Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) (37 page)

A shadow fell across her, and she heard a splash. She saw a man with a broken spear shaft protruding from his back bob on the water until it swallowed him. A bloom of red marked where had had fallen. Runa kicked and flapped her arms, but again her head went under and now she could not bring herself up. The water bubbled and gurgled in mute world. Her eyes opened, but she saw nothing but watery light and the green shape of the dead man floating for the river bottom.

Then she stopped fighting. Her limbs grew leaden and she needed all her strength to hold her breath. Her chest burned and the urgency to breathe gathered like a volcanic pressure ready to burst. Muted, dull sounds of bumping wood and splashes surrounded her. Her mouth slipped bubbles over her face.

This is how I die, she thought. Down to the river mud. Alone.

Then something warm enveloped her. She opened her eyes again, but the man was too close. His hair swirled over his face, masking him, but the grip around her waist was firm and comforting. She began to rise toward the light. Her legs kicked as she flailed against breathing. The light drew closer, but she felt as if hours had passed and no time was left to escape. Her chest burned and her head shook in protest. The surface was so close. The world began to grow dark and she went limp.

Air slammed her face and her mouth opened with a massive gasp. The world of sound crashed back into her ears, the clash of weapons and shrieks of the dying. Men shouted while others fell into the water. She gripped the man with her, who in turn held a rope. They both dragged through the bloody water to the hull of the ship. The man in the water lifted her up to waiting hands that grabbed her clothes first. Her shirt tore and one man cursed. She was too paralyzed with fits of gasping and coughing to help herself. They dropped her into the water and she squealed, but then the man below shoved her up once more. They caught her now and hauled her over the side as inelegant as a porpoise dragged to the deck.

She crashed on her face and water flooded off her onto the deck. Closing her eyes, she shivered with terror and cold, watching feet shuffle around her and hearing them thump on the deck. Her mind could not hold a single thought other than she was breathing again. Hands flipped her over and a bedraggled face peered down into hers.

"Are you alive?" The voice was hoarse with fear. She shook her head, staring through him and not understanding what happened. The man wiped the water from his face, then untied the rope fastened under his arms. "Get her a blanket."

The voice was familiar, and she tried to focus on him. The man collapsed to the deck, and one of his crew threw a dry cloak over him. More hands lifted her and wrapped her in a dry cloak. She looked to thank the man, but he already abandoned her. A man lay on the deck as if napping, then she noticed the white-fledged arrow sticking from his back and the runnel of blood beneath his corpse.

Her eyes widened and she looked at her rescuer. Konal sat smiling at her, his disfiguring scars bright against his bloodless flesh.

"I saved your life," he said, his voice barely audible over the crash of battle.

She struggled to stand, glimpsing Gunnar's ship lashed to the enemy before Konal pulled her flat.

"Your crew might shoot you as readily as me. Stay down."

"And your only son is on that ship. Your allies were about to kill him before I fell overboard."

Konal's smile fell and he turned aside, his wet hair hiding his face. She darted to the side and began to crawl over the rails. Gunnar's ship was only ten feet distant. She would either drown or reach the ship, but she would not be carried away by the man who had turned her into a weak, dependent worm.

"Gunnar! Aren!" she cried, throwing her leg over the rails. Her wet skirts tangled her legs and the best she could hope to achieve was to plop into the water.

"Mother?" Gunnar came to the rails, his ax and shield slicked with blood. Aren joined him and screamed when he saw her poised to fall into the water. He darted back into the fray swirling behind them.

She was about to call back when two hands dug into her shoulders and hauled her back. Konal's wet breath assailed her ear as he leaned into her. "What madness is this? You want to drown?"

Before she could answer, both she and Konal froze in place. Aren charged out of the screaming battle and leapt over the rails, flying like a cat across the gap and landing on the deck in a crumpled heap. Crew ran at him with spears, but Konal dropped Runa to the deck and intercepted them.

"Get back! He's my son," he cried, and the crew fell away.

Runa clawed back up on the rails, but now she had Aren with her. The ships were already plying apart as Konal's crew manned the oars and began to row. The sail unfurled and the ship lurched ahead. She searched for Gunnar, but the battle on his deck had sucked him back into the fray. Turning to Konal and Aren, she found her son wrestling with Finn's loaned sword while Konal's men held him at spear point.

"You fool," she yelled, then charged for him. "What are you doing leaping onto an enemy ship with no one to help?"

"I came to rescue you," he said, even as enemy spears prodded him.

"Enemy ship?" Konal said, whirling on her. "Is that what you call me now? What happened to husband?"

"I divorce you, Konal Ketilsson!" Her declaration drew sharp looks from the crew. Konal's scarred face crunched into a murderous frown, then he backhanded her.

She slammed to the deck and saw a white light as her head struck the wood. Konal dragged her by the feet, exposing her legs to her hips as he did and shouted to his crew, "Tie her down!"

"Konal," she heard Gunnar screaming from his ship. "You murderous coward. I'll kill you myself."

Runa heard no more as two men handled her no better than a wet sack of grain. One held her down while the other tied her legs together. He patted her thighs and winked at her. She spit at him, but only drew their laughter. In the time it took to dredge up more spit, they had tied her legs together and her hands at her lap then dropped her back to the deck.

Men were already at their oars, rowing furiously and ignoring the corpses at their feet. Konal leaned on the rails, ducking when a smattering of arrows chased his ship away. Aren growled in frustration as his captors removed his sword and bound him in ropes. Runa set her head down and watched the clouds slide past. The ship rocked and creaked and the men cursed. The corpse of a sad-eyed man lay an arm's length away, staring at her as his blood ebbed and flowed with the motion of the ship.

"You should have thanked me for saving your life," Konal said, reappearing over her. She turned her head aside and stared at Aren as he sat against the gunwales with his hands tied and head bowed in shame. Konal waited then sat beside her with a groan. His whispering voice set her teeth on edge. "What were you doing on that ship?"

"I should ask you the same," she said. "But I know what you were doing with the enemy."

"You don't know anything," he said. "And was that Gunnar?"

She faced him now, a cruel smile on her face. "It was, and he will not rest until he frees his brother and me."

Konal snorted then laughed. "I taught him how to fight. I've nothing to fear from him."

"He's no longer a child, and I've seen him in battle. You would do well to let us ashore and sail as far away as you can."

They sat in silence while the crew rowed, the splashing of the oars loud in her ears. The man at the tiller called out that they had escaped pursuit. Konal groaned and stood, brushing debris from his wet pants. "I will sail as far as I can, but I'm taking you two with me. Time to return home and introduce my son to the land of his father. Ireland is far better than this rat's nest."

As he stepped away, Runa closed her eyes and clenched her jaw. She would never see Ireland, no matter what Konal believed.

CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE

Ulfrik awakened to Finn shaking him. A shapeless dream skittered away as he rose with a gasp, but Finn's dirty hand clamped over his mouth. He had drawn his sword, smeared with mud to prevent it from shining in the dark. Ulfrik's own blade remained sheathed and laying in the grass beside him. Finn pulled back Ulfrik's cloak and slid the weapon up to his side.

Contented that Ulfrik would remain silent, he removed his hand. In the blue gloom of the crescent moonlight, Finn was a blurry lump wrapped in a cloak. He pointed hard to the east, then held up three fingers. Ulfrik nodded, then he placed each approaching enemy by chopping the air at their location. They were fanned out and approaching from Count Amand's camp.

He stood and strapped on his sword, unhitching the loop that kept it tight in the sheath. Finn hunkered and watched the trees. Ulfrik shook his head, still unable to see their pursuers. These Franks were persistent, even working through the night to find them. He expected Grimnr to set a large bounty for their capture, driving every man with gold lust to search for them. They had spent all day running along the Seine searching for Gunnar's ship, yet finding nothing but burned ships and the mast of one ship sticking out of the shallows as if it had sunk only moments before reaching shore.

They leaned their heads together to whisper, Ulfrik laying out his battle plan. "You're more skilled at fieldcraft. You go wide to the right, and herd them toward me. I will make myself a target they can't miss."

"It's three to one," Finn said.

"They're expecting us to be unaware. We have all the advantage, plus I expect you to make it an even fight before they get me. Make it a noisy kill, and they won't know which way to turn."

He released Finn, and he flitted away into the dark. Ulfrik had slept in his mail, and now without a cloak it gleamed in the moonlight. He leaned against a tree as if he were on lookout and bored, but his senses stretched all around him. At first nothing stirred but for an owl hooting in the distance. Rustling of woodland creatures on their nocturnal adventures had ceased, and that alerted Ulfrik to nearby danger. A silent woods was a dangerous place. He heard a muffled snap to his left, but he resisted the urge to turn for it. He gently rotated his head until he saw a darker shape amid the shadows of bushes and trees. The form observed him as if it were holding his breath, and he nearly dismissed it as imagining until he saw it move. The shape slipped something from its shoulder, and Ulfrik's heart began to beat harder. He heard a creak, then realized the form was carefully lifting a strung bow to point at him. He continued to feign ignorance, but his hand slipped to the hilt of his sword.

A scream broke the silence. The shape in his peripheral vision jolted, and Ulfrik broke into a charge.

His sword was out and gleaming with blue fire of the crescent moon. The bowstring snapped and a shaft zipped past his head. The shadow cursed and dropped the bow for another weapon. Ulfrik felt his blade carve into flesh then bite into bone. The form before him howled and Ulfrik kicked into the black shadow of the man's face, his heel slamming into something hard. With another stab, he drove his sword into the soft flesh of the man's stomach and he groaned in death. Unable to see more of the victim, he searched for the third attacker.

A black shape suddenly sprinted in the dark. Ulfrik bounded after him, but only took five long strides before his foot slammed into a rock and sent him crashing to the ground. With a curse, be struggled to his feet, the heavy weight of his mail saddling his effort. He growled in frustration, seeing nothing but hearing the crunch and snap of the enemy darting away.

"Finn?" he called out. "Tell me you're alive."

"I'm here," Finn answered from close to his back. He stumbled toward Finn's voice, eventually finding him hunched over in the gloom. "They were our people. This one has a silver armband."

"Take it for your own," Ulfrik said. "Anything else?"

"Nothing we need." Finn stood and dusted down his pants. "The last one escaped. So we have to keep moving, and I didn't get a chance to sleep yet."

"Well, the few hours I had were hardly better. We'll have to keep traveling west until we reach Hrolf's lands. I don't think we will meet Gunnar on these shores. Burning those ships was like beating a hornet's nest."

Finn laughed. "We added to that, didn't we?"

"We certainly did. I think Grimnr figured that out, too."

"So it was more like throwing a rock into a bear's den."

Traveling the woods at night was a slow and frustrating process made worse for their unfamiliarity with the geography. Ulfrik knew his position but did not know the folds and nuances of the land, leading to smashed toes and at least three solid falls for both of them. They cursed, knowing they left an easy trail but counting on the distance solving the issue of pursuit. Horses could not navigate woods, and so Grimnr's men would also be slogging along the same terrain.

By dawn, Ulfrik's eyes were heavy with sleep and Finn yawned incessantly. Yet in the early morning he saw a ship anchored in the river, tugging against its anchor stone sunk into the river bottom. Finn stumbled up behind him, leaning against a tree and studied the long ship with bleary eyes.

"You're going to be angry," Finn said after a long pause. "But I don't remember what Gunnar's ship looked like. I suppose that might be it."