The Dream of the Iron Dragon: An Alternate History Viking Epic (Saga of the Iron Dragon Book 1)

by Robert Kroese

  In the distance, Braggi was planting torches about twenty meters apart and twenty meters from the spike barrier. He would wrap a rag around one end of the pole, douse it in solvent, light it, and then plant it in the snow. Then he would pace twenty steps and do it again. When he was finished, the torches would illuminate a band roughly forty meters wide just outside the spike barrier.

  The men around the fire were now taking turns telling stories. A young hunter named Njáll seemed to be the favorite. He had a pleasant, booming voice with a remarkable range, allowing him to assume the tone and mannerisms of giants, dwarves, witches, gods, and who-knew-what-else. Gabe found himself wishing he could understand the language. The Norsemen were legendary storytellers, but because of their lack of a written language most of their tales were lost to history.

  When he’d scarfed down the two meal packets, Gabe sought out Sigurd. Sigurd was listening intently to Njáll’s story, which seemed to center around a giant terrorizing a village. Gabe tapped Sigurd on the shoulder and Sigurd stepped away from the fire to face him. Through a series of gestures and generous use of the few English words Sigurd understood, Gabe managed to explain his plan for manning defense points around the lander.

  Gabe suggested they post a man at each of the four corners of the lander, just outside the torches. Additionally, one of the five people trained in using guns would need to be stationed in the casemate. Those not on guard duty should try to get some sleep over the next few hours: as many as could would cram into the lander, and the rest would have to sleep outside. As they were expecting Harald’s men to arrive some time after midnight, they would try to be close to full force from midnight until dawn. The four men who had taken the first guard duty shift would sleep while the others waited outside, forming a perimeter around the lander. All of the gunners—including Reyes—would then be in the casemate.

  Sigurd nodded his head and went to get Arnulf. The two of them spoke briefly and then Arnulf went about selecting the four guards. Gabe found himself fascinated by the way the men cooperated. He’d noticed it already when they were working on their defenses: there was no clear hierarchy, but the Norsemen had no trouble dividing tasks among themselves and working together. Older men were given deference, and Sigurd and Arnulf had almost unquestioned authority—but all the men were clearly acting of their own volition. There were no slaves or enlisted men among the Norsemen. They worked together like brothers.

  Gabe’s eyes landed on Reyes, who stood across the fire, munching on a food packet and staring at the flames in deep thought. Or maybe she was just tired. Gabe felt like he could sleep for a week. It was hard to believe they’d only been on Earth for a few hours.

  Earth. He still couldn’t wrap his head around it. They were on Earth. They’d really done it—gone back in time thirteen hundred years to crash land in the womb of humanity. If it weren’t for the aching cold in his fingers and the smoke burning his eyes, he might be able to convince himself it was all a dream.

  Reyes caught his glance and smiled. Gabe envied her faith, and he wished there was a way he could save it. He wondered if O’Brien and Slater had figured it out yet, that none of them were ever getting off this planet. That humanity was doomed. Twelve hundred and some years from now, a scout ship called Ubuntu would come across a Cho-ta’an mining colony, and from that moment on, humanity’s doom was sealed. The Cho-ta’an would hunt them to the end of the galaxy.

  What a silly, stupid thing to know. The most useless piece of information in the world, and it was indelibly imprinted on Gabe’s mind: humanity had just over thirteen hundred years left.

  He wondered again if it really was unstoppable. Schumacher had said paradoxes couldn’t happen, which meant that humanity couldn’t both meet and not meet the Cho-ta’an. Only one of the two could be real, and Gabe knew for a fact it had happened—or would happen. If it hadn’t, he wouldn’t be here. On the other hand, maybe reality could split. Maybe the lander’s crew could set humanity on a different path simply by being here. But how? If they could warn the people of the future somehow… write a message and hide it somewhere it would be discovered in the distant future, a few years before the Ubuntu incident. He shook his head. Even if it were theoretically possible, it was a fantasy. They were trapped in a semi-civilized wasteland in northern Europe. It wasn’t like he could hide a message in a bottle under a rock. So few artifacts of Norse civilization survived that it had taken until the late twentieth century for archaeologists to piece together the basics of their culture. Hell, they’d left so little mark on North America that nobody had known for sure until the 1960s that the Vikings had been there. No, hiding a note under a rock wasn’t going to cut it. If they were going to change the future, they were going to have to go big. Go to Otto I with plans for the steam engine and the Bessemer furnace. Show his advisers the formula for gunpowder and teach them how to make penicillin. Kickstart the industrial revolution seven hundred years early. Then when humanity finally met the Cho-ta’an, they’d be so far ahead technologically that they’d be able to set the terms.

  There was, of course, no way to know what sorts of side effects such an action would have on history. Maybe humanity would wipe itself out with nuclear weapons in the fourteenth century. But at least they would have a chance. If they did nothing, humanity had thirteen hundred years left. But first they had to live through the night.

  “You should get some sleep,” said a voice in his ear. Reyes had crept up on him. “I’ll take the first shift in the… what did you call it?”

  “Casemate,” Gabe said. “We can call it a bunker if you prefer.”

  “I’ll take the first shift in the bunker.”

  Gabe shook his head. “Those pistols aren’t going to be effective at more than thirty meters, and I don’t trust any of you with the railgun. I’ll be heading up shortly.”

  “You’re going to be up all night?”

  “No choice. Try to get some sleep. Come up when you can.”

  While they spoke, Sigurd was giving instructions to the other men, occasionally pointing to the lander. Gabe had told him how to get the hatch open, and gave him permission to let the men sleep anywhere they could find room.

  “Not to stereotype or anything,” Reyes said, glancing from the men to the lander, “but…”

  “They’re Vikings, yeah,” Gabe said. “We should probably make sure all the valuables are locked up.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Amazingly, all ten men who weren’t on guard duty managed to find a place to sit or lie down inside the lander. Gabe shouldn’t have been surprised; he’d seen full-sized replicas of the longboats the Vikings had used to cross the North Sea, and they weren’t much bigger than the lander. It wasn’t uncommon for groups of settlers headed to Iceland or Greenland to bring livestock with them. The lander was crowded and stuffy, but for the Norsemen it was luxuriously warm and comfortable.

  Even without livestock, the smell and crowding was too much for Reyes. She’d grabbed as many blankets as she could lay her hands on and climbed up to the bunker to join Gabe. She dozed quietly in a corner while Gabe surveyed the area around the lander. When his eyes began to glaze over, he popped one of the stimulants from his pocket. The ring of torches illuminated enough of the plain to give him a few seconds’ warning before an attack, but that advantage would be squandered if he wasn’t alert. The four men posted just outside the torch ring might see something before he did and give him a few seconds of warning, but visibility had to be pretty poor outside the light of the torches. Gabe had the best vantage point on top of the lander, but that wasn’t saying much. The Moon hadn’t come out, and a bank of clouds had moved in to obscure what light there was. Gabe could no longer even see the outline of the mountains against the sky.

  He tapped a button on his flight suit, overriding the automatic temperature control, then loosened the seals, letting some cold air in. Better to be a little cold than to fall asleep on the job. Too much was counting on him: he had the one long-range wea
pon, the only weapon capable of eliminating a significant number of enemies before they reached the spike barrier. A lag of a few seconds in his response time could mean the difference between victory and death for all of them.

  Sometime around midnight, Arnulf came out of the lander with several other men. Four of them went to relieve the four guards outside the torch circle, and the guard went inside to get some sleep. Braggi came out and placed some more logs on the fire, and the rest of the men who had been sleeping gathered around it, yawning and speaking softly to each other. Once Agnar and Brynjarr had warmed themselves by the fire, they climbed up wing of the lander to join Gabe and Reyes. Reyes stirred to life as they climbed into the casemate. Gabe greeted them and then checked each of their weapons as best he could in the low light and then assigned them each a side to watch. Sigurd remained down below with the others, which was probably just as well. He could help Arnulf direct the men, and it wouldn’t hurt to have one man with a gun near the hatch.

  They waited until almost dawn, but the attack didn’t come. Gabe wondered if Gunnar’s men were waiting for daylight, but it seemed unlikely. A night attack would have given them a better chance at surprise, as well as the ability to hide their numbers. Was he wrong about Harald wanting the ship? No, he had seen the look in Gunnar’s eyes. He knew the value of the lander. And Sigurd had known it too—he wouldn’t have camped here all night with his men unless he believed there was a threat. Or was this all some elaborate ruse? Had Sigurd made a deal with Gunnar for the ship? If so, what were Sigurd’s men waiting for?

  No, Gabe was convinced that Sigurd and the others were as puzzled as he was. They had expected an attack before dawn—had been certain of it. Talking with Sigurd, Gabe had determined that it was about a four-hour journey by foot from Harald’s fortress to the lander. Sigurd believed Gunnar would have no trouble raising a force of fifty or more men if Gunnar impressed upon him the lander’s value. Gunnar had had plenty of time to get to Svelvig, make his case, gather his men, and return to the lander. So what had happened? Had Gunnar been waylaid on the way to Svelvig?

  He was still pondering this when Slater’s voice crackled in his ear again. She sounded panicked.

  “Say again, Slater,” said Reyes, standing next to him. “Slow down.”

  “—Harald’s men. Attacking the village. I got away, but everything’s on fire. My God, everything’s burning!”

  A sickening sensation struck Gabe’s gut. He’d know what had happened as soon as he’d heard the fear in Slater’s voice. He cursed himself for not figuring it out. Sigurd had told him Gunnar had threatened his village, and they’d handed him the perfect opportunity by keeping most of the fighting men at the lander all night. But how the hell had Gunnar known? Had they spied their defenses from a distance and decided not to attack? Judging from Sigurd’s map, traveling to the lander from Harald’s fortress would take them a good two hours out of their way. Even if Gunnar had managed to raise his force instantaneously, it would have taken them until dawn to get to the village from the lander. No, somehow Gunnar had known where they would be

  “Slater, where are you?” Reyes asked. Agnar and Brynjarr stared at her, concerned looks on their faces. They’d grown accustomed to the foreigners speaking with each other over long distances, but it was clear they’d picked up on the edge in Reyes’s voice.

  “I’m… I don’t know. Up in the hills somewhere. Cold as hell. Jesus, Reyes, they’re dead. They’re all dead!”

  “Slater, calm down,” Gabe snapped. “I need a coherent status report. What is happening?”

  “We were asleep. Me and O’Brien. Something woke me up. It was dark. I heard shouts outside and smelled smoke. The farmer and his wife weren’t there. I went outside and saw… I don’t know. Chaos. Couldn’t see anything but fires in the distance and shadows of people running. Screams. A man approached me with a torch. He had an axe, not one of the men from the village. He stepped over a body to get to me, I think it was the farmer’s wife. Torn in half. He shouted something at me, couldn’t understand it. I ran. Just kept running until my lungs hurt. When I finally looked back, the man was gone and most of the buildings were on fire. I kept running, don’t know where I am. Jesus, Gabe. I don’t know what happened to O’Brien. He’s not answering his comm. I think he might be dead. I left him. I had to!”

  “Are you safe now, Slater?” Reyes asked.

  “Yeah, I think so. I must have run two klicks into the woods. Nobody’s around. I might freeze to death though. Shit, it’s cold.”

  “Are you wearing your suit?” Gabe asked.

  “Yeah, slept in it. Managed to get my boots on before I went outside.”

  “Okay, then you’ll be fine. Make sure your suit is tight. If you get cold before dawn, walk in circles. Don’t light a fire. We’ll get there as soon as we can.”

  “Maybe I should go check on O’Brien? It sounds like Harald’s men are gone. I think I can find my way—”

  “No, don’t go back to the village. Stay where you are. We’ll find you. Hang on, Slater. I’ve got to confer with Reyes. I’ll get back to you in a minute. If you need anything, we’re here.”

  “All right,” Slater said. “Please hurry.”

  Gabe closed his comm channel and Reyes did the same.

  “Shit,” Gabe spat. “Fucking Vikings outsmarted us. How did they know?”

  “Must be a spy at the village,” Reyes said. “Unless one of Sigurd’s men slipped away?”

  “They’d have had to leave before dark. Somebody would have noticed.”

  Agnar and Brynjarr continued to stare. Below them, Sigurd shouted a question. They looked to see him glaring up at them, a stern look on his face. He’d deduced something was wrong.

  “What do we tell them?” Gabe asked.

  “The truth. Their village was attacked.”

  “And then what?”

  “What do you mean?” Reyes asked.

  “I mean half our crew is over there. We need to go after them.”

  “We need to protect the lander.”

  “The lander is worthless without a crew. Who’s going to fly it?”

  Sigurd shouted his question again. Agnar and Brynjarr, conferring with each other, were becoming increasingly agitated.

  “Sigurd and his crew can handle themselves,” Reyes said. “Sounds like Harald’s men are gone already. We’ll tell Slater to wait a couple hours and then—”

  “I’m going,” Gabe said.

  “No, you’re not,” Reyes snapped. “I’m in command of this mission.”

  “I just told Slater I’m going after her,” Gabe said. “That’s what I’m going to do.” He swung his leg over the casemate wall and slid down the side of the lander, landing on the hard-packed snow. Then he approached Sigurd and Arnulf, who were speaking quietly together.

  “Enemies,” he said to the two Norsemen. “Harald. Feotan. Gunnar and his men attacked the village.” He pointed in the direction from which Sigurd’s men had come.

  The two Norsemen seemed to understand almost instantly. Arnulf turned toward the group of men warming themselves by the fire and shouted something. He was greeted with gasps and angry shouts. A brief, chaotic exchanged followed. Agnar and Brynjarr climbed down the side of the lander to join in, as did the four men on guard duty. Sigurd spoke a few curt words and the men began hurriedly gathering their items. Agnar and Brynjarr tried to give their guns back to Gabe, but he held up his hand. Probably better to let them keep them for now.

  “You’re not going,” Reyes said tersely, coming up behind him.

  “I am,” Gabe replied. “If you want to stop me, you’ll have to shoot me. Guess we’ll see how good a shot you are.”

  “Shut the fuck up, Gabe,” Reyes snapped. “You didn’t let me finish. I’ll go with Sigurd’s men and rescue Slater and O’Brien. You stay here with the lander.”

  Gabe stared at her “Why…?”

  “You’ve got the railgun, smart guy. If Harald’s men are done with the village, they
might come here next. Keep them away from the lander. I’ll be back as soon as I can.” She went into the lander and came out with a backpack, which she slung over her shoulders. She walked after the Norsemen, who had begun following Sigurd toward the village.

  “Hey, Reyes,” Gabe called. She stopped and turned to face him. He tapped his ear. “Stay in touch. Good luck.”

  Reyes nodded and fell in line behind the others. They disappeared around the tail of the lander, and soon he could no longer hear the sound of their feet crunching on the snow. Gabe was alone.

  *****

  The Norsemen moved single-file across the snowy plain and back into the woods. At first Reyes had been at the rear, but Agnar, holding a torch, soon dropped behind her. Sigurd, also carrying a torch, was leading the group.

  They moved swiftly, their long legs making long strides along the narrow path. Reyes had to jog to keep pace. At one point the man in front of her, a great hairy beast of a man, offered to carry her, but she shook her head. If her crew was going to survive here, the Norsemen needed to be able to take her seriously as a leader. So she pressed on, her side aching and her lungs hurting as she panted in the cold night air. Making things more difficult, the path was strewn with roots and dead branches that she couldn’t see thanks to her own shadow from Agnar’s torch. Several times she tripped and nearly fell. How the big Norsemen managed to navigate the forest without trouble was a mystery to her.