CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE VARG

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

VARG

M uscles burned in Varg's back as he leaned and pulled, his oar slicing through water, the Sea-Wolf carving through waves. They were threading among a knot of islands in an attempt to lose the five drakkar that had been following them from Ulaz, and Varg was relieved that he had not seen the tips of their masts on the horizon since early morning. A little behind them Sulich's knarr rose and fell on the swell, its fat belly making slower going between the islands.

At the stern Glornir pulled on the steering oar and abruptly the rowing became easier, Varg glancing up to see that they were sailing into a natural harbour, wooded banks skimming by on either side of the Sea-Wolf . He put his head down and kept pulling to Taras' regular drumbeat. The big man seemed to be enjoying sitting in the stern and banging rhythmically on an old battered shield with a knot of rope.

"OARS," Glornir bellowed and Varg and thirty other rowers lifted their oars, the Sea-Wolf coasting, then pulled the oars in through oar-holes, setting them in the racks on the deck.

The Sea-Wolf slowed, hull grating on sand and, at Glornir's command Taras heaved the anchor stone overboard. Glornir tied off the steering oar and then he was leaping over the top-rail and splashing into water, wading through the surf to a sandy beach. R?kia was next over the rail and Varg quickly followed, holding his spear high, the shock of cold water flooding his boots. He looked up the sloping beach to a treeline where there was a tangle of huts. Figures were running out of buildings and staring, children, and behind them appeared a man and woman. The man was huge, broad and tall, a bandage around his head, a fair-haired child sitting on his shoulders, the woman limping, shorter than the man but still wide across the back and shoulders.

"EINAR," a voice shouted and Svik ran past Varg and R?kia, sprinting up the beach.

Einar started laughing and lumbered down the beach, snatched Svik up into an embrace, lifting the man's feet from the ground and squeezing him tightly. The child on his back laughed, and other children swirled around them, laughing and chattering as Glornir, R?kia and Varg reached them.

"Where's my hug?" ?sa asked Svik as Einar put him down.

"You can have a hug, ?sa," Svik said, wrapping his arms around the warrior, "but just do not think that it means I want to hump you."

"Ha, of course you want to hump me," ?sa laughed and squeezed Svik until he stepped away, blushing.

The child slid down from Einar's shoulders and wrapped her arms around Glornir's thick leg, hugging him tight.

"Well met, Refna Strong-Hands," Glornir said.

"I'm glad you're safe," Refna said.

"Safe?" Glornir said, "I would not say that. And right now I am at risk of losing my leg through blood loss," Glornir grunted and Refna let him go. He tousled her fair hair.

"Your leg?" Glornir asked ?sa.

"Healing well, chief," ?sa said, "though I'll not be winning any races for a while."

"Good," Glornir grunted. "And your head?" he asked Einar.

"All good," Einar said, rapping his knuckles on the bandage around his skull.

"That tongue-eater cracked it like a nut," Svik said, "but with you I doubt it will make any difference."

Einar grinned. "It is good to see you, little Svik, good to see all of you," he boomed, holding his arms out and looking at the Bloodsworn on the beach, and the Sea-Wolf in the surf. He saw the second ship.

"You've made some friends in Iskidan, then?"

"Aye," Svik said, "Sulich and his kin. You have missed out on some fun, I can tell you."

"No time for that now," Glornir said. "We need to get you all on the Sea-Wolf and away from here."

"Trouble?" Einar asked.

"I hope so," ?sa said. "Sounds like I've missed out on enough scraps." She patted the axe at her belt.

"There'll be plenty of that to come," Svik said, "we are going dragon hunting."

"Time for that tale later, as well," Glornir growled. "There are five of Rurik's longships out there hunting for us among these islands. We need to make sure they don't find us."

They all hurried back to the longship and clambered aboard. Varg took an oar from the rack and returned to his bench as Glornir untied the steering oar. Taras heaved on the rope that held the anchor stone, hauling it over the deck, then resumed his position sitting on a barrel close to Glornir.

Einar strode towards his familiar place on the ship, close to Glornir where he would beat time for the rowers, and saw Taras sitting there with a shield resting across his lap and a knotted piece of rope in his fist.

"You're in my spot, big man," Einar said to him.

"This is Taras' spot," Taras said, frowning.

"Who are you? Who is he?" Einar said, looking around.

"A friend," Vol said, hurrying down to them from the prow.

Taras blinked at that.

"Taras has friends now," he grinned.

"Will somebody tell me who he is?" Einar boomed.

"I am Taras the Bull, friend of the Bloodsworn," Taras said proudly.

Einar scratched his head. "Well, that makes you a friend of mine, then, Taras the Bull," Einar said. "Because I am one of the Bloodsworn, too."

"And what is your name, big man of the Bloodsworn?" Taras asked him, standing and looking Einar up and down. They were roughly around the same height. Varg thought the Sea-Wolf was dipping lower in the water with them both in the stern.

"I am Einar, who men call Half-Troll."

"Ha," Taras barked a laugh. "A good name. Come, have a drink with Taras and we can share this seat." He lifted a leather bottle from his belt and unstoppered it, offering it to Einar.

Einar took it, sniffed it, took a drink, coughed, then smiled.

"OARS," yelled Glornir.

Varg leaned on the top-rail, lifted a ladle from the water barrel and took a deep drink. He had just finished his shift on the oar-bench and was stretching his back, looking out at the horizon beyond the prow of the Sea-Wolf . They were still moving through the islands that clustered the northern coast of Iskidan, but Varg could see the open sea beyond. He stared into the distance, saw only white-tipped waves on the grey-green sea and heavy grey skies, but he knew that Vigrie lay beyond it.

Vigrie, and bloodshed. There is a dragon to slay.

And my sister to avenge, Brák Trolls-Bane to put in the ground.

"I owe your friend Leif Kolskeggson, Sterkur death-in-the-eye and all his crew a painful death," Svik said as he came to stand beside Varg. A bruise still mottled one side of Svik's face where he had been clubbed.

As do I.

"It's a nasty bruise," Varg said.

"Not because of the bruise," Svik said with a sniff, "because of how my hair was pulled from its braids."

"A terrible crime," Varg agreed with a hint of a smile.

Edel walked along the deck with her hound at her side and a roll of what looked like parchment papers tucked under one arm. She nodded to Svik and Varg as she passed them and strode on towards the bow, where Vol was standing with one hand resting on the carved prow beast of the Sea-Wolf , staring into the distance.

"Vol," Edel said. "I took these for you, thought that you might be able to understand them, use them, but with all that has happened," she shrugged, "I think they are something that you should see."

"What is it?"

"Copies of rune-magic that were found in Rotta's chamber. Orka and Gunnar Prow found them and gave them to me." She handed the roll of parchments over to Vol, who opened them and stared, then hissed.

"This can only be the Raudskinna !" Vol breathed. Fear and excitement leaked from her as she stared intently, reading, then looking at another sheet of parchment, then another, and another. "Or, at least, copied fragments," she muttered. She sheafed through more pages, then looked up at Edel. "There are powerful spells here, spells of cunning and deep malice. It is … terrifying." Reaching out she squeezed Edel's wrist. "You have done well to bring me these. Better that we have them than Ilska's dragon-born."

"Aye," Edel nodded.

Vol read some more, appearing lost in the runes. She looked up.

"I need to speak to Iva," she said and strode down the longship's deck to find Iva, who was sitting on a barrel near the mast, wrapped in a cloak.

A gust of wind tugged at Varg's hair, and he looked up to see that the Sea-Wolf was leaving the protection of the islands, the waves becoming wilder, the wind keener as they carved into open sea.

"How long until we reach Snakavik?" Varg asked Svik.

"Maybe ten days with the right wind," Svik said, "although maybe longer with Sulich's sow of a ship slowing us down." He looked back at the knarr behind them, then swore.

"What is it?" Varg said, and Svik pointed south, into the channel between the islands.

In the distance two longships appeared, moving fast. As they watched two more appeared from the west, and then one more.

"Perhaps it will take us a little longer," Svik muttered. "No outrunning them now. We will have to put those arselings at the bottom of the sea."