Chapter 12: Odin

Then Gyna screamed.

***

The scream tore through Yngvar's mind. For an instant he thought she cried out because of the weather. Lightning flashed again, illuminating the scene before them. Gyna clutched the rails, staring wide-eyed at the churning blackness beyond the prow. Her hair hung about her shoulders, dripping wet. She held a finger to her lips.

"Shh! Don't speak. Whatever happens next won't matter."

She jumped up, pointing at the fog. In response, the surface of the sea began to bubble. Bubbles rose higher, bursting into spheres of foam. From each sphere emerged figures.

"Are they spirits?" Thorolf whispered.

Yngvar watched in horror as a dozen small forms broke free of the surf. Each was wrapped in seaweed like dead bodies buried under sand. These were not corpses. Instead, they appeared to be children. Some carried sticks, others spears. All ran toward the ship.

Gyna backed against the mast, covering her mouth with both hands. She moaned softly. Bjorn roared and charged the nearest attacker. He snatched up two axes and slammed them together. Sparks flew, and the smaller figure crumpled to the deck.

"Stop your foolery," Thorolf yelled. "We have no weapons worth speaking of. You'll die for certain."

Bjorn did not stop. He raised his ax high and rushed forward. Another child leapt atop his chest, stabbing downward with its spear. Bjorn stumbled backward, but recovered quickly. He flipped the attacker aside and struck the ground where it landed. The impact sent him sprawling.

"He can fight," Brandr called out. "Let us pass."

The rest of the crew remained silent and still. None made so much as a whimper. Only Gyna continued to moan. Yngvar grabbed hold of her arm and pulled hard. Her head snapped up and she gasped.

"What are these things?" Thorolf demanded. "Why do they attack us?"

"Don't ask me," Yngvar said. "Ask yourself why you're afraid. Why you'd rather flee than kill these poor creatures?"

His words seemed to strike home. Thorolf frowned and glanced between Yngvar and Gyna. He finally looked down at the writhing mass of children on the deck. Their faces were smooth, round, and blank. Eyes bulged from sockets sunken in dark flesh. Mouths gaped open like fish gasping for air.

"I see now," Thorolf said. His eyes widened as he took a step closer to the railing. "These are drowned men. But what manner of man drowns himself willingly? And who commands such evil spirits? That is powerful magic indeed."

"They must come from some land far from this one," Brandr said. "Perhaps even another continent entirely. We should sail past them. Let us hope we never meet them again."

Thorolf shook his head. "This will make my tale sound more credible. Besides, I've heard tales of strange lands south along the coast. Perhaps there are other peoples living among those mountains. Maybe these are just fishermen or traders. They might be friendly if we offer aid."

As if summoned by Thorolf's suggestion, the first of the drowned sailors reached the edge of the boat. It stood tall and thin, arms spread wide to support its weight. Its face had been washed clean by the storm, revealing features that could have belonged to either sex. Dark skin stretched taut over prominent bones. Long fingers ended in sharp nails. Yet despite its appearance, it stepped onto the hull without hesitation. Others followed after it.

"If they wish to join our company, then let them aboard," Thorolf said. "Their souls may help protect us against whatever dangers await ahead."

Brandr's brow furrowed. "How long until dawn?"

"Not long," Thorolf said. "But perhaps we should keep these people away from the mainmast. If they seek vengeance, they would likely try to climb up there."

Thorolf gave the order, and soon all twelve of the new arrivals sat around the base of the mast. Their heads bobbed up and down in rhythm.

"It looks like they're praying," Gyna said. "Can anyone understand their language?"

No one spoke Norse, which left only Latin or Arabic. Both languages were too difficult for Yngvar to master. Neither sounded right coming from these mouths, though. Even the most devout Christian monk was unlikely to pray in any tongue but his own. So something else was happening here.

Thorolf leaned back against the rail and folded his arms across his chest. He stared into the distance, watching for danger while pondering the mysteries surrounding these strangers. For Yngvar, however, the sudden arrival of these dead men meant nothing good. A chill crawled through his guts and down to his feet. Something terrible waited before them.

***

A low growl rumbled beneath the waves. Fish scattered out of the way. Sea birds screeched overhead and flapped away. Waves crashed against rocks below. Mist billowed off the water, obscuring everything beyond sight. All the world became a gray haze.

Yngvar held tight to the rails as the ship rocked side-to-side. The crew shouted orders to each other. Men clambered up rigging to search the horizon. The captain, whom Yngvar assumed to be Thorolf, gathered everyone close to discuss tactics.

Only when the mist cleared did Yngvar realize how foolish he had been. The sea was calm today. Nothing lurked under the surface to menace them. No enemy ships awaited them. The threat came from within.

At least it wasn't ravens circling above. Those had haunted him since childhood. Ravens led the god Odin to take his eye. Nowadays, it felt like every time Yngvar closed his eyes, he saw ravens flying high above him. Sometimes he thought he glimpsed Bjorn's white hair amongst them. At times he wished for death so that he might escape the terror of seeing the old gods once more.

Yet he was not ready to die yet. Not with Erik Bloodaxe hunting him down for crimes committed years ago. Nor with his brothers still wandering in Frankia waiting for news of their father. And not even with Alasdair gone. He missed the boy desperately. He had no idea where he went or why. Just that he vanished into the night and returned days later looking thinner than ever. Yngvar suspected foul play, but knew better than to ask. Instead he watched as others searched for clues.

He sighed and rubbed the scarred spot behind his ear.