by Lee Savino
They continued with many rude jests until Danny was white-faced and tight-mouthed and ready to burst with counter insults.
I pressed my lips together and motioned with my hand to be sure Danny would restrain himself. He knew I could handle myself.
My mother had often told me the tale of a great warrior, cursed by a witch to become a monster forever roaming the seas. The same tale Nanny had told me earlier. The story ended with the promise: As a raven flies true, you’ll always find your way home.
My lips curled. Nanny said there was a touch of truth to my mother’s tales, but Dòmhnall was no great warrior, though he would boast otherwise. Nor was he a monster, unless monsters were men who ruled because they had the biggest armies and loudest voices, voices as empty and hollow of reason as their baying hounds. Those were the only monsters I knew.
Dòmhnall’s men had fallen silent until the only sound was the creaking oars and the beating of my heart. The mist was a grey wall on the water, blinding us to all but ghostly shapes in the distance.
When the dragon headed prow first loomed from the mist, I thought I was dreaming.
“What the—” one of the warriors let the strip of dried meat he was chewing fall from his mouth.
“What is it?” his companion twisted and stared into the fog.
“I thought I saw—” the first set a hand to his weapon, shifting on the bench. “There! Ahead, do you see it?”
“Curse this fog. Those are only rocks.” And, to Danny, “Row, boy.”
I stared into the billowing cloud low on the water. I could not be sure, but my ears caught the cry of a wolf, far across the water. My arms prickled. In the mists of time, the Sea Wolf stalks his prey.
“I saw something,” the warrior insisted. “T’was more than a rock.”
“You’re supposed to wait ‘til tonight to drink. Wait until I tell his lordship you were in your cups—”
“There! Look.” The first warrior seized his friend and faced him north. At least, I supposed it was north. Thick grey walls surrounded us.
“I see nothing,” the second warrior said, but his brow wrinkled. Even Danny craned his neck and I leaned over the side of the boat. Was that a shadow on the water?
“Tis nothing. A trick of the light…”
The wind picked up, cleaving the mist like a knife shearing wool. Out of the gloom a ship appeared, a great black sail straining beyond the wooden prow. A carved dragon head, sharp-toothed and snarling, gaped at us.
For a moment we were all frozen.
Chills ran through me. The dragon-headed prow, the billowing sail—I’d heard of such ships before. They’d come to harry our shores, attack and set fire to our crofts, steal gold and any goods, kill the men and carry the women off for slaves. But the High Kings of old had fought and driven the Northmen off. The Northmen’s ships hadn’t haunted our land in over hundred years.
The dragon-headed boat glided forward, silent for such a great craft. It was not legend. It was real.
And it was headed straight for us.
“Morrigan’s britches,” Danny gasped.
“Row, damn you,” one of the armed men shouted, but too late. The long boat glided close to us, the swells making us bob up and down like a tiny cork in a sloshing barrel of ale.
Alarm clutched me. The boat tilted sideways, sliding down the side of a wave, threatening to tip. Bilge water slopped at my feet. A white-knuckle grip on my perch kept me from tumbling out. We hovered sideways for a heart stopping second before balancing.
When we bobbed upright, the Viking ship was upon us.
Dòmhnall’s men may not have been my choice of an escort, but they were well trained. As one, they rose and drew their swords, one grimly straddling the bench and the other setting his back to his companion’s. But their brave stand was overshadowed by the great ship.
Danny struggled to row, but the wake overwhelmed us, and his hands slipped on the oars. I didn’t blame him. My own face and limbs were numb. I was glad of the veil hiding my fear-filled expression.
For all its speed catching us, the ship did not seem manned by anyone. If the wind wasn’t slapping the sail, whipping the tattered edges, I’d say it was a ghost ship, a vision, a nightmare haunting rising from my fears about Dòmhnall’s threats and my wedding. Would that I would wake up…
A figure appeared at the prow. Danu preserve us. A huge warrior stood with a boot propped on the boat edge. He was half-naked, his broad chest half covered in a white fur pelt. His golden head was bare, long hair streaming in the wind like a standard. And he was looking right at me.
The wolf howled again. It was not a trick of the wind. My toes curled in my boots and I gritted my teeth, tears pricking my eyes at the long, mournful note.
The fog swallowed the prow, hiding the warrior for a merciful moment. When it broke again, another fearsome figure appeared. This was no man. The head was a bear’s head, teeth bared as if the animal was a second away from attacking.
Then the fog slipped away, revealing the truth. The bear’s head was only a pelt, worn on the tall man’s head.
Another man appeared, and another. Warriors all, ranged along the side of the ship, big and brawny with bare chests or rough garb. Some wore animal pelts. A few had rough helmets made of dull metal. Besides the bear, there was another wolf’s head, its mouth open and roaring.
“Danu save us,” Danny whimpered. The warriors all glared down at us, silent. Waiting.
Calm suffused my limbs. They were not here to do battle. Perhaps we would be spared.
My escort’s voice rang out.
“Who are you? This channel belongs to Dòmhnall now, given in marriage. What right do you have to sail these waters?” the man blustered but his voice cracked.
None of the warriors answered. I began to believe they were ghosts when they moved aside and the first warrior I’d seen set his hands on the side of the ship. He was the biggest warrior of them all. Tawny hair tumbled over his broad shoulders. In his huge hands, he held a double headed axe.
Silently, he handed the weapon to one of the ghostly men before hopping onto the ledge.
Oh, mother, I thought despite my fear. This is a great warrior. And he was looking straight at me as if he’d strip off my clothes with his gaze.
I shrank before I remembered I wore a veil.
“Tell us what you want,” the elder of my escort boomed. I would’ve laughed at his ridiculous bravado if we hadn’t been staring death in the face.
The golden-haired warrior raised a hand and pointed to me.
My heart thumped once, twice.
From the fog, a bird came flapping dark wings. A raven. The black bird landed beside the warrior’s boot a moment, then flew off.
A sign, for me.
The silver wings of my brooch dug into my palm. I wanted to fly away and follow the raven so bad my bones hurt.
You. The golden-haired warrior seemed to say. He kept his balance on the ship edge even as the wind picked up and tore at the edge of the white pelt he wore for a cloak.
“You can’t—” my would-be protector started, but the lion-headed warrior leapt.
“No—” I choked and grabbed onto the bench just in time.
The warrior landed perfectly in the center of our craft. A jump farther than most men could’ve made, and he rose strong and steady as if he’d been born with the roiling sea under his feet.
I hung on as the boat rocked and threatened to capsize. Danny did the same, almost flung to the bottom of the boat. As it was, his garments were soaked with bilge when he struggled to his seat.
With our attacker’s bulk, I could not see if the force of the boat’s shuddering knocked Dòmhnall’s warriors to the water, or if the warrior struck and dispatched them to the water. A splash and the two members of my escort were gone.
Danny reared up.
“Nay,” I shouted and stood, the rocking boat making my movements more careful than my temper. Seizing Danny’s arm and forcing him to steady me, I
clambered between him and the warrior.
I would not see my father’s man struck down by any warrior, ghost ship or no.
As I neared the intruder, a honeyed scent rose, as if I’d open a casket of ale or one of Nanny’s herbed brews. The warrior’s head shot back, his nostrils flaring as if he scented it too.
Up close he was as large as he first looked. I was small as one of the hill folk compared to him. My head only came up to his chest, but my blood was too hot to notice.
I ripped off my veil and tossed it aside, glaring up at him.
“What do you mean by this?”
The warrior stared.
“Who are you?”
A wolf howled, the sound so loud it must be nearby. On the ship. But why? Who would bring a wolf onto a ship?
The Sea Wolf. My mother’s voice came to me. A warrior cursed to sail until he finds the one who can bring him home.
But that was just a story. This was real.
The warrior held out his hand to me.
“What do you want?” My breath came in sharp gusts. “I don’t understand.”
He beckoned again.
“No, lady!” Danny scrambled to his feet. Our small craft shuddered, and I fell towards the warrior. Strong hands caught my shoulders. I blinked into golden eyes, shining with an eldritch light. This was no ordinary man.
“Danny, stay back.” I didn’t look away. Danu only knew how I found my voice. “Go back to my father and tell him…”
I trailed off as the warrior’s longship loomed over us. In another moment we would crash into the ship’s side.
The warrior tossed me over his shoulder. The world tilted and my hair veiled my face. I cried out and got a mouthful of fur from the pelt the warrior wore.
The muscles of his shoulder bunched under my belly—no!—and the wind rushed over my face. Danny’s frightened shout echoing after me, the sound growing further and further away.
“To the north!” someone cried.
“To the north,” voices roared around me. Great whoops and howling as if this was a wolf pack and not a band of men.
Fog poured over the deck. The air was thick, too thick to breathe. The warrior dropped something heavy over my body before heading to the prow of the boat.
He moved with a powerful, swaying stride. This one has spent too much time at sea, I thought before the blood rushed to my head and I slumped to the deck.
When I woke, I lay hot and heavy on the ship deck. Someone had thrown a fur over me. A thick white pelt, like the one the golden-haired warrior wore.
My head throbbed.
“What...” I mumbled, my words garbled. My arms felt heavy and my chest was full of rocks. My head pounded as if I’d drunk a half barrel of Nanny’s best metheglin.
Voices rumbled in the distance before a pair of boots thumped closer.
“Easy,” someone murmured. Something smooth touched my lips and when I thrashed, water spattered my face.
“Calm yourself. ‘Tis only water.”
My tongue lay thick in my mouth. My head was still filled with clouds. I felt this way sometimes, after I’d had a vision. Was that why I had fainted?
When I opened my eyes, the world was grey. My face was wet and so was the pelt. It must have rained. But I still needed water.
A warrior, dark-skinned with a patterned feather hanging from his ear, set the cup to my lips again. I drank, but when I went to grab the cup the warrior drew back. “Careful.”
The warning surprised me. The feather fluttered as the dark warrior backed away. He refilled the cup and set it by my foot. He retreated before I reached for it.
“He won’t like it if I touch you.”
“Who?”
A pause. Then, reluctantly, “The Sea Wolf.”
Under the heavy, white fur, my body trembled. I turned my head to the prow of the boat where a giant figure gazed straight out into the mist.
“That’s him,” the warrior confirmed.
“Who is he?”
A shrug.
“The Sea Wolf is a legend.”
Another shrug.
“Who are you?”
“They call me Hawk,” he grinned, flashing straight white teeth. “Now calm yourself, lass.
I scooted back to lean against the sturdy mast. The white pelt was large enough to cover most of my body, so I huddled under it. I was not ashamed to hide.
We seemed to be sailing into a storm. Rain lashed the mainsail. The wind rifled the ragged lines. I listened for the wolf howl but heard only ordinary sounds.
How long had I been asleep? How far were we from land? Had Danny gotten back to my father’s holding before the weather turned bad?
Poor Danny.
Poor me, if I did not escape. I could use magic but would prefer not to brave this weather.
For now, I’d rest.
The warriors I’d seen before tromped back and forth, keeping the ship moving in whatever direction we were headed. Other than Hawk, no one paid me any attention. When they came to fiddle with the mainstay, they gave me wide berth.
The Sea Wolf, or whoever he was, did not come back to check on his captive. Why had he taken me?
I fiddled with the silver brooch as I tried to remember the old tale. A warrior cursed by a witch. Forced to sail the open sea. I’d not paid close attention to the terms of the curse, or the story’s end. Something about a raven and a woman.
Apparently, he thought I was the woman. Which was ridiculous. First Dòmhnall, now him. This Sea Wolf.
The longer I leaned against the mast, the angrier I became. When a trio of warriors tromped by, their tattooed faces averted as if I was dangerous to look at, I’d had enough.
I surged to my feet, squinting against the protest of my aching head, and started towards the prow.
That’s when I found I was tied to the mast by a rope secured around my neck. I fought with the knots until Hawk appeared.
I dropped my hands as he loomed over me. I had a knife in my bodice, next to my beating heart. But I didn’t want to use it too soon.
“A precaution,” said Hawk, nodding to the rope. “He doesn’t want you throwing yourself overboard.”
I fisted my hands at my side. “I am Muireann, daughter of the lord of the Northern Isle. I demand to speak with your leader. My father can pay ransom. Or my husband, if you return me to him.”
The warrior cocked his head. “Husband?”
“My intended,” I admitted. “I was to meet him when he—your leader—took me.”
The warrior grunted. He opened a leather pack and offered me a small dried fish. I wrinkled my nose. I’d already had enough of the sea.
“I must speak to him,” I insisted, trying to step around the warrior, brought up short by the rope I’d forgotten. When I grabbed at the tether the warrior made a warning gesture.
“I wouldn’t if I were you. Not if you don’t want to be tied down completely.”
“I’m the daughter of the lord of the Northern Isle and I demand—”
“You’re not daughter of anyone anymore. Or intended,” he spat the word. “You belong to the Sea Wolf now.”
2
I kept my head down for the rest of the journey. Goddess help me. I had my own resources, the tricks my mother taught me, but the fog still surrounded us. This ship, these warriors, the mist seemed otherworldly. I’d heard of people unlucky enough to be stolen by the sidhe or to bumble into the land of the fair folk by accident. They were trapped in the otherworld, outside of time. After a season or two, they might return home to find a hundred years gone by.
Is that what the mists meant? Had I crossed the border into another world. And if so, how could I return home?
I must have dozed, for shouts awakened me. When I rose, I gasped. Ahead loomed two giant rocks and the ship was headed straight for them.
“Stop,” I whispered, but we rode the swell, gliding between the stones. The fit was so tight, if I’d leaned over the ship’s side, I could’ve touched the granit
e pillar.
Beyond the archway was a small harbor, somewhat protected from the angry weather. I scrambled out of the way as the warriors let down the sail and braced myself when it seemed they’d let the ship run right up on the beach.
I was right. The shallow-bottomed craft rode the waves right to shore. Warriors poured over the sides, shouting to one another.
Hawk took the rope from the mast that leashed me. “Come then,” he ordered. I glanced to the prow, but it was empty.
Hawk smirked when he saw me looking for his leader. “He’s gone. He’ll meet you inside. Come.” For all his rough tugging on the tether, he helped me down gently, though he was careful to only touch the parts of me covered by the wolf pelt.
When I stepped onto the sand, but my body tingled as if magic leavened the air.
“Come on,” Hawk started towards a dark grey cliff at the far end of the beach. I scrambled to follow. A light rain washed my face, turned the white fur I wore into wet spikes. At least my braid had held.
The cliff turned out to be a stone keep. An old Viking stronghold, carved from the sea rocks.
The Sea Wolf was cursed. He could not set a foot on land or else... Nanny’s words tugged at me as Hawk led me into the massive keep. The roof was part gone, leaving the hall open to the elements. The old stones were worn from the work of keeping the ocean outside. A few more decades and the walls would crumble into the sea.
The warrior band dispersed, their movements certain. some went up the shore to collect bits of driftwood. Another knelt in the great hall, stoking a fire. The rest seemed to have duties unloading or loading supplies, heading out to fish or spreading out skins to dry.
Hawk led me past all this to an ancient staircase curving along one wall, the stone steps were narrow and perilous, crumbling underfoot. I bit back a whimper. My captor kept a firm hand on my leash, tugging me closer, but he was not unkind. When I reached him, he bid me walk before him, and he let me inch along next to the wall while he kept to the outside. Despite his care not to touch me, the unspoken message was that he’d catch me if I fell.
Slowly I made my way up and up, fixing my eyes on the narrow doorway at the top and not at the dizzying distance to the stone floor. If the men working below watched our progress, I did not know.
