The Forgotten Land (32 page)

“I
reckon your eyes are shot,” said Will.

“Yeah,
but I’d rather be an old bastard with bad eyes than a young dickhead,” Matt
replied.

Will
burst out laughing. “Yeah, righto, point taken,” he said.

Another
hour passed and they could see the oars on the Kadark’s ship. Combined with a
full sail, the oars were propelling the ship along at a blistering speed. This
was good, Thormdall explained to the soldiers, because by the time the ship
reached them, his crew would be exhausted. Steve hoped this was the case, but
experience had shown that these people were much tougher than the television
watching, fast- food eating people of their world.

Deciding
to use what might turn out to be the last of their ammunition, instead of their
newly attained sword skills, the four soldiers prepared for the coming fight.
The guardsmen donned their chain mail and polished their axe blades. Ahmad was
praying at the bow of the ship, but Allah did not seem to be listening. The
ship was closing in. It was now possible to see individual oarsmen, and in the
centre of the longship, the Kadark himself.

“Stay
here, you’ll be safe here,” Will said to Heleena who was standing at centre of
the ship. She wanted to argue with him, but she knew her throwing knives and
short daggers would be useless in a sea battle. He kissed her gently.

“Be
safe,” she said.

When
the sun had almost fallen below the horizon, there was a call for oars. The
guardsmen took their seats, fed them through the ports ready to begin work.

“Pull!”
roared Olaf, and the oars dipped into the ocean as one.

“Why
are our blokes rowing?” asked Steve. “They are wasting energy, when they could
be getting ready to fight!”

“I
have only been in two sea battles,” replied Thormdall, “but I know that speed
and manoeuvrability are the key to success. If we get too close to the Kadark,
his crew will throw grappling hooks onto our decks or rigging and try to drag
us into them. Once we have been hooked, it is difficult to escape so we will be
forced to defeat them entirely. But if we try to outrun them, they may give up
the chase. The other alternative is to fight a running battle with arrows and
spears so the enemy can be picked off from a distance. But given the
determination of the Kadark, I do not see us escaping without a full sea
battle.”

“Bloody
great,” said Scott. “We’re having some fine fuckin’ luck!”

The
guardsmen were shouting as they worked the oars. But this time they were
aggressive, urging each other on. After about twenty minutes, the Kadark’s
longship had only caught them by a hair’s breadth. But the chase continued.

A
moment later an arrow plunged deep into the mast, followed by another. The
small figure of a man balancing against the prow of the Kadark’s ship was
leaning out, longbow in his hands as he prepared to send another shaft towards
them. Heleena was quick to collect the arrows and place them in her quiver.

“Can
you end him?” Thormdall asked Steve.

“Yup,”
said Steve. “Go ahead, Matt.”

Matt
had received endless taunts from the other soldiers failing to shoot the Kadark
previously. But Steve knew that he was their best shooter, and if Matt had said
that he had hit the Kadark, then his aim had been true. Not many men, if any,
would walk away from a bullet through the base of the neck.

Steve
watched Matt kneel down at the rear of the longship, supporting his body and
weapon against the wood of the gunwale. Another arrow sped towards them, but it
ricocheted off the deck and disappeared into the sea. Matt remained still, as
the longship rocked and weaved through the ocean. After almost a minute, and as
the enemy archer was about to lose another shaft, Matt fired the shot. The
man’s face disappeared in a spray of bone and pink mist and his bow disappeared
into the water.

“Oi,
Steve!” yelled Matt. “You can see a few of the oarsmen from here.”

Bringing
his rifle up and looking through the ACOG scope, Steve could see the Kadark’s
oarsmen as they leaned into their work, sea spray hiding them from view for a
second.

“Nice,”
he said, lowering the rifle. “Make your shots count,” he said.

The
guardsmen continued to row. Every minute the crack of Matt’s M110 sniper rifle
cut through the roar of the wind and sea. Each time they heard a shot, the
soldiers knew another enemy warrior had died.

“Got
about twelve of the bastards,” said Matt, his clothes soaked through.

“Bloody
good work, mate,” said Steve.

As
Matt cleaned his weapon, Steve watched the crew on the chasing longship. The
warriors who had been shot were thrown overboard, one after the other, as if
they were nothing more than broken implements.

Even
with a depleted crew, the chasing ship closed the gap slowly. This confused
Steve until he turned to see that their guardsmen had stopped rowing and were
waiting for Olaf’s instruction. The sail was still full and continued to pull
the longship through the sea at close to ten knots, but the Kadark’s ship
continued to gain.

“What
the hell does Olaf think he’s doing?” asked Steve.

“I
know not,” replied Thormdall, “but according to Ahmad he is a veteran of many
sea battles, in fact he has probably fought more battles at sea than he has on
land. I would not lose trust in his judgement just yet.”

“Bring
in the sail!” roared Olaf.

Five
guardsmen ran to the mast, pulled down the sail and stowed it away at
blistering speed.

Meanwhile
Steve watched the Kadark’s ship gain on them.

“This
is it, I guess,” Steve said to his soldiers, who spread themselves out and made
ready to start firing into the opponent vessel.

“Oars
at full!” shouted Olaf.

The
guardsmen began heaving on the oars, dragging the ship through the water.
Slowly they gained speed, but not near enough to see them to safety.

“I
thought you said sea battles were about speed!” Steve shouted at Thormdall.

“And
manoeuvrability!” yelled Thormdall. “You cannot manoeuvre a ship well at speed,
as you are about to see.”

“What
d’ya mean?” asked Steve moving closer to the Berserker so that he did not have
to shout.

“I
think Olaf means to cripple her,” Thormdall replied.

“Don’t
worry about it Steve, we ain’t got enough time, mate!” Scott yelled. He had the
Minimi resting against the gunwale, ready to fire at the approaching enemy
vessel.

“Bloody
madness,” said Steve, shaking his head.

“Turn
hard steer board side!” roared Olaf.

The
longship had picked up a little speed. He watched as the right side of the ship
began to reverse row, whilst the left side continued to row forward with as
much power as they could muster. It struck him that perhaps the word “steer
board” to designate the right side of the ship would eventually become the word
“starboard”, but he dismissed the thought as the enemy approached fast.

Swiftly
Olaf’s guardsmen began to turn straight into the wind towards the oncoming
vessel. Thormdall was standing at the bow now. He had unsheathed his sword and
waited patiently for the onslaught to begin.

“Forward
full!” shouted Olaf and the right side stopped reverse rowing and began rowing
forward.

Slowly,
painfully, the ship edged forward into the biting wind and by the time
individual planks of wood could be seen on the enemy longship, they were
approaching five knots once again.

The
enemy vessel, however, must have been travelling at almost twenty knots. Olaf’s
guardsmen continued rowing with full strength, shouting and psyching themselves
up. Then almost as the enemy ship was on top of them, Olaf steered the longship
on a collision course.

“What
the hell?” shouted Will.

“Oars
in!” shouted Olaf.

Almost
as the last oar was withdrawn, the two ships collided. Scott’s Minimi
immediately opened up. Shouting erupted from both vessels and the Varangian
guardsmen were on their feet, some swinging their massive axes across at their
opponents, dealing death and carnage.

Their
ship grated and groaned against the side of the enemy vessel. He could hear
loud cracks and looked to see that the bow of their ship was snapping off the
oars of the opponent vessel as they passed each other.

Steve
brought the rifle into his shoulder and opened fire. He did not need to aim. Men
were torn from their seats by the bullets. Seeing movement from his peripheral,
Steve looked around to see Thormdall jumping across onto the enemy ship,
stabbing, slashing and slaying as he ran between the rowers’ benches.

Avoiding
the Berserker, Steve and his soldiers continued to send bullets across into the
enemy. Some had dived for cover, but most remained seated and died before they
had time to react.

After
killing and maiming almost quarter of the crew, Thormdall came to a halt before
the Kadark. Thormdall was grinning and snarling simultaneously. As he drew back
his blade, his head was filled with pain.

“You
cannot kill me, you fool,” the voice whispered in the Berserker's mind.

Fighting
through the pain, Thormdall opened his eyes and brought his sword to bear
again.

“How
much would you like to wager?” he asked, and plunged the sword into the
Kadark’s chest. But instead of cutting into muscle, sinew and bouncing off or
grating against bone, the sword simply passed through thin air.

Laughter
erupted in his mind. Thormdall stepped past the Kadark and ran on. One warrior
stepped in to meet him but died with a deep cut to the throat.

The
soldiers continued firing carefully into the enemy, making their shots count.
As the enemy ship had almost slid by, Thormdall threw himself over and landed
awkwardly on the deck of the longship. Blood stained his face and hair claret.
He grinned and sheathed his sword.

Steve
looked up. Several pieces of metal carved into the air as the enemy passed
them. Some of the Varangians had cast grappling hooks to snare the enemy ship
and drag her into them, but they splashed uselessly into the ocean. With half
their oars snapped and useless the Kadark’s vessel was dead in the water.

“Oars
at full, turn hard steer board side,” roared Olaf.

Then
Olaf gave the order for the sail to be deployed.

The
crippled enemy longship redistributed the remaining oars and attempted to
escape, but Olaf’s ship was upon them within minutes. Throwing the grappling
hooks successfully this time, the guardsmen pulled the fleeing longship into
them until it was alongside their own.

The
Varangian Guardsmen followed Thormdall’s headlong charge onto the enemy ship.
Steve, Matt, Scott, Will, Heleena and Ahmad stood back and watched grimly as
the slaughter came to an end. Not one of the enemy warriors survived, and they
lost only one guardsman.

The
Kadark, however, remained untouched, even though Scott had watched three
guardsmen hacking into him during the height of the onslaught. The dark robed
figure now stood at the bow of the longship. Thormdall strode towards the
Kadark, his sword sheathed. As he approached, pain erupted in his mind once
more, but he ignored it and stopped within one pace of the Kadark.

“Know
this,” Thormdall said, “I know not yet how to end you, but when I do, I will
hunt you, I will find you and I will kill you. Now be gone.”

The
Kadark stood silently, watching the Berserker. This time there was no mocking
laughter. A breeze drifted over the silent longship, ruffling the Kadark’s
hooded cloak, but still there was no hint of a face, which for most men would
be unnerving. But Thormdall was not most men.

“Be
gone!” Thormdall roared, taking a step forward.

Without
a word the Kadark turned, stepped into the water and disappeared beneath the
waves.

“He
is dead?” Olaf asked.

“I
fear not. This is no mere mortal. I will think on it, but I wish Romeeros was
here, maybe he would know how to end him. He breathes and walks, therefore he
can die, I am sure of that.”

“I
hope you are right,” said Olaf. Olaf knew that Thormdall was a Berserker, the
ultimate warrior in the Norse world, and if the Kadark could be killed, then it
would be at the hands of one such as Thormdall.

“Let
us leave,” Olaf spoke again, making his way back to his own longship where
Steve and his soldiers waited.

The
Varangian Guardsmen carried the dead body of their comrade back onto their own
longship, before untying the grappling hooks and pushing the corpse-ridden
enemy ship away. As it drifted aimlessly away, Matt pulled the pin from his
last grenade and threw it in a high arc. The small dot landed dead centre and
exploded in a dark cloud. The grenade shattered a hole in the bottom of the
ship, sending the stricken vessel on a slow journey to the bottom of the sea.

With
first aid pack beside him, Matt knelt over a badly wounded, unconscious
Varangian. The man had suffered a deep wound to his leg and was losing a
substantial amount of blood.