn to either side. Only piles of high clouds and blue skies broke the expanse of the sea. Kjotve's ship led his others in this race against pursuers. Snorri sat across from him, something Kjotve either allowed or overlooked. They could not speak often, but Ulfrik drew comfort from the physical closeness of his mentor and friend. Now, Snorri heaved on his oar. His thin hair was flat and matted to his head. Sweat flung from him with each gyration.

"Snorri," Ulfrik called, his voice weak. It sounded like another man's voice, even to himself. "Snorri, what's happening?"

Snorri glanced at him, then put his head down again. Kjotve repeated his command to row harder. Finally, Snorri chanced speech. "We're halfway to Dublin. Picked up sails on the horizon."

"When?" Ulfrik had lost his sense of time. He might have been asleep and not known it.

"Feels like a week ago." Snorri grunted as he kept the frenetic pace. "But just a few hours ago."

Ulfrik heard the crack and boom of the sail above his head. He had not realized it had been lowered. He immediately grasped Kjotve's plan: to disappear over the horizon then make a heading change, preferably toward fjords or islands, and lose the pursuers. Ulfrik had done as much himself in the past. Not many options existed to lose pursuers at sea.

"Rowing is a desperate gamble," Ulfrik shouted to Snorri, who shook off streams of sweat as he nodded. Ulfrik guessed a large fleet had to be at their backs, or Kjotve would have fought. Rowing to add speed to the sails aided evasion but exhausted his crew. If the pursuers caught up, tired crews would make poor fighters.

Ulfrik locked his knees again, relieving the stress on his legs. He did not care what happened now. Becoming another's slave would be no worse than being Kjotve's. He considered slavery to another might be better. He closed his eyes and tried to swallow, his mouth dry.

He thought of Runa and Gunnar, remembering them in better times. He could see Gunnar flitting over wide, green fields with a pack of other children. They danced in laughing circles, found excuses to tumble into puddles of mud, and threw handfuls of dried grass into the wind. The scene shifted, and Ulfrik saw his son as an infant. He was swaddled in a gray wool blanket, tucked into his mother's arms. Runa looked at Ulfrik and smiled. "He has my hair," she had told him, and pulled back the blanket to reveal the proof. Ulfrik had laughed then. He found himself nearly laughing now, his face still pressed against the mast.

Kjotve roared again. Ulfrik wondered if he would be finally cut down and forced to row. He was no help to anyone tied to a mast.

"Snorri," he called again. "We're halfway to Dublin?"

"At this pace we should be halfway to fucking Asgard."

Ulfrik's mind began to clear. Since his lashing, cogent thought was hard won, wrung out of waves of pain and delusions. But as he hung against the mast, plans began to form. If Snorri had spoken true, the Orkney Islands were close. If so, their pursuers were likely from the same place.

"Those ships," he shouted to Snorri, "there are many more than ours, yes?" Snorri shrugged, saving his breath for the rowing. "They must be Harald Finehair's men."

Snorri shot him a grave look, but did not reply. Ulfrik was convinced he guessed correctly. Harald had persecuted his rivals as far west as he could, straight into the Orkneys. Ulfrik had heard the stories from witnesses, men who had fled the attacks. Kjotve's fleet was large enough to fear no summertime raiders. But the organized military might of Harald Finehair would set him running. If Harald scented blood, he would not be put off the trail until he had tasted it as well.

"When the time comes, fight for Harald."

"What?" Snorri looked at him with wide eyes. Ulfrik realized he was shouting for anyone to hear. His world had shrunk to the left and right of the mast. He had forgotten Kjotve's men rowed aside Snorri, or one could be standing behind him. But no one appeared to have noticed, each man trapped in the hellish nightmare of rowing at top speed.

Row the men to death, Kjotve,
Ulfrik thought.
You will be caught. Harald won't miss such a fat prize.
Ulfrik remembered a rhyme from his youth, heard in his uncle's hall. The rhyme told of a small fish that was eaten by a bigger fish, that was then eaten by an even bigger fish, until finally the biggest fish of all had eaten. The biggest fish did not care for small fish, or even consider them food. At the time it was a funny rhyme to his childish mind. But now, it was reality, with the biggest fish in pursuit of them.

He hoped Harald would catch Kjotve. If given the chance, he would fight for Harald. If he fought well, he might earn freedom. He was the small fish.

Ulfrik still remained tied to the mast, flopping with the rocking waters. Kjotve ordered the men to stop rowing. They slumped forward in exhaustion, moaning with one voice of agony. Ulfrik's heart dropped at the order, realizing Kjotve had evaded pursuit. But he had to know for certain.

"Snorri, do you see anything on the horizon? Have they really dropped off?"

"Would we stop otherwise?" Snorri did not look up from hanging over his oar.

Ulfrik twisted his face to the opposite side. A wall of green-topped cliffs sped past in the distance. The coastline extended as far as he could see, which was not far with the mast in the way. But he recognized these as the Orkney Islands. The time at sea and the stars he had seen the night before informed him. These lands looked much like Nye Grenner. The islands were walled castles, encircled with their brown, shadowy cliffs occasionally opening to small beach.

The pang of loss struck him with that thought. So much water now separated him from his family. He believed they would never be reunited, not in this life.

Kjotve guided his ships through treacherous waters. Many rocks and strange currents guarded these shores. Men began shouting when one of Kjotve's other ships became caught in a current that threatened to wreck them. The ship pulled out, though Ulfrik could not see it. Eventually all the ships arrived safely at the beach. Once their ships had been pulled ashore, the crews and slaves gathered in a noisy crowd. Kjotve's men were pleased at having slipped pursuit, and they boasted loudly with one another.

Ulfrik expected to remain hanging on the mast. He imagined gulls would settle on his shoulder to pick at his raw flesh. Then he heard heavy footfalls behind him, then felt their presence.

Two men cut him free. He staggered, his legs weak and used to the rocking of the sea. He crashed backward into another man, and his back lit up with fire as he hit. Then he was shoved forward, bouncing off the mast pole. One of the two men caught him and yanked him steady. He spun Ulfrik to face Kjotve, who stood with his thick arms across his chest.

"Tell me your legs still hold you up," he growled. "If they don't, you're no value to anything but sharks."

"Bend down and I'll kick in your rotten teeth."

Kjotve's laughter exploded, spittle catching the evening light as it flew from his mouth. "Good to see your spirit isn't broken yet. I'm saving that for the slave block. Maybe you'll go to one of those dark men from the south, where it never snows. They buy men slaves for lovers. They pay well, too, but you're a little older than they usually like. Maybe I'll go back for your boy. Now he'd fetch me a good price."

Again Kjotve laughed, his two companions following his lead. They flanked Ulfrik and secured him each by an arm. Ulfrik pulled against them, if only to show he defied them. But the effort was halfhearted and they only laughed harder.

"Your dispute is with me, Kjotve. I'm the one you claim broke your oath. These other men are innocent. You disgrace yourself by taking them captive and selling them to slavery."

Kjotve doubled over in laughter. Tears sprouted from his eyes. Ulfrik felt his knees tremble, knowing he had come to his last chance to reason with Kjotve. "You should sell me, but free the others. Return them to their homes. It is the honorable thing to do."

Kjotve straightened himself and wiped his face with a meaty hand. As he choked off his laughter, he placed his hand on Ulfrik's shoulder. "I will admit that you've made a fine attempt for your men. Your argument, however, needs more work." He burst out laughing again, as did the others.

"I still have treasure buried in my lands. You know I wouldn't keep it all in my hall. If you free them, I will show you where it's buried. It will compensate for them, and you still keep me as your slave." Ulfrik expected more laughter, but instead Kjotve grew serious. His eyes darted back and forth as he thought. Ulfrik knew he had captured his interest.

"You probably do have treasure stuck away someplace," Kjotve said thoughtfully. "But the only twist in this story is that you're willing to show it to me for the lives of your men. Everyone else in your position always has hidden treasure to show me, only they promise to reveal it for their own freedom."

Kjotve smiled, a deep crease of shadow spreading across his face in the gathering darkness. Ulfrik did have treasure hidden, and no one but he and Toki knew its location. He would have done everything he promised, and hoped some chance for escape would show itself. He sagged between his two captors, his last plan played to no avail.

"I'm not a man to gamble, not with gold. I like the sure thing of sending all these strong-backed men to the slave block. They'll fetch me a good sum, as good as what you've dumped in a hole on your island of grass and sheep." Kjotve glanced out over the sea and rubbed his face.

"We're nearly to Dublin now. I cut you down so you can heal. You need to look healthy on the block. So starting tonight you'll be fed well and get rest. Bright eyes and a straight back will help sell you for the best price. Now get down with the others and no tricks. If you risk my investment, I'll have you skinned. I've got a man who can keep you awake the whole time he's peeling off your flesh. You don't want to find out what that's like, do you?"

Ulfrik shook his head. They dragged him down the gangplank and deposited him among the other slaves. Snorri and his other crew huddled around him. He looked up into their faces, a mixture of hope and resignation showed. Ulfrik swallowed hard, then closed his eyes, whispering, "I've tried all I know. I really tried."

No food tasted good to Ulfrik, though it was an improvement over the gruel impatient hands had spooned to him while tied to the mast. He sat in a circle with Snorri and the others, which now included Hardar’s and Vermund's people. Divisions held no meaning. They were all captives, all frightened, all worried for the future. They ate in silence. The night had turned ugly blue before darkness settled.

Beyond their ring, guards kept spears leveled at them. Kjotve had taken Ingrid and several of the better looking women and raped them. Then his men had their turns. Some of the men slaves, who had probably known the women, tried to rescue them. They were beaten down, but one persistent man ended his life on the point of a spear. While the rape continued unabated, Ingrid and the women screaming beneath one man after the next, the waiting men savaged the corpse. He was hacked into pieces and his head placed atop the spear that had slain him. His head overlooked the slaves now, ensuring no one moved.

Ulfrik closed his eyes as he chewed. Ingrid's screaming jabbed at him, setting him on edge. He tried to blank it out. Undoubtedly Kjotve had been serious about flaying him if he caused trouble. Ulfrik wondered if Kjotve might change his heart at the last moment and flay him anyway.

Once Kjotve had slaked his lust as many times as he could, the women's screaming stopped and turned to whimpering. It filled the night, a terrible comparison to the jovial talk and laughter of Kjotve's crew. Despite knowing Dublin was near, Ulfrik fell asleep easily. Exhaustion pulled him into the blackness of dreamless slumber.

The next morning they were herded aboard the ship. Kjotve ensured all were tied securely, but gave no order for rowing. They were to remain seated on the deck, bound to each other by seal skin ropes. Ulfrik and his crew were placed on Kjotve's ship, along with Ingrid. He observed Ingrid, her clothes dirty and torn, hair flying wildly in the sea breeze. She folded her arms over her chest, as if she wore nothing, and hunkered down against the gunwales with a few other women. Her expression was blank, as if she had no thoughts in her head. Ulfrik had barely known her, and she was the wife of his bitter enemy, but pitied her condition. She had seemed a decent woman to him, undeserving of this horrid fate. But so it was for all the others in captivity.