Jerry Autieri - Islands in the Fog

Gunther's two ships glided to the shore, almost jauntily, and disgorged the men. One hundred snarling warriors assembled on the beach, crowding into a mass of glinting iron and clacking shields. Gunther stood large and proud at the center of the line, as did Ulfrik. Snorri was to his left and the rest of Ulfrik's men filled the front ranks. The wolf head standard went up, and the men roared. Hardar and his men did not waver.

"Seems like the old fool learned some sense," Snorri muttered.

"We outnumber him," Ulfrik scanned the spear tips blinking at him in the evening sun. Then he scanned the rocks to on either side, detecting nothing hidden. He noticed severed heads had been posted at the empty docks. Ulfrik could not identify them, but knew they were his people. His pulse quickened.

"The barracks might hide more men," Ulfrik said to Gunther. "Either inside or behind. If you try to flank those rocks on our right, the buildings will funnel you into bow fire. The straight path up the slope is safest still."

Gunther nodded. "Is the fat one Hardar? Why doesn't he do something? What is wrong with the jarls of these islands? No one loves action?"

"Hardar, you oath-breaking turd," Ulfrik screamed, sliding his blade from its wooden scabbard. "Ulfrik Ormsson is here. I am the blade of the gods, come for vengeance. Stand down and face justice."

A ripple went through the front ranks. Ulfrik could not see Hardar's reaction. As he was about to bellow another taunt, Hardar and two other men came forward. He held a dried branch above his head.

"We've got to fucking talk about this?" Gunther said, slamming his sword back into its sheath.

"Come with me to the parley, and you too, Snorri."

"That can't be a hazel branch, so we don't have to honor it," Gunther said.

"It's not, but it's the same meaning. Let's discover what shit will drop from his mouth."

Ulfrik climbed the slope with as much careless ease as he could muster. A war leader's every action was a signal to the men who followed him, and he wanted to communicate strength and certainty. Hardar descended carefully, angling his way down so as not to slip. His motions looked clumsy and afraid, which Ulfrik relished.

The two groups met in the middle. Gunther and Snorri flanked him, their expressions stony. Ulfrik looked Hardar over as if estimating a trade horse. He was still fat, his eyes flinty. Coppery gray hair flowed from beneath his iron helmet. His mail, however, had patches of rust in the deep links. Ulfrik did not recognize the two men with Hardar, but they all shared the pug noses that ran in Hardar's family.

"So the dog returns to sniff his shit," Hardar said, a sneer creasing his face.

"You're standing on my land. Surrender or die. What's your choice?"

Hardar exploded in laughter, though the other men remained unimpressed. "I don't need to make a choice, Ulfrik. You do. You stole my family. Not content with my daughter, you took my wife too. So I am justice and vengeance, not you. I offer the same choice: surrender or die."

"You're outnumbered," Ulfrik pointed past Hardar. "And these men look like farmers playing at warrior. See the men I bring to battle, fierce warriors every one. You are finished."

Hardar shook his head. "I'm not coming down this slope. You can send your men into my arrows. They're not fighting for you, but for the easy victory. They'll run to their ships when they taste of the arrow storm." Hardar looked directly at Gunther. "Am I wrong, One-Eye? You're not sacrificing men for this foggy island of rock and grass."

"Wasn't planning on it until I found out what a fucking maggot you are. Now I look forward to pissing on your entrails."

Ulfrik jabbed a finger at Hardar's chest. "I'll meet you at the top of this slope. When I get there, you die."

He whirled away and began to return to his lines. Then Hardar called his name.

"There is another way to settle this."

Ulfrik stopped, but did not turn. "There is no other way. You've brought this on yourself."

"Single combat, you and me to the death. Let the gods decide who is just."

The offer hit Ulfrik like a rock. He turned slowly, confusion written on his face. Snorri and Gunther appeared equally surprised. Yet Hardar and his cousins stood resolute. Hardar stepped forward, raising his voice. "I challenge Ulfrik Ormsson to single combat to the death. Will he accept?"

The decision had to be swift. He looked to his companions, whom he could not read. He did not fear declining the challenge, for despite his poor positioning he had an advantage in experience and numbers. But Ragnvald's words came back to him. He thought of Hardar's men, as strange as it was to consider the enemy. He padded his ranks with mercenaries, but otherwise he mustered the locals, maybe even people from Nye Grenner. Ulfrik would be killing local people. Gunther's foreign men would be killing local people at his command.

"I will accept."

"Ulfrik," Snorri stepped toward him. But Ulfrik held up his hand to stop him.

Hardar smiled, and instantly Ulfrik realized he was led into a trap.

"But only if we fight on the ground of my choosing."

Hardar's face flinched. "We are all assembled now. We fight here, and end this struggle."

Ulfrik took two strides toward Hardar, and his cousins reached for their blades. He stopped short, now certain of the trap. "I choose the ground or nothing. There is nothing special about this slope unless you've laid a trap here. Decide now."

Hardar and Ulfrik squinted at each other. Then Hardar's eyes faltered. "You choose the ground," he said.

"The field where we held the summer games, just behind the village. We fight there. You bring your men, and allow my men through to the place. Then let the gods decide who is just."

They parted, Hardar tramping back up the slope while Ulfrik walked lightly down to his lines. Snorri caught his arm. "What are you thinking? You're not afraid of taking this slope? We've got him beaten."

"This is between Hardar and me. No more people die for our quarrels."

"My men aren't afraid to die," Gunther said. "And not many will. We've faced tough charges before, you know."

"It's not your men I care for."

Snorri released his grip. Ulfrik pulled ahead. He knew death shadowed him now. He looked skyward for a sign, but the gods withheld their auguries.

Ulfrik prodded the ground with his foot, smiling at the mud clinging to his boots. "Rain and fog, never have I welcomed you as I do today."

He studied Hardar, who spoke hurriedly with men. His cousins shouted at him and his face grew red. A hirdman stood behind, carrying a large shield with an iron boss and rim. Red and white adorned the wood, Hardar's colors. He shoved one of his cousins away, then took the shield, and donned a new helm, one similar to Ulfrik's. His hirdman leaned into him, speaking in his ear and grasping Hardar's hand. They parted with a nod, then Hardar lumbered into the center of the field.

Ulfrik scanned the expanse. Hardar's men formed a tentative line. He noted some betting, reflecting their lack of discipline and loyalty. He hoped they also lacked a will to fight. To his right, Nye Grenner sat empty and silent. He had searched for familiar faces, and had found none. He prayed they were not in Hardar's battle line.

"This is madness," Snorri stated. "But I should have expected it from you. It is in your family."

Ulfrik gave a wan smile, then handed his sword and knife to Snorri. He removed his helmet and dropped it into the grass with his shield. "Gunther, help me out of my mail."

"I was only joking," Snorri said, his eyes wide. "What are you doing?"

"Making myself lighter and faster than that lump of iron and fat standing across from me. Feel the ground; it's muddy. It'll hinder his footing with all that weight." Gunther laughed as he helped Ulfrik out of his mail. Snorri kicked the ground and frowned.