Tangled Threads Publishing

Tag: Stigander Raenson

  • 10.16 – Command Decision

    10.16 – Command Decision

    When the final boat sat with the waves lapping her hull and their crews sat resting their shoulders and their thighs on the shore, a figure appeared in the door of the hermitage. He wore the skin of a bear as a cloak, the creature’s snout extending past the old man’s head.

    Einarr was the first to notice him. He raised an arm in greeting. For a long while Gotlief, the hermit, did nothing more than stare at them. One by one, though, the rest of the fleet greeted him in silence – all except Bea, who watched with one eyebrow raised. Do the Imperials not have holy monks?

    Finally, when the old monk was satisfied, he raised both arms into the air, the bear’s paws moving with his own clenched fists. Then a war cry broke the stillness, and even Einarr jumped at the ferocity of the man’s voice. The startlement only lasted a moment, however, and the hills echoed with their answer.

    Einarr and Stigander exchanged grins, and then Stigander turned his face to the sky. “All aboard!”

    The arrival of Lord Ulfr’s messenger came only a day after the successful, if unwise, raid against Lundholm. Early enough that Kaldr wondered if Urek had sent the message earlier than he thought, or if his Thane was also dissatisfied with his service. He flared his nostrils in a loud exhale.

    “Trouble, sir?” Thjofgrir, ever-attentive, asked.

    “I’m afraid we will be unable to see our plans to fruition. It seems our Lord has grown impatient.”

    Thjofgrir frowned, following his Captain’s gaze out to sea to the little skiff dancing over the waves on its way to their blockade, Ulfr’s sigil plainly visible on its sail.

    “Shall I ready the fire-arrows, sir?”

    It was a measure of his annoyance that Kaldr did not answer immediately. But, without much hesitation, he shook his head. “If the messenger cannot be persuaded to wait a little for our quarry to come to us, then we shall just have to return. As galling as that is.”

    Thjofgrir, too, took longer to respond than was his wont. For a long moment he stared at Kaldr, but in the end the words out of his mouth were still “as you say, sir.”

    What does Lord Ulfr think he’s doing? He’s never been this impatient before, and I’ve never failed to capture my quarry. So, why…?

    The tiny karve drew closer at an alarming rate. While that boat could be faster than a longship, this was still too fast for the messenger to have been dispatched from Raenshold. That meant a pigeon had traveled from Urek to the Thane to one of the other outlying islands… he shook his head. That was too unbelievable. That weaver-witch must have something to do with it.

    Movement caught his eye from the other ships in his fleet: boards were being stretched across, and there was no discussion aboard Broki’s ship as Vittir strode across. Urek, as he might have expected, was already leaning against the bulwark by his own plank without so much as a by-your-leave. The man wore one of the most self-satisfied grins Kaldr could remember seeing. Perhaps Lord Ulfr is right. This mission isn’t under my control anyway.

    “What goes on?” Vittir asked as the two from that side trotted up.

    Kaldr pursed his lips, his words coming out short and clipped. “Ask Urek.”

    The man himself answered with a braying laugh, his boots clomping on the deck as he swaggered over to join the other Captains.

    “Well, Urek, I hope you’re pleased with yourself. Our Lord acted unusually swiftly, for your having just dispatched that bird yesterday.”

    “Yesterday?” Urek laughed again, even going so far as to slap his thigh. “Coward, I sent that bird after they slipped our noose in that shallow harbor.”

    Thjofgrir’s hand went to the blade at his belt. Kaldr held out a hand.

    “Wait. Listen to what he has to say. I’m sure it will be …educational.” Kaldr could hear an edge in his voice. He wondered if anyone else did.

    “Kaldr, it was painfully obvious from the beginning that you never intended to actually catch these thrice-damned rebels. I couldn’t begin to say why – oh, wait, I could. But that’s a matter for you to take up with Lord Ulfr.”

    Kaldr felt his jaw tense. This… this idiot had the gall to imply he was a traitor? In front of other Captains, no less! Wait. He took a deep breath: the man was probably trying to bait him into something stupid. Before his promotion, Urek had all but lived to fight duels. He spoke low, keeping iron discipline over his voice. “I see. Was there anything else?”

    “Does there need to be?” Urek did not laugh, at least not out loud, but one look at his eyes told Kaldr he still was.

    He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “And you two. Do you agree?”

    Broki shook his head sadly. “No, Captain. I was pleased to be selected to come along on this hunt: you are known as one of the best hunters in the fleet.”

    “Speak for yourself, sheep,” Vittir snarled. “Urek’s right. Kaldr hasn’t got a speck of real fight in ‘im. Comes of being so scrawny, I shouldn’t wonder.”

    Kaldr glanced up at the sky from under his eyebrows,wondering if the gods would, just this once, smite the idiots.

    He had no time to go farther than that, however: the thump of two wooden hulls caught his attention.

    “Ho there!” A voice rang out from over the water. “I come in the name of the Thane! Permission to come aboard?”

    With a mental sigh, Kaldr nodded at his Mate. “Permission granted. Throw him a line.”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 10.14 – Reconnaissance

    10.14 – Reconnaissance

    Kaldr awoke to the smell of smoke with the rising of the dawn. A low growl rumbled in his throat as he sat up. Those idiots.

    That they would conduct a raid was expected. He had given leave, after all – as much because he was certain Urek would have sent one anyway as because it was good to make sure the rebels remembered they were there. But this was not the smell of wood smoke. He smelled meat.

    He looked around the deck of his ship: most of them seemed unaware anything was amiss, and that was as it should be. Some, though, wore scowls as dark as Kaldr’s thoughts.

    “Thjofgrir?”

    “Yes, sir?”

    “Find Skon. Send him up the fjord. Reconnaissance only. I want to know what was destroyed and how many died. Tell him to be quick, but not to let himself be seen.”

    “Yes, sir.” No sooner had Thjofgrir answered, though, than a familiar and grating laugh sounded from behind them, in the direction of Urek’s ship. Slowly, making sure his expression was properly schooled, Kaldr turned to face the man.

    “Now that’s how it’s done!” Urek was leaning on the bulwark of his ship and looking smugly across at Kaldr.

    “Do tell me, precisely what is ‘how it’s done’?” If he’s killed the townsfolk, I will put his head on a pike.

    “Those cursed rebels will come slinking out of there with their tails between their legs now, just you wait. Lundholm can’t very well resupply them when they have to see to their own stores!”

    In spite of himself, Kaldr could feel his face go pale. On the one hand, Urek had complied with the letter of his instructions. On the other hand, in terms of ill will, this was almost worse. “You didn’t…”

    The man took a long, over-dramatic sniff of the air. “Proof is on the wind, sir. The men who went raiding last night didn’t draw steel on anyone but rebels, but they burned everything they could.”

    Kaldr closed his eyes and counted slowly to ten under his breath. Urek, around the time he hit “two” and had not answered, walked away laughing to himself.

    “Thjofgrir.” He opened his eyes and looked at his Mate. “Cancel that reconnaissance. Urek is a fool and a braggart, but not a liar.”

    “As you say, sir.”

    After all the fires had been put out and the food pulled from the smokehouse and the drying shed, the people of Lundholm had lost fully half their stores before accounting for the damage done at the boat house. Einarr could not fault their anger, although it rankled to be the object of it when they had done everything in their power to stop the attack.

    They would not be able to finish the resupply now. The men of Lundholm would have to rebuild their own stores, and there simply were not enough materials to go around to handle both.

    At the same time, though, they were in no condition to fight their way out of the fjord. Thus, with the noon sun high in the sky, Stigander turned to Elder Vilding with one last request. “Do you have a map?”

    “A map? What in Hel’s name do you want with a map?”

    Captain Kormund pressed his hands together. “Elder Vilding. There is currently a blockade at the mouth of the fjord that we would have to pass through one at a time. While we would, no doubt, take them down, we would take them down with us. But if Stigander and Einarr do not reach Raenshold, you will never be free of the Usurper. Thus, we need another way out.”

    “Our boats are already on dry land,” Einarr filled in.

    The Elder spluttered. “Surely you don’t mean to portage your ships across the whole island?”

    Stigander nodded. “If a way exists, it may save us. So, please, as one final favor before you are rid of us.”

    Now Elder Vilding sighed. “Such a route exists. Or did, last fall. There’s a hermitage on the southwestern coast with a small, rocky beach. Haven’t seen old Gotlief yet this year, and Dagny needs honey for her mead soon.”

    Stigander nodded. “So long as it’s broad enough to launch a ship, that sounds like exactly what we need.”

    “There is no map – not like what you’re thinking of. We had one, twenty years ago, but it burned up in one of the Usurper’s raids.”

    “That’s fine,” Einarr put in quickly. “If you’ll show us the road, we can send a man or two on ahead to scout out the way.”

    Vilding hummed. “And while we wait for these scouts of yours to return?”

    “We will divide our men in half, if you allow it.” Stigander answered easily. “The first half will help clean up the mess left by the wolflings. The other half will keep making arrows, drawing water, and harvesting pitch. It’s the only way we have a chance of making it back to Raenshold.”

    A low grumble rose from among the villagers, but the Elder shook his head. “Fine. And half of any game you take comes back to us, to replace what was burnt.”

    “Done.”

    The young man who had hailed them when they first arrived stepped forward. “I will go with the scouts, Elder.”

    Elder Vilding scowled at the man. “We need you out hunting.”

    “More than we need someone Lord Gotlief recognizes running up to the hermitage? The old monk doesn’t take kindly to trespassers.”

    “Have it your way.”

    The man bobbed his head and darted off into one of the nearby huts. Meanwhile, Stigander had made his decision as well. “Troa. Boti. You’re our scouts. If there’s an obstacle on the road, it’s on you to figure out how to clear it.”

    “Yes, sir!” they chorused, quite obviously pleased.

    “You’re to head out as soon as your guide is ready. Make sure you are, as well.”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

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    Table of Contents

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 10.10 – Preparations

    10.10 – Preparations

    “Traitor!” Urek’s face turned from red to crimson, and his eyes bulged out like a toad’s. “Coward! Lord Ulfr will hear of this!”

    “Lord Ulfr is well aware of my opinion regarding his mother. And I will thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head. There is more to strategy than attacking, Urek, and if you could understand that we’d have captured them already – alive, as commanded. But -” Kaldr peered pointedly up into the sky, towards Raenshold. “But, unless I miss my guess, the message is already on its way to our Thane. I trust, Urek, that you will be willing to eat those words when we accomplish our task.”

    Vittir’s voice cut the air behind him with his sneer. “If you intended to accomplish our task, you’d be sending us up the fjord without delay.”

    Kaldr turned to face his new uninvited guest, his eyebrows raised. And now the other one arrives. “Ah. Vittir. Yes, you may come aboard. As I was just telling your compatriot, we cannot afford to destroy Lundholm just to flush out some rats. Let them rest: it will do them no good.”

    “You really are a coward if you think this backwater will put up a fight.”

    “That is not the cost I was speaking of, Vittir. But never mind: you will all see, soon enough. Look here: the only way in or out of the town by sea is through this fjord, and it is impossible to go through more than one at a time. Assuming they’re not so kind as to simply decide to settle here, sooner or later they have to try to slip past us. Conversely, if we decided to raid the town, we would have the disadvantage of being stuck in that selfsame fjord.”

    Vittir looked dubious. Kaldr was reasonably certain Urek hadn’t heard a word: he still stared bug-eyed, his hands clenched at his sides. Kaldr sighed. “If it will make you happier, we can send small parties up the fjord to harry them farther. If we harass the villagers, their guests will probably wear out their welcome faster.”

    Urek crossed his arms, the color in his face finally starting to come down. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m still watching you.”

    “Of course.” I should be so lucky.

    If Einarr hadn’t known better, he would have thought the men of Lundholm unaware of the approaching ships. That was impossible, of course: news had reached the town at the same time it had reached them. The only real change from before, though, was a trifle more activity down by the water’s edge.

    A fisherman paused on his way past the Captains while they still blinked in surprise. “I know it’s none o’ me business to say, but you might be wise to bring your ships up near the boathouse.”

    Einarr paused a moment. It was a sound idea, but… “Why?”

    “So they can’t sabotage them if they make it up the channel, of course.”

    Of course. Einarr shrugged to himself: that was, in fact, the single best reason. He didn’t know what other answer he was expecting. “I take it they’ve harassed you before.”

    The fisherman shook his head. “Every handfull of years, or so, that lord they follow gets a bee in his bonnet and tries to bring us to heel. ‘T’ain’t worked yet.”

    A smile quirked at the corner of Einarr’s mouth. “Of course. Thanks for the advice.”

    With a friendly wave, he jogged to catch up with Father and Kormund, who were already headed towards the shore. As glad as he was to see the town taking this in stride, there was one major difference from the last time his uncle had sent ships here.

    Them.

    Whether or not Kaldr was sensible, it was plain that at least one of his fleet captains was not. Would their presence make the wolfling response more violent? He could not answer that. All the same, the faster they could resupply their ships, the better.

    He stopped a moment, thinking, and then changed course. There were only a few men down at the boats: most of their crews, the men who weren’t out hunting or bringing in water at least, would probably be on the green, and they would be needed.

    Afternoon was waning by the time sufficient members of the three crews had gathered at the shore. Longships were light enough that a crew could carry them across land at need. On the other hand, it did take most of a crew, all doing their part. And so the fifty men Einarr had gathered all put their shoulders to the sides of the Vidofnir and heaved.

    With a groan of wood and men, and the grinding of wood on wet sand, slowly the Vidofnir lifted off the beach and onto the shoulders of her porters. Einarr felt his feet begin to slip in the sand as he took on the unaccustomed weight: it had been a very long time since he had needed to move a ship this way.

    On the other side, his own shoulder to the wood, Stigander called out. “Steady, now! And, forward!”

    The boathouse stood in a cleared field on the edge of town nearest the shore, and by the time they were halfway there they had fallen into the proper rhythm. Twilight was falling by the time the Eikthyrnir rested alongside the Vidofnir and the Heidrun, and the crew all stretched tired arms and sore backs on their way to the stewpots of the town alewives.

    Near the end of supper, a loud twang rang out over the village, as of a giant’s bowstring being released somewhere in the forest.

    “Sleep armed, men,” Stigander warned. “It seems the wolves are still worrying at our heels.”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 10.9 – Seige

    10.9 – Seige

    Stigander frowned out over the water. The four ships were near enough that you could make out the wolf’s head on the prow. Much closer, and they risked being seen in turn. “That’s them, all right,” he said again.

    “I had hoped to have a few more days before they showed up,” Einarr mused.

    “Bah! That was never going to happen, son. Not after they chased us from Eskihus.”

    “I know, Father. I still hoped. But let’s face it, we haven’t been near here in more than a decade.”

    “And they live in these waters. Yes, exactly.”

    Kormund cleared his throat. “And they are continuing straight for the island. Might I suggest we draw back at least far enough to have tree cover?”

    Hasty nods and grunts of agreement were heard from all around, and everyone save the village scout started walking back to Lundholm.

    “Elder Vilding assures me we will be able to replenish all our arrows three days from now. Water, of course, we’re on our own, but one of the woodsmen showed Arring to a spring we can use. That just leaves food and pitch, plus any repairs that can’t wait.”

    Kormund harrumphed. “I think any repairs can wait – unless one of you was taking on water?”

    Father and son shook their heads.

    “Good. We’re not going to have time to waste. Did the Elder say anything about food stores?”

    “We’re in the wrong season for much of that. I’m sure there’ll be some who can sell us their excess, but most of what they have is going to be fresh or foraged.” Kormund must not have had a chance to speak with his Mate: this was exactly what Einarr had told them that morning. “If we can spare some men to hunt, though, what they do have is salt. And some others should make sure we all have good fishing nets.”

    Stigander hummed. “Not sure I want to rely on fishing just now… but I suppose if we have to we should be able to.”

    “My thought exactly.”

    Kormund chuckled.

    The other two answered at the same moment. “What?”

    “Nothing. It’s just that your son is a born Mate, Stigander, and here he is a Captain already. At his age, neither of us would have given the resupply a second thought.”

    “At his age, neither of us had earned our ships. He’s been riding the whale road for half his life already.”

    Kormund chuckled again and left it at that.

    Einarr hated to bring the mood down, but they had all been avoiding one important matter. “The real question is, will they give us time enough to even do that?”

    “You’re worried they’ll attack the town,” Stigander said with a sigh. “I am, too, but I don’t think they will. Not if this Kaldr is the man I think he is.”

    “He’s not the one I’m worried about.”

    “The mad dog? What was his name, Urek?” Kormund ventured.

    “That’s the one.”

    Stigander hummed again. “If they do decide to raze the village, either because Kaldr is not as savvy as we think or because he doesn’t have the others properly in hand, there’s not much we can do save fight them here.”

    Einarr nodded, thoughtful. “I had a feeling you’d say that.”

    Kaldr studied the narrow fjord leading to Lundholm. It was almost certainly where the three rebel ships had fled, given the path they had taken after Eskihus. Lord Ulfr hated the place, he knew – when he bothered to remember it existed. But that Lord Ulfr hated a place did not render it fit for destruction. Now he only needed to make sure Urek and Vittir understood that they would lose more in good will than they gained should they raid the place.

    Hopefully, the logistics of the assault should help with that. The fjord was impossible to navigate in more than single file: for that very same reason, it would be trivial to blockade and wait for them to try to slip out on their own.

    Still frowning in thought, he gave a decisive nod. “Thjofgrir.”

    “Sir!”

    “We will blockade the fjord. There is only one way out of Lundholm, and we’re looking at it. We will take center, along with Broki. Vittir gets the right flank, and Urek the left.” That should mollify them some, at least. They could hardly accuse him of cowardice when he placed himself in the center. As an added benefit, they would have a much harder time of it to slip past him and do something foolish.

    Another thought occurred to him. “Stretch nets between our boats.”

    “You intend to fish?”

    “I intend to keep them from fishing.” He bared his teeth at his Mate in a vicious smile.

    “Very good sir.”

    The signals were given and the ships moved into position. Not long after the nets were in place, as ordered, a clatter of planks could be heard from the flanks of the blockade. Here we go. It was a struggle not to roll his eyes.

    Sure enough, within moments, Urek came storming across the gap between their two ships. On the other side, Vittir was slowed by Broki’s temporizing, for which Kaldr was thankful.

    “Urek,” he said, turning to face the man. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

    “You call for yet another blockade? Are you Captain or coward?”

    “Peace, Urek. There is more to a successful strategy than attack. Even wild wolves know that much.”

    The other Captain, never known for his self-control, glared at him. “And now you insult me?”

    Kaldr was careful to keep his voice bland. “Not at all.”

    “Three times now we have set a trap for the rebels, and three times they have slipped the noose. Now you try it again, when they have landed at a rebel stronghold. Why?” The man’s face was already red with anger, and spittle flew from his mouth as he ranted.

    “Urek-”

    “No! I will say my piece. They are weakened, they are tired, they are low on supplies. If we press the attack now, not only do we deal with that pesky rooster, we also eliminate a thorn in Lord Ulfr’s side.”

    “If we press the attack now, Lord Ulfr will never hold his lands without his mother’s interference.”

    It was the wrong thing to say. Urek’s face turned from red to crimson, and his eyes bulged out, staring at Kaldr in obvious rage and disbelief. “Traitor!”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
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    Table of Contents

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 10.8 – Promenade

    10.8 – Promenade

    The conference between the three captains and Elder Vilding stretched long into the evening. Well before the end of it, Einarr was very conscious of a pair of eyes trying to bore holes in his back. Every time he glanced over his shoulder, Runa was very pointedly looking elsewhere. She was very plainly expecting something from him, and he hadn’t the faintest idea what. No matter. I’ll be sure to take her walking after supper. Whatever was the matter, even if that didn’t help it should at least point him in the right direction.

    The conference did not break for dinner, however, and by the time they did stop for the night nearly everyone else had retired to the ships. When the Elder invited the three of them to sleep on his floor for the night, and both Stigander and Kormund agreed immediately, it was with a sense of impending doom that he joined them.

    He rose with the dawn the next morning in hopes of slipping down to the ships to speak with her. He was not, however, in luck: all three Mates were already up and about, and were eager to hear the results of their long conference of the night before. With a sigh, Einarr put aside his intention. She had been in perfect health when they were rescued, and both she and the Jarl had been under Father’s sail. It would keep, whatever it was.

    He was less than halfway through his explanation when Jarl Hroaldr himself joined them. He looked like half the man he’d been when Einarr had last seen him: pale and haggard, and bony in a way that suggested he’d been starved down there. Still, he was less pale than he had been when Einarr found them on the beach, so that was something.

    After his conversation with the Mates, the day was in full swing. When midday came around and he found himself able to breathe again, the sensation of being watched returned. This time, when he turned around, Runa did not bother to look away.

    “It was one thing, Einarr, to ignore me when we were busy running for our lives.”

    “I… what?” Had he been? He hadn’t intended to.

    She snorted. “Don’t play dumb. You haven’t said a word to me since we landed, nor two since we got to the ships in the harbor. I’ll have you know, I’ll not tolerate a husband married to his ship!”

    Oh. Einarr lowered his face to hide the self-mocking smile even as he shook his head. “I’m sorry. I actually tried to come see you this morning, only I wasn’t fast enough.”

    She crossed her arms, not looking mollified.

    “I don’t think we’ve had a moment to ourselves since the Forgotten Island, have we.” He was sure of it: most of that time, he’d spent away from everyone. He offered his arm. “Walk with me?”

    “Very well, Einarr son of Stigander. But don’t think this lets you off the hook.” She was pretending to pout: now it was safe to smile. “Really, though. We’ve been on shore less than a full day. You’d think we’d be allowed a little time to breathe.”

    “Runa, we don’t know when Kaldr is going to show up, or with how many ships. We’re not really resting here, so much as catching our breath and stocking up.”

    “Kaldr.” She practically spat the name. “Just when you start to think the man might be reasonable, he comes around and starts chasing you like a dog with a rabbit.”

    Einarr blinked. That didn’t quite match up with what the other Singers had said. “How do you mean.”

    “When he caught us, he was all high and mighty about the ‘perils of magic,’ or what have you. But then, after we’d been there a few days, he caught us snooping around and didn’t do anything about it.”

    Einarr hummed. He wasn’t quite sure what to make of that.

    “Then, later, when we were making our escape, he actually warned us what to look out for. Accurately, even. And now, this.”

    “Wait, he helped you escape? Why?”

    Runa shrugged. “I have no idea, but he seems to hate the Weavess as much as you do. More, maybe.”

    “Truly?”

    Runa nodded. “She is a vile woman, Einarr. Her Weaving is blacker than you know.”

    Einarr nodded, not because he knew but because he was not surprised. Eydri had said, after all, that she was the one who had been in charge of Jarl Hroaldr’s care. “Don’t worry. She will be brought to justice.”

    “I’m not worried – about that, at any rate.”

    “I’m sensing a ‘but.’”

    “But I am worried that this assault is going to consume you.”

    He smirked. “Runa, I’ve not been on the main island since I was six, or any of the freeholds since I was ten. If there’s someone I’m worried about being consumed here, it’s Father.”

    “That would also be bad, don’t you think?”

    Einarr was nodding his agreement when a hunting horn sounded in the distance, from the direction of the spit. “They’ve spotted something? Already?”

    No further word was spoken. The two raced back the way they had come, headed for the village green.

    Four wolf-headed ships slipped over the ocean waves, headed straight for the Lundholm fjord. The three Captains, along with three of their best scouts, stood at the end of the spit, peering out over the water at the wolflings who must have guessed where they were going. Guessed, because after the encirclement was broken they had not followed – at least, not where any of their watchmen could see.

    Stigander’s voice was grim. “That’s them alright. And that fjord’s narrow enough, it won’t matter if they’re not all working together.”

    “Will they try to raze the town?” Einarr knew he sounded worried, but did not care.

    “I don’t know. Probably not right away, at least. We should have some time to prepare.”

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 10.7 – Safe Harbor

    10.7 – Safe Harbor

    Lundholm sat near the shore of a narrow, rocky fjord only slightly less treacherous than the waters surrounding the Althane’s grave. Stigander and the Vidofnir led the way, and even from his position in the rear Einarr could see his father’s crew sounding the depths at regular intervals.

    The town itself was tiny, and home to not more than four or five households but supporting at least double that living in more remote portions of this remote island. Einarr scowled: this was hardly the place he would have chosen for a resupply, even under such circumstances as these. Could they afford to supply the sheer quantities of goods three ships would require?

    Father, however, seemed confident, and their course had never wavered after they broke free of Kaldr’s trap in the bay.

    The town, when it finally appeared from behind the rocky walls of the fjord and the tree cover, was little more than a collection of wooden houses, most whitewashed but some treated and cured nearly black. Smoke rose from chimneys, and here and there he could pick out a shop stall. There would be a butcher, and a smith more familiar with horseshoes and nails than weaponry, and perhaps a miller for grain although he wasn’t sure where they would grow it.

    Well. He had lived in such a place before – or, rather, in one of the freeholds surrounding such a place. They would all have to sleep on the ship, but the local alewives would do a brisk business, as would the fletcher. With a creaking of wood and the calm splash of water against their hulls, the three ships beached themselves just outside the town.

    Stigander vaulted from the deck of the Vidofnir, followed quickly by the other captains from their own ships.

    Stigander cupped a hand to his mouth and called out. “Halloo!”

    A voice cut out from within a stand of trees just away from the beach. “State your intentions.”

    “Shelter and resupply. Does Lundholm still honor the name of Raen?”

    After a long moment, a skinny young man emerged from the stand of trees. He held an arrow still nocked to his bow, although it pointed at the ground. “Been a long time since we’ve heard that name. You don’t look like one of the Wolf’s dogs.”

    “I am Stigander, son of Raen and rightful heir to his Thanedom. So I ask again: does Lundholm still honor the old agreements?”

    The young man’s eyes went wide as he stared at Stigander. “W-wait here. I will bring the Elder.”

    Not many minutes later the youth – probably younger than Einarr – returned leading a wizened old man who leaned heavily on his stick as he walked. Einarr’s eyebrows rose: the man was at least as old as Afi, and probably older. When they reached the edge of the sand, the old man held up his hand and his escort stopped.

    The Elder continued on, his pace slow but both steady and firm, until he stood directly before Stigander and stared at him – long enough and hard enough that Einarr and Kormund both began to feel ill at ease. At last, though, he nodded his head. “You are the Son of Raen. Is it time at last, then?”

    Stigander smiled down at the Elder. “It is time, at last.”

    A grin split the old man’s white beard. “The Usurper’s men have not troubled us in many years. Now we will remind them of our existence.”

    A pair of watchers were left behind on the boats in case Kaldr sent a boat down the fjord after them. If the watchers on the spit were any good, however, Einarr didn’t think they would have much to worry about. The rest of the crew followed the Elder up into the village proper.

    As Einarr had expected, two of the three houses sold ale, and one made mead, but none of them were of a size to accomodate even one crew, let alone three. Even knowing they would have to sleep on deck did little to dampen their spirits, however: the promise of shelter, if even for a night, served to bleed off a good bit of the tension.

    “Has your fletcher taken an apprentice? I’m afraid we’re in dire need of arrows,” Kormund asked the Elder as they tromped through the town to their meeting-place.

    The Elder chuckled. “I’m afraid we don’t have a dedicated fletcher here. Not a man in the village can’t turn out a brace of arrows in the space of an hour, though.”

    Stigander gave a half-smile to his old friend. “Lundholm is one of the more industrious of our freehold allies. They’ll put us to work, but we’ll get what we need. I’m just glad the Weaving spared you.”

    The Elder snorted. “You’re welcome.”

    Einarr jogged a half-step to come up even with the elder. “Beg pardon?”

    After a sidelong look, the old man answered. “Your grandfather tried very hard to make this a proper part of his kingdom – not far short of open warfare, really. Only I was too cussed stubborn to go along with it, and he didn’t want to destroy us and rebuild.”

    “You knew my grandfather, then?”

    Now the Elder laughed. “Of course I did! How young do you think I am?”

    While Einarr stammered, Stigander held up his hands in front of him for peace. “Come now, Vilding. He was only a boy when the Weaver came.”

    Elder Vilding snorted again. “Not much more than a boy now.”

    Before he could finish the insult, they arrived in a large green surrounding a single large oak tree. “Here we are. Our Herb-witch should be along shortly, and then there are many matters to discuss. For example, what changed?”

    Stigander looked Elder Vilding straight in the eye. “That, sir, is simple. My son is the Cursebreaker.”

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  • 10.6 – Encirclement

    10.6 – Encirclement

    The Vidofnir veered left as the wolfling ship began to circle around in front of them but did not slow her pace.

    “Steady!” Einarr ordered. “Be ready to cut lines.”

    There was nowhere to go now but forward. Even if they changed directions, the rope behind them was solid. The Eikthyrnir, built for speed as she was, seemed to be having a little trouble maintaining position, but the Heidrun kept to her wing.

    They weren’t going to make it. The noose was closing too quickly. Einarr’s fingers tightened around Sinmora’s hilt.

    The Vidofnir’s prow nosed into the rapidly-slimming gap that was their only way out.

    Abruptly the ship ahead of them surged toward the Vidofnir, boarding lines already aloft. Einarr held his breath: surely his father must have foreseen this. But, how did he intend to break free?

    The ship to Einarr’s right had not moved to close the gap created by the foreward ship’s lunge. Another trap?

    Did it matter if it were? “Hard to starboard! Drive forward!”

    The Heidrun tilted as Arkja leaned into the tiller. It might not be enough to save them, but Einarr was not willing to let the chance pass. There might not be another one. Then the oarsmen redoubled their efforts once more even as the wolfling ship was still struggling to react to its fellow’s abrupt aggression.

    Kormund, too, was making a break for freedom. Don’t get bogged down, Father…

    “Hrug?”

    “On your word.”

    Einarr nodded at the one-armed man, his attention already back out on the wolves circling on the water’s surface.

    The starboard-side ship was finally turned to intercept, but Heidrun was already nosing into the space between it and its neighbor. “Hàkon!”

    The drummer knew exactly what he was after: he increased his tempo yet again, so that the oarsmen were pulling into a sprint.

    The Heidrun crossed over to outside the circle. Boarding lines flew from the wolfling ship, but there was not a thrower alive who could have made that toss. The Heidrun was just out of range. Einarr smirked, satisfaction flowing over his shoulders like water.

    “Drop tempo and bring her about. We can’t just leave our flagship behind.”

    That was the moment when the Heidrun shuddered and jerked nearly to a stop. Evidently there was an exceptional thrower among the wolves on that ship. Nevertheless, a moment later the lone caught line was severed.

    Not a moment too soon, either. Kormund had somehow managed to squeeze through the rapidly narrowing gap left by the impulsive wolfling Captain, but that left Stigander to fend for himself in the center of the circle.

    Not for long, however. Einarr grinned as his ship jerked back into motion. The Heidrun and the Eikthyrnir would free the Vidofnir – although it looked like she was doing a decent job of fighting free on her own – and then they would make for the nearest port. Whether or not Kaldr continued to follow, though, Einarr had found a weakness in their fleet.

    Kaldr blew the horn to call Frothing Urek’s ship back, half expecting the man not to heed. When he did, however reluctantly, Kaldr released a breath he hadn’t known he was holding and nodded. There would be nothing for it, now, but to track them into port. If the other fleet allowed a fourth encounter they were lost, and so the rebels would make all speed for the nearest freehold. Lundholm, if he recalled aright.

    Still, though, that was twice now Urek had deviated from the plan in the name of personal glory. That could not be allowed to stand: not if the fleet was going to have any chance at success. “Thjofgrir.”

    “Aye, sir?”

    “Signal the other Captains to join us here. And set us on course to continue following them.” Despite the rage seething in his belly, he was pleased to note that his face remained placid. Had it not, his Mate would have questioned him.

    “As you wish, sir. You should know, however, that the other crews grow restless.”

    “I, too, grow restless. Spread it around – quietly – that they escaped us this time because of Urek’s impatience.”

    “As you say, sir.”

    Kaldr nodded a dismissal, but his Mate was already off about his errand.

    Boarding lines passed between the four ships, and within the hour all four Captains were gathered on Kaldr’s deck.

    Urek, as expected, looked thoroughly dissatisfied. As well he should, although Kaldr doubted he had the self-awareness to realize why. Kaldr cleared his throat.

    “We have lost them, for the moment,” he began. “I very much doubt they will let us catch them again so easily before they reach a port.”

    “We’d not have lost them,” Urek spat. “If you hadn’t kept calling me back like some craven fool. I could have ended the rebels.”

    “You overestimate your own skills, Urek. Or grossly underestimate theirs. Had I allowed you to go haring off after the Vidofnir, you’d have caught it – or they’d have caught you, and proceeded to send you back to us rather ill-used.”

    “How dare you -” Urek started.

    Vittir, of all people, spoke up next. “Urek’s right, you know. If you hadn’t been keeping us back like a craven pack of dogs…”

    Count on Vittir to regurgitate what the others told him.

    “Now, now. Kaldr has a point, too. We’d have netted them all this time, if Urek hadn’t gotten impatient and broken formation,” Broki answered. He had been the one caught off-guard when Urek charged ahead.

    “They were about to slip through our much-vaunted formation anyway.”

    Kaldr raised an eyebrow. That was not what he’d seen. “I did not call you all aboard to discuss what has already happened, gentlemen, but to discuss how we will smoke them out of port when they finally arrive in one.”

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    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon.Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr ebook through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 10.5 – Blockade Run

    10.5 – Blockade Run

    The beat of Hàkon’s drum changed, subtly, from the rower’s cadence to a battle drum as the men hastily donned their maille. Eydri caught Einarr’s eye as he approached and inclined her head in acknowledgement. Good: it seemed she knew exactly what he had in mind. Einarr took up a position just forward of the mast and looked out over the water, studying their enemies.

    It was a blockade, like the wolves had tried to keep them in Breidelsteinn harbor. There, though, they had used a runic trick and who knows how much of their store of good luck to confuse the wolves. Einarr still couldn’t believe how well that worked: the fleet Captain must have been incompetent as well as unlucky to botch things that badly. He was not willing to assume that of Kaldr.

    They could scatter, and try to meet back up after losing their tails. Dangerous, but possible, if either he or Kormund knew where Stigander was headed next. Einarr didn’t, which meant probably Kormund didn’t either, so that was out. He frowned.

    “Naudrek. Keep your eyes on the Vidofnir. Let me know the moment you see a signal.”

    “Aye, sir!”

    “How’s Hrug holding up?” Getting past that previous blockade had taken a lot out of both of them, but the one-armed sorcer had been overextending himself for a lot longer than that.

    Jorir cleared his throat as he held up Einarr’s maille shirt. “Bored, near as I can tell. You’ll have to ask him if he’s up for another miracle.”

    Einarr grunted and pulled the shirt over his arms. “I’d best go do that, then.”

    The fact that he didn’t know already was irksome, but there hadn’t been a great deal of time for discussion since Hrug’s last ‘miracle.’ Things had been moving entirely too quickly on this expedition for niceties such as making sure your sorcerer wasn’t working himself to death.

    The lookout on board the Eikthyrnir spotted what looked like a gap in the wolfling’s line. There was a tense moment aboard the Heidrun while Einarr and Jorir considered whether it was a trap, and whether or not such a trap was worth trying anyway. Einarr didn’t see much choice in the matter: either they made a break for it or they settled on the island behind them. Jorir urged caution.

    Eventually, though, they agreed to spring the trap. There was no more time to dither. Stigander pulled the Vidofnir forward to be the point of their spear. Einarr took the right flank, while Kormund came up on the left.

    Every third man aboard the Heidrun stood guarding the rowers with shields and axes. Another third had their bows limbered and a few of their scant remaining arrows to hand. They could not afford more than one, maybe two volleys here. The idea, though, was to move quickly enough they would not need more than that.

    Stigander’s hunting horn echoed over the water and the Vidofnir began its rush.

    Kormund’s horn joined Stigander’s as the Eikthyrnir also surged forward.

    With a long breath, Einarr brought his own horn up to his mouth and joined his voice to theirs. Hàkon’s cadence shifted slightly as the oarsmen began to row with all speed. The voices of all five Singers lifted over the waves in the wake of the hunting horns call, and they were committed.

    Behind Einarr, seated on the deck near Eydri and Runa, Hrug traced the now-familiar runes of a ward at his knees. He had insisted he had the wherewithal to fight, and Einarr was in no position to argue. Let Kaldr sneer all he wants: I’ll not scorn a tool at my disposal.

    The three ships surged through the water for the gap in Kaldr’s line. It should be sufficient, barely, for their wedge to slip through with a little luck and a lot of speed.

    A cloud of arrows in the sky showed when they had entered bow range. Einarr set his mouth and watched, waiting.

    A second volley flew their way. More of these landed on the deck or planted themselves in shields, but still most flew wide. The wind was excellent for sailing, but evidently giving their archers trouble. Einarr glanced down at Hrug, but his one-armed friend showed no sign of having toyed with the wind.

    Finally the people on the deck of the wolfling ships looked recognizably human to Einarr. A third flock of arrows rose into the sky. “Archers! Fire!”

    The answering volleys from the Vidofnir, the Heidrun, and the Eikthyrnir were striking home even as the three ships came into boarding line range – of one ship. Einarr groaned to see that one of the ships on the edge of the gap was pulling back and firing again. If they weren’t careful, they would be encircled. Maybe even if they were careful.

    He signalled for Hàkon to speed his cadence. Some of the slower oarsmen might have trouble keeping up if they held it for a long time, but for a short sprint they should be able to manage.

    The ship ahead of them was still falling back, although even from here Einarr could see boarding lines being readied. He caught himself settling into a fighting stance and shrugged his shoulders: it was far too early for the Captain to be preparing to fight – not hand to hand, anyway. He glanced behind them.

    Sure enough, another of the wolfling ships – Einarr thought it was Kaldr’s, although he couldn’t say for certain – was trying to sneak behind them. This was about to get very, very messy.

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  • 10.2 – Strategy

    10.2 – Strategy

    A note in Jorir’s voice caught Einarr’s ear. “Well, spit it out. What’s the matter?”

    “Only this. How many more skirmishes like that can we take?”

    Einarr frowned. “That probably depends on how many volleys we have to fire. You’re concerned about supplies, then.”

    “Aye. That, and manpower.”

    “You’re right, of course.” Movement caught Einarr’s eye from the deck of the Vidofnir. “That’s Bardr, signalling a conference. You, Tyr, and Eydri, and Vali with me.”

    “Not that I question your wisdom, but why the ghost?”

    “Same reason as Tyr. Experience.”

    Jorir harrumphed but said no more.

    Half an hour later, all three Captains were gathered on board the Vidofnir with their Mates and advisors. Einarr had brought the largest contingent, but neither Father nor Captain Kormund so much as batted an eye.

    Stigander locked eyes with Tyr and nodded in greeting. “Tyr.”

    “C- Stigander.”

    “You see anyone you know on those ships?”

    “One or two.”

    “Good.” Stigander turned his attention now to the other Captains. “How are your crews holding out.”

    “Well enough, Father, but…”

    Captain Kormund shook his head. “The men are getting tired, Stigander, and we’re going to need not just food and water but arrows and pitch and bandages before long.”

    Jorir made a rumbling noise that might have been a chuckle as Einarr nodded.

    “Exactly. Is there still a town near Afi’s old freehold?” It had been safe enough for him to summer there after Breidelstein fell, after all.

    Stigander frowned. “I haven’t heard if they recovered or not. But there’s not often a lot of news coming out of the smaller islands like that, so we might not have. And if they’re not terribly happy to see me, there were others nearby.”

    “Why would they have anything to hold against us?”

    Stigander raised his eyebrows. “You were there. You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

    Einarr’s answer was to look at his father with greater confusion.

    The older man sighed. “Those raiders who burned the town and killed your grandparents? They were Ulfr’s men, under a false flag. Looking for us.”

    “Ah.”

    Nevertheless, Stigander nodded to Bardr, who stepped away to give their new heading to Arring at the tiller. That done, Stigander turned back to their conference. “Now then. Tyr, you said you caught sight of some familiar faces during the fighting?”

    “Oh, aye. And some of them men I’d never have expected to see live this long, let alone taking the helm.”

    Tyr settled himself on a barrel near the mast. “Let’s start with the dangerous one – the one our Singers warned us about.”

    Reki scowled. “Kaldr.”

    Einarr perked up. “You remember him? Was he as odd about magic before the Weaving?”

    “Oh, aye. But you see, I remember his pabbi, too. Man was always blaming his own mistakes on ‘bewitchment,’ and it seemed like he was always in some sort of trouble. But however weird he is about the Arts, that’s not what makes him dangerous.”

    Eydri nodded in agreement. “He’s devious as a snake, and just as bloodless.”

    “You say ‘devious,’ I say ‘clever,’ and he plainly has a good head for strategy. Is he still following us?”

    Einarr glanced back into the wake of their passage and pursed his lips. “Yes.”

    “I’d have been more surprised if he wasn’t,” Hraerek grumbled, and Captain Kormund nodded in agreement.

    “Plainly he intends to harry us into submission,” Stigander said, his arms crossed. “Just as plainly, we need time to rest the men and resupply our ships if we’re going to win back the Isles. But we’ve already set course to deal with just that. What of the others?”

    “Men who, I think, would have long since retired under you or Lord Raen, that I saw. None of whom would have gained their own ship in that circumstance. I suspect the Usurper chose his Captains based on toadying and biddability more than skill. If you can believe it, Stigander, it looks like little Frothing Urek has a commission.”

    Stigander snorted. “Him? The one who you could goad into a fight by disagreeing over the weather?”

    “The very same.” Tyr chuckled along with his old Captain.

    “I wonder if he ever grew out of that?”

    “If not,” Kormund mused. “We can use that. He’s also, presumably, the sort who can’t back down?”

    “If he’s the same as he used to be, yes.”

    Einarr shook his head. “And he’s a Captain? Well. If he’s working under Kaldr, he’s not going to tolerate this harrying strategy. That gives us something we can try, at least.”

    The conference continued in this way throughout the rest of the day as the three ships sailed for one of the outlying islands, tailed by three of the wolfling ships keeping just out of bow range. Eventually Einarr sent Vali back to the Heidrun with the plan as it existed.

    “And Vali? Ask Hrug to be ready to destroy those rugs when we make landfall.”

    The ghost gave a wry smile and a mocking salute before winking out of existence. Einarr shook his head and turned his attention back to their discussion.

    Captain Kormund and Hraerek, his Mate, stared, agog.

    “Did you… not know about him?”

    Kormund cleared his throat. “I had heard you had a ghost among your crew, but…”

    “But the sheer insolence of it!” Hraerek chuckled. Bardr smirked.

    “Far be it for me to tell you how to run your ship…” Kormund cleared his throat, plainly intending to do just that until Stigander raised a forestalling hand.

    “I’ve seen no sign since his return from Svartlauf that suggests discipline slips under his command.”

    “Thank you, Father.”

    Stigander nodded acknowledgement. “Be cautious, however. The friendlier you are with your crew, the worse it will be when you have to make the hard call.”

    Einarr swallowed, then inclined his head in return. He had thought of that, long and hard, after taking Hrug’s hand the previous fall. But, in the end, he knew he could be no other way.

    “There is one last thing we must consider, Father.”

    “Oh?”

    “Will our hunters strike at us in port?”

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  • 9.27 – Harbor Assault

    9.27 – Harbor Assault

    The decks of the Vidofnir and her allies had finally been sluiced clean of the blood of their countrymen. The inscribed runes on the yardarms had evidently had some effect, as they were no longer stymied at every turn. But breaking through always came at a cost, and Einarr mourned those that fell every time. If Einarr’s mood was grim as they neared Breidelsteinn harbor and Raenshold, his father’s was moreso. Some of these had likely been men he’d known, after all, and they had not chosen their bewitchment.

    That ensorcellment would end soon, one way or another. Ahead, he could see now the graceful inward sweep of the harbor’s arms around a city huddled at the water’s edge. Looming above stood his grandfather’s Hold. From the water he could see nothing, of course, save the tower at the front gate and the stone walls curving back from it.

    That tower was, as father had explained it, the biggest challenge they would face in retaking their home. Now that he was finally seeing it, for the first time since he was a small boy, he understood why. Whatever else anyone wanted to say about Grandfather Raen, the man in his prime had plainly been a superb strategist. Not only had he united the clans of their archipelago under his own banner, he had built that. Either accomplishment would have landed most men a place in the histories.

    That made what had happened with the Weavess and the Usurper even more of a disgrace, to Einarr’s mind. His grandfather should be remembered for his feats on the battlefield, dammit! Not one ill-chosen dalliance in his youth.

    Einarr shook his head. The harbor was a choke point: they could not avoid facing more of Ulfr’s ships here. Now was not the time for idle musings. He looked around at his crew and nodded. It was that time, however. “Arm yourselves, men!”

    A jangle of maille filled the near-silence that followed his orders. There were those of his crew who had come from the Vidofnir – newer men, mostly, and thus mostly those who had never been to these shores before. One man stood out, however: in quiet conference before they left Kjell, Stigander had asked Tyr to serve as Einarr’s advisor, and Tyr had agreed without hesitation. Thus, the oldest salt on the Vidofnir had now sailed under three generations of the same line. Einarr only hoped he could do as well by the man as Stigander had.

    They were nearing the harbor mouth now, and no fewer than five wolf’s-head ships had emerged to try to block their path. Einarr once again regretted Eydri’s absence: having a Singer allowed men to fight harder and longer. Well: they had not rescued their captives yet, and thus they would just have to fight smarter.

    From the deck of the Vidofnir, in the center, Bardr waved a torch as a signal to the other ships.

    “Archers – draw!” The enemy ships seemed a bit far away yet for a volley, but there was sure to be a reason for that. Knowing that if it came to boarding he would have to stay on the Heidrun, Einarr, too, took up his bow and drew. Please, lady Fates, be true.

    The Wolf’s ships did not take the defensive posture Einarr had expected them to. Rather, they rushed forward as though desperate. Einarr furrowed his brow: there was a natural narrowing in the harbor mouth not far behind the enemy ships. Why had they not formed a line there?

    He shook his head. Perhaps this was the Norn’s work, after all. At any rate his enemy’s tactical misstep was his gain, and Father and Bardr seemed to have anticipated it. They were nearly in range…

    “Fire!”

    Bowstrings sang as a flock of arrows rose from the decks of the rooster and the ram and the roebuck to strike at the approaching pack of wolves.

    No few of them overshot their mark, raining down on the water on the other side of the defending boats. Einarr blinked: he had known of very few boats that fast, and none of them that bore a wolf.

    “Ready volley!” Even with the speed of their adversaries, they should have time for at least one more shot. “Fire!”

    This time the volley struck true. After a moment’s consideration, Einarr nodded to himself. “Fire at will!”

    Einarr sent three more arrows flying before the next signal came: others loosed more. “Prepare for boarding!”

    Einarr resettled Sinmora’s baldric as Jorir took his place by Einarr’s side. The dwarf, normally indefatigable, looked tired. Even getting this far had been a long slog: if Jorir was worn out, so were the rest of his men. They would have to end this rapidly. Even so, to leave these ships behind them was to cut off their only means of escape.

    He glanced down at Jorir again, weighing his options. They had to either send these dogs back to port with their tails between their legs, or disable them completely. He wasn’t sure which his crew was more capable of, but he had an idea. “Jorir,” he whispered. “You and I have a special operation to take care of.”

    “Oh? And what might this be?” The dwarf kept his voice as low as Einarr’s.

    “Sabotage.” Einarr offered his leige-man a feral grin. “We can’t fight too long: we’re all exhausted, and there’s still more to come. So we need to give these curs some reason to break off.”

    Jorir nodded slowly. “I see your plan, my Lord, and it is sound. But might I suggest you send others? Your place is here, and mine is by your side.”

    “Thank you, Jorir, but most of my crew is so wet behind the ears they could swim in the water there. It needs to be you and me if we’re all to get out of this.”

    To his credit, the dwarf merely shrugged. “Let’s have it, then.”

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