Jerry Autieri - Islands in the Fog

The young man's mouth fell open, and a stain bloomed at his crotch. Hardar laughed and lowered the hammer. The words flowed out like his urine. "Gods, I'll tell you anything. I'm not Ulfrik's man. I belong to Gunther One-Eye. He'll ransom me good, anything you ask. He likes me, he does. Plenty of gold in it for you."

"Tell me everything and I'll consider it."

The young man told Hardar about Ulfrik and all he knew. Hardar stopped him at the mention of Ingrid. He could not believe she cooperated with Ulfrik. The thought made him quiver and bite his lip. The man continued to detail the fighting strength of Gunther's troops. When he finished, Hardar gave a solemn nod to Dag.

Dag rammed his spear through the young man's back. He fell forward, blood rushing out of his chest where the spear tip exited. Dag let go of the shaft as the man died with a whimper. His body plopped alongside the other dead captive.

Hardar left the others to clean up, with an order for Dag to join him at his hall when finished. His cousins had also returned, though without the fleet he had hoped to see. He strode into the hall, everything black as his eyes adjusted to the darkness. "Someone open the smoke hole and let in some light."

His order bounced around the hall. Everyone had fled him shortly after Thorvald had begun screaming. He jumbled around for the draw rope and opened the smoke hole himself. The bright light splashed the room, and lit his high table. He seated himself there to await his cousins, who joined him just as he began to grow bored.

"How many?"

"Enough," said Thorod.

"Twenty more men," said Skard. "And they expect good pay. Did you find the rest of the treasure?"

"Twenty? Who sent them?" Hardar wanted to avoid mention of payment. His wealth had vanished.

"They come from all over," Thorod said as he seated himself. He picked at his fingernail as he continued. "They are desperate men. That you've been sacked and ruined is well known. The only men to come were those who will take any chance to earn silver. Otherwise, no one believes you can pay for anything."

"And neither do we," Skard said and folded his arms. Hardar began to stand, anger pulling his neck and face tight. But Skard leapt forward, his fist in the air. "You had us believe you could pay. We left our homes to help you, brought our men here to find glory. You can't fucking pay us, can you? It was a lie."

Hardar sank down. He could not deny it any longer. His voice was a low grumble. "I can pay you, but not all your men. Nor all the other men. I am without gold. For now, though. Once Ulfrik is defeated, there will be no more threat to the land. We can go a-viking, raid for treasure in Frisia or Frankia, anywhere in the world. I can make us wealthy again. My family, our family, will be the greatest the Faereyjar ever knew."

The hall door opened and Dag entered. Hardar welcomed the distraction. Skard’s and Thorod's gazes followed Dag as he joined Hardar at the high table.

"You cannot delay paying these men," Thorod said, continuing where his brother left off. "We are family, and we are sure of being repaid. But these others, they might rebel. They might flee the battle if they doubt you, and they do."

"What my brother is saying," Skard raised his voice over Thorod's, "is that you have lost this fight with Ulfrik. His return has marked your end."

"Never!" Hardar shot to his feet, his face hot and eye twitching. "He stole my daughter and my wife. He overstepped his bounds. He'll never be equal to me, never. I will fight and I will win."

"You won't," Thorod whispered. "You're paying men to fight for you, and your poverty has become famous. If you can't pay, the men will disappear."

"Then I won't pay," he shouted. Both his cousins exploded in laughter at the statement. Hardar paused, wondering what he was thinking. The words came from somewhere, but not him. Then, a plan began to form.

"I won't pay, that's right. I won't need to pay. I will finish this pup myself, like I should have done before."

Everyone regarded him with sideways gazes. Hardar, however, began to smile.

"When Ulfrik comes, we will be prepared. The men only need to look ready to fight. But they won't have to fight. This place is a fortress, and Ulfrik knows it. We stand where he stood when we last fought, we dominate the field. He won't want to make the charge we did, knowing how deadly it is. But I will give him an out. I will offer him single combat, to the death."

Thorod and Skard exchanged glances. Skard tilted his head. "Why would he be so fucking stupid? He's got a better army."

"He's got mercenaries, too. They'll see that slope and know what Kjotve knew. What can Ulfrik offer them that would drive men to their deaths? If I offer him single combat, he'll take that bait. He has no other way around us."

"When his spies don't return, he'll know we're ready," Thorvald said, continuing to pick his nails. "Doesn't he know his own land better than you? Are you sure there's no other way to attack us?"

"He can only fight us where we stand. It will work." Hardar could already see it unfolding in his mind: Ulfrik's mercenaries balking at the steep slope and the threat of arrows.

"And what if you're fucking killed?" asked Skard.

"I won't be, and Dag will make sure of it." Dag sat up at the mention of his name. "Dag, you put an arrow through one of the men kidnapping my daughter. You did it in a storm, barely a moment to aim."

"The arrows had the gods' hands upon it, lord," he said with a falsely modest nod of his head.

"You've won every ax throwing or archery contest I've ever held. You get up in the rocks, have your bow ready. You'll be there from the start. Stay hidden, easy enough in those rocks. If I signal you, put an arrow through Ulfrik's throat."

"That breaks your word. It will start the battle you want to avoid."

"His army will retreat. Who's going to pay them when he's dead? There'll be no fight." Hardar looked expectantly, both Thorod and Skard frowning. Dag shrugged as if the matter made no difference to him. He took their silence for agreement. "There will be no fight, only Ulfrik dead at my feet."

Toki stared at smoke-blackened rafters. A vague light struggled with the shadows above. He did not know how long he had stared. He felt as if he had staggered out of a fog, the remnants of which still clung to the edges of his vision. He shivered, then realized he was covered in furs though naked but for pants. He lay on a wooden pallet softened by straw under a linen sheet.

He tipped his head to one side, facing a wall of stone no more than an arm's length away. A stone wall made no sense. Something important had happened. He had been hurt. Why?

Strange singing emanated from beyond the wall. Male voices sang in a language he did not understand, though Toki considered the wall might have distorted the sound. He reached for the wall, placing his palm against the chill hardness.

"You're awake," came Halla's excited voice from beside his bed. Toki felt a flush of happiness at the familiar sound and turned to her.

She was dressed in a simple gray robe that could not depress her beauty. Her hair had been combed and brushed so that it shined. Her clear eyes were wide and sparkling, tears welling. She had been seated against a wall in this cell, but now rushed to embrace him.

"I knew you would get better," she said as threw her arms about his shoulders. Her hair splashed across his face, smelling sweet and clean, and her body felt warm and soft. Wet tears dripped onto his neck. "The brothers have brought you back to me."

Toki stroked the back of her head. Then he began to remember. "An arrow pierced my side. I fell to the deck. We were fleeing something. I can't remember."