Beyond a Darkened Shore

by Jessica Leake

  I walked over to her, expecting to hear her censure. Instead, she grinned at me.

  “Now you are ready.”

  The next day, under a sky so blue it hurt my eyes to stare too long, the men sat around the mast corrupting Arin with stories of gods that were excessively violent or bawdy or both. My grasp of their language had always been elementary, but these past few days in such close quarters had changed my knowledge to close to fluent—at least in what I understood.

  My mind was wandering, but I couldn’t help but hear some of it, especially when I heard them mention the word jötnar.

  “And then the giantess Skadi came to avenge her father,” Agnarr said, his dark beard nearly the color of the bear’s pelt he wore over his shoulders, though both were crusted with salt from the water that sprayed us all near constantly. His matching dark eyebrows rose in a suggestive leer. “She wore form-fitting armor, but her big breasts were bare, and every god who lay eyes on her wanted her beneath him, no matter if she was jötnar or not.”

  “So, this giantess’s father was murdered by the gods,” I interrupted, my arms crossed over my own chest protectively, “and when she came to avenge him, all the gods did was look at her with lust?”

  Agnarr shook his head. “They made reparations to her, of course. She was able to choose any husband from among the gods she liked, but she had to make her choice based only on the sight of the gods’ legs and feet.” Agnarr stood and flexed his hairy calf muscles while the rest of the men roared with laughter.

  Drawn by the riotous sound, Leif appeared at my side as I stared at the men with confusion. “But why would she choose them based on such a ridiculous reason?” I asked.

  “It’s just part of the legend,” Agnarr said, with a glance that said it was what I said that was ridiculous.

  “So who did she choose?” Arin asked. His eyes lit up like my sisters’ did during story time.

  “She picked the fairest legs she could, hoping they belonged to Baldur,” Agnarr continued, “but as it turned out, she’d picked the legs of Njord.” Again, the men laughed.

  “Baldur is said to be the most handsome of the gods,” Leif said to me.

  “As beautiful as you, Leif,” one of the other men called.

  “Better to be beautiful than so ugly even maggots can’t stand the sight of you,” Leif called back to answering laughter.

  “And who is Njord?” I asked.

  “The sea god,” Leif answered.

  “And was he so terrible a choice, then?”

  “He was a terrible choice for an ice giant who lived on the highest mountain peaks where the snow never melts,” Agnarr said. “For nine days, Njord endured her cold, dark Thunder Home, before finally demanding they return to the sea. He hated the constant howling of the wolves and the cold that froze his piss the moment he relieved himself. But when they stayed for nine days in Noatun, Skadi found the cries of the seagulls so abrasive her ears bled by the end of her time spent there. Unable to agree on a place to live together, they parted ways.”

  “So her father was murdered, and all she got was a failed marriage instead of vengeance?” I asked, finding myself bizarrely sympathetic to this giantess who hated the sounds of the sea.

  “Just whose side are you on?” Leif asked, draping his arm around my shoulders companionably, but still I couldn’t shake the thoughts of the giant whose mind I’d controlled. More and more, it seemed the jötnar weren’t the mindless evil I’d believed them to be, and I hated the sympathetic turn my own thoughts were taking. Did enduring a serious offense and wrongdoing justify an evil act in turn? I didn’t want to think of them as anything but completely evil; I didn’t want to recognize the parallels between their stories and those of humans. It was a wholly pointless endeavor, however, since they had to be stopped—no matter what their original quarrel.

  “Either way, she became the goddess of winter,” Agnarr said, “for which she should be grateful.”

  “Then . . . some of the jötnar are also your gods?” I asked, truly confused now. Were we to fight the gods themselves?

  “Some are,” Leif answered, “and some are not.” He said this as though it should immediately illuminate everything in my mind, but before I could puzzle it out further, a voice drew our attention.

  “Dark clouds spotted,” one of Leif’s men said grimly.

  Indeed, the wind picked up, rippling the sail and slapping the rope against the mast. I stood, my eyes on the horizon. Something about this particular storm made the blood in my veins turn cold.

  I sense a storm is coming that will test us all, the seer had said.

  Leif turned to Arin and the rest of his men. “Make ready for the storm.”

  After lowering the sail, the men around us, including many from my undead army, took their places at the oars and prepared to row. Once the storm’s strong winds caught the sail, we could be knocked completely off course.

  Lightning lit the sky, a powerful crack of thunder followed, and I heard the horses on the other ship scream.

  The black waters churned, as dark as the angry sky above us.

  “We have angered Thor,” Agnarr said. The braids of his beard were almost the color of the sky. “He beats upon his anvil, showering the sky with sparks.”

  “No god is angry with us,” Sigrid said. “We have been steered into the storm by the sea itself.”

  “Njord?” Agnarr asked.

  “No, this has the feel of something much more malevolent.” Her milky eyes stared at the dark sky before turning back to me. “You didn’t do your job well enough, Queen of Dubhlinn. You left behind someone loyal to Sigtrygg and the jötnar.”

  “What do you mean?” I demanded, already impatient with her cryptic answers. “What does that have to do with the storm?”

  For once, she took pity on me and clarified. “A spy. Someone sent word to Fenris that the two of you set sail for Skien.”

  Instantly I thought of the Celtic seer. Had his fear of me been an act? He was the only one who stood out in my mind, though it could have been anyone. “The jötnar have such power?”

  “They control as much magic as the gods when it comes to the elements, and the sea is no exception.” Her milky gaze shifted to Leif. “They will be steering you toward something worse than a storm. Be on your guard.”

  An interrupted shout from the bow of the ship was our only warning as the prow slammed into a massive wave. Leif grabbed hold of me with one arm, the other clutching the mast. The rest of the Northmen braced themselves, holding on to the sides of the ship. Water collected rapidly in the hull, soaking our boots.

  When next I looked at the remaining ships, they had all fallen back, with ours in the lead. Undead men upon each deck joined the rowers, adding their superior endurance. Following Leif’s lead, the oars split into black water, forcing the ships forward despite the strong winds. Still the waves crashed over us, soaking our clothes and hair as the falling rain did the same. The assault upon my senses was truly like nothing I had ever endured, and I longed for shelter.

  I scanned the water as we made agonizingly slow progress forward, afraid of what I would see. The black sky seemed much too close, the waves mountainous. Lightning arced across the sky, and the biggest wave yet swelled before us. The ships rode it to the top, but as soon as we had crested, we plummeted back to the unforgiving water below.

  In the next instant, I was airborne. I heard Leif scream my name as the wind and rain blinded me. I plunged into the freezing-cold waters, a wave burying me before I even had a chance to get my bearings. I struggled to the surface, gasping for breath only to have my mouth filled with rain and seawater. Sputtering and barely treading water, I watched as the ships continued on . . . and disappeared behind the massive waves.

  The horror that I was now very much alone in a dark and stormy sea descended upon me, nearly sinking me with its weight. Again and again the waves hit me, and I had to kick furiously just to keep my head above water. I forced myself forward in the direction
the ships had gone, my way only occasionally lit by bolts of lightning.

  I cannot die here, I thought, though it seemed all of nature had turned against me.

  That was when I felt something large brush against my leg.

  I wanted to scream but could not; the rain and seawater would fill my mouth as soon as I opened it. Again, the unknown creature bumped against me, and this time, my boot scraped along it, giving me an indication of its size. This was no shark. The thing was bigger than the ship, and I knew at once this was a sea serpent.

  Lightning lit the sky again, and I glanced behind me. From out of the water rose the end of a scaled tail, and it was only a moment before I realized the creature was headed in the direction of the ships. As it rushed by me, I grabbed on. Its scales bit into my hands, but if the creature realized I now clung to it, it gave no indication.

  The sea serpent seemed to pick up speed. Waves slammed over my head, and I gritted my teeth. Lightning flashed again, and there, not far from us now, were the ships. The relief I felt was so powerful I nearly relaxed my hold on the serpent’s tail, but then I realized this same creature that was so generously giving me a ride was also dangerously close to the ships.

  It continued on, so close now I could see the oars striking the water. Closer and closer I came until I could make out a form in the water. Leif was swimming toward me, a tether of rope swimming behind him. He must have jumped in after me, only he’d been smart enough to anchor himself to the ship first. I was so relieved that he’d come after me—that he hadn’t left me for dead.

  “Leif!” I tried to shout, but received a mouthful of water for my efforts.

  The serpent dragged me forward until I crashed into Leif and let go of the creature’s tail. Leif’s strong arm wrapped around me, the other still holding on to the rope.

  “Ciara, thank the gods,” he shouted, waves and rain interrupting his words.

  “Sea serpent!” I shouted back, pointing toward the ships, praying he could understand me.

  His head jerked back toward the ships. “Hold on,” he said. I wrapped my arms around his waist, and he pulled us along the length of the rope, hand over hand.

  Water gushed over the side of the ship, and I glanced up. The sea serpent rose from the sea behind the ships, as massive as a mountain. Its head was like that of a dragon, its body of a snake. Its jaws opened wide, great swords instead of teeth, and I heard the shouts of men. The rowing stopped as everyone on board the ships grabbed their weapons.

  Helplessly, I watched as the creature’s head descended toward the men on board.

  22

  Its teeth were met by the swords of the undead. They’d all moved as one to parry before the mortal men could even rise. Around us, the storm still raged. Rippling through the water came the sea serpent’s tail, and it coiled around the ships like an enormous chain.

  We were almost to the ship. Leif grabbed hold of the rudder, and I reached out with my mind—through the wind and rain, past the grim and frightened minds of the men on board, until I could feel the creature’s noticeably different thoughts. There were no words in its mind, only images and emotions. The anticipated thrill of destroying the ships, the sweet taste of human flesh—something it so rarely chanced upon—and fury and confusion at being deflected in its goals by my undead army, tainted creatures it had never encountered.

  I waded in and snatched control, wrapping its consciousness with hundreds of invisible chains. The tail around us froze.

  The sea serpent sent a flood of threatening images through our connection: it would find me, and then it would bite my head from my neck. Nauseous and cold, I felt fear churn within me as I was forced to watch myself being killed and eaten repeatedly, but still I held fast.

  Leif grabbed hold of the ship’s rudder and boosted me up to waiting hands. He followed behind me, collapsing beside me on the deck as we both gasped for breath. He recovered faster than I did and hauled us both to our feet.

  “I would hold you just to assure myself you were safe if I could,” he said, “but for now, it will have to be a promise.”

  My heart beat unsteadily in my chest.

  The sea serpent’s consciousness fought mine, until I struggled to hold on. It was too strong; I was losing control. Below us, its tail wrapped around the ships.

  I squeezed Leif’s waist to draw his attention. “The tail will crush the ships. Hold on to me!” I yelled, and Leif wrapped an arm like a band of iron around me.

  I didn’t have time to explain my plan to Leif. All those nights of practice allowed me to instantly access the door in my mind: I separated myself from my body and fell limp against him.

  I could see Leif shouting fearfully at me, scooping me off my feet and clutching me to his chest, but I couldn’t worry about that right now. I knew he would keep me safe.

  Closer now, I could see just how large the serpent was. Its head was wider than the ship, its teeth as long as swords. It was green and blue, its scales iridescent in the flashes of lightning, wicked spikes running the length of its body.

  If I didn’t crush it from the inside, it would easily destroy the ship and everyone on it.

  Finding the glowing red pulse of its heart wasn’t as easy as finding it on a human. Its massive size, and the fact that most of its body was still in the water, made it difficult. I floated above, unsure, as my undead warriors kept it at bay. I thought of what the seer would tell me to do, and suddenly, I realized: my form was all spirit—I could go underwater without needing to draw breath.

  I dived into the black, churning water. I couldn’t see anything but darkness and a vague form of the monster, but I didn’t need to. Its heart was enormous—one-third the size of the ship—and glowed brightly enough to light up the water around it. I plunged my hand into the serpent’s chest and grabbed hold as best I could.

  It quickly became obvious I wouldn’t be able to crush this heart—it was far too large. Someone would have to kill it with an actual blade. I was holding it enough to throw off its rhythm, giving someone else time to finish it.

  When several moments passed and nothing happened, I realized I’d have to convey what needed to be done. I thought of the way the seer had taught me to summon my warriors, and I reached out to them—I could see them, their skeletal forms awaiting my command.

  I’m holding it captive; now you must finish it, I said through our link.

  I could see what my undead clansmen could: the serpent frozen as though the lightning had struck it. A gleam of metal, and then I saw it: a sword protruding from between its eyes. One of my clansman had pierced the soft underside of the serpent’s head.

  Its head and neck came crashing down, narrowly missing the mast. Even still, it landed on the deck so hard the ship nearly capsized, and some almost found themselves lost at sea. We held our breaths and watched as the serpent was quickly swallowed by the churning waves. At last, it was no longer a threat. I closed my eyes at the relief of having survived such an attack.

  When I came to myself again, I touched my hand to Leif’s chest. He still held me, so close I could hardly breathe.

  “Ciara,” he said in a breathless rush. He put me down but didn’t let go—in fact, he pulled me toward him again until I was pressed against his chest. “By the gods, I didn’t know what had happened to you.” He leaned back just long enough to put both hands on either side of my face, and then he kissed me, and we were both heedless to the rain pouring over us, the thunder booming overhead.

  “I had to stop the serpent long enough for my warriors to kill it—I’m sorry, I didn’t think there was time to explain,” I said when he pulled back again.

  “You frightened me more than the monster,” he said. “You aren’t the one who’s supposed to die.”

  “Neither of us will die—look at the creature they sent after us, and we defeated it.” I touched his wet cheek. “We don’t have to accept your fate.”

  He leaned into my touch for a moment before turning back to his men. “The sky
is lighter ahead. Keep rowing!”

  The men took up their places once again, though the serpent had damaged several thwarts from where it had landed, costing us several rowers.

  I watched the knarr anxiously, but it continued on, though it rode much lower in the water than the rest of the ships. Frantically, the men on board shoveled bucketful after bucketful of water. Sheets of driving rain continued to fall even as the waves brought more water over the sides of the ships.

  The undead showed no sign of being bothered by the storm, and indeed, did not even appear wet. They rowed tirelessly as the last of my strength gave way and I sank to my knees.

  And then Leif was there, lending his strength to me. Together we surveyed the ships, anxiety sinking vicious claws into me every time we crested a wave. I had nothing left to give should things go terribly wrong, and worse still was the knowledge that there would be nothing I could do should any of the ships start to sink.

  Then the rain, as suddenly as it had come, slackened. The clouds went from black to gray, and the mountainous waves transitioned into hills.

  When the sky lightened so much so that we could see clearly again, and the rain became only a light mist, the living men upon every ship let out a roar.

  “Thor has spared us,” Agnarr said.

  I shook my head as I gazed slowly at the smoothly sailing ships on either side of us. “No. We saved ourselves.”

  Sigrid stepped forward, somehow barely wet. “The storm was designed to drive your ships into the sea serpent.” She looked at Leif. “Fenris knows you’re coming.”

  Leif’s arm tightened around me. “Then he’d better prepare.”

  That night, I lay beside Leif and stared up at the blessedly clear night sky. I couldn’t enjoy the breathtaking beauty of the glittering stars, though, because I was shivering so violently my teeth audibly clacked together. Everything was soaked from the rain and seawater—our clothing, the furs, our cloaks. Leif had fallen into an uneasy sleep, but my tremors became so powerful that I jerked against him.