Viking Wings
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It was a short flight but an eventful one. We were in the air for only about twenty minutes, and when we landed I felt as if I’d been through battle myself. It had been close; there hadn’t been much room to maneuver around the city walls.
The men who ran the place must have been used to that sort of thing because they didn’t even bother with us. They just waved their arms like madmen until we landed safely on the edge of their walled compound. The two ships tied up together were soon being unloaded while our crew stood ready at their posts.
“You’re not going anywhere without me,” said Gudrun, her eyes flashing angrily. “I’m coming along.”
Gunnar shook his head. “We can’t take you. You need your rest. And besides…” He shrugged. “There are too many people here already. If anyone sees you…” His voice trailed off.
She nodded slowly. “All right.” She turned back toward the ship she was supposed to be guarding. “I’ll see what I can do from this end.”
He watched her go before turning back to look at Bjorn. “Well?” he asked. “What did you think? Do you still want to join them or shall we get out of here now?”
Bjorn smiled. “Let’s go meet these Vikings then.” He looked over at Thorgrim Night Wolf. “Come on, boss. Let’s go introduce ourselves properly.”
They walked across the compound towards the main house where we could hear shouting voices and the clatter of weapons against shields. There was no gate and no obvious way in. But it wasn’t hard to find the entrance, which was open to allow entry for all those warriors waiting outside.
Gunnar stopped at the entrance and peered inside, looking as though he was about to enter himself but thought better of it. Finally, he gave a nod and motioned for us to follow him in.
The first thing I noticed was the smell—a combination of sweat, dirt, and something else, some stench I couldn’t identify. A man wearing chain mail stood near the center of the room holding a spear. He glanced up as we entered and immediately dropped his gaze again.
That was all the acknowledgment any of them showed us, although I got the impression most of them recognized me as well. Some of the men wore helmets, others bore helms, and more than half carried spears and axes. All of them wore armor except for a few with bare heads and chests.
Most were tall, strong-looking fellows, but I saw a handful whose build reminded me of my brother. These would make good fighters.
A young man strode forward, carrying a long axe, his face shining with sweat under his helm. He held his weapon high overhead as he approached, and when he came within ten feet he brought it down on the floor and smashed its haft into splinters. Then he bowed low to Gunnar.
“Good morning, King Gunthersson,” he shouted in a voice so loud it seemed to echo throughout the chamber. “Welcome to Iceland!”
And thus ended my first encounter with the Norsemen of Iceland.
***
As we made our way through the crowd, I kept thinking that we should leave. We’d come to visit, nothing more. I’d promised Gunnar I wouldn’t cause trouble, but I knew very little about the people who lived here. Maybe they were friendly enough, maybe not. Either way, they were a foreign force in this land and the heathens would surely try to drive us out once they learned we were there.
But what choice did we have? As Gunnar pointed out earlier, we needed to stay away from Valhalla. For the time being anyway, we would have to live among them. I hoped it wouldn’t lead to bloodshed.
After passing through the outer ring of the gathering, we finally reached the inner circle, where the fighting took place. Our presence there drew attention, mostly curious glances from men who saw the king’s son with his friends, but none offered any challenge.
I guessed it was because we were both armed and armored. Only one other person appeared unarmed, and he was a boy, barely old enough to shave. His name was Einar, and he had arrived late last night. In fact, we were all newcomers.
“So tell me,” I said. “How did you know where to find us? Did you fly over the place or something?”
Einar grinned. “No, we drove. We sailed straight here. Got lucky actually, found a boat just sitting there on the beach. Not sure why someone left it behind, but it saved us having to walk. No one saw us pull it ashore either, which is fortunate considering how big this place is.”
“It must’ve been pretty big to leave a boat on the shore,” I said.
“Not really. It was small. The owner just forgot it. Anyway, I don’t mind telling you that we ran into some trouble on the way. Those Christians we met yesterday—”
“Christians?” Gunnar interrupted.
Einar shrugged. “I guess you could call them that. They seem to worship Christ. Or rather, they say he was their god. Don’t know if they believe that or not, but they certainly hate everyone else who doesn’t share their beliefs. And since we’re all outsiders here, that means we’re enemies. So we fought our way past them. But now we’re here. And we’re going to fight our way out too.”
Gunni laughed. “That’s the spirit. Come along and see the show, eh?”
We followed him through the door and into the yard where the fighting had already begun. From the moment we stepped foot on the ground I realized this was an entirely different world from anything I’d experienced before.
There weren’t many trees and the grasses grew thick and tall around us, creating a sea of green in front of me. Here and there I spotted a stand of birch trees scattered about, like islands in the vast sea of grass. Beyond the trees lay hills and valleys, some still lush with vegetation while others had become barren rock.
Even the air felt different. This close, it smelled clean and fresh, almost sweet. I could hear birds singing nearby, and farther off a group of sheep grazed peacefully.
The sky was blue and clear, dotted by only a few white clouds. It reminded me of home, though I couldn’t remember ever seeing the sunshine quite this bright. Perhaps it wasn’t as warm as England, but the light was bright nonetheless.
And then I heard a roar, and without warning, a great battle erupted ahead of us. A dozen warriors stood at the center of the field, swords drawn and shields raised, as they faced off against eight Christians. I recognized one of the Norsemen immediately.
Thorvin, Lord of Skara, led the charge for our side, his shield bearing the crest of the rune called the wolf head, while beside him was a giant of a man, wearing a helmet and a mail coat covered in metal rings. His sword was huge and gleamed red in the sunlight, and I noticed several other weapons hanging from his belt.
Thorvin’s spear struck the chest plate of one Christian warrior, knocking him backward and sending him flying into another man. Both went tumbling back to the ground together. Another warrior slashed across Thorvin’s face with his sword, causing blood to spray from his nose and mouth.
He grabbed the blade with his free hand and twisted hard, throwing his attacker onto his back. Then Thorvin threw himself forward, driving his shoulder into his opponent’s throat and pinning him down.
Two more fighters leaped toward Thorvin, slashing wildly with their blades. One got his sword caught beneath Thorvin’s helm and it fell from his grasp. Before he could recover, the second man thrust his own weapon deep into Thorvin’s chest. As soon as the point touched a bone, Thorvin released his grip and toppled forward. Blood poured forth from the wound.
As soon as Thorvin collapsed, his two remaining comrades rushed to join the fray, stabbing at the fallen Christian warriors. Their attack proved effective; three of them dropped to the ground. The fourth tried to flee, but one of Thorvin’s men tackled him and held him down.
While the pair struggled, the leader of the Christians made a break for freedom. He fled across the open field, leaping over the bodies of those he killed until he reached the edge of the woods. Once inside, he vanished.
A cheer rose up from the gathered men. I looked at Gunni. He nodded once, signaling for us to stay put.
Our group took shelter within a cluster of trees, watching the action unfold. All the combatants were now dead or dying. Some lay unmoving on the grass, their chests torn open, their faces unrecognizable due to the gaping wounds. Others clutched broken limbs and bleeding wounds.
But none seemed to have escaped unscathed themselves. Everywhere I saw blood, and the air was filled with the scent of it.
There were no women or children present, which surprised me. No doubt they would be coming soon, bringing food and water and tending the wounded. If I thought my stomach was upset earlier, I was sure now it would revolt again.
After a time, Gunni emerged from behind the trees. “Now what do you think of these Christians? Not much good are they?”
Gunnar nodded solemnly. “I agree.”
“What will you do next, lord?” I asked. I didn’t want to appear too eager, but I also wanted to know how things stood here. We might not return to Norway any time soon after all. And if that happened, I needed to know where I stood. Would I need to return to King Magnus? Or did I have options?
He sighed heavily as if thinking deeply about his answer. “You’ve done well so far. You fought well today,” he said, turning toward me. “But you still don’t understand the importance of honor, and loyalty. This is why we lost the war.” He pointed out to sea. “If we had fought like that, we’d have won the battle instead of losing every single ship.”
His words stung. I hadn’t been trying to win battles. I hadn’t cared who lived or died. I had only sought vengeance, revenge for the death of my father. Now I knew I had erred, but there was little chance I was going to change course now. I had sworn an oath to avenge my father. How could I walk away from that?
“When you take your leave, go back to your homes. Tell others of this victory, and tell them what I said: Honor is everything. Loyalty means nothing. They’re both worthless. That way when the heathens come again, they’ll stand no chance.”
The End