Islands in the Fog (14 page)

The men roared back as Ulfrik joined the center of the line. Snorri gave an approving nod as Ulfrik donned his helmet, drawing the cheek plates closed. On his right, Toki gripped the banner of Nye Grenner. His stoutest warriors formed the front ranks, and many ranks back his trained hirdmen bristled with spears and axes. Behind them, Ulfrik had clustered bowmen drawn from the levy.

"Plant that banner, Toki. We are not moving from this place." Toki grunted and drove the banner pole into the soft earth.

"Well, now this is a surprise," Snorri said under his breath. "Where did Hardar raise this many ships?"

Ulfrik looked down the slope to where his docks stood empty. His own ships had been hauled away for safety. But now the dock and the tight beach of flat rocks and pebbles filled with ships coming aground. He silently counted twelve total, six beached and six still out at sea with furled sails. He could hear the invader's anxious voices calling orders back and forth as men spilled over the sides.

"They can't land them all and there's no other approach," Ulfrik replied. He snorted a laugh, as if one or one hundred ships made no difference. But this was a fleet, more than the local islands could raise in a few days. A hand tapped him from behind, and the man offered a skin of mead. Men facing battle needed mead to ease their natural fears of blood and slaughter. Ulfrik normally preferred his wits to anything that might blunt his mind, but now he seized the skin and guzzled before handing it to Toki.

"If they can't land them all, they can't fight with them all," Snorri observed.

Ulfrik grunted and drew his sword with a rasp. The blade song repeated down the line, and he felt the heat of his men press around him as they readied. The attackers were mobbing up, seemingly disordered. Ulfrik expected Hardar to raise a banner and form a block, then advance up slope. Instead Ulfrik saw him draw his blade and point. Then he bellowed and led a wild charge.

"What a fool," Ulfrik said with a smile. Then he shouted his first command. "Bows! Send them to Nifleheim!"

Ulfrik and his warriors dropped to one knee as the mass of bowmen at the rear shot. The thrumming filled Ulfrik's ears, followed by the swish the arrows overhead. He watched as the black fletched shafts plunged into the oncoming mob. Men screamed and tumbled into the grass. A second volley followed fast, and Ulfrik's smile stretched wickedly. Everything unfolded as he had planned. The wide slope offered no cover and was the sole approach to his hall. Bowmen only needed to arc their shots and the landscape ensured a killing zone at the front of his line.

The second volley was as devastating as the first, and dark bodies cartwheeled down the slope as arrows pierced them. Ulfrik expected the third volley to break them. No sane man would continue into the arrow storm. He heard brave voices booming out from the enemy, demanding them to keep moving.

As the third volley hissed overhead like a flight of ravens, Ulfrik anticipated Hardar's retreat. But instead he spotted a cluster of enemy in a side pocket where the arrows were not falling. Even as more enemy toppled, Ulfrik's eyes bulged and he cried out his warning. "Shields up! Enemy arrows!"

The counter fire was not significant. But Ulfrik and his men were on their knees and shields at their sides. Before they were beneath their shields, arrows were falling among them. A wet cry came from behind Ulfrik and shrieks followed. As they scrambled to raise their shields, they ruined the shots of their own archers.

It was the break Hardar needed. Ulfrik heard him screaming. "Charge! Get up the slope! Go!"

Ulfrik leapt to his feet. "Lock shields! For Nye Grenner!"

His men reacted with practiced fluidity. Shield clacked on shield and spears lowered into the gaps between them. Hardar's men drew to the final distance, and Ulfrik read them correctly. "Watch for their spears!"

Thin bladed throwing spears flashed and sailed across the gap. The spears thumped into shields or drove harmlessly into the earth. The spear blades bent, denying Ulfrik a chance to hurl them back. Several of his own men from the rear ranks flung their own spears. It was too late to stop the enemy.

Ulfrik swallowed hard and braced his shield. The back ranks braced against him as well. Hardar guided his mob in an uneven line. The two forces clamped together in an overwhelming thud of wooden shields and the groans of the men behind them. Ulfrik drove forward, plowing with his shield and stabbing under its rim. Hot blood splashed his hand and a foeman collapsed.

Now the steady murder began.

Spears sliced down from the second ranks of both sides, like the maw of a dragon slamming shut. A shaft thrust past Ulfrik's shoulder into the gap before him. The man stepping into his companion's place caught the spear in the collar of his leather vest. He yelped as the edge gashed his neck, but it was not fatal. Ulfrik rammed his shield forward, driving the metal boss into the dazed man's face. A second stroke beneath the shield turned on something hard, probably a thigh bone, and the second foe collapsed.

Ulfrik's pulse beat to the rhythm of the fight. His heart lifted with the wild joy of battle. Many years had passed since he tasted the euphoria of the shield wall. Too often a raid was finished before any serious fighting. Now he could slake his desire for true and glorious combat.

With two men piled dead before him, Ulfrik shoved into the space. Snorri and Toki both squeezed forward. Being on higher ground made driving back the enemy a simpler task. Spears again wove death, striking from above and between the front ranks. A spearhead clanked on Ulfrik's faceplate, dragging on the iron with a frustrated rasp. He roared back and redoubled his shove into the line. The dead at his feet nearly tripped him, and gore slicked the grass.

"Hardar, you bastard! Fight me if you have any stones!" Through the press of sweating, grunting, and bleeding men, Ulfrik spotted Hardar at the front of his lines. But Hardar's red face and white-eyed expression flickered between intervening men. No amount of maneuvering would realign them to face each other. The lines were too tight.

The banner of Nye Grenner cracked above the carnage, marking Ulfrik's position. He repeated his challenge to Hardar. But few places were more chaotic than the front rank of the shield wall. Clanging swords, battering shields, battle cries, and death shrieks overwhelmed the ears. The nose filled with the tang of blood and the cloying musk of sweating men. The mouth filled with sour fear or metallic blood, and every word was an incoherent slur from split lips and broken teeth. Hardar would not find him.

"Retreat!" Someone on Hardar's side screamed the order. The man facing Ulfrik gave a pleading look, as if to beg the chance to flee. Ulfrik punched his blade under his shield. The enemy's face tensed in pain and he pulled his hand back, several fingers missing on the bloody fist. Then he melted away.

"They're breaking! Arrows! Finish these dogs!" Ulfrik bound forward as the line broke, laughing and smiling, slashing out at anyone slow enough to catch. He shoved to his right, hoping to snag Hardar in the retreat. He couldn't see him any longer. But he located Jarl Vermund.

The bony-faced Vermund had lost his helmet. He was smeared with blood and his gray-streaked hair matted to his cheeks. Toki harried him, making retreat impossible. Ulfrik cast about for Hardar, who should have been near his ally. In the moment Ulfrik searched, not finding his prey, Vermund had fallen and Toki's foot pressed the old jarl's sword arm.

Ulfrik opened his mouth to order Vermund's capture. But Toki growled a curse and slammed his blade hilt deep into Vermund's gut. He jerked with a ghastly shriek, then died as his companions fled. Ulfrik had no more time to consider. His men had lost discipline and were running after the retreating foe.

"Hold the line! Do not get separated!" Ulfrik cursed and cuffed any man he could lay hands upon. Snorri yanked overeager men back into place. But too many had run ahead and found themselves outnumbered by desperate enemies. He watched in frustration as his men fought two or three foes at a time, and met senseless deaths.

"Cut them down! Go!" He had to counter his orders unless more of his own die from lack of support. The lapse in discipline made his fists tremble. But he still smiled as Hardar's ships hastily put to sea. The other six ships never unloaded their men.

Ulfrik returned to his banner, gore draping him like a mantle of rubies. He yanked the pole out of the grass and held it high. "Victory for Nye Grenner! The dogs are broken!"

Death had swept the grassy slope in a vicious stroke. Crumpled bodies flecked the landscape in bloody piles. Arrow shafts and spears were quills in the torsos of the dead. Those enemies who failed to reach their ships turned to surrender. Some were captured, others cut down. Ulfrik surveyed all of this with a smile. He sounded his horn three times to signal the hall of their victory. It gave him pleasure knowing his preparations and training had won him the battle.

He squinted at the ships lurching away on the shimmering waves and realized Hardar would have to be destroyed. The war was not over. With twelve hostile ships still at sea, Ulfrik wondered if it would ever be over.

CHAPTER ELEVEN

Ulfrik slouched at the high table, his eyes passing over the heads of the assembled men but resting on none. A hush fell the moment Ulfrik grasped his wooden mug. The sun slanting in from the windows mixed with the low firelight of the hearth and the whale oil lamps dotting the tables. Weak shadow fluttered in the light. Many faces bore the cuts and bruises of battle, though each was grave and thoughtful. Ulfrik stood with his mug in hand.

"The price of victory was heavy. Far too heavy. So many good men, our brothers, now feast and await us in Valhalla. They were the bravest of us, beyond compare in this world. We will miss our brothers, but we shall stand with them again one day. They watered the earth with their blood to save our home. Let us drink and remember them."

Every mug or horn was raised and held in silent thought for a lost friend, brother, or father. Ulfrik swept his mug over the gathered men then drank. Ulfrik closed his eyes and drank deep. All the dead had been dear to him, but some more than others. Ari, his navigator and friend from his days under Kjotve, had died from an arrow in his neck. His gnarled face floated in Ulfrik's mind as he drained the last of the mead. Then he placed the mug down and regarded his men.

"Our fight is not done. Hardar is weakened but has crawled home to heal himself. As weary as we are, we destroy him before he regroups. His ally, Vermund, is dead. But his kin will seek vengeance. We must finish Hardar before Vermund's kin can send aid. I know you men are ready for this."

Many of the men shouted curses on Hardar and called for his death. Others frowned and looked at their feet. Ulfrik's gaze lingered on those men, hoping to catch their eyes. He could brook no wavering now, not with a chance to deal a decisive end to Hardar. The dissenters remained silent and downcast, stealing glances at each other. Then Thorvald shoved forward out of the crowd.

"Many men would be alive today were it not for Toki's lust." He snarled through his teeth and his face was taut with anger. He stabbed his finger at Toki, who stood woodenly next to Ulfrik. "He gave Hardar the excuse to make war."

Ulfrik's hands trembled and he locked them behind his back to hide it. He bored into Thorvald's eyes, putting all the finality and threat he could into his voice without courting disrespect. "That argument is fast wearing itself out. Hardar bit his tongue off in jealousy when he witnessed what we have built, and same for his friend Vermund. You were present when he accused me of wanting to conquer his lands. He has been trying to start a fight since that day. Toki was a convenient excuse for him. But he would find another even without him."

"So you admit Toki is the reason?" Thorvald appeared ready to collapse from his rage. His skin flushed the color of a man exposed to the sun for days.

"Do not persist in this, Thorvald. This is a time for unity and not blame. Hardar attacked today. It might be better that he struck earlier and had less time to prepare. I guarantee he planned to attack this summer on any pretense that would preserve his face with the other jarls."

"So there it is! You gave him the pretense. You could've returned his daughter, and gave him Toki as well. How many are dead so that you can still share a drink with your best friend? How many yet to die?"

"Enough!" Ulfrik leapt from behind the table and pounced up to Thorvald. He fell back from Ulfrik, crashing into the men crowded behind him. But Ulfrik did not care. "You insult the honor and name of your jarl. Do you intend to push further? If so, then lay the hazel branches and make the ring. I will defend my honor in combat if I must."

Thorvald clutched his hand to his chest as if he had been stabbed, shock written on his face. Ulfrik blinked, then broke eye contact with Thorvald. He had to quell the dissent or risk losing support of the majority. One voice would be joined by another, then all discipline and power would vanish. He stepped back, everyone giving way, and cast a scowl at anyone who would not meet his eyes.

"It has been a hard day, and tensions are high." He tried to sound normal, but his voice carried a rough edge. "We must bury the dead with honor and then prepare to sail. I will question the prisoners tonight and learn what I can about these other allies. Go now and rest."

The crowd broke up reluctantly. Ulfrik's closest would remain with him, which would normally include Thorvald. Instead he filed out with the others. Ulfrik shook his head in frustration. Men mumbled as they exited. Someone stopped outside the door and shouted back inside. "Toki broke his oath to the gods and we are all paying the price. Give him up to the gods and save us!"

Ulfrik started forward, but Snorri's strong hand snagged his shoulder. Ulfrik rounded on him, but his old mentor merely shook his head. "You can't beat this idea out of them, lad. Just got to hold them together long enough to take Hardar's head."

Ulfrik relaxed and shrugged as Snorri's hand dropped from his shoulder. He watched the rest of the men exit, some turning back with a supportive nod or wink and others leaving without a look behind.