CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE VARG

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE

VARG

V arg opened his sea-chest and looked upon his kit. Ring-mail coat, helm, weapons belt and a neatly folded sealskin cloak. He reached in and pulled out the coat of mail, hefted the weight of it high and threaded his arms into it, finding the sleeves and slipping it over his head, wriggling and shaking to help the mail slither down his body. He took his weapons belt and buckled it around his waist, cinching it tight to ease the weight of the brynja across his shoulders, brushed the tops of his weapons with his fingertips. Seax, cleaver and bearded hand-axe. Then he took out a n?lbinding woollen cap and pulled it onto his head, lifted his helm and placed that over the woollen cap, pulling it tight with the leather straps, buckling it under his chin, careful not to trap his beard in the buckle. Sound became muted and his vision a little restricted because of the eye-socket metalwork of the helm. He adjusted the helm's mail curtain that protected his neck, letting it fall across his upper back, neck and shoulders. Finally, he reached into the chest and took out the silver arm ring that Glornir had given to him so long ago, at Rotta's chamber. Twisted strands of sliver and two growling bear-head terminals. He slipped it around his left bicep and squeezed it tight.

A deep, indrawn breath as he stood tall.

"Ha, you look like a warrior born," Svik said, who stood beside Varg gleaming in his mail, his red beard rope-braided and tied with silver wire. "Who would have thought you would live this long?"

"Not me," R?kia piped from where she was pulling her winnigas leg-wraps tight and using an iron brooch to pin them in place, which raised some chuckles among the Bloodsworn around them.

"Let us hope I live through another day," Varg muttered, feeling the tremble of imminent violence in his gut, his eyes fixing upon the drakkars that were gaining on them across a white-churning sea. The wolf in his blood gave off a low rumbling growl that he felt vibrate through his body.

"Ha, we live in hope," Svik laughed, then buckled on his own helm.

For a whole day they had laboured across the open sea, the sails of the Sea-Wolf and Sulich's slower knarr filled with a south-easterly that had driven them hard towards the coast of Vigrie, but Rurik's longships behind them were using the same wind, and Sulich's fat-bellied knarr was too slow, so the longships had gained steadily. They would catch them today, so Glornir had made the decision to stand and fight.

Varg turned and looked to the prow and saw the dark line of land on the horizon. Vigrie.

Close, but not close enough.

Glornir had called for the sail to be furled and stowed, for the mast to be stepped, the mast-block pounded into the mast-hole, and it had been hard oar-work for a while. But now it was time to save their strength and so only a quarter crew were manning the oars, rowing close to Sulich's ship before Rurik's drakkars reached them.

Varg pulled his shield from the shield-strake and slung it across his back.

"Come," Svik said, nudging Varg's arm and they walked to the spear-racks on the deck, Varg finding his spear and testing its weight.

Voices shouted and Varg looked up to see the Sea-Wolf was close to Sulich's ship. Oars were pulled in on the starboard side and a rope thrown over to Sulich, who stood near the knarr 's prow. Hands caught the rope and heaved the two ships closer, the hulls thudding together, grating. More ropes were thrown across, all along the top-rail, and warriors moored the two boats together.

"Why are we doing this?" Varg whispered to Svik.

"Those drakkars will try to separate us, like wolves would do to the weak and young in a flock of sheep. Easier to overwhelm us if we are apart." Svik grinned. "They are about to find out that we are not sheep. We are the Bloodsworn, and we stand together, fight together. Die together, if needs be."

Varg nodded, liking the cunning of it.

Glornir had a shouted conversation with Sulich and then Iva and Taras were clambering over the heaving rail of the Sea-Wolf and boarding Sulich's ship. Taras stood on the top-rail and turned.

"I'll see my Bloodsworn friends after," Taras bellowed to them. He was mailed and helmeted, dressed in battle kit that Einar had gifted to him. Even that was a little tight across Taras' shoulders. He wore a nasal helm, had two bearded axes thrust into his belt, a thick-shafted spear in his fist and a shield slung across his back. Einar strode to him, took his forearm in the warrior grip.

"I'll see you after, friend," Einar said. Taras grinned and leaped onto the knarr 's deck.

Horses were tethered in the wide belly, wild-eyed and stamping, Sulich's crew shipping oars and stringing bows. Screens of wicker and willow were raised around the horses.

"To protect them from arrows," Svik said as Varg opened his mouth to ask.

Five of the Bloodsworn stayed at their oar-chests on the port side, while five of Sulich's crew sat with oars at the starboard side. Varg looked at Svik.

"They will hold the oars to keep us prow-facing Rurik's longships," Svik said. "Otherwise, the sea will snatch us and spin us like a wooden toy and we will be facing in the wrong direction when it's time to start scrapping."

"Ah," Varg grunted. "There is much to learn about this ship and sailing business," he muttered.

"Aye," Svik smiled.

"Make ready," Glornir bellowed and the Bloodsworn gathered on the deck of the Sea-Wolf .

"Bloodsworn, we face battle once more," Glornir called out, Vol at his shoulder. "These arselings would take our ship, take our lives. We shall show them what happens to our enemies." He shuddered and tremored, muscles hunching, eyes glowing green, and gave them a savage-toothed grin.

The Bloodsworn roared, shaking shields and thumping weapons upon the linden wood.

Einar stepped close to the prow. He was mail-clad and helmeted, a long-axe in his fist, a seax and hand-axe at his belt, a huge shield strapped across his back. He gripped the prow-beast with one hand and put one foot on the top-rail, taking the position of honour, the champion's place on the prow. First to be seen by the enemy, first to take the brunt of the enemy's attack.

"Come and taste our steel, you nieing dogs," Einar bellowed, spittle spraying, and he punched his long-axe into the air, shook it at the approaching drakkars and let out a deep-bellied roar that was taken up by the Bloodsworn, until the Sea-Wolf must have sounded like some angry, feral beast.

One longship was pulling ahead of the others, cutting through waves in a white-spumed trail, oars rising and falling, heading like an arrow for the Sea-Wolf . The others began to spread into a wider line behind the first drakkar , like a net.

"They will seek to circle us, overwhelm us from all sides," R?kia said to Varg, still taking her role as teacher seriously, even on the brink of battle. "We need to make fast work of that first ship, who is overeager, like a young wolf, blinded by hope of battle fame and tales of glory."

That drakkar was close enough for Varg to see faces on the deck, saw warriors in lamellar plate stringing their recurved bows and the backs of rowers heaving. A crowd parted and a figure stepped forwards, a cloak and cowl pulled over their head, but Varg saw the glint of an iron collar around their neck. Beside this figure walked a huge man with a black thicket of a beard. He clambered onto the prow, wearing a helm with a wind-whipped horse-hair plume that snapped like an angry serpent, dressed in a coat of lamellar that hung below his knees, a curtain of mail over his lower face and two short-axes in his fists. He spat unheard curses at the Sea-Wolf and Einar.

Vol's voice rose up behind Varg, hissing, Iva's joining hers so that they twisted about each other like the knotwork silver on a jarl's torc, making a song that rose and fell, spreading across the waves.

Varg saw movement in the sea, the swell of something large beneath the waves, saw the crest of something scaled and serpentine approaching them, moving into the space between the Sea-Wolf and the approaching drakkar . A serpentine head reared up, red-eyed and sharp-fanged.

"Sjávarorm," Varg hissed.

"Aye, but it is ours," Svik said. "Vol and Iva have summoned it."

Varg watched as the sea serpent loomed high over the approaching drakkar .

The man in the iron collar climbed up onto the prow and Varg heard another song drift out across the waves. The Sjávarorm hissed and screeched, as if the song caused it pain, and then it crashed back into the sea and disappeared beneath the waves.

"Rurik will have a rune-wielder on each of those drakkars ," Svik said.

The longship crawled towards them, oars rising and falling, water spuming white as warriors laboured at the benches.

"Let them use their strength on reaching us," Svik called out, "while we are rested and eager for a scrap." He danced on his toes, grinning.

A hissing sound and an arrow whipped between Varg and Svik, thunking into the deck behind them. More arrows fizzed, Einar grabbing the prow with one hand and swinging behind it for cover.

"SHIELDS," Glornir bellowed.

Varg shrugged his shield from his back and raised it, a heartbeat later an arrow thumped into it, a spray of splinters in his face as the tip burst through. Arrows rattled like hail all along the shield-line. A cry of pain behind him, and further away horses neighed wildly. Varg risked a glimpse over his shield rim and saw archers filling the foredeck of the approaching drakkar . In front of them the figure with the cloak and cowl threw their hood back, revealing a gaunt-featured man, black hollows for eyes. He dragged a knife across his palm and clenched his fist, raised it high and began to sing. Red runes flickered to life in the air before him, spread wider, circles interlinking and growing, covering the prow of the drakkar like a curtain of red rain.

"LOOSE," a voice cried behind Varg, Sulich, and an answering volley of arrows swept into the air, falling upon the approaching drakkar . Some of them hissed and sizzled as they passed through the red-glowing runes, turning to ash and blowing away on the wind. Other arrows thumped into timber and flesh, screams ringing out.

Close to Varg another voice rose up, part song, part chant, high and keening, swirling on the wind and salt spray. Vol, standing close to Einar in the prow of the Sea-Wolf , and Varg heard a more distant voice join hers. Iva, on the deck of the other ship, her voice a low rumble, snatched away and then brought closer by the wind, weaving around Vol's words like a warp and weft thread on a loom. Varg saw blue lights flare into life above the prow of the Sea-Wolf and the prow of Sulich's ship, forming ice-blue rune-circles. Shards of ice stabbed out towards the approaching drakkar , one crashing into the prow where ice exploded upwards, sweeping over the top-rail and hissing into the red rune-spell above the prow. Ice and fire warred in the air for a few heartbeats, crackling and hissing, but then the ice began to spread through the red runes like spilled ink seeping through parchment, turning them to ice. The frozen runes cracked and collapsed into the sea.

The other shard of ice that came from Iva's voice crashed into the churning waves between the Sea-Wolf and the longship and in moments the waves were thickening, the water glinting, ice forming, waves becoming sluggish as gruel at first but rapidly thickening, until the longship was slowing, ploughing through sheets of ice that splintered, but continued to spread in the water around the drakkar . Then ice was crackling up the longship's oars, and where the hull touched the ice-thick sea frost crept up the strakes of the hull. Timber strained and creaked and snapped, the drakkar turning blue as frost-bitten fingers. The longship glided slowly towards the Sea-Wolf , drew close, and stopped, bobbing as the icy sea rose and fell, blue frost-runes hissing, reaching the top-rail. Varg saw a woman rise from her oar-bench, staring at her hands, which had turned blue, ice climbing her arms, tendrils weaving across her chest and up her neck. She screamed, began to run, slowed, and stopped as the ice consumed her body, frozen. Another figure stumbled into her, and she exploded in a spray of shards. The ice continued to spread and Varg and all the Bloodsworn stood and stared, lowering their shields, many of them open-mouthed.

A crack loud as thunder and a fissure raced across the longship's hull, strakes tearing apart as the timber contracted, the crack widening, water pouring into the drakkar , the prow dipping, the stern rising.

A series of cracks, each one louder than the one before and the longship was tearing apart like a ripped loaf of bread in the hands of a hungry man. The sea gushed into the drakkar , foaming white and ice-touched, people screaming, running, leaping overboard, or clinging to shattered timbers as the longship began to sink.

Varg stood and stared, horrified and fascinated at the same time as the drakkar sank into the sea, the prow last to disappear beneath the slow-churning waves. All that was left to show it had existed were a handful of ice-frozen timbers, bodies floating in the water, some rigging and a few barrels bobbing in the swell.

"Well, I hope that doesn't happen with all of those nieings and their drakkars ," ?sa said next to Varg. "I want a good scrap." She looked at his stunned expression.

"What? I didn't get all dressed up for nothing."