Chapter 11: Shipwreck

"So you say," Thorolf snorted. "Still, I wish you hadn't decided to lead us all to ruin. If I thought this journey meant certain doom, then perhaps I would feel differently."

Yngvar shrugged. "I am sorry for leading you to risk your lives. However, I hope you understand that our choices are limited. If we don't reach Jarl Vilhjalmer, who has sworn fealty to King Erik Bloodaxe, then we will die anyway. Either by starvation or capture. So we either make this trip, which means risking death, or turn around and live another year under tyranny."

The others nodded agreement. Thorolf gritted his teeth but conceded defeat. "It seems like we all agree that we have little choice. Let's get ready. What supplies do we have left?"

Alasdair took charge, ordering each of them to bring whatever provisions they could fit aboard the small boat. Afterward, Yngvar gathered the rest of the crew together.

"This is going to be tricky," he warned. "Not just because of the distance, but also the currents. We must plan ahead and be careful. Once we enter the channel, keep close to shore until the current eases. At least as long as possible. The deeper waters seem calm tonight, though the tides will change soon."

"What about the tide coming in?" Thorolf asked. "Is there a problem with that?"

"Yes," Yngvar said. "We want to avoid being trapped against the bank while the rising tide flows over us. So once we enter the main channel, let's anchor off shore. That way we can float free and move more easily through the shallows. But even anchored, we must stay alert for rocks and sunken trees along the banks. Now gather up your gear and meet me on the beach. Everyone else, help yourselves from the stores. You'll find everything you need inside."

With the last instructions given, Yngvar led the crew ashore. He found Thorolf sitting alone beside their campfire. His daughter stood behind him holding her mother's hand. Both looked miserable. Bjorn sat apart from the group, staring across the dark bay toward land. Ewald hovered nearby, offering silent support.

As Yngvar approached, Thorolf jumped to his feet.

"Lord! Have mercy. My wife cannot endure it much longer. I beg you send word home so she might join us before we sail again tomorrow."

"She should come now," Yngvar said. "But if she refuses, we will leave without her."

Thorolf bowed his head in defeat. "Then take care of her and tell her I love her dearly. And please thank God for sending you here."

"He sent me here," Yngvar said. "To save my father's life. We owe nothing to anyone else. Besides, if I was truly a godly man, then why would I curse myself with the name Hakon instead of Ulfrik Ormsson? No one calls me Hakon except my kin and enemies."

Thorolf smiled wanly, rubbing his eyes beneath his thick mustache. "You mock yourself too often. Still, you've done better than most men would."

They walked away from the firelight into darkness. As they did, Alasdair fell in step beside Yngvar.

"How many days' sailing to get to Norway?" he whispered.

"Two weeks," Yngvar answered. "If the winds favor us. It depends how strong the current is and whether we encounter storms. We've had good luck thus far."

"That's not saying much," Thorolf muttered. "Our voyage was cursed from day one. Did you see any sign of our gods today? Odin only seemed interested in watching us drown."

Yngvar glanced at Alasdair, who shook his head. "I saw no signs of Norse gods or spirits. Perhaps they're afraid of crossing the sea to rescue us."

Thorolf laughed bitterly. "Aye, maybe. They're cowards like everyone says. Well, I'm glad they won't be joining our quest. For they'd only slow us down."

Yngvar stopped short and turned back to face Thorolf. "Why does that matter to you? Your family is safe enough."

"My family is dead!" Thorolf shouted, spinning around and raising both hands to strike Yngvar. Yet he paused when he realized what he held. A broken branch lay between two fingers.

His breath came hard. He lowered his arms slowly, looking at the ground where he dropped the stick.

"Your son died bravely," Yngvar said. "And he saved your own life. If you are worried about something happening to Gyna, then don't worry. She has been well treated by all."

Thorolf stared past Yngvar, jaw clenched tight. He remained still and quiet for several moments before nodding. Then he resumed walking. By this time Alasdair had caught up to them.

"Don't mind him," he whispered. "He's just angry because he couldn't go home himself. Sometimes it feels easier to blame others rather than admit fault. At least you have someone to mourn your loss. Don't forget that."

The rest of the night passed uneventfully, although Thorolf continued muttering curses under his breath. In the morning, they loaded up the ships with provisions and headed out to sea. The weather grew worse as they sailed southward. The sky darkened and rain poured in sheets. Lightning flashed overhead, but never struck close enough to threaten the fleet. Such thunderclaps were followed by black clouds rolling in from every direction. Each wave surged higher than the previous one, until the water splashed over the rails. Even the mast creaked in protest.

"It could be worse," Gyna said, standing on deck near Yngvar. Her hair hung wet against her shoulders, though her cloak protected her body from the pelting rain. She leaned against a rail and watched the waves break against each other. "We can always hope for another storm."

"What do you mean?" Yngvar asked.

Gyna pointed to the horizon, which shimmered white through the driving rain. "There. That looks like a line of fog ahead of us. Maybe we'll miss it."

"Let's pray for some wind," Bjorn said. His long blond beard glistened with droplets. He wiped his face with an arm, leaving streaks of mud across his cheeks. "These seasick waters make me want to throw up."

"I'm sure there's plenty of land along these shores," Gyna said. "Maybe if we follow the coast, we'll find shelter."

Bjorn grunted agreement. Neither man looked forward to finding their destination. To sail so far north, they must pass Jellinge, site of King Harald Finehair's death. Many believed he drowned in a shipwreck off its rocky shore. Others claimed he escaped and fled to Denmark. Whichever tale was true, none wanted to cross paths again with such a powerful king. But neither did either side wish to risk battle while en route to Norway. So they sailed toward the misty horizon.

By midday they found themselves lost in heavy gray clouds. No sun penetrated the gloom, yet the air felt colder than ever. Their sails billowed limp in the breeze, and even the rigging seemed to sag lower as they drew closer to the fog. Nothing lived within the murk save the occasional bird. Its call floated above the dark mass.

"I fear we will lose sight of the coastline soon," Brandr said. "Unless it leads us straight onto rocks."

Thorolf now stood beside Yngvar, holding fast to both sides of the railing. His eyes darted nervously among the crew members, including those who tended the oars. Bjorn and Gyna shared stares with one another. Both men wore frowns of concern.

"Do you think we've come too late?" Yngvar asked. "Is this place haunted by ghosts of kings? What happened here anyway?"

"King Harald met his end here," Thorolf said, his voice low. "But not in any way you might imagine."

Brandr approached them and placed a hand on Thorolf's shoulder. "You should sit down, my friend. We may need you soon."

Thorolf nodded and sat beside Gyna, leaning into the rail as if seeking comfort from it. As he settled, more drops fell from the sky, pattering the deck boards beneath him.

Yngvar turned back to the ocean, trying to spot anything familiar amid the haze. It reminded him of the thick clouds that covered the battlefield after Hakon defeated Erik Blood-Axe. There had been no sign of pursuit, only the dense cloud cover hiding whatever horrors lingered below. Would they encounter similar scenes when they reached Norway? Perhaps it would prove better to avoid conflict altogether. They could simply slip away once ashore. Yet what then? Without allies or money, how would he return to Frankia without losing everything else first?

At last, the cold light of day faded behind them. The darkness deepened until all they saw was the pale glow of starlight reflecting off the endless sea. The fog swirled around them. Then came a momentary burst of lightning that lit the entire area with blue flashes. A loud crack echoed across the water. Thunder crashed overhead.

"That sounded real!" Bjorn shouted.

"It is real," Thorolf said, his voice quivering. "And I don't know why God has brought us here. This cannot be good."

They stared at the swirling fog, waiting for something to emerge.