Beyond the Sea Mist (10 page)

“Oh? It’s too dangerous for me...but not for you? I’m not a child. Indeed, I doubt I’m more than a handful of years younger than you. I’ve a right to decide what sort of risks I want to take.”

Magnus tried a different tack. “I didn’t mean to insult you. But my situation is different than yours. I made a vow to the Irishwoman and I mean to keep it. But you...you’re bound by no promise or oath.”

“That’s not true,” Orm retorted. “After all, you saved my life last night. It would be very churlish of you to refuse to let me return the favor.”

“Scaring off those scavengers was nothing compared to the dangers we’ll face in joining Croa’s crew and trying to help the Irishwoman.”

“I know that,” Orm said. “And it doesn’t deter me.” He smiled again. “I’ve always been unable to turn away from a truly daring wager. Let me be there when you throw the dice, Magnus. I want to see how this game turns out.”

Ailinn woke to the sound of someone climbing down the ladder into the hold. In her half-awake state, she thought briefly that it might be Magnus. A moment later, she realized it was only one of the ship’s crew. Her heart sank with disappointment.

The man shouted up to the deck and someone handed down a barrel. He shoved it deep into the storage area on the other side of the underdeck, then returned to get a second barrel.

Brina stirred beside Ailinn. “What’s happening?” she asked sleepily.

“They’re loading the ship.”

Brina sat up. “I thought they’d already done that.”

“That was the cargo—like us.” Bitterness shot through Ailinn. “Now they’re likely loading supplies for the trip—fresh water and more of that loathsome salted fish.” Ailinn’s sense of despair increased. Soon the ship would sail for York, taking her far, far away from her homeland.

A wave of regret passed through her as she recalled the events of the night before. She wished she hadn’t argued with Magnus. But even if they’d left the moment he arrived, there was every reason to think they’d have been discovered. Then Magnus would have been killed and she and the other women returned to their foul prison. It was better this way, she told himself. At least Magnus was alive and had some hope of a future. He deserved that after he’d risked his life for her.

As the man pushed past to load a barrel on their side of the hold, Gormlaith asked, “Sweet Mary, are they going to leave any room for us?”

The loading process continued, and Ailinn began to wonder the same thing. The cargo hold had never beem spacious, but now it was extremely crowded. She considered complaining to the man as he moved past them with another barrel. But there seemed no point. He a hireling who did what he was told.

A short while later, another man came down the ladder. Ailinn recognized him as Thorvald, one of the men who were always around Croa. From the fine quality of his garments she didn’t think he was a servant, although he appeared to do whatever Croa told him. He was the one who’d tied leather thongs on their wrists so they were all bound together.

Ailinn noticed that Thorvald was carrying a small wooden box. He glanced around the dimly lit cargo area, then made his way around the foot of the mast into the other side of the hold. Ailinn’s curiosity was aroused. From his surreptitious manner and the way he cradled the box against his chest, she suspected there might be something valuable inside.

A short while later, she heard Thorvald coming back. He no longer carried the box, which meant he must have stashed it somewhere in the other part of the hold. What was in it? Some sort of treasure? The box had appeared heavy, but if it were filled with silver it would have been much more difficult to carry.

What did it matter? Even if she
were
able to find the box and it did contain valuables, it would do her no good. She was stuck on this ship, surrounded by her enemies. In a short while, they would be at sea and on their way to a foreign place, far, far away from Ireland.

* * *

“Do you think Croa will take us on?” Orm asked Magnus as the two of them started down the quay. Over their shoulders they carried leather bags containing extra garments and weaponry. Tied to the bags were their otterskin sleeping sacks. The day had dawned clear and the first golden rays of rays of sunlight gilded the curved bows of the
Waverunner
as they left the ship behind.

“All we can do is try,” Magnus responded to his companion.

“What if he refuses to hire us?”

“That will make things more difficult, but I won’t give up. There are three ships, and Croa can only sail on one of them.” He gave Orm a knowing look.

“You mean to sneak aboard one of the other vessels even if he doesn’t hire us?”

“Aye. I’m determined to remain near the Irishwoman one way or another.”

Orm shook his head. “I still don’t understand your commitment to her. She’s no kin of yours.”

“I don’t understand my feelings either,” Magnus said. “But I’ve given my word, and I’m duty-bound to follow through. At least we have Sigurd’s favor,” he added. “I thought he might be angered to lose two members of his crew. But he seemed more worried for our safety than upset at our departure.”

“You told me he’s a childhood friend of your brother’s. He must feel some fondness for you, that he agreed so readily to release us.”

“Or it could be that he dislikes Croa and is willing to aid us in thwarting him. At any rate, if Croa talks to Sigurd about us, he’ll be satisfied with what he hears.”

The area of the dock where Croa’s ships were moored was abuzz with activity as slaves loaded up the three vessels. Some of the wooden boxes being taken on board appeared to have been singed by fire. The sight both gratified Magnus and brought back the familiar frustration. His plan to use the fire as a distraction had been a good one. It might even have succeeded if Croa’s men hadn’t been so efficient in putting out the blaze.

As they neared the ship where the Irishwoman was kept, Magnus was startled to see Bors, Skulli’s friend. He was hurrying down the quay carrying a pack. Realizing this might be a good opportunity to get information about hiring on with Croa, Magnus hailed him.

Bors halted and looked at them without recognition.

Orm said, “We met you the night before last. We were with Skulli.”

“Oh, aye.” Bors nodded. “I remember you now. I’m on my way to see your captain—Sigurd I believe his name is. I wanted to talk to him about hiring on as a crewman. Do you think he’ll be interested? I vow I’ve had near as much experience on the sea as any man in this longphort.”

Magnus and Orm exchanged a puzzled look. Magnus said, “I thought you were going to sail with Croa.”

Bors grimaced. “I’ve changed my mind.”

“Why?” Magnus asked.

“Croa’s had some troubles, and I don’t think it bodes well for him...or anyone sailing on his ships.”

“We’d heard that one of his warehouses caught fire last night,” Magnus said cautiously. Remembering the things he’d said about Croa and the Irishwoman, he worried Bors might guess he was behind the blaze.

“Aye. There was the fire. But that’s not all of it. While most of the crew were off fighting the fire, the two men guarding the ship were attacked. They both claim some kind of invisible creature crept up on them in the fog and struck them down. Neither of them will go back to the ship.” He cocked his head. “I probably wouldn’t think too much of it, except for the Irishwoman’s curse.”

Magnus shot Orm a look of astonishment, then again focused on Bors. “The Irishwoman’s curse? What are you talking about?”

Bors jerked his head in the direction of Croa’s ships. “It seems Croa took some well-born Irish wench captive. They say she’s fine to look upon, but as ill-tempered as a wet cat. She cursed Croa. Called on her gods to bring him misfortune.” Bors spat. “It
might
simply be some nonsense she thought up to try and scare him. But you never know. There’s all sorts of tales about Irish magic and sorcery. They’re a strange and fiercesome race, especially the women.”

“So, you’re leaving Croa’s crew?” Magnus struggled to keep the incredulity from his voice. He’d never dreamed that his actions in setting the fire and disabling Croa’s crewmen would have this effect.

“Aye, and I’m not the only one. You younger fellows may scoff at such things, but I didn’t get to the age I am by ignoring omens of ill-fortune.” Bors touched the Thor’s hammer he wore around his neck. “More than once I’ve had a premonition that something bad was going to happen on a particular voyage, then later learned the ship went down or there was other trouble.” He shook his head. “First, Croa’s warehouse catches fire. Then his men are attacked under strange circumstances. That’s a lot of ill-luck for one man. Of course, if you want to take your chances and hire on with him, I’m sure Croa will pay you well.” He met their gazes with a meaningful look. “It’s up to you what you value more—silver or your life.”

A few awkward moments passed. Then Magnus said, “Thanks for the warning. I would urge you to seek out Sigurd as you planned. He should be eager to hire you, as we’ve left him two crewmen short.”

Bors narrowed his eyes at them, then shook his head again. “Young fools,” he muttered as he walked away.

“Well, that was good fortune for us,” Orm said. “And for Sigurd as well. He’ll get an experienced crewman to replace us.”

“Aye,” Magnus agreed. “What a clever ploy on the part of Ailinn. If we can get on Croa’s ship and cause a few more unfortunate things to happen, perhaps we can unsettle even more of his crew. That might aid us when we get to York.”

As they started down the dock, Orm let out a guffaw. “I was biting my tongue the whole while. Superstitious old fellow.”

“There are a lot of men like him,” Magnus said. “Which is what I’m counting on.” He looked at Orm and grinned.

A moment later, he glanced down the dock and saw Croa approaching. Magnus’s mirth vanished. As Croa drew near--accompanied by two warriors Magnus hadn’t seen before—Magnus took a sharp breath. He felt more than a hint of anxiety at the thought of joining Croa’s crew and being trapped on a ship with him. “Croa? Croa Ottarson?” he called out.

Croa halted. “What do you want?”

“My name’s Magnus Gunnarson. I’d heard you might need some more crewmen.”

Croa’s piggish eyes narrowed and he scowled. “Why would you think that?”

Magnus’s heartbeat quickened. It seemed very unwise to bring up Croa’s recent run of bad luck and its effect on his men. A moment later, a plausible response came to him. He gestured to the nearby dragonships. “I hear you’re sailing with three good-sized vessels. You’ll require a substantial number of experienced seamen to handle such a fleet.” He motioned to Orm. “My companion and I offer our services.”

Croa’s gaze raked them. “Who have you sailed with previously?”

“We came here as part of Sigurd Hroldson’s crew. While I have no complaint against him as a captain, this is the only journey he plans to make this season. It’s not yet high summer and there’s a lot of time yet for traveling upon the waves. I’d heard you’re making several more stops before heading north.” Magnus held his breath as he finished.

Croa grunted. “I could use a couple more oarmen, and you look big and brawny enough to do the work. But your companion...” He jerked his thumb at Orm. “I’ve no use for a puny fellow like him.”

Two heartbeats later, Orm had drawn his knife and sent it whizzing across the dock. It landed—hilt quivering—in a sack carried by two slaves. The slaves gaped at Orm. Orm smiled grimly at Croa, then went to retrieve his knife. “I may be small, but I have other skills that might be of use to you.”

A muscle twitched in Croa’s jaw. Then he said, “We’ll leave before mid-morning.” He turned to Magnus. “You’ll sail on the
Dragonsbreath
with me.” He motioned with his head to the middle ship. “And you... ” He gestured to Orm. “You’ll be on that vessel.” He indicated the ship next to them, then moved away and started bellowing at the slaves to hurry up and finish loading.

“I couldn’t have asked for better luck,” Magnus said when Croa was out of earshot. “He’s placed me on the ship where the Irishwoman is.”

“But not me,” Orm said sourly. “I wonder why he decided to split us up.”

“Croa may worry that if we’re together on the same ship we might somehow plot against him.”

Which was exactly what they’d planned, Magnus thought. He met Orm’s gaze. “I wouldn’t blame you if you’ve changed your mind. I’m certain Sigurd would willingly have you back on his crew.”

“Nay, I want to go,” Orm responded. “Besides, you’ll need my aid when we get to York.”

“Very well,” Magnus said. “But be careful. These men aren’t like those on Sigurd’s crew. They’re hardened sorts who only look after their own interests. Remember that in your dealings with them.” He fixed Orm with a fierce look. “I won’t be able to rescue you if you get into trouble.”

“And I won’t be there to guard your back either,” Orm responded, glaring back at him. “So don’t do anything stupid. No woman is worth dying for.”

“I don’t intend to die,” Magnus answered. “As for my plans, other than trying to spook the crew, I really can’t do anything until we reach York.”

“And then what?” Orm challenged. “Even if you get her free of Croa, York’s a very long way from the western coast of Eire, which is where you said she hails from.”