Jerry Autieri - Islands in the Fog

"This is a fight for their homes. Don't you see that?"

"What I see," Ragnvald said, raising his eyes to meet Ulfrik's, "is a battle between two ambitious men that has cost much in lives for little in return. Your war has brought so much grief to the families under your care. I would not add the names of my people to that list."

Ulfrik blinked, his mouth open. Ragnvald's eyes bored into his own.

"Count the cost, Ulfrik. When Hardar is dead, what have you won?"

"I will have won safety for the people of the Faereyjar," Ulfrik said in a growl. "Hardar's ambition is exposed now, and I was his biggest threat. He sought to remove me, and pick away at others like you."

Ulfrik's voice echoed over the rolling fields. Even Ingrid turned back to look at him. But Ragnvald did not slacken his stance.

"Until he attacks me, Hardar is merely a poor neighbor to be watched carefully."

"If it were your land destroyed, you would do the same." Ulfrik's fists balled, and he forced them to loosen. He saw the flame of anger growing in Ragnvald's eyes.

"If I were you, I would forget this battle. What are you promising these warriors behind you? You've sworn off your lands, made yourself a thrall to a distant lord. You are not fighting for your home. You are fighting for your pride. You've given your home to a foreigner. And you'd ask me to aid you in that? Who is really thinking of the people?"

"Nonsense," Ulfrik shouted. "I fight for my home and for the people who still live there. I will be their lord, and no other. My family must have a hall to return to, or am I to wander the seas in search of them?"

"It may be better for all if you did," Ragnvald said, his voice low. "But I cannot change your mind. So go. Settle this war with Hardar. I pray you find victory. Otherwise, your allies may turn to other lands for their promised spoils."

The two men exchanged hard looks. Ulfrik then stalked down the slope, calling over his shoulder. "Thank you for your kindness, Jarl Ragnvald. Let us meet again in happier days."

He strode through the grass, tramped across the rocky beach, then splashed into the knee-high surf. Gunther met him at the rails and helped Ulfrik aboard. The crews drew up their anchor stones and struck their sails. Ulfrik squeezed out the water from the legs of his pants.

"A lot of yelling, and nothing to show for it," Gunther said, then spit on the deck. "We don't need a man like him with us. He's no warrior, no killing instinct in him. I wonder if he worries about how loud he should fart?"

"What did Ragnvald say?" Snorri asked as Gunther laughed at his own joke.

Ulfrik watched the thin line of Ragnvald and his hirdmen standing in the waving grass. He thought of standing stones, like those left by the old people. Ragnvald was one of those lichen covered giants, sunk into the earth and never to be moved.

"He told me I'm proud and that I waste the lives of my people for it." Ulfrik waited for an answer. The deck rocked as the ship hit deeper waters. When no reply came, he turned behind and found Snorri had left to join others in getting the ship on course.

"So you say the same, old friend," Ulfrik muttered to himself. The shore rapidly fell away, all while the black line of Ragnvald's men stood watching. "If the gods would grant me another way, I would take it. But Fate draws me to this doom with Hardar, and only one of us will live."

Ulfrik stood in the prow of Gunther's ship, hand resting on the fearsome dragon head fixed to it. He glimpsed small boats frantically rowing over the horizon. He smiled grimly, final confirmation Hardar knew the time and direction of attack. Those boats had probably been manned in shifts ever since his spies had been caught. He drooped his head and stepped down from the prow.

The sail formed a belly in the wind, and sea spray flew over the deck and flecked him with cold water. Gunther steered his ship, singing a song about a dragon-slaying hero who won gold and glory. Such battle songs gave men heart. With Hardar warned, the men would need heart to climb the slope that formed the only approach from the sea.

A thin fog clung to the islands where the cliffs dampened the winds. He spied milky blue outlines of the mountains surmounting the fog on the horizon. Snorri appeared at his shoulder.

"Never thought we'd have to take that slope ourselves."

"It was your idea. I wanted to build further up."

"No, it would've cut into pasture land. We built in the best spot."

They stood at the center of the deck. The others were already wearing their mail and readying weapons. No one rowed, saving strength for the battle ahead. A group of men were dividing arrows into sheaves. Ulfrik swallowed hard.

"If I fall, flee the field. Look for my family and if they still live, care for them."

"If you fall, I am already dead. Ask someone else to flee."

As they closed the distance to Nye Grenner, men passed skins of mead to steady their nerves. Ulfrik normally would not bother, but this day he gladly took the skin and guzzled until his belly warmed with drink. He handed it to Snorri who likewise drank. Gunther called his men to prepare for landing, then gestured for Ulfrik to join him.

"If this slope is the Valkyrie home you claim it is, you better have a plan to lead my men up it." Gunther's fixed his single eye on Ulfrik. "We're expecting easy work here. I don't have another eye to feed to a spear."

"It will be glorious. I will lead the charge, and Odin's hand will sweep away the arrow storm. Then we will smash their shield wall with the might of Thor's hammer. Nothing but death will be in our wake."

"Better come up with something besides bad poetry if you want me to follow."

"Once we start moving, don't stop. That was Hardar's failure. There is a dip where we will drop out of sight. Get there fast, then it's a sprint to the top. You are always safer going up than going down. Besides, arrows are costly and both Hardar and I spent most of ours already."

Gunther frowned at him. "I hope I wasn't wrong about you."

"I will lead the way, and if I die and you were wrong, then don't follow."

Ulfrik now donned his mail, strapped his sword and long knife around his waist. He took a throwing ax, smiling at Snorri as he did. His old friend was also his battle mentor during his childhood, and had emphasized the value of throwing axes. Snorri stuck two into his belt. "Seems like Gunther has plenty, and you know how useful they are."

The ships bumped and glided across the final stretch. He returned to the prow, where many warriors now crowded, shouting curses and laughing at the distant shadows of the enemy. They boasted of the easy killing, and spoke of what plunder they hoped to find. Two men worked to fix Gunther's battle standard to a pole. It was a wolf's head with open maw that dripped blood. It was faded and worn, flown many times in hard weather. They raised it up with a joyous shout from the crew.

Ulfrik's standard lay trampled in his hall. His eyes drew to slits, thinking of flying it once more. For now, he reached into his bag and withdrew his helm. It was the nearest thing he had to a standard. Gunther had recovered it from Kjotve's spoils and returned it to Ulfrik. He slid it onto his head, drawing the cheek plates over his face. His brother, Grim, had once worn this helm. Now he wore it and remembered all the struggle it represented. It bolstered his resolve. He closed his eyes a moment, summoned memories of his father and his uncle, of his wife and son. He gritted his teeth and felt his arms tremble with power. When he opened his eyes again, the shore had drawn near.

Hardar had sensibly pulled his warships onto land, though the boats that had been picketed at sea were hastily beached. At the top of the grassy slope, in the swirling vestiges of fog, stood Hardar and his men. They formed a block, dark and solid. Overhead Hardar flew his banner of a running stag with blood tipped horns.