by Griff Hosker
Viking Shadow
Book 20 in the
Dragon Heart Series
By
Griff Hosker
Published by Sword Books Ltd 2018
Copyright © Griff Hosker First Edition
The author has asserted their moral right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.
All Rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, copied, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written consent of the copyright holder, nor be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Cover by Design for Writers
Dedication:
For Lorraine Moody, as dedicated reader as ever was! Thanks for your continued encouragement.
Part One
Dragonheart and the Shadow of Death
Prologue
I dreamed. That was not unusual. I often dreamed and those dreams meant something was going to happen. They were a way to see into the future. There were many times when I understood the dreams but there were other dreams whose meanings were hidden from me. Then I would seek an interpretation from Kara, my daughter, or Aiden, her husband. She was a witch and he a galdramenn. This dream was different from any I had before.
I was standing in the river. I was fishing and I was young. I was with the other boys by the bank of the Dunum, hauling in the nets filled with the salmon caught overnight. It was hard to see anything with the low mist which we called a sea fret hanging over the river. The cold chilled you to your very bones. I had taken off my rabbit fur boots before I entered the water as I did not want them to be wet and soggy all day. It was better to have cold feet for a short time. I waded to the furthest point from the shore. Suddenly a dragon ship loomed up out of the early morning mist. I could not move. It was though I was stuck to the river bed. A one-eyed warrior reached down and plucked me from the water.
The warrior changed to Haaken One Eye and Aiden was fitting a metal plate into his skull. I saw Prince Butar being slain but it was on the island of Mann for my son Arturus was also slain. I tried to run away from the deaths and pain but I found myself sinking into the river bed. It was the sucking me down. A witch appeared above me and she began to push me down into the cloying life devouring mud. I could not get out. I was choking. I was dying and then all went black. I reached up and found fur. Úlfarr the wolf who had saved my grandson pulled me from the darkness and the ooze. The wolf lifted me up and I stood on the top of Úlfarrberg and I sat with the wolf. Even as I looked into his eyes he began to disappear.
It was then I noticed that I was bleeding. The blood came from my stomach. I lifted my kyrtle and it would not stop. Erika, my dead wife, flew down from above and tried to staunch it but she could not. Brigid, my recently deceased wife came and laid her cross on the wound but it did nothing. I was dying and faces flashed before me. They were all the warriors who had died and gone to Valhalla. Cnut, Snorri, Olaf the Toothless and then old Ragnar. All flashed before my eyes and then I saw Josephus. The Greek slave beckoned me towards him. I had not thought of him these many years. Then I saw a horseman. I looked closely. It was a boy. He was smaller than Ulla War Cry and he galloped towards me. Was it Hrolf? Had the slave I rescued come back for me? As I reached out for his hand he was swept away and I was alone once more. I was alone in a dark place with no light. I heard nothing. I felt nothing. Was I dead?
Then I woke and found that I was damp and I was wet. I wondered if I had succumbed to the old man’s illness and could no longer control my bladder. I put my hand to the damp and it came away bloody. The blood in my dream was not a dream. It was a reality. The bleeding had begun some while ago. It had become worse over the past moon.
When we had returned from the catastrophic Danish raid on Lundenwic we knew that we had been lucky to escape with our lives. A handful of us only had returned. I had only taken the threttanessa, ‘Red Snake’ but she had been fully crewed and now half of the crew were in Valhalla. She was in the graveyard of all drekar at the bottom of the ocean. The riches we had gained in no way compensated for the men who had died. They never did. I had returned to my home in Cyninges-tūn. It was an empty home now. Old Uhtric, my servant and former slave was the only one who lived there now. Yet I was comfortable within my walls. I walked the Water and visited the graves of my two wives. I stared at old Olaf and, now, after my dream, I waited for death. None had lived as long as I. I had seen well over sixty summers. Old Ragnar had been the oldest Viking I had known and I had outlived him. I believed that the sword which was touched by the gods had kept me alive but I could not see a purpose in that life now. Ragnar, my grandson, led the clan. He would do a better job than I for he was not burdened by the pressure of legend. My son, Gruffyd also prospered. The two of them were more than capable of seeing that the clan lived on. They raided and they traded. They had children and the clan was happy. They were my legacy for the future. Yet I was still alive and I could see no purpose in my life. Why was the Allfather keeping me alive?
After the dream and a walk around the Water I went into the steam hut. I had asked Uhtric to light it early. It was hot and it cleansed me. I had just emerged from the steam hut when I spied Aiden, Kara and Ylva walking towards me. The steam hut helped my aching bones and joints. I used it most days now. As I headed towards my hall they waited for me. Even though we lived in the same Stad I had not seen them since I had returned from the raid more than a month since. I had, I think, been avoiding them and I knew not why. One reason may have been the disconcerting trick they had of reading my mind. I wished my dark and melancholy thoughts to remain with me. They were not fit for others. I slowed for they rarely came together. One might visit me or perhaps two but three of them did not bode well. Had they dreamed?
They smiled as I approached. My granddaughter, Ylva, came and took one arm while Kara, my daughter took the other. “You look well, Dragonheart. Did you enjoy the steam hut?”
I could play this game of questions and answers which meant nothing. “I always enjoy the steam hut.”
“We have not seen you since your return from the raid, father. You keep to yourself.” My daughter was now the image of her mother, Erika.
“You do not want an old man hanging around. I am a relic from the past. I am almost the last of the Ulfheonar.”
“Father, you have left behind the days of being a warrior. You are the stuff of legend. Why are you not at Whale Island? There you have a crew of grandchildren. You should be there with them.”
“My action almost resulted in my grandson, Sámr, being killed. Astrid is a kind woman but her eyes showed fear that I might have lost him. I think it is safer for all if I stay away from my family. I bring only death to those around me.”
We had reached my hall. I wondered if they would enter. Aiden did not wait for an invite. He pushed open the door and shouted, “Uhtric, fetch that cheese we brought and the ale. Put a log on the fire. This hall is as gloomy as Dragonheart’s face.”
Uhtric shuffled out. He was beaming, “Aye galdramenn. It is good to hear cheerful voices here once more.”
I flashed him a look which, in the past, would have withered him. Now he just smiled. I had truly lost all the power and influence I once had. Ylva moved my favourite chair closer to the fire and Kara laid my wolf skin upon it. I sat. I just wanted to be left alone. I still had the pain in my gut. The steam hut had made my muscles and joints easier but it did nothing for the pain which ached inside me. I just hoped that I would not bleed while they were there for Kara would notice. They fussed around and cut me a hunk of bread and some of the fresh cheese. Deidr
a and Macha made good cheese and they brewed fine beer. The bread was smothered in butter and, I confess, I felt hungry. Ylva put some wild berry pickle on the cheese. She knew I loved it. Aiden handed me the horn of ale and I swallowed some. They were patient. They waited for me to finish the bread and cheese and the beer before they spoke.
Kara’s voice was quiet but I detected a little anger beneath her words. “When were you going to tell us about the bleeding?”
I flashed a look of pure hatred towards Uhtric. Only he could have known. He washed my clothes. I should have made him swear an oath.
“Grandfather, how long has this been going on?”
“I am old. Old men are afflicted by such things.”
Aiden asked, “You have pain?” He came over to me and touched my side, “Here?”
I nodded, “Sometimes.”
“And the bleeding which was infrequent but is now more regular?”
“Perhaps.”
Ylva and Kara exchanged a look I had never seen before. They were frightened. Aiden knelt next to me, “Old friend, Dragonheart, you need our help. You are ill.” He looked at his wife and then back at me. “You may even be dying. Let us help you.”
I smiled at Aiden. He too, had been a slave. We had much in common. “All men die!”
“But not yet!” Kara’s voice was normally calm. “Your time is not come. We have not dreamed it and this would be the wrong way for the Dragonheart to die!” Now she sounded like Brigid, my late wife.
Aiden’s voice was calm and reassuring but his eyes told me that he worried that he could do nothing for me. “There are potions we can give you. They will ease the pain and they will slow the bleeding. There are foods you can eat which will ease your discomfort.”
“But I will still die.” They said nothing. “Perhaps if I throw the sword that was touched by the gods into the Water of Cyninges-tūn then I can use another sword, go into battle and enjoy a warrior’s death. I am ready!”
For the first time in a long time Kara began to weep. “But we are not.” Ylva suddenly ran from the room. That was unlike her.
Aiden said, gently, “Let us give you the potions to ease the pain and to lessen the bleeding.”
I was suspicious. “They will not make me reliant upon others? I will not be an invalid and lie in bed waiting for death. I will face death as I have faced all my enemies with sword in hand and defiance in my heart!”
Aiden said, “No, they will not and do not speak of death. We said you may be dying. There might be ways to heal you.”
Ylva had returned with a fresh horn of ale. “Grandfather I have put the potion in this ale. I beg you to drink it and then my mother can examine you. She can determine what causes the pain and the bleeding.”
I saw concern upon their faces and I did wish the pain to diminish. Most of all I wanted the bleeding to stop. I did not like waking in the morning in a bed which was damp and sticky. I nodded. They led me to my bed. Uhtric had put fresh bedding there. He stood nearby in case he was needed. I drank the horn of ale and lay down. As soon as the liquid slipped down I felt warmth.
Kara said softly, “You may close your eyes if you wish. We added something to make you sleep.”
I was about to tell her off when I found that I was slipping into a dark hole. I slept. It was a dreamless sleep. When I woke there was just Aiden seated by my bed. He had one of the candles we had taken from a church on a raid. He was reading by its light. I sat up. There was no blood.
Aiden laid down the parchment he was reading. He smiled. He was getting old too but he still looked like the young slave we had taken from Hibernia. He had youthful eyes and a mouth upon which a smile ever played. “You feel better?”
I nodded, “I do. Am I healed or do I take this potion every day?”
“You are not healed. The potion merely confuses the disease you have.” He leaned forward, “Dragonheart, lord, we can do no more here. You will be dead within a year if we just continue with this treatment.”
I now knew when my death would come. Aiden had often spoken of dreaming my death. Now, it seemed, he could do better. He could predict it. “Thank you, it is good to know. Then I will go on the next raid with my son and I will enjoy a glorious death and join my oar brothers in Valhalla.”
Aiden became animated and he took my hands in his, “No, lord, you misunderstand me!” He took the parchment he had been reading. “You took this in a raid, three years since. I read it when you took it and thought no more of it. Now I know that you were meant to bring it. This was wyrd. It is the Norns once more. This speaks of healers in Miklagård. They know how to cut open men and heal that which is hidden beneath their flesh.”
I remembered the dream. Josephus! “As you did when you put the plate in Haaken One Eye’s skull?”
“Aye but that was as nothing compared with what they can do.”
“Then what are you saying?”
“That we sail to Miklagård and pay these healers to make you whole once more. The Allfather has sent you more coin than you can spend in a lifetime.”
I laughed, “Especially if that lifetime is just one year.”
He nodded, “Use it for this.”
I thought about it. I had been to Miklagård before. The Blue Sea was a different world. It would be one last adventure. Even if they could not heal me there would be opportunities on the voyage for a glorious death. Then I realised I could not go alone. “It is a long voyage. Is it fair for me to ask others to risk their lives with me?”
It was Aiden who laughed. He laughed so loudly that Uhtric raced in. Aiden waved him away. “Dragonheart, there are many men in the clan who would follow you across the western seas to the edge of the world if you asked and they would deem it an honour to do so. The problem will be limiting those who wish to come with us.”
“Us?”
“You do not think that I would miss the opportunity to return to Miklagård with you, did you? I would wish to see these healers at work myself. I will go with you!”
Chapter 1
When the four of us headed to Whale Island I asked about my illness. They had examined me and they knew what I did not. Kara said, “There is something in you which needs to be removed. I can feel it. I know not why it causes the bleeding. To be truthful, father, we were not even certain that the potion would work.”
Ylva said, “We dreamed and used the steam hut. Your wife, my grandmother, came to us and told us what we needed for the potion. It was the spirits who have given you relief.”
“But,” added Kara, “the bleeding will return. The potion slows down the damage that is all. The gods need to give wings to your drekar and carry you to Miklagård as quickly as possible.”
I smiled, “Do not forget the Norns. They will not allow me to make the voyage without a web hindering us. Since I took Ylva back from them and killed their witches then I am their enemy.”
We had just entered the forest north of Úlfarrston and Ylva put her hand on mine. “I read your thoughts, grandfather. You hope that they do bar your way so that you can die with a sword in your hand!”
“And would that be so bad?”
“For us it would. We are selfish. The gods will have you for eternity. Let us enjoy your company a while longer!”
The gloomy forest ended our conversation for a while, for it seemed to depress us all in equal measure. We were lost in our own thoughts. Ylva was correct. She knew what was in my mind. A long voyage meant I would rarely wear my mail. I was no longer young. If I fought at sea, without mail then the odds were that I would die. I would go to Valhalla. If I died on a ship, or at sea, then it would be far from the Land of the Wolf and my family, my people and my clan would be safe. That was the main reason I was leaving. Word would soon get out that the Dragonheart was dying. There were men who wished to own my sword. A dying Dragonheart was a less daunting prospect than a fit one. I needed to be away from my land. I would draw the danger to me. That posed me a problem. In a perfect world I would travel alone but
a man cannot sail a drekar by himself. The ones who came with me would be risking their lives too. It was a heavy weight to bear.
As we neared Whale Island I saw that ‘Heart of the Dragon’ had her mast and yard ready with sail furled. She was at the quay and ready for the sea. I turned to Aiden. He smiled, “You did not think that while we prepared to come south that we were idle? We sent word, two days since. Your crew have chosen themselves. All is ready. We will sail on the afternoon tide for it will take two months for the voyage. Your time is now precious. We no longer count your life in years but in moons.”
When we reached Ragnar’s Stad I was overwhelmed by the reception. My grandson, son, their wives and all their children save Sámr were gathered. I saw the concern carved upon their faces. I smiled, “I am not dead yet. Come, smile. Ulla War Cry, why so gloomy?”
Astrid put her arms around me and hugged me, “We are sad for we do not wish you to leave the Land of the Wolf yet. You have kept yourself too long in your gloomy hall. When you return we would have you live here, so that we can see you when we will. Your grandchildren and great grandchildren need to hear the stories from your own lips!”
“You are kind. Let me get this voyage over and then we will see.” I stepped back. “If I do not return then you will see me when you dream for I will be with Erika in the spirit world and I promise that I will be there to watch over you from the Otherworld.”
I saw tears spring in the eyes of the women. Ragnar and Gruffyd came over. Ragnar was now as tall as me and broader. He put his arm around me. “Do not talk like that grandfather. We all wished to come but Kara chose the ones who would go with you. She is wise. Know that you could have crewed your ship many times over. The only married men who will be with you are Erik Short Toe and Haaken One Eye.” Ragnar smiled. “There was no way we could dissuade Haaken from accompanying you and Erik hopes to see the grandchildren of Josephus.”
