Chapter 3

3

D espite knowing how to navigate the ocean, having learned from when she was eight while going with her mother and da on voyages to Scotia, Isobel worried the storms had taken them off course, and they may never make it to land.

Seawater drenched Isobel and her companions. The next morning, the sun dried them off, leaving them caked in salt. They sailed on the open water for several hours, the sun beating down on them. Their cheeks and the tips of their noses wore a red glow from the constant sun.

Conall pointed to the horizon. “Storm’s coming.”

She knew it was inevitable, but she had hoped they wouldn’t encounter any of them on their journey. Lightning struck from miles away, illuminating the sky, and a peal of thunder in the distance reverberated through the air.

The sun was soon covered by angry gray clouds, deepening and darkening until the sun wasn’t visible any longer. Winds whipped up the waves, and Isobel and Conall quickly lowered the sail.

“Stay under the shelter and hold on,” she shouted to Libby and Drummond.

Waves rocked the boat until they grew so high that Inge and Conall struggled to keep the ship from overturning. Rain poured down on them, washing the salty water off their skin and chilling the air.

Their hearts beat frantically. Elene, who hadn’t been on a ship since she was stolen years ago, looked as white as the whitecaps on top of the breaking waves.

Isobel wished they could shift into their wolves for warmth and protection from the cold, but they couldn’t manage the ship while wearing their wolf coats.

“We have to start bailing.” Elene sounded panicked.

“Just hold on, Elene. When the seas settle, we’ll bail out the water.” Isobel steered the ship, angling it so the wave wouldn’t flip them over.

They battled the storm for hours, and finally, the lightning and thunder grew more distant, the waves and wind died down, and she hoped she had gotten them back on course.

Getting sick, Elene tossed her last meal overboard.

“We start bailing now,” Isobel said.

They were all wet but had to sit higher on the water. She just hoped their ship hadn’t suffered any damage, which was the cause of all the water inside the vessel, now covering their ankles. Instead, she hoped the waves crashing over their bow had caused it.

Once they had bailed out most of the water, they were good for two days, though then they became becalmed on the third day, which meant fishing with nets and rowing.

Then, several severe storms plagued them again during their journey, with rogue waves threatening to overturn them or sink them. They bailed out the water until they were ready to give up and confirmed that the sea had won.

“I canna do it any longer,” Libby complained, pouring another mug of seawater overboard.

“Just be glad you are no’ in the water now,” Drummond pointed at a telltale sign of a shark’s fin.

“Basking shark. Mother said they go closer to Scotia’s shore in the summer and are nearer to the surface,” Isobel said, feeling a sense of hope they were getting closer to their destination.

The sky was clear and blue, with wisps of white clouds just over the horizon. The sun was beating down on them, warming them.

Isobel brushed her tangled hair from her eyes, the wind sweeping it back over her face. She needed to braid it again as she had done with young Libby’s hair, but their hair was so salty and disheveled it had been nigh impossible. Even Elene’s, Conall’s, and Drummond’s hair were tangled messes.

They all looked a sight.

The wind filled the sail, and they didn’t need to row that hard, unlike on the days they’d been becalmed on a glassy sea.

The waterproof tent in the middle of the longship had protected them and their supplies to a degree, and they’d taken turns sleeping beneath it. A brazier had provided heat, and they used it to cook any fish they had caught.

“We’re getting low on fish,” Conall said.

They’d survived on fresh fish, smoked fish, and flatbread they’d brought and drank mead and freshwater—sometimes collecting it from the storms that had pelted them.

“Mayhap, we can catch the shark and eat him.” Drummond tossed another load of saltwater into the ocean.

“He’s as big as the ship!” Conall shook his head. “Just keep bailing, or we’ll be in the water with him, and he’ll eat you .”

Though they soon wore out, Libby and Drummond had helped to row the ship. Elene rarely spoke, and Isobel sensed she didn’t believe they would find their way to Scotia. But seeing the shark made Isobel feel they were on the right path.

Then she smelled something different—like soil, though she couldn’t see land in the vast ocean. Elene lifted her chin and smelled the air. Did Elene smell it too?

“It canna be,” Conall said. “Do you smell earth?”

They all watched for any sign of land and then a great big black seagull flew in their direction. They whooped and hollered, but just as quickly, they quieted, knowing landing on the shore could be dangerous for them if Scots spied them from the cliffs.

“I do, Bodolf,” Drummond said.

“No more using the name Bodolf,” Isobel said.

“ Ja .”

He would be ten and five years in two more months. His mother and father had named him Bodolf—wolf leader. Someday, he might be. But not this day. He had balked at changing his name until Elene told him Conall meant strong wolf in Gaelic, so he was fine with that.

Conall began shouting orders to his younger siblings. “Row. Put your backs into it. Hurry. Go.”

Isobel cautioned him to keep his voice down.

Conall was a good navigator, but Isobel was still in charge. Her mother and father had been eager to teach her how to lead a party to the Scots’ land once her twin brother, Leif, had been lost at sea. She never thought she would be fleeing their home to live in Scotia and taking her young kin there.

“There!” Isobel said, seeing another seagull flying skyward. “Do you see the coast? Ohmigods, and trouble.”

Her heart began skipping beats. She’d been so worried about reaching land safely—though the rocks and currents could be dangerous—that what she now saw meant real danger for them.

Two longships were sitting ashore, partly visible beyond the bend of the cliffs. They couldn’t see whose longships they were or the men who had ridden in the ships, but they knew they would be close by.

If they caught her and the others, they would return them home for a reward, and she and her kin and Elene would die, or if they were an enemy clan and knew it, they might just outright kill them.

Then they heard fighting above the cliffs some distance from where they were. Their wolves’ hearing could hear so much farther than humans could.

“What do we do now?” Conall asked, his words hushed. “Viking raiders. If they find us, they’ll kill us.”

“Or they’ll return us home for ransom first,” Isobel said.

“Just as bad.”

Drifting fog hid the peril of the rocks that awaited them. If they hit them, they could wreck the ship. Making it to shore would be perilous, and they might not all make it.

She thought they could travel further inland and blend in with the population. Now they had the problem with Vikings fighting the local Scots, who could be just as fierce as the marauders. And either side could want her and her kin dead.

Elene had taught Isobel and her kin the Scots’ language, though it was similar to Isobel’s. Because Elene was a wolf like them, she felt a kinship despite having different roots.

When Elene’s parents’ wolf pack suffered large losses in their clan, they joined another chieftain and his clan until they could add to their wolf numbers again.

It seemed it wasn’t meant to be. Not when Viking raiders had stolen Elene and several women and children from her clan and sold them to other clans as slaves. Because Isobel and her family had been the only wolf shifters in the Viking clan, she didn’t feel any loss in leaving the clan behind. They’d never made friends there.

Elene was the same age as Isobel, just as passionate a fighter, and just as eager to escape the tyranny of the chieftain and his people. But for Elene, it was different. She would be returning to her homeland. Isobel and her kin were the enemy here.

She was thankful Elene had told them to change their names to take on Scot’s names to help hide their origin. Five weeks on the ocean helped them get used to their new names.

Elene was just as worried about her reception in Scotia. She had been taken prisoner ten summers ago. Her parents had been murdered during the raid. Elene didn’t even know if any of her kin were still alive up north of here or if they would take her in.

Certainly, Elene’s people wouldn’t welcome Isobel and her kin, no matter that they had freed her and brought her to safety. And no matter that they hadn’t been a part of the clan that had killed Elene’s people and taken Elene hostage either. They still had Viking heritage.

Isobel hadn’t told her cousins what concerned her, though. They had enough to worry about.

Landing the longship safely on the beach beyond the breakers was now Isobel’s current dilemma and avoiding being seen by the Viking raiders and the Scots fighting them also.

“We will break up on the rocks before we reach the shore,” Conall warned.

“We willna.” Isobel cast him a scolding look. She had to keep the younger ones’ spirits up.

Libby was spirited, but right now, she looked haunted, half hidden under her long wool shawl.

Elene was quiet as usual as if she were still a slave in the clan’s village.

“You can speak your mind now,” Isobel said. “You are our friend, no’ a slave any longer.”

Elene nodded, her hair as matted as all of theirs, braided with beads, just like theirs, though her hair was dark while theirs was the color of spun gold.

Isobel was glad to finally see the shore so close. But the fog kept drifting in sheets across the shoreline, briefly revealing it and then hiding it again. She feared they would crash their longship before they could reach the shore.

Oceanwater struck the rocks and broke up, splashing sky-high, warning them of the danger of the partially submerged rocks.

“A cave is over there.” Elene pointed to treacherous currents flowing into the cave.

“We need to navigate over there.” Isobel agreed with Elene and motioned to what appeared to be a narrow passage where the water was deeper. She detected no breaking water, and they might make it inside.

“We willna make it,” Conall said.

As much as she wanted to tell him he was wrong, she feared he was right.

“We will make it. Row, watch for the rocks,” she said.

With the sail down, they rowed toward the narrow passage between the rocks, scraping the sides of the longship. Everyone’s hearts beat frantically, and Isobel’s young cousin gasped when they hit a rock. They maneuvered the ship until they could angle into the mouth of the cave.

When they managed to enter the cave without breaking the longship up on the rocks, it was dark inside, except for the light shining into the narrow mouth of the large cave.

As quickly, fog rolled in, swallowing them up as if to blanket them in secrecy, protecting them from the Scots or Vikings who might wish them dead.

Then they hit another rock, sending a jolt through the ship. Libby let out a heart-curdling scream as she fell overboard with a splash.

The Northmen attacked two weeks after Alasdair had spied the Viking ships land on the shore near them. But the marauders had gone north to attack monasteries for gold and silver first, the monks offering no resistance, making them easy prey.

Thankfully, Erik and his clansmen arrived at the castle before the Vikings did.

Wearing warpaint and carrying their black and yellow painted shields, they banged on them with axes and swords before they swarmed up the hill toward the castle. Even though the Scots were fierce fighters and were ready to kill every last one of them before the Vikings killed them, Alasdair couldn’t help but feel a chill run up his spine.

The archers readied their arrows. Alasdair counted the Viking’s numbers. They thought they would have close to forty men. But they only had thirty here now. Had some of them died in other raids? He hoped so.

Erik hadn’t known he would visit Alasdair and his kin and end up in a battle against the Vikings. “I’m glad they’re here now.”

“Aye. The waiting was killing me,” Alasdair admitted. “I’m glad you came and were able to take shelter with us. I sent five riders to intercept you and tell you of the trouble we could face, but they never found you.”

“We traveled a different route than we’ve come before. But we’re glad to be here and help you fight your battles.”

Alasdair felt the tension easing a bit, knowing everyone was safe within the castle walls, though the adrenaline was shooting through his blood as the Vikings threatened to battle with them.

Then the commander of the archers called out, “Loose!”

A barrage of arrows darkened the sky, a deadly rain that threatened to pierce the Vikings' defenses. The warriors quickly formed a shield wall, their shields overlapping to create a solid barrier against the onslaught.

The Vikings' shields were rough and worn from frequent use, each bearing the marks of battles past and present.

However, a few arrows still found their mark, striking three of their men and causing them to fall to the ground in the throes of agony.

“They’ll never be able to breach your castle walls,” Erik said.

“Aye. They’ve been attacking several villages, but they normally dinna attack a protected castle. They caught us unaware the last time while crofters were planting seeds and others in the village were doing their work. I believe they thought they would do the same this time.”

“I agree. But everyone is safely within the castle walls.” Except for their midwife.

The wolf patrols he had sent out hadn’t located her. He feared they’d lost her for good.

“Aye. I want to free the slaves they’ve bound to have taken, though.” Alasdair wanted to go to the other clans’ aid, though they had no alliances with them, just with Erik Norwulf and his people and a chief named Baldur of the Hamilton clan because they were wolves.

He also hoped if they could find captives, Rheba might be among them.

They only recently allied with Erik Norwulf and his people because the white wolf chief had taken over a human clan and territory. Ironically, they were Northmen, but with a common cause. To protect their wolfkind.

“Dinna think of what we might have done to help the other clans.” Erik always knew what Alasdair thought, as if he were one of his brothers.

Hans joined them on the wall walk. “Aye, we could have been slaughtered by the likes of them, and then no one would have been left behind to protect our people.”

They were right, though Alasdair hated to admit it. “We should have burned their ships.”

“Aye, but we didna know when they would come here to fight us. We would have had time enough if we had known,” Rory said, joining them.

Which was true. Sometimes, Alasdair wished he could see into the future.

The Vikings finally retreated, and Alasdair thought they might believe they couldn’t fight against their fortifications. They usually hit and ran and didn’t stay for lengthy engagements.

In the worst way, Alasdair wanted to stop them from returning home with their ill-gotten gains.

No one said anything. They felt the same way, but they couldn’t leave their people behind and risk having them come to harm. The Vikings retreated to the forest.

“We should hunt them down as wolves,” Erik said.

“I want to free their slaves if they’ve taken any,” Alasdair said again.

It was doable if they could isolate single men from the rest. But still, it would be a great risk to themselves, and if a Viking killed one of the wolves, the dead wolf would turn into a man. Then what?