Runes and Red Sails (Queenmaker Book 1)(57)

Dockworkers were loading barrels of drink and foodstuffs, stacking crates on the deck with the oars and sailcloth. Vidar was there, hard at work with mallet and chisel in search of any flaw in his workmanship.

From a passing barrel, Aelfhild caught the unmistakeable whiff of dried fish.

She sighed. In her mind, she knew that it was a food fit for long journeys, since it weighed nothing and never spoiled, although as far as she was concerned that was only because it already had. In her heart, she despaired to think of all the dried meat and tasteless, mealy crusts in her future.

The old stories never talked about that.

Eyvind stood waiting for them, watching over the final preparations of the ship, with his faithful hound Embla alongside. Geir and Jarngrim carried over bundles of spears and sticks, and set shields along the pegs of the boat’s railing, while Kolbrun and Rolf helped the others carry their chests aboard.

In the prow, Vidar was chiseling lines into the exposed keel.

“He says it is an ill omen to have a ship with no name,” Eyrun said. “So they named her Unn-marr. In your language, it means Wave-steed.”

Rolf placed Aelfhild and Ceolwen furthest forward, where they would be the least nuisance to the rest of the crew.

Though it irked Aelfhild somewhat to be treated as dead weight, she admitted grudgingly to herself that she was in no hurry to pull an oar. Her wound was much improved, but still stiff and sore.

Bercthun, meanwhile, was lined up with the other warriors and got no such special treatment.

At last the ship was ready to sail and the mooring lines untied. Eyvind was last to drop down from the pier, lifting Embla down after him. She wagged her crooked tail madly as she scampered about the deck before settling down on a bed of straw made up for her by the steering board.

“A safe journey to you, cousin! We will await your return and curse the days you are gone from us!” cried Harald.

“We shall return to you, I promise!” answered Ceolwen. “I have every faith that the Aettir’s strength will carry us through!”

This received a cheer from crew and crowd alike.

Eyrun did not join in. She stared at each of her brother’s companions as though committing faces she might not see again to memory. When her gaze turned to Aelfhild, their eyes met.

Bring my brother back safe, she had asked.

Aelfhild saw the same prayer repeated in Eyrun’s expression that morning. She smiled at the Jarl’s daughter, but received only a nod in return.

The crew pulled in the ropes and pushed back from the dock, and their journey was begun.

In the stern, Eyvind stood at the steersman’s oar with Rolf by his side. Kolbrun and Jarngrim sat furthest aft, across from one another, then Onund and Geir, with Vidar and Bercthun closest to the other Earnfoldings; they ran out their oars, and set to rowing at a cry from Rolf.

Back on the docks, the crowd shouted their farewells. The Jarl raised a hand in parting, while Eyrun stood unmoving beside her father. The two stayed and watched for some time; even as the rest of the crowd dispersed, they lingered on. Aelfhild watched them dwindle from sight. She bore no great love for the Jarl, and Eyrun deserved better comfort. Eyrun deserved many other things besides, in her estimation.

As they passed between the twin guard towers at the harbor’s mouth, Eyvind raised the brass-bound horn to his lips once more and let forth two long peals. Another horn was blown in answer, and the ship glided forth from the harbor atop the falling tide.

Swinging around to the east, they rowed along the island’s coast into the open ocean and raised the sail upon the mast. Wind billowed through the crimson cloth, and the gold lines flashed in the sunlight.

“Red sails, lady!” Aelfhild shouted over the booming surf.

To her credit, Ceolwen looked to be handling the swells better this time around. “Red sails mean Thrym, Aela!”

“Red sails mean freedom!” cried Bercthun.

Though the rest of the crew did not know where the words came from, they whooped along with the Earnfoldings.

Klettirborg, high atop the dark cliffs of Jarlstad, faded gradually into the distance as the breeze bore them along.

Aelfhild heard odd splashing noises to either side of the prow, breaking the rhythmic crest of waves against the keel. She caught the flash of a silhouette out of the corner of her eye, but nothing was in the water when she turned.

Suddenly, a huge fishlike creature leapt from the waves beside Unn-marr’s keel. Aelfhild squawked in fright.

There were sharp, swept wings along its sooty back and white belly, and it cut through the water with astounding speed. More of the monsters followed, weaving and cavorting through the waves. One tilted on its side as the flock swept past Aelfhild’s perch, as a single round, soulful eye turned upwards to meet hers.

Ceolwen and Bercthun joined her at the railing, staring with mouths agape. Embla barked at the intruders, but could do little from within the confines of the ship.

“Sea pigs!” called Eyvind from the rear.

The crew joined them to watch the animals at their sport, though the Northmen were more familiar with the sight. These new beasts followed with them for a time, enjoying the wake stirred up by the ship.

Kolbrun laughed, a rare sound. “A good omen! The Gods smile on us!”





31

We sail west from Jarlstad for another day until we meet the coast. After that, north.”

Eyvind had to raise his voice to be heard over the waves. It was a fresh, windy morning, and he sat in the prow with the Earnfoldings. He traced the route on a cloth map spread before them.