Page 12 of Shared By the Vikings

“Pull!” Erik shouted, standing at the bow of the boat and looking out to sea. He was an impressive seaman, a handsome warrior, and his men respected and obeyed him. “Pull!”

“The winds have been favorable,” Tali, a tall, fair northern Viking warrior to her right said. “We should make landfall soon.”

“You think?” She maintained the usual gruff, masculine tone in her voice.

“What do you know?” Gunnvar, one of Tali’s kinsmen said as he worked his oar. Topless, despite the chill wind, his muscles flexed and danced beneath his bronzed, inked flesh. Ingrid had stolen many glances at it over the last week, studying the black snakes and eagles swirling up the center of his back and over his shoulders.

“I have done this journey twice,” Tali said.

“To Horn, not to Northumbria.”

“Which is further from the homeland,” Tali said with a frown.

“Ja, but now we have eight boats, we can only go as fast as the slowest if we are to stick together.” Gunnvar frowned at Ingrid. “And we’ll be the slowest if you don’t get rowing, Arvid.”

“I am.” She threw her weight into it and watched as Raud’s shoulders tensed just a fraction. It took all of his self-control not to react when any of the men spoke to her sharply. Which was frequent.

But it wasn’t their fault. They believed she was an adolescent boy named Arvid who’d persuaded Jarl Brun of Eaterly to allow passage and adventure. They had no idea who she was, that her father was a king and she a princess.

She gritted her teeth and kept up with Raud’s pace, slamming the heavy wooden oar into the water and heaving it backward in time with the rest of the crew.

In the distance the horizon resembled an iron shield rising from the water. Steel-gray, it expanded, stealing what was left of the light, engulfing the white orb of the sun in its menace.

The boat lurched to the right. She struggled to keep hold of her oar. Raud cursed as did Tali.

“Onwards!” Erik shouted, also taking an oar and his shoulders bunching as he battled against the surge of the waves. “Onwards!”

There was urgency in his voice. Ingrid had become used to his calm, confident demeanor. He was a natural leader, clearly well respected amongst his men. The fact he sounded anxious unsettled her further.

Again she looked at the sky, and as she did so Thor shot down a fork of golden light that sliced over the clouds before he smashed into them with his hammer.

“The gods are displeased,” Tali said, heaving on his oar. “It will be Aegir next to show his anger.”

“Do not speak of him unless you want a visit,” Gunnvar said.

“He is already here,” Ingrid said, widening her feet to try to stabilize herself. The boat was pitching and plunging in the broiling waves. Her stomach lurched. Huge cold rain spots that smelled of burnt stones landed on her head and face, blowing sideways in the gale.

“Get the sail down,” Erik shouted.

Tali and Gunnvar leaped up and started working the ropes.

“Row, boy,” Erik shouted, his attention landing on her. “Row!”

“Ja, Jarl.” She clasped her oar; her palms were wet and she feared it would slip from her grasp or be pulled from her reach as the boat lurched and rocked.

“Land!” Raud shouted. “Ahead. Land! Look!”

Erik stood, holding his hand to his brow to shield his eyes from the driving rain. “Thanks be to Odin, just in time.”

Thor hit his hammer once more, shaking the sky and all of Ingrid’s bones. Brilliant white light revealed more of the distant land—green forest beyond dark rocks that were frothed with waves.

The sail was down but it did naught to stop the plight of the longboat. It was as if Aegir himself was trying to shake them from their wooden refuge. The light had all but gone now, day had become night.

Ingrid struggled to catch her breath as she was tossed this way and that. The rain filled her eyes, dripping from her nose and chin. She was wet and cold but worse than that she was barely able to stay seated as she rowed.

The longboat creaked, a low groan that shuddered through the timbers.

Raud glanced over his shoulder at her; he too was dripping wet, his hair stuck to his head and his leather tunic shiny with both rain and seawater.

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