Tangled Threads Publishing

Category: IceWolf

  • 10.19 – Ebb and Flow

    10.19 – Ebb and Flow

    Two more of the pocket of wolflings fell before Sinmora’s blade. The others looked shaken: perhaps, then, he could get through to them. “Surrender and quarter will be given.”

    The man in front of the others hardened his jaw, although his eyes were still wide with fear.

    “Are we not countrymen?”

    The man in front found enough of his spine to spit on the deck and answer. “You rebel scum are no countrymen of mine.”

    So that’s how it was going to be, was it? Einarr’s jaw hardened in turn. He had tried: there were witnesses to show he had tried to save these mens’ lives. “Then fight like men!”

    Einarr did not give in to the battle fury, although the wolflings could be forgiven for thinking he had. With a roar he brought his blade up again overhead.

    The men broke and ran. Einarr shook his head: these were the men who had been giving them so much trouble? Even had his uncle been the legitimate heir, if these were the men in his service he would have no right to rule.

    Jorir harrumphed from beside him.

    Einarr spared his Mate and liege-man a glance. “Have you ever seen such cowardice?”

    “Not in a long time, my lord.”

    Einarr hummed. “I’m going across.”

    “Not without me, ye’re not.”

    “That’s fine. I’ll want you there anyway, I expect.”

    With a grunt of assent, Jorir shouldered his shield of golden fire and stamped his feet in his boots. “Let’s go, then.”

    On the wolfling ship, the first wave of Heidrunings and Vidofnings were locked in the clinch with the enemy crew. They already held most of the deck but, much like the wolflings Einarr had frightened off his own ship, these were refusing to back down. He frowned: was this the Weaving at work?

    It almost had to be, but there was nothing he could do about it right now. They needed the distaff to dissolve Urdr’s curse, and even if they had not been locked in combat it would be far too risky to try that now. Einarr shouldered his way forward toward the line: if these men would not surrender, as it appeared they would not, they were lost.

    Jorir matched him step for step, their charge building across the deck boards, and when the dwarf raised his voice in a battle yell Einarr joined him. They crashed into the enemy line and broke through with almost no resistance.

    Others followed, and soon the deck was filled with pockets of wolflings fighting desperately to stave off the “rebel” assault. Einarr frowned again: this was too easy.

    The smell of burning pitch tickled his nostrils. Einarr looked up in time to see the other wolfling ship, the one trapped in the fjord, with a blazing line of fire on its deck. Or, rather, above its deck, on the arrows of the archers arrayed for a volley.

    He could hear the order to fire echo from the other ship.

    “Shields! Now!” Ignoring the wolfling in front of him for a moment, he spun around to face the Heidrun. “Hrug!”

    For his trouble, he felt the searing heat of a sword slice across the back of his leg as he spun the rest of the way around. Einarr found he could not care: he raised his shield overhead even as he thrust forward with Sinmora at the man’s gut.

    The wolfling doubled over as two feet of steel thrust through his belly. A moment later, fire arrows rained down around him, thudding into the deck and catching the wolfling ship ablaze.

    Einarr looked over his shoulder once more, but the Heidrun was safe. Hrug must have gotten the shields up in time. He turned his attention back to the fight, only to see the other wolfling ship sailing up to join the fray. Boarding lines whistled through the air, and the line in front of Einarr gave a ragged cheer.

    Einarr scowled at the lines around him. They could not keep the other ship from joining the fray – not without exposing their backs to the warriors already aboard – but they could control where they fought the enemy reinforcements.

    “Heidrunings! Vidofnings! Fall back!”

    If they formed a solid line on the other side of the mast, possibly even almost as far as the other bulwark, then the wolfling lines would have to advance through the fire to get at them. That was worth it.

    Urek grinned a wolf’s grin as boarding lines flew toward Vittir’s ship. That volley hadn’t landed quite where he wanted it to, but fire was always effective. A little niggling voice in the back of his head wondered what sort of witchcraft that was, that protected the Heidrun, but it was easy to ignore. The only thing that mattered right now was the battle ahead of him.

    Urek settled his grip on his shield and drew his prized hammer from its hook on his belt. He swung it back and forth a few times, limbering his arm for the fight to come and nodded in satisfaction.

    Now. Where is she. Ah. There. “Gudrun! We are about to put an end to the rebels once and for all. Give us a Song!”

    For a very long moment she just looked at him. Sometimes, Urek wondered if his very own battle chanter looked down on him. If he could ever confirm it, he would put her in her place, but so far she had always done her duty.

    As the boarding hooks gripped the bulwarks of Vittir’s ship, Gudrun raised her voice in a suitably victorious-sounding battle chant. The red haze of the fury began to pulse at the edges of Urek’s vision. With a roar he accepted it. The other warriors on board joined him in his battle cry and they charged across the lines.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 10.18 – Three Captains

    10.18 – Three Captains

    Kaldr spent a long, weary night locked in combat in his own mind. For Lord Ulfr to call him back like this could only mean one thing. And yet, the more he thought it through, the more he was convinced that he had done nothing to regret. Certainly nothing that should have gotten him recalled in disgrace – or even castigated on his return, provided he was successful. The rebels were undermanned and poorly equipped, but not so undermanned that they could be caught without significant losses. And for trying to save the strength of Breidelstein, I am humiliated? He rolled over under his blanket, but still sleep eluded him.

    The atmosphere on deck was tense, as well. From oarsmen to lookout, he could hear dissatisfied mutterings from his men. That, too, was troublesome, and the corner of his mind that did not gnaw on his abrupt summons like a dog on a bone wondered what new fire he would have to put out on deck come morning.

    Frothing Urek waited and watched, a smug smile peeking out from under his beard, until Kaldr’s ship was small on the horizon before he turned to his Mate. “Bring Vittir and Broki over. This blockade is over.”

    The man snapped an unusually crisp salute, grinning through his own whiskers. “Yes, sir!”

    It did not take long for the captains to gather on the deck of their new flagship. Neither of them looked quite as eager as Urek felt, but that didn’t bother him.

    “Welcome aboard, gentlemen. Now that Coward is no longer in charge, I declare this blockade is ended. Ready yourselves for an assault.”

    “An assault?” Broki started. “Up the fjord?”

    “We are men of action, are we not? We will strike as lightning up the fjord, before the rebels have a chance to pull any of their tricks on us.”

    Vittir cleared his throat. “Before they left, we received a report from Kaldr’s scouts. Something is already in the works.”

    Broki looked at him sharply. “Something? What something?”

    “He didn’t know.”

    “All the more reason that we must strike now, while the iron is hot! Ready your ships, men.”

    The two under-captains returned to their boats, and the nets with their incidental catch drawn up. The sun was kissing the waves by the time all was in readiness, but that suited Urek well enough. He looked to his Mate and nodded.

    “Oars out!” They would have to be quick, to minimize the time when they were vulnerable in the fjord.

    Twilight had descended on the waters of Lundholm by the time Stigander and his three ships once more neared the fjord, although it was not yet so dark as to hide anyone. That was why Einarr called not only Jorir but also Naudrek up to confirm what he thought he saw.

    The blockade was gone.

    The ships were still there: two ships were visible between the fjord walls, with a third ready to enter as soon as its allies made way. Then where is the fourth ship?

    There was no place for the last boat to wait in ambush that Einarr could see, which meant they had to be farther up the fjord. Father evidently thought the same: he heard Bardr sound the battle horn. Two other horns joined in, their voices melding into a single loud trumpet announcing their intentions.

    The ship that had held back smoothly reversed its course, probably hoping to give its allies time to come around as well. Kormund’s Eikthyrnir launched a volley of arrows and dashed forward while most of them were still in the air. The Vidofnir and the Heidrun, meanwhile, slipped around the boat to either side. If Kormund couldn’t handle them for whatever reason, they would signal.

    The ship with its nose halfway into the fjord was still scrambling to prepare for this new threat when the first volley from the Vidofnir struck its deck. That volley was still in the air when Einarr gave the order to shoot from the Heidrun.

    “Take us to port! Prepare the boarding lines!” Einarr’s voice rang clear over the deck of the Heidrun, and without hesitation his ship headed off to port while the Vidofnir moved starboard so that they flanked the unfortunate wolf in the trap.

    The wolves were not so surprised that they did not answer back, of course, although by then it was far too late for archery. Boarding lines whistled both ways, followed by the clunk or the splash of steel grappling hooks on wood as they fought for purchase.

    “Make fast the lines! Go!”

    The order was almost superfluous: Irding and some of the other more reckless warriors were already crossing the ropes before the word ‘go’ was out of Einarr’s mouth. With a satisfied smirk, he turned his attention to the woman next to him. “Eydri. Whenever you’re ready.”

    Some few of the wolfling warriors had tried a counter-invasion, perhaps not realizing their true straits. Einarr calmly stepped towards the pocket of enemies that had gained a foothold and drew Sinmora.

    Eydri’s clear, sweet tones rose over the deck of the Heidrun, urging her warriors to swift victory, as Einarr settled his grip on Sinmora’s hilt. The strongest of the men – himself perhaps as large as Irding, but certainly no larger – raised his shield and readied his axe.

    From across the mouth of the fjord, Reki’s low sultry voice joined Eydri’s bell-like one and echoed over the water in harmony.

    A moment later, a third voice rose in Song, although it was not a Singer Einarr had ever heard before. The sound set his teeth on edge, so he thought he did not care to hear her again, either. Or is that deliberate?

    The red fury was still pulsing at the edges of his vision, though, so whatever she thought she was doing it was not going to break the Chant for the Heidrunings. Einarr raised his shield before him as he brought Sinmora up over his back shoulder. Her strike was true. Ein.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 10.17 – Summons

    10.17 – Summons

    Without needing to be told, the men on Kaldr’s ship formed ranks behind their Captain. The messenger would see, at least, that he kept proper discipline aboard his own ship. Not that it necessarily mattered what the messenger saw.

    The man who appeared over the bulwark was long and lean and more than mean enough to ply the waves alone, even if his lumpy nose and thick brow did suggest he’d lost more than a few brawls. As the messenger bowed and introduced himself, Kaldr could not help but notice that they had already attracted an audience. Urek leaned over the rail of his own ship, a smug grin plastered over his face, while on the other side Vittir and Broki watched with interest. At least they got off my ship.

    “Welcome aboard. I’m afraid you’ve arrived during the boring part of the hunt, though,” Kaldr answered the messenger.

    “Have I? That was not my understanding of the situation here.”

    “I rather assumed not. But you see, we have our quarry trapped here. There is only one way out of Lundholm, and we have it blocked. Soon or late, the villagers will grow tired of the rebels, and then they will be driven into our nets.”

    The messenger hummed, evidently unimpressed. “If that’s the case, then there should be no trouble at all. Thane Ulfr demands your presence at Raenshold, to answer the charges laid against you by your fellow captains. You are to make all haste to the capitol and present yourself before Lord Ulfr without delay. In your absence, Urek, as next most senior captain, will take charge of the fleet. Should the rebels fall into your net as you expect during your absence it may mitigate our lord’s ire.” The man had the nerve to sound skeptical.

    “I see.” He did see: somehow, he had lost the trust of his Lord. Could Ulfr have found out the witches had help escaping? No, unlikely at best, and they would have poisoned everyone’s minds had they stayed.

    Kaldr wanted to rant and rage, as his father always had every time he was caught by a witch. But there were two things he had learned from the man that had served him in good stead. The first was, never trust a witch, and the second was that a calm demeanor would see him through every time. Thus, he turned on his heels to face his men without so much as another glance at the messenger. “Men, it seems our mission is at an end. Rund, send up the signal that our scout must return immediately. The rest of you, make ready to sail. We’ll be pressing on through the night, I’m afraid.”

    He saw angry glares among his crew, but all of them were directed at the Thane’s messenger. To their credit, every last man answered ‘aye’ and moved about their business. Before many minutes passed, he was left alone with Thjofgrir and the messenger. “Have you other business here?”

    “No, sir. But do not forget that Lord Ulfr’s eye is upon you.”

    “I have never for a moment forgotten my duty to my lord.”

    “As you say, sir.” The messenger kept his face entirely impassive. “If you will excuse me, then…”

    Kaldr dismissed the man with a wave of his hand and turned his attention to more urgent matters. Pitching his voice low, he addressed his Mate. “Thjofgrir, when Inja returns, make sure Vittir and Broki get his report.”

    “What, not sure Urek can read?” Thjofgrir said with a quiet laugh.

    “Sure he would ignore it, rather. The messenger could hardly have chosen a worse juncture to arrive…”

    “It’s not too late to sink him.”

    “No, Thjofgrir. That would make more trouble, not less. Even if we could then point to our success here. No, at this point I think we just have to hope Urek doesn’t make a dog’s dinner out of what should be a straightforward capture.”

    Thjofgrir’s answering laugh said what he thought of that, but he turned to see about his duties nontheless.

    A chortle floated across the gap between ships, and Kaldr turned to see Urek’s smug grin. “I guess even Lord Ulfr runs out of patience sometimes. How does it feel to know you’ve brought his ire down on your own head?”

    “I don’t know, Urek. How does it feel to know you won’t have me around to pull your sorry ass out of the fire?”

    Urek guffawed as Kaldr moved amidships to survey his crew’s preparations.

    It was another hour before Inja made it back to their ship, and when he did he looked troubled.

    “I couldn’t find out what it was, but they’re plotting something, sir.”

    Kaldr exhaled and let his shoulders drop. “It’s no longer our concern, I’m afraid. Give Thjofgrir your report: he’ll make sure it gets to the other ships.”

    “Yes, sir.”

    That report was all they were waiting on. Even as Thjofgrir was in conference with the two more reliable of the captains remaining, Kaldr was directing the crewmen disconnecting his ship from the rest of the blockade. Done properly, this could cost them some hours. Done improperly, though, it could cost them their lives: a cost Kaldr was certain Lord Ulfr would be unwilling to pay. Even at the worst extremity, the Thane would want to hand down Kaldr’s fate himself.

    Finally, though, as the sun lowered in the late afternoon sky, Kaldr and his disfavored ship set back out upon the waves, leaving Stigander and his rebels behind them. This would be a long, tiring, and pointless journey. He only hoped Urek could net their prey. If not, this entire enterprise would be nothing but a waste of time and men.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 10.16 – 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!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 10.15 – Forest Road

    10.15 – Forest Road

    When the sun set that evening, Einarr was as glad for the end of the day’s labors as he was for the return of their scouts. Lundholm would recover: probably without too much trouble, even, for while Urek had instructed his raiders to do as much damage as possible, they had avoided doing much to the villagers themselves.

    Still, the cleanup had been back-breaking and tedious. Erik, rising from his work at the boathouse, inspecting their ships, was the first to spot them. He lifted a big hand high in the air and waved. “What ho! Welcome back!”

    That signalled the end of work as surely as the setting sun and everyone made their way to the green to hear from the scouts.

    “It’s not an easy road,” Troa warned. “Even without the ships, the way is steep, and the forest presses in on either side.”

    “In two separate places we had to clear a deadfall from the road,” Boti added. “Those were apparently what kept the old monk away: he seems to be in fine health, and bade us tell you he will arrive with the season’s first and second honey within the fortnight.”

    A woman’s voice in the crowd said “oh, thank the gods.” All three scouts smiled as though they had expected that response.

    “And the monk accepts that we must go past his hermitage?” Stigander sounded thoughtful.

    “Yes,” Troa answered. “I spoke with him myself. He was mostly glad to know the way had been cleared, because he is old and the trees were heavy.”

    Stigander’s lips parted in a smile. “Excellent! We leave at first light.”

    The wolflings did not launch a second raid on the town that night. When dawn broke and the alarm had not sounded, a quiet cheer went round the waking men of fleet and village alike. As they rose they each headed for the boat house as they chewed a small bit of dried salmon for strength.

    Elder Vilding waited for them at the boat house. Stigander, in the lead, motioned the men behind him to wait. “You have our thanks,” he said, offering a small bow.

    “And you, ours. I only wish we could have carried out our agreement properly.”

    Stigander accepted this with a gracious nod of his head.

    “I have sent a guide on ahead to the first fork. He will ensure you do not lose the path.”

    “You have my thanks, again.”

    A wry smile cracked the old man’s face. “Now go. Give ‘em Hel.”

    Stigander grinned, and then they moved on. Each Captain took his place at the bow of his own boat, and then their men put their shoulders to it and lifted.

    With no small amount of groaning, of men and wood alike, the Vidofnir, the Heidrun, and the Eikthyrnir rose into the air and began trundling forward like a trio of monstrous centipedes.

    The forest road was narrow, as Troa had said. Einarr expected it would also be steep, once they were a little farther inland. Still, it was nothing their crews couldn’t handle. He resettled his shoulder under the weight of his ship. This would be a long portage: perhaps among the longest he had ever attempted. But for all of that, it might just do the trick.

    When night fell, the three crews sat atop a mountain with their guide and rested for the evening. In the morning they pressed on, still tired and sore but glad to be past the worst of it.

    Mist hung in the air along the road that morning, lending the world around a feeling of unreality. And yet, with the clear sky above and the warm light filtering through the mist, Einarr could almost forget the burden he bore on his back as they made their way down the far side of the mountain. Someone started up a rower’s cadence song. Before long, men all up and down the line were singing it together.

    The road led around a series of tight hairpin turns – tight enough and steep enough that it was tricky to maneuver the boats through – but only a little later leveled off. Through the trees ahead, Einarr could see the blue-gray sparkle of the ocean.

    “Look ahead!” He called in cadence. “Nearly there!”

    Everyone’s spirits picked up at that, and with their spirits rose their pace. The forest opened up ahead of them, and almost before they realized they stood on the edge of a meadow. Off to their left was a small stone house. Smoke rose from the ceiling vent. That must be the hermitage: Einarr could hear buzzing off in the distance.

    The road tapered off into nothing from here, but already they could see the grey, rocky shore ahead, and beyond it the beckoning sea.

    The cadence song was now replaced by cheerful banter amongst the men. Someone proposed a race: his Mate shot it down.

    Einarr maneuvered his Heidrun to move parallel to the Vidofnir so that he could speak quietly with his father.

    “We’re not going to just leave the wolflings at the fjord, are we?”

    His father shook his head. “If we attack them, we lose one of the primary advantages of slipping out this way. If we don’t, sooner or later they’re going to try raiding Lundholm again. And this time, we won’t be there to help. And that is why tactics must be complemented with both strategy and ethics. No matter the short-term advantages it would gain us, I cannot abandon the town to the wolflings. Not when I’m the one who brought them in the first place.”

    Einarr nodded as his boots crunched in the stones on the beach. “You first, father.”

    Without breaking his stride at all, Stigander led the head of the Vidofnir into the cold ocean water before them. With only the tiniest of splashes they set the Vidofnir down in the water where she sat groaning on the beach, waiting.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 10.14 – 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!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 10.12 – Arson

    10.12 – Arson

    Einarr and Jorir stood, back to back, as the three remaining wolflings at the boatyard came warily forward. He would be a prime target, he knew, but whether his uncle would want him alive or dead was an open question. It seemed, though, that the two of them had some reputation already.

    Some unspoken word seemed to pass among the wolflings: all at the same moment, they broke for the cover of the trees. Einarr turned to race after them, but then something else caught his eye.

    Smoke. There was still at least one of the raiders around, trying again to set a blaze. Einarr growled. “Jorir! Stay on them. I’ll search out the rat.”

    Jorir gave a grunt of acknowledgement even as he jogged off into the forest. With a shake of his head, Einarr took a deep sniff of the morning air. The smoke was coming, it seemed, from behind him.

    The man would want to escape before the full light of dawn. Burning the ships was probably the main objective, but Einarr would be surprised if there hadn’t been a distraction elsewhere in town. That meant he needed to hurry if he wanted to catch the arsonist. He, too, set off at a jog, but he only made it a few paces before he froze in his tracks.

    The smell had not been behind him – not quite. As he moved back toward the village, though, the boat house itself had come into view. Or, rather, the flames that engulfed its dry wood. Where the waterlogged ships had not wanted to catch at all, the outbuilding had apparently gone up all too easily. Einarr stooped to kneel, to trace the runes again, but as he did so a silhouette dashed across in front of the building. Found you.

    With one last, regretful look at the boathouse, Einarr took off after the man responsible for the blaze. He could only hope that either Hrug or the town fire brigade would arrive on scene quickly enough to save the shop: he had to catch that man.

    Einarr took off at a dead run straight from his crouch. The arsonist wove between trees and around buildings in a way that would have been bewildering in a less familiar setting, a burning brand still in hand, sweeping over every wooden thing he passed. The man was leading him towards the green – away from the river. He must have another mission in town. But, what?

    No good could come of it, whatever it was. Straightening for a moment, Einarr slowed enough to shout at the top of his lungs “Fire! Fire at the boathouse!”

    Einarr took off again, his legs pumping as fast as he dared in the dim morning twilight, as he ran after the red trail of the arsonist.

    He raced out into the very middle of the village green – emptied, naturally, by the attacks elsewhere in town – and trailed the torch along the grass as he changed direction.

    Oh no you don’t. The grass was too damp and too trampled to really catch. He cornered hard, trying to shorten the space between them. Where is he going now?

    Einarr could see the man he chased now, not that it helped him much. Blond hair, braided. Maille, which suggested there would be a boat waiting on the water, rather than the raiders swimming up. Perhaps broader of shoulder than Einarr but certainly no taller. He looked, from the back, as average as a man could. That wouldn’t matter, though, if Einarr could simply catch up. He pumped his legs faster.

    Now he knew what the man was headed for: the smokehouse and the drying shed.

    There was no time to limber a bow, even if he had taken it with him. There were no stones he could see along the road – not large enough, anyway, to slow the arsonist. Once more, Einarr begged his legs for more speed. The people of Lundholm would not go hungry on their account.

    Faster! Faster!

    The arsonist stood just a few paces back from the smokehouse now. The man raised his arm by his head and threw the torch like a spear.

    It flew true, somehow, and landed with a clatter on the lid of a súrr vat. It kindled almost immediately.

    Einarr launched himself forward. His shoulder plowed into the back of the man’s knees, and both men went down.

    Einarr rolled to the side, out from under the wolfling. The arsonist grunted in pain as he landed flat on his back a second time in less than a minute, but he was on his feet only moments after Einarr.

    “What have you done?” Einarr demanded.

    The wolfling grinned – a singularly unpleasant expression. “Merely exterminated a few pests.”

    With a roar of rage that had nothing of red about it, Einarr lunged forward with Sinmora and cleaved his shield in half.

    The arsonist was not smiling any longer. He danced back two paces and drew his axe. Behind them, the fire that had so quickly kindled the whey vat was licking at the pole of the shed and the wall of the smokehouse.

    The wolfling actually howled before dashing forward, his axe held high overhead.

    Einarr brought Sinmora around and dug the edge of her blade into the man’s wide-open side. For his trouble, the arsonist’s axe buried itself in his shoulder.

    The flames behind the arsonist were audibly crackling. Einarr spared a glance over his opponent’s shoulder as the man spat blood. He needed to end this quickly if he wanted to save any of the food stores.

    The wolfling twisted his axe sideways as he wrenched it out of Einarr’s shield arm. Two could play at that game, and the wound was sucking at Sinmora’s blade. With a flick of the wrist he turned the blade and drew her out of the man’s side.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous

    Next

    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.

  • 10.11 – Night Raid

    10.11 – Night Raid

    Now that the ships had been brought fully onto land, their crews moved to sleep among the villagers. Some managed to find space on the floor in a man’s home, but most crowded onto the village green. Einarr thought, although he could not confirm, that the villagers were happier to have them there, as an added measure of security against the wolflings.

    Well, they would do what they could, at least. Poor recompense to the villagers was the least of the reasons they did not want to allow the town to be raided and razed. A watch was set, two men from each ship at every change of the guards. When they all finally bedded down with full bellies and clear heads, the sky had been dark for hours already.

    Einarr started awake to the sound of the watchmen’s cry in the darkness just before grey dawn. The rattle of maille from all around told of the others also rising as he belted Sinmora about his waist.He paused, straining his ears for any sign of where their assailants were.

    The smell of smoke tickled his nose, from off in the direction of the fjord he thought. Had they gone for the boathouse? Einarr started off at a jog, following the smell of smoke.

    He was halfway across the town when the hairs on the back of his neck started to prickle. Without thinking he threw himself forward into a roll. With a whizz, an arrow clipped his hair and embedded itself in a house rather than in his thigh. Sinmora slid from her sheath and he brought her to bear even as he rose to his feet.

    Einarr stood stock still, studying the night and the shadows around him. There! A dark blur moved between two buildings. Einarr followed, venturing a glance around the corner before stepping out to keep on the trail of the archer who thought to ambush him.

    Their path led closer and closer to the boathouse, and now Einarr was almost certain that was where the wolflings had attacked. The archer ducked between a pair of sheds along the road: had he noticed Einarr?

    He pressed himself into the shadow of one of the sheds and tiptoed forward. He could hear the other man’s breathing, heavy and labored, as though he was frightened or hurt. Einarr flattened his lips into a thin line and lunged around the corner. “Stand down,” he growled.

    The wolfling lunged forward with a desperate shout, and at the last moment Einarr caught a glint of light on the blade of the man’s scramasax. He batted the man’s blade aside with his own.

    “Who are you?”

    “I have no name to give to rebel scum!” The man’s words were brave, but his voice was more than tinged with desperation.

    “Surrender, or die.” Einarr hated to kill a man so obviously out of his depth. Why he was even on a ship was a mystery, let alone a raid – but when one went raiding, one accepted the consequences.

    The wolfling’s only answer was to try once more, with another mad cry, to stab Einarr in the belly, through the maille. With a sidestep and a single chop, the man fell to earth unconscious. Einarr allowed himself the luxury of a sigh.

    Once more the smell of smoke impinged on his mind, stronger now. Much stronger. He set out at a run for the boathouse, scanning the sky as he went for the telltale reddening of fire.

    The first hint of day touched the sky when Einarr arrived at the boathouse. Fires had been set beneath each of the three ships, but none of them had caught. That probably explained why men still tended each of the three blazes with an air of annoyance and desperation.

    None of them seemed to have noticed him – yet. Einarr smirked and swiftly traced a pair of runes on the ground. When he poured his will into them, all three fires winked out at once. For a long moment, the wolflings sat blinking at the charred wood that now barely smoked sitting beneath the waterlogged wood of their ships. “Excuse me, sirs, but I don’t believe you belong here.”

    As one, all six of them turned to stare blankly at Einarr. Then, one by one, they blinked, and realization began to spread over their faces.

    “Hey, isn’t that…” started one.

    “Don’t he look a bit like…” a second asked his companion.

    A third, back near the Heidrun, jumped to his feet. “It’s Stigander’s whelp! We’ll be heroes if we bring him back!”

    Einarr sighed, taking in his surroundings. Other than the boathouse and the three ships, both likely out of reach, he had very few options for cover. With a shrug and a grin, he raised Sinmora and his shield. “I’d like to see you try.”

    All six charged him at once, but Einarr was ready.

    One of them sprouted an arrow in the back of his thigh before he was halfway across the yard and fell.

    A second fell sideways as the stocky figure of a dwarf barrelled into his knees.

    With a grin and a shrug, Einarr charged forward as well. He suddenly had friends to watch his back, after all. When he reached the dwarf, he stood back-to-back with him. “Took you long enough.”

    “These stubby legs don’t cover ground as fast as yours,” Jorir grumbled back.

    Einarr chuckled and changed the subject. “Who’s the archer?”

    “Captain Bollinn himself.”

    The four wolflings still in the fight circled warily even as Einarr barked a laugh. “Just like old times.”

    “These men go down rather easier.” Jorir actually sounded disappointed about that.

    One of the four tried his luck, only to stumble when the pair in the center turned to let him run right past them. Before he could recover, Einarr struck with the flat of his blade to the back of the man’s neck. He crumpled.

    “Three down, three to go.”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 10.9 – 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
    Next

    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.