Runes and Red Sails (Queenmaker Book 1)(63)

Rolf took up the call and set the pace. “Heave!”

“Heave!”

“With me, you sniveling curs! Heave!”

Twilight was upon them when they finally broke from the floe.

Aelfhild looked out across the wide horizon, speckled with a handful of listing icebergs. By the starboard rail Jarngrim lifted his spear overhead and howled. Embla lifted her muzzle skywards and joined in. The rest of the crew followed suit.

It was joy, raw and primal, the thrill of survival given wordless voice.

Even Rolf grinned from ear to ear.

With what little light they had left, they sailed southwest along the coast, and found a place to berth the ship. The grey sand of the beaches was strewn with melting fragments of the floe, trophies from a battle hard-won. Unn-marr was pulled ashore with tender hands, and lavished with much praise for her strength and resilience as they tied off the ropes.

Feet on firm ground once more, Aelfhild dropped to her knees to kiss the earth.

Eyvind ordered for a cask of mead to be carried up from the ship, and they built a roaring fire along the dunes. Though they were all exhausted and sore—Ceolwen and Aelfhild resembled doddering crones as they limped about with stiff limbs and bent backs—they drank and danced around the fire, calling out into the darkness.

Raising a drinking horn above his head, Eyvind cried for silence. By this time, they were all well in their cups, and feeling little pain.

“Earnfoldings, hear me!” He wavered as he spoke, holding a charred stick aloft in his other hand. “Today you have done a great deed. Few dare to sail these waters, and fewer yet pass through with their lives. But we have beaten the Ormsund!”

The crew whooped and hollered incoherent insults back at the strait as they drained their cups, but it seemed that Eyvind was not yet done. When silence had returned, he continued. “Today you have become one of us. Ceolwen is already Thrym by blood, but you two,” he pointed to Aelfhild and Bercthun, “you two, I name Thrym by deed. Come forward!”

Accompanied by much hollering and clapping from the rest, Aelfhild and Bercthun stood before their captain. He gave them each a sound thump on the head with his makeshift scepter.

“You are Thrym, and Leifings, too! The best Thrym!” He slurred ever so slightly as he spoke.

There were cries of agreement from all sides. Onund snorted, but Rolf was quick to push him over in the sand.

Bercthun knelt before Eyvind, and raised his hands for silence. “Lord, now that I am Thrym,” he paused to burp, “I wish to swear my loyalty to the Leifings!”

The Thrym applauded, and Bercthun continued. “I swear to be true to the Jarl, and to all in his line and household! I will do my duty to the Queen, and to Thrymgard.”

Eyvind slipped one of the arm rings off his wrist, and pushed it onto Bercthun’s outstretched arm. “I accept your oath, young Bercthun. Stand now as one of the Jarl’s warriors, and our oath-brother!”

Aelfhild clapped as her friend rose to embrace the captain, and Ceolwen whistled through her fingers. They both grabbed Bercthun by the shoulders and shook vigorously when he dropped back down beside them.

As the crew toasted Bercthun’s new oath-ring, a shadowed form dropped over the side of the boat and slunk into the firelight. Vidar stood before them, tears in his eyes.

“I failed you all today,” he whispered to the bristling audience, “I was weak. I beg of you to forgive me, and let me work away my shame.”

Eyvind tossed his stick into the fire as he stood to face Vidar. He put a hand on either side of the woodworker’s scrawny neck.

For a moment, Aelfhild feared the captain might throttle the smaller man.

Then Eyvind spoke. “Fear is the mark of a wise man, not a weak one. But the coward lets it rule him.”

Vidar sniffed and nodded his head. He made as if to turn away, but Eyvind pulled him back into a shoulder-snapping hug.

“You will learn,” said Eyvind as he pounded Vidar’s back. “Now, sit and drink amongst friends!”

Aelfhild had never seen eyes so grateful. Vidar joined them and raised a horn, the tear stains on his cheeks shining in the light of the campfire. She raised hers as well.

“We lived!” she shouted, then threw back her head and howled once more into the night sky.





34

It took another day to be rid of the ill effects of the mead, but their luck stayed true and gave them a strong, southerly breeze to carry them west away from the Ormsund and into the deep waters of the North Sea. The wind filled Unn-marr’s sails and spared them from rowing as they recovered from the revels. There were a few smudges of cloud on the distant horizon, but the weather was fair and sunny and the days grew longer as Spring stretched her warming tendrils across the land.

The coast dropped sharply to the south after leaving the narrow strait, and they followed its course to avoid errant icebergs. It was a barren landscape, boulders and crushed rock interspersed with yellowing grass, free of trees and with only the occasional patch of malnourished bushes growing from crevices in the stone. In the distance, to the south and west, the snowy peaks of the Grimbergs jutted skywards.

This was ?rland, the Scar-Land, Eyvind told Aelfhild. He sat in the prow with her and Ceolwen, pointing out the sights in the distance.

There were her volcanoes in the distance, some dormant and others very much awake, and all of them crowned by glaciers and decades of snowfall. Whenever they spewed forth their fire, the ice melted and sent ashen floods rushing out over the plains, scouring the land of any and every living thing.