Islands in the Fog

by Jerry Autieri

  "I know the man, and he drowned at sea if the arrow hadn't done him already. The body must have washed up on your shores. You're playing a dangerous game, Hardar."

  Hardar raised Bork's head higher. "Am I? You steal my daughter, hide her from me, and freely admit your men were spying in my lands. Yet I play the dangerous game." Hardar dropped the head into the sack and thrust it back to the man named Dag. "Turns out the arrow didn't kill him. We found him clinging to a rock, begging for help. He wouldn't cooperate even after saving his life. So we made him confess. He told us he was collecting information for you."

  "That's a lie. You tortured him into a lie."

  "That he was to report everything he could learn directly to you."

  "Another lie, pig."

  "So that when you invaded ..."

  "Enough, you fucking swine!" Ulfrik's sword sprung from its scabbard. The blade hummed and flashed white in the sun. Hardar held still, the point of the blade inches from his neck. His hirdmen reached for their weapons, though Hardar raised a hand to stop them.

  Snorri pulled down Ulfrik's blade. "You're letting him bait you. You're better than that. This is a parley, not a fight. Not yet, anyway."

  Ulfrik licked his lips then rammed his sword into its scabbard. "You killed one of my men. You know the truth of what you did. Bork was innocent. That I ever admired you is the most disgusting error of my life. You'll take your whore of a daughter and be gone, never to return. If you even face south to take a piss I'll gut you."

  Hardar's eyes drew to slits and he straightened his back. "I'll have my daughter and the bastard who kidnapped her. I'll have his head in the sack with the other one. Then I can say justice is done."

  "How much do you want for his life? You know I can pay."

  "I know you can pay. But his life is what I want. It's the only way I know my daughter is safe from him."

  Ulfrik and Hardar stood with eyes locked. Ulfrik's hands began to tremble; the desire to draw his sword on Hardar was a maddening burn in his hand. But a chance for peace existed, and duty demanded he push for it. "Twenty pounds of silver is more than fair. It is a fortune."

  Hardar slowly shook his head. The longer he resisted the more he seemed a pig to Ulfrik.

  "Thirty pounds of silver. It's near all I have."

  "Dumb as he is, the boy's head is probably only a pound. I'll take that and my daughter."

  Ulfrik bit his lip. He repeated his offer, and Hardar did not respond. Ulfrik closed his eyes, a bead of sweat streaked down his temple. "If you are not back on your ships by the time I reach my line, I'll fill you with arrows. Return when you are prepared to reason."

  Ulfrik spun on his heels, not waiting for Hardar's reaction. He stalked up the slope and barked his commands. "Rank up! Archers ready on my order!"

  Grim as his mood was, Ulfrik smiled at the efficiency of his men's response. Shields clacked together into a wall. Spears bristled from behind. Then a block of archers stepped off the back ranks and placed arrows to their strings. The endless drilling and real-life raiding had forged true warriors of them.

  Ulfrik reached his line and turned. Snorri and Thorvald fell in with him. Hardar's men were rushing to their ships, though Hardar lingered on the beach. He raised his fist. "I came alone this time, Ulfrik. But I will be back with others!"

  Ulfrik ordered one of the archers to pass his bow and an arrow over to Snorri. Hardar continued to curse him as his ships were launching. "Snorri, put an arrow between his feet and give him something to think about."

  Snorri smiled, took the bow and aimed. Hardar saw the shot lining up and stumbled back. Snorri released and the arrow arced down the slope to stick at Hardar's feet. He danced away, falling backward into the surf. A wave broke over him and Ulfrik and all his men burst into laughter.

  Hardar staggered to his feet and slogged to his ship. Once aboard, he came to the stern and hurled more curses as the ships' oars dipped into the water, pushing them out to the fjord.

  "What happened?" Toki asked.

  "We just went to war with the strongest and most popular man in all the Faereyjar Islands."

  CHAPTER NINE

  Hardar craned his neck forward, straining to see against the rosy light of evening. All three of his ships bobbed and drifted with the rolling tide. Gulls screamed above as if daring him to sail. "This is unbelievable," he muttered to himself.

  "They don't look hostile," Dag offered, standing below Hardar in the prow.

  "Six ships beached on my shore with crews ranked up look friendly to you, Dag? Save me the strength and throw yourself overboard."

  "Lord Hardar, they could've burnt the whole place to cinders by now. And those are big ships. Why not capture us and have done with it? They could do it, I think."

  Hardar grunted at Dag's words. He jumped down to the deck and surveyed his men. The fools shit themselves when Ulfrik's warriors threatened, he thought. They stared at him with wide eyes and slack expressions. He had to speak before one of them started crying for family left behind.

  "All right, I don't know where these ships came from or what's waiting for us ashore. They obviously see us, and they're not attacking. Yet. So let's get ashore and learn what these dogs want." He added under his breath, "As if I don't already know."

  Hardar waved his hand overhead to signal the other ships. He strode between his men back to the tiller, each watching him as he passed. Ignoring them, he grasped the tiller and bellowed. "Row, you dogs, or I'll put the whip to your backs!"

  Their ships nosed toward the shore, and the line of invaders shifted to face them as they approached. The invaders were as well equipped as Ulfrik's men, though they didn't display the same crisp discipline. Despite their numbers, Hardar felt less threatened than he had been by the control Ulfrik exerted over his warriors.

  He leapt from his ship to meet an enemy for the second time that day. His ships landed down the rocky beach, out of enemy bow range. He shouted orders as his crews hauled their ships aground. As they formed up behind him, Hardar strode toward the invaders. "Dag, with me."

  The leader was a giant wrapped in animal pelts. He detached from the dark line of warriors, who disappeared into the brilliance of the low sun. Only then did Hardar realize the crafty enemy had positioned him to fight into the glare. It made his stomach roil. He stopped halfway and set his feet wide and folded his arms. The enemy would come to him. He wasn't giving another inch.

  The giant man lumbered forward with two other men. He halted a spear length away from Hardar. Muscle rippled beneath leathery, tanned skin. His hair and beard were shaggy and gray. He looked like he hadn't washed in a month.

  "I want to talk to your leader, not a trained bear," Hardar said.

  The giant man smiled with his few yellow teeth. A white scar danced on his cheek as he did. "I am Jarl Kjotve the Rich, King of Agder. You must be the famous Jarl Hardar Hammerhand."

  "The bear speaks, too. That's also a famous name you use. Harald Finehair spilled Kjotve's guts and took his kingdom. So give me another name before I lose patience."

  The smile fled the man's face and his dark, animal eyes flashed. "You think me a liar? Were you at Hafrsfjord, Hardar Hammerhand? Harald slew my son, enslaved my family, and stole my land. But he did not kill me. Now you know the truth. A man a hundred times more royal than you has paid your shit-pile village a visit, and you call him a liar. This is not what I expected from you."

  Kjotve bore down on Hardar and scowled. Hardar felt like a mast was about to fall on him, and stepped back. Shame burned on his cheeks when he realized that he had given ground. "Then forgive me, Jarl Kjotve. News is rarer than trees in these lands. But you can hardly expect my hospitality, not with a hundred men and six ships laid out on my shore. Have you blown off course?"

  Kjotve's smile grew and he stood straighter. Hardar looked past him at the blurry line of men. Errant flashes rolled off their helms, but none stirred or indicated attack. He looked back at Kjotve, who folded his arms loosely across his chest
. Gold and silver armbands glinted under the sleeve of mail. "I've placed my men in the open and not in the most strategic spot. I wanted you to know we have no ill intent."

  "That's why you're all readied for war then?"

  "We have to be prepared for anything from you. Besides, I could've plundered your home three times over since you left this morning. I've been to visit your wife, Ingrid. She is a charming and beautiful woman."

  "If you touched her, I'll have your balls." His hand reached for his sword; a vision of Ingrid welcoming this brute to their bed flashed in his mind. Kjotve's two companions grabbed their own sword hilts. But Kjotve laughed.

  "I may have brushed her hand when she gave me a horn of mead. But otherwise, I've been a behaved guest. Let's come to the point, Hardar. I am here because I think we can help each other."

  Hardar's gut tightened and he raised his chin. "Meaning that you can use me before turning on me. You've come for my treasure, haven't you?"

  Again Kjotve laughed, a bark from the deep of his throat. "You trust no one. That is good! Trust should be as rare as gold and just as seldom given. Aye, you are useful to me. You are the greatest jarl in these lands, yes?"

  Hardar peered at him, holding his words. Kjotve continued, his smile fading.

  "But you are troubled by another. You have a rival."

  Hardar scratched his beard. "You seem to know much about me, too much for my liking."

  "I know a great deal. I will share something with you now. Your rival owes me a debt. Your rival is an oath-breaker and a coward. Your rival is a man I wish to destroy. Do we have a common interest, Jarl Hardar Hammerhand?"

  Hardar's eyes grew wider with each word. His mouth nearly watered at the possibilities he imagined with Kjotve's help. "If you are speaking of Ulfrik Ormsson, then we share that interest."

  "Let us stand down our men and return to your hall. We have much to discuss." Kjotve's smile furrowed lines into his cheeks. Hardar found himself matching that smile. He scanned the ranks of Kjotve's warriors, and saw how Ulfrik would die.

  Hardar shoved Ingrid aside, "For the last time, I did all that could be done. An attack would've been disaster."

  He peeked out of his room into the main hall. Kjotve and his warriors appeared content to drink his mead. The smoky hall glowed orange with the blazing hearth, sparked to life so Hardar could host a feast to welcome his guests. His own men had to wait outside, so full was the hall with Kjotve's crews. A thin man stood on the table, recounting a tale that drew raucous laughter from his audience.

  "I don't care about disaster," Ingrid said with a sob. "My little girl is gone, and you didn't save her."

  "Gods woman, she fled by her own free will. She's happier there. I just hope she won't hike her skirt for that ass-dropping she ran off with. Vermund expects a virgin."

  The slap did not hurt as much as it surprised Hardar. He turned into it, about to push Ingrid back into their room. Stunned, he put a hand to his cheek while she cursed him. "How can you know? Why would she be happier away from her family?"

  "I know because she told me. Now don't worry for her. Ulfrik thinks he can scare me, calling her a hostage. He'd never harm her, especially with his brother-in-law besotted with her. She's safe. Now hide yourself and sit on your hands. If you raise them to me again, I'll break your fingers."

  He didn't bother with her reaction, instead striding to Kjotve's side at the high table. Immediately he stiffened in anger. Kjotve was lounging in his chair, one leg thrown over the armrest. "I see you've found a comfortable chair for yourself."

  Kjotve clapped and laughed as the man on the table bowed in a circle with an exaggerated flourish. He didn't look at Hardar as he replied. "Aye, it's a fine bit of work. Just the right size, too. I think I'll keep it."

  Hardar began to protest, but Kjotve chuckled. "Look at you. I joke, Jarl Hardar. I'm sitting in your chair, yes? Then I return it to you. I thought you'd be longer with your woman. I know how time at sea can make a man eager for his woman."

  "Er, yes, sure," Hardar scratched his head while Kjotve stood up. The size of the man still amazed Hardar, who was himself taller than most. "But let us both sit on benches tonight. I'm eager for your news, Jarl Kjotve."

  They moved to benches and Hardar's slave attended. For a while they spoke of trifles, Hardar trying to get the measure of his guest. Soon he no longer doubted Kjotve was who he claimed to be. Despite being dispossessed of his land, Kjotve called himself a sea-king. He traveled the world in search of plunder, making landfall wherever he desired. Hardar thought it sounded like a horrible existence, but Kjotve seemed pleased enough. "I'm fresh from the Orkneyjar, had a narrow escape from Hrolf the Ganger. If you marvel at my height, he dwarfs me. But long legs mean nothing on a slow ship, eh Jarl Hardar?"

  Soon they were at their meal and talk lulled. Kjotve ate like a starved man and was picking fish bones out of his mouth before Hardar was halfway done. He renewed their conversation, a greasy finger probed his back teeth and marred his speech. "So you are satisfied with my tale? Now we speak of how we benefit each other."

  Hardar drained his mug, then wiped his beard with the back of his hand. "It's all I've been waiting for."

  The men below were drunk, and their arguing and shouting reverberated through the hall. The thin man remounted the table and started bawling out a tuneless song. Both Hardar and Kjotve watched him as they spoke.

  "I picked up trading ships returning from these lands," Kjotve said as he watched the thin man struggle with his balance. "They were wise enough to pay a king tribute on his own estate. Since the traders were generous, I let them go. But they carried much gold for traders plying islands I thought harbored only poor sheep herders. How wrong I have been these years. They mentioned you as the wealthiest in the islands, but they spoke of a new power: Ulfrik. I got what news I needed from them. Seems like you've been talking up your fears of Ulfrik conquering these islands."

  Kjotve turned to him with a grin. Hardar's mouth dropped open. He hadn't realized he had been so open with traders. "Why else build up so much military strength? He's totally out of line, acting like he's some sort of high king. Giving out gifts and parading his warriors, it's ridiculous."

  Kjotve's smile deepened. "But your warriors are no match for his, and you know it."

  "Nonsense! He has stolen my daughter, and I sailed to his land to show him my power. He has a lot to think about now."

  "And where is your daughter? Did you leave her on your ship?" Kjotve leaned back and smirked. Hardar felt his face grow hot, and turned back to the thin man singing and spinning on the table. Men laughed or threw scraps and bones at him. Kjotve paused dramatically before continuing.

  "Ulfrik has stolen your daughter and yet all your men did not convince him to release her. Let's be honest, his men scare you because they are warriors. Your men, I saw their faces. They are farmers who row your ships and carry spears for you. What you need are warriors, and I bring warriors."

  Kjotve's hand swept over the heads of his men. Hardar looked at them anew. They were well geared and battle-scarred. "My men are not as bad as you say. But they are outnumbered and out-geared. I have been gulled into thinking my neighbor was peaceful all these years."

  Kjotve gave a gusty laugh. "No neighbor is at peace for long. I have learned that lesson with my blood and the blood of my kin." Kjotve's laughter tore away and he leaned so close to Hardar that he flinched. "I want Ulfrik. He was sworn to me, and fled when his oath still bound him. He could've made the difference. He could've saved my kingdom. I sheltered him when he had nothing! Now he has lands and gold and your daughter. What shall we do about this?"

  "Hang his head on a pole and let birds eat it."

  "Yes! I have a hundred men and six ships. Together, we would crush him and divide the spoils!"

  Hardar was about to leap off the bench and shout agreement. But looking into Kjotve's eyes, he saw they darted and shifted. Something was wrong, and the doubt calmed him. "You have enough men to ruin
him yourself. Why invite me to this?"

  "You are the ruler of these islands. If I attack from nowhere, for no reason, you understand, then you might unite the others against me. I only want to shatter Ulfrik and take from him what is owed."

  "I am not the ruler of these islands," Hardar said, though he sat up straighter at hearing the idea. "But what you say is true. Now that I know your intent, I wonder why divide the spoils with me?"

  "Fair is fair, Jarl Hardar," Kjotve's eyes widened and his brows furrowed. "Besides, I know Ulfrik and I know his men. He trains them, disciplines them, and gets them experience. He served me only a short time, but his instincts for leading men in battle impressed me. I will not underestimate him, and neither should you."

  Hardar nodded, but Kjotve still left him vexed. Hardar understood men like Kjotve, and greed was their motivating force. Kjotve would seize everything after battle and leave him with nothing. Hardar wanted a better guarantee of fairness than a raider's word. "I won't underestimate him. I agree with you, Jarl Kjotve. But I am not the only one with an interest in Ulfrik. He has stolen my daughter, who is promised to another jarl. Honor would dictate that he participate in the attack as well, if only to save his betrothed from that evil bastard."

  Kjotve leaned back and stroked his beard. His eyes darted about as he thought, making Hardar uneasy. "So the spoils would be split three ways. I have a large crew and I doubt Ulfrik hordes enough gold to make it worth my time. Revenge is fine for me, but my men need more."

  "It would be an insult to leave my friend out of this. I cannot have it another way." Hardar leaned both arms on the table and glanced at the guests. The thin man had finally been pulled down and someone dumped a horn of mead over his head, causing an explosion of laughter.