Thorfinn saw Lorna a moment before she flung herself from the high riverbank.
“What is she thinking?” he cried as he watched her plummet into the river. “Come on, men! We have to get her out of the water before it's too late!”
As the warriors neared the embankment, they stopped in shock. The river's current was carrying little Lorna right into the path of a strange skraeling boat. It was bigger than the singleseated boats that had attacked the village in the earlier raids. It was strangely open-hulled, but there was no doubt that it was of a similar design. The two passengers inside the craft, however, nearly made his jaw drop. Red skraelings! The ghost people! And the one in the bow was female! Instinctively, he scanned for other attackers. Thankfully, he couldn't find any sign of a larger invasion. This might have been a peaceful encounter if it were not for that foolish child. Now he had no choice. He raised his spear and took aim at the lead skraeling. For Lorna's sake, he would have to kill them both.
But the female skraeling in the bow did something completely unexpected. She stood up on her seat and threw herself off the boat into the water. She swam to Lorna, who immediately threw her arms around her in what seemed to be a happy embrace. Had the child completely lost her mind? They would have to take care of the female skraeling later. He readjusted his aim for the man in the rear of the craft. He hauled back his arm, then launched the spear.
If it hadn't been for the sun glinting off the sharpened iron point of the spear as it sailed over the water, Chocan would have been a dead man. With uncanny reflexes, he twisted his torso and shoulders. The spear skinned his chest and smacked heavily into the folded sail behind him, tearing through three layers of leather and coming to a stop just a hair from the skin hull.
Chocan quickly pulled the sail in front of him like a shield and leaned over the side of the boat.
“Kiera! They're attacking us!”
Kiera turned her head from Lorna's repeated kisses and looked back in horror at the large spear embedded in the sail. She spun to face the men on the riverbank.
“Don't attack! It's me! Kiera! We come in peace! Please, don't attack us!”
As Magnus and Gunnar were about to heave their own weapons at the craft, Thorfinn heard the pleas from the water. He held up a hand. The men froze. Thorfinn stared for a moment, his mind refusing to believe what he had just heard. A red skraeling speaking Nordic, claiming to be Kiera? But Kiera was dead! He had seen it with his own eyes. And yet, there was Lorna kissing and hugging this stranger.
“Kiera?” Thorfinn shouted, his voice revealing his confusion. “How can it be you?”
She laughed as the other red skraeling tentatively put the leather sail down. The strange craft pulled alongside the woman and child. The woman gently hoisted Lorna into the craft. Hanging on to the side of the inuak, Kiera beamed with excitement.
“It's a long story, perhaps worthy of a saga! I'll tell you all about it if you give us permission to paddle into the village.”
Thorfinn's mind swirled. Lorna was sitting in a hated skraeling craft, kissing the stained woman on the top of her wet head. How was it possible? It had to be Keira!
“We will meet you at the dock,” he replied, shaking his head in disbelief.
He turned to his men. They, too, were speechless, their weapons now lowered. Had they just witnessed a miracle? The shocked men ran back to the village. The incredible news spread like wildfire and every Viking in the entire village ran down to the dock to see for themselves the red skraeling slave girl who had somehow returned from the dead.
TWENTY-ONE
After disembarking and taking a moment to scrub the thick ochre from their skin, the exhausted travellers devoured a bowl of fish stew before attempting to answer the hundreds of questions being thrown at them by the disbelieving crowd. Finally, Keira stood up on a stump and raised her hands for silence. The villagers quieted in anticipation. Kiera wove the tale of her journey for her enraptured Viking audience. She described her daring swim to shore while caught in the heart of the fierce Atlantic storm. She then explained how she was captured by a bloodthirsty band of Beothuck warriors. They had dragged her in bonds back to their village, where they threw her in a darkened pit with only insects and rotten meat to eat for weeks on end. The Beothuck planned to sacrifice her to their gods of war when the first snow arrived. The Vikings muttered in fright at such a horrific situation, and Keira was pleased. She wanted the Vikings to fear the skraelings enough to hasten their departure.
She then explained how she had lost all hope until Chocan, one of the few caring Beothuck, had taken pity upon her. In the dead of night, he had rescued Kiera from her underground prison, and together they had escaped on foot through the endless forests. Always on the run, they were continuously hunted by the furious, revenge-seeking Beothuck. Still, they managed to scrape together meals during the cool autumn months by catching small game with traps and harvesting edible roots.
As winter approached, they had hiked northward through endless swamps that were home to terrifyingly huge predators, never before seen by European eyes. They were similar to the mythological creatures of Norse legend. There were human-like, slimy creatures who pulled their sleeping victims down into their underwater lairs, leaving only a trail of foul-smelling ooze as evidence of their capture. There were also huge swamp serpents whose venomous bite could kill a hundred men. Kiera also told of a cat-like animal which prowled the woods with foot-long fangs and cold, slitted eyes. The gathered crowd looked at each other in fear. Even the fighting men felt their throats dry as they absorbed the horrifying details.
To survive the dangerous conditions, Chocan and Kiera had huddled through the winter in a protective but damp cave. They had been too afraid to venture beyond the mouth of their shelter. They had almost starved to death during that terrible, dark season.
Finally, as spring approached and the snow began to melt, they had resumed their careful trek northward. Upon reaching the coast, they had stumbled onto a Thule camp. Kiera accurately described their capture, as well as their daring escape by sail in the stolen inuak. Then, on a serious note, Kiera emphasized to Thorfinn the news of the impending invasion. Over a hundred Thule warriors were out to seek revenge upon their village. The men looked at each other in concern while the women held on to their children with anxious dread.
Thorfinn shook his head in amazement. “You and Chocan did well to survive such an Odyssey. We all thank you for alerting us to the impending attack. We were planning to leave for Greenland in a month, but because of your warning, I now challenge everyone to prepare for our departure in one week's time.”
Whispers of disbelief rumbled throughout the crowd. One week felt like an impossible deadline. Thorfinn then turned to the newly-arrived travellers.
“Chocan, seeing that you can no longer return home to your skraeling tribe, you are welcome to stay with us. We could use an extra pair of strong hands around the village, that is, if you are willing to stay and help.”
Kiera smiled. She translated Thorfinn's offer to Chocan. He paused, then replied in Beothuck. She nodded and turned back to Thorfinn.
“Chocan thanks you, and he accepts your generous offer.”
The work started immediately. The crowd dispersed into their assigned groupings, each with an essential task to complete. Bedding, timber and roofing material for their future homes in Greenland were loaded on to the three docked longboats. The carpenters worked feverishly on the still-damaged fourth boat, knowing that if it didn't sail, important items for their future homes would have to remain behind. Kiera helped the women pack up the longhouses and repair the sails that would soon take them home.
Chocan contributed to the effort by helping to feed the famished workers. In an effort to preserve the livestock, Chocan offered to hunt and fish in the area surrounding the village. Each day he would return with loads of fresh fish and rabbit. Once he even managed to shoot and kill a large deer. The men of the village were stunned by the trapping and hunting s
kills of the newcomer.
Everyone was so busy that Chocan and Kiera could only find time to talk at dinner. Sitting at the main table in her family longhouse, Chocan was finally given an opportunity to feed his curiosity as well as his stomach. He asked Kiera about the strange animals that gave the villagers milk and eggs. He wanted to know the purpose of the wonderful metal objects that he had seen around the village. He asked about the people themselves and how they all tied into her previous tales of Nordic society. Chocan was most intrigued by Bjarni, the blacksmith. Chocan's fingertip rubbed the rusted head of a nail that helped secure the top of the table to the braces underneath.
“So he must be considered one of the most important men of the village.”
“Yes,” she agreed, digging her teeth into a leg of rabbit. “Without his skills, we would not be able to create and repair all of our metal objects.”
“I would like to see his place of work, if that is permitted.”
“Certainly. We could probably manage a visit tomorrow. But I don't know how much work you'll see. Bjarni is probably starting to pack away all of his equipment.”
Kiera examined Chocan's face as his eyes roamed the noisy longhouse, his mind absorbing all of the sights, sounds and smells of the Viking culture. She suddenly realized how much he was really enjoying this time in her village. She lowered the meat she was eating and stared at her friend.
“I suppose there is no way to talk you into coming with us. You are certainly popular with the villagers.”
Chocan reached over and took her hand. “The last few weeks have been incredible. I will never forget our journey together. But as you have your calling, so do I. My path lies with the Beothuck. No matter how tempting it is to possibly travel to the fabled land of the Teachers, I cannot abandon Nadie and my chosen people.”
Kiera felt a lump grow in her throat. “I understand. It's just that I'm going to miss you so much.”
Suddenly, a little head popped out from under the table. Lorna reached out a tiny hand and tapped Kiera on the shoulder.
“Are you two getting married?”
Kiera jumped, surprised by her sudden appearance.
“No, Lorna,” she laughed. “We are not getting married.”
They smiled at her innocence as Lorna's face dropped, but she turned and skipped back to her family.
“I told you,” said Lorna's older sister. The entire table broke out in laughter.
Mats, sitting at the far end of the table, looked down at the strange Beothuck holding Kiera's hand and released a deep sigh of relief. He said a little prayer of thanks and reminded himself to do something special for Lorna the next time he had a chance. Now he knew that the skraeling would not be an obstacle.
Mats had been unable to take his eyes off Kiera since the day she had returned from the dead. Last year, he would have walked by her without giving her even a second glance. But now, everything about her had changed. Was it Kiera's newly found confidence, or her air of independent strength that he found so intoxicating? Her face seemed to glow. Or perhaps he had changed. His thoughts no longer dwelled constantly on the death of his first wife. As he reached for a second helping of fish, he made up his mind. He would meet with Bjorn and Dagmar after supper. It would be the required first step in order to seal their two destinies into one.
As the rising sun sliced through the early morning fog, Kiera stopped with Chocan at the entrance of the blacksmith's shop. Kiera was surprised to see Bjarni pumping the roaring bellows with his timber-sized arm. In his other hand, he held the end of a long handle that extended into the heart of the furnace. Attached to the end of the handle was a small metal cup. The heat from the furnace caused it to glow with an unearthly red pulse that was timed perfectly to the beating of the bellows.
“Hello, Bjarni!” shouted Kiera.
He glanced over his shoulder and smiled. “Well, if it isn't the immortal Irish girl herself. I've always heard you Irish were a lucky crew, but now I am a true believer. I see you've brought your friend along for a visit.”
“Chocan wanted to see you at work. His people don't have metal objects.”
He snorted. “It's a good thing, too. Imagine skraelings with metal weapons. It's the only advantage we have against them. If it wasn't for our metal, we'd have all been slaughtered by now.”
“It's the Thule who attacked us, not the Beothuck,” reminded Kiera.
Bjarni huffed. “What difference does it make? The picture you painted of the Beothuck a couple of days ago didn't exactly warm my heart to them either. They sound just as bad, if not worse, than the Thule.”
Kiera frowned. She had momentarily forgotten about her tale. It was important for the Vikings to fear the Beothuck in order to keep them safe from future invasions. Perhaps she had embellished her tale too much.
“Well, they're not all like that. Chocan is proof. And there are others like him, too. Just not very many. In fact, the nice ones are like us in some ways…they are outnumbered, but somehow manage to hang on. The only difference being that they can't leave this land. We can.”
Bjarni eyed Chocan suspiciously, who looked back at him with a curious but friendly stare. “Except for Chocan, I've never met a skraeling that I could have liked. If there are more like him, then they have my sympathy.”
Kiera turned to Chocan and explained Bjarni's activities. She told him that Bjarni was in the process of making nails. They watched as he heated the raw iron ore in the dish until it melted. Then he carefully poured the liquid into a row of narrow cone-shaped nail molds. After the red-hot liquid metal cooled to a hardened black, the nails were removed from the mold and Bjarni wielded a hammer to pound the nail into its final pointed shape. Finally, he picked up the nail with tongs and doused the finished product in water.
“Why is he making nails the day before you leave?” asked Chocan.
Kiera translated.
Bjarni laughed. ‘They ran out of nails for the last ship yesterday afternoon. Asked me to make up another handful. Sure, I told them, but you better not come crying for more nails tomorrow morning, because this is it. I'm through. I need tonight to organize my stuff for the voyage home. Nice place, this land. Love the trees. But I'd rather live in a village where the natives are more friendly.”
Chocan smiled and thanked Bjarni in Nordic. Bjarni was impressed by the effort. “It should be me thanking you. Your warning of the invasion will save my family's life. If there's anything I can do for you, Chocan, you have only to ask,” Keira translated.
Chocan scanned the room and noticed a pile of discarded items in the corner. Something near the bottom of the pile caught his eye. He walked over to a small, rectangular metal block and picked it up. It was another nail mold. He held it up.
“Is Bjarni throwing this out?”
Kiera asked the blacksmith.
“What? That old mold?” snorted Bjarni. “Yeah, I was going to leave it here. The nails always come out crooked. Took too much time for me to straighten them out again with a hammer. He can have it if he wants it.”
Kiera translated again, and Chocan thanked him. “One last thing, Kiera. Could you ask him if I could have a piece of his iron ore?”
Bjarni laughed. “Sure, take one. But only one. We had to lug our high grade ore all the way here from Scandinavia. Never did find a deposit of iron in Vinland that we could use.”
As they left the blacksmith shop, Kiera looked at him suspiciously.
“What are you going to do?”
He grinned and held up the mold. “I've seen large amounts of this rock near Nadie's summer camp. Can you think of a better gift to give the Beothuck people?”
Kiera paused. She thought of all the implications that could follow by introducing iron to the Beothuck. She thought of the attacking Thule warriors and the possibility of the Vikings returning at a later time.
She returned the smile. “No, I can't.”
TWENTY-TWO
In the early dawn of a new day, the loading was completed,
and every villager had taken a position within the huge crafts. The village was only a shadow of its former self. The buildings had been stripped of their good timber and thatched roofs, the gardens and pastures were either harvested for future seeding or abandoned. The animals, removed from their comfortable village surroundings, bleated and clucked nervously in the centre of the longboats. The Vikings were nervous, sad and excited all at once. They couldn't stop gazing towards what had once been their picturesque home.
The captains shouted the order. The portside oars pushed against the log dock. The hulls of the four ships moved away in unison from the shore and out into the current of the river, moving slowly downstream and away from their abandoned village.
Kiera looked back from her position beside the mast. The ropes for hauling up the sail lay firmly in her hands. She was in the last of the four ships. A small craft bobbed along behind the stern of her boat. Chocan followed expressionlessly in the inuak, casually paddling in their wake. Kiera wondered what might be going through his mind. He had barely said a word to her all day. Before she had boarded the ship, they had hugged and said goodbye, but it had somehow felt incomplete and shallow. How does one say goodbye properly to a best friend and savior? His eyes were distant, but whatever he was thinking, he chose not to share it with Kiera. And she was afraid to ask.
Upon hearing that Chocan was choosing to stay in Vinland, the rest of the village was somewhat relieved. It would likely have caused grumblings among the Vikings in Greenland to have Chocan reside with them. Many had suffered attacks from Vinland skraelings in the past. Being new arrivals and in search of a home, they wouldn't want to make the transition to life in Greenland any more difficult than it had to be.
Kiera tore her eyes from Chocan and looked northward. What was the matter with her? If Chocan wanted to sulk at the moment of her departure, then that was his choice. For over a year, she had dreamed of this moment. She was standing on the deck of a Viking ship heading east! This was the first step in her long journey home.
Stolen Away Page 14
