Divide and Conquer (11 page)

Gorm thumped Dak forcefully on the back, shoving him so hard that he stumbled into the hovel. All conversation inside halted, though a few men snickered when Dak tripped and fell to his hands and knees.

Dak grimaced as the dirt floor scraped his palms. He felt the SQuare shift where it was jammed against his back and he froze, hoping it wouldn’t slide free.

If Siegfried or any of the other men saw the SQuare, that would be the end of Dak and maybe even Sera and Riq as well. He couldn’t risk it.

Slowly and carefully he lifted his head and looked around, using the movement to mask how he twisted his body to try and keep the SQuare in place. The structure had been built rapidly, and it showed in the crooked windows and uneven slant of the doorframe.

In the center blazed a fire, its smoke creating a thick layer of sludge along the ceiling as it struggled to find a way free through a hole in the roof. Carved earthen platforms topped with wooden boards and dingy rugs were built against the walls.

But what really drew Dak’s attention were the men crouched around the fire, the flickering light casting shadows under their eyes. In the center of them sat Siegfried on the only stool in the room. Behind his shoulder a massive wooden shield hung from the wall, the SQ symbol emblazoned on it.

He looked over Dak’s head to where Gorm the Time Warden stood in the door. “This doesn’t look like dinner,” he said, raising one eyebrow.

It didn’t escape Dak’s notice that this was the second time in two days someone had discussed eating him. He was really beginning to hate the ninth century.

D
AK TRIED
to call as little attention to himself as possible, which wasn’t very easy when every eye in the room was focused on him.

“I found him sabotaging one of the ships.” Gorm walked farther into the room until he was towering over Dak. “If it weren’t for this boy, our plan to burn the bridge would have worked and we’d be in the city already.”

This seemed to pique Siegfried’s interest. He leaned forward, causing his stool to groan and crack in protest. For several moments, the Viking chieftain examined Dak until Dak couldn’t take it anymore, and he started to squirm.

“I just tripped.” Dak was dismayed at how scared and high-pitched his voice sounded. He scowled, trying to regain a little control of the situation. “If this guy” — he jerked a finger over his shoulder in the general direction of the Time Warden — “had better control of his boat, everything would have worked out fine.”

Siegfried frowned and sent a questioning glance at Gorm, who quickly responded, “He may have tripped, but he also cut a hole in the hull with an axe.”

Dak let out a long exhale. There really was no explanation he could give for that, but he still tried. “I thought the fire needed ventilation?”

One of the other men around the fire chuckled and quickly covered it by launching into a bout of coughing.

“You look familiar,” Siegfried prodded.

Dak swallowed, the sound so loud he was pretty sure the entire room heard. “I was your standard-bearer yesterday at the wall,” he offered.

Siegfried shook his head. “From somewhere else.” He squinted at Dak, trying to place him.

“He was with the translator in the cathedral,” Gorm offered. “The boy who spoke the Danish tongue as well as Latin and French.”

The grin that spread across Siegfried’s face did nothing to calm Dak’s fears. In fact, it made his blood run icy cold. There was nothing pleasant in the man’s expression, just pure malice.

What Gorm said next only made things worse. “He’s been working to sabotage your efforts. Who knows how many of our men have fallen because of him.”

That was going too far. Dak leapt to his feet. “It’s not true,” he shouted. “If it weren’t for me, more men would have been crushed or burned. I saved them!”

There were a few murmurs around the fire, but no one came to Dak’s defense — even though he recognized some of the men as ones who only the night before had been clapping him on the back in thanks.

Siegfried stood as well and came around the fire until he was towering over Dak. He smelled like old clotted cheese and his hands bunched into meaty fists. “Where are you from, boy?”

Dak opened his mouth to answer, but then realized that he couldn’t — Pennsylvania didn’t even exist yet. It was that slight hesitation that caused Siegfried’s eyes to gleam.

“How old are you?” Siegfried pressed.

Dak answered easily: “Eleven.”

“When were you born?”

The room was silent as Dak ran the calculation through his head in a panic. He’d never been one for numbers, and in the time it took for him to subtract eleven from 885, he’d confirmed Siegfried’s and the Time Warden’s suspicions.

“I-I’m not good with math,” he offered, but even he heard how lame the excuse was.

Siegfried leaned in so close that Dak could smell the sourness of his breath. It was even worse than Vígi’s, if that was possible.

“You and I both know who you really are,” Siegfried growled. The other Vikings in the room strained to listen in but Siegfried kept his voice low enough that only Dak could hear over the popping of the fire.

Panic flared in Dak’s stomach and the adrenaline pumping through his veins screamed at him to run. He was in way over his head. The Viking laid a heavy hand on Dak’s shoulder as if sensing the direction of his thoughts.

“You Hystorians have tried to stop us before but you underestimate our might and dedication to the cause.”

Dak tried to protest and feign ignorance; it was his only option. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Siegfried’s fingers tightened on Dak’s shoulder until he felt as though the Viking might rip his arm from his body. Sweat trailed down Dak’s back and he felt it pooling against the SQuare, causing it to shift.

Not now
, he thought fiercely. Of course, that just caused him to sweat even more, which wasn’t helping matters.

“You Hystorians are so easy to outsmart.” Siegfried’s eyes gleamed. “You’re always so obsessed with playing by the rules. That will always be your downfall.”

Dak tried to look brave. “At least we have honor,” he retorted.

This only caused the Viking to tilt his head back with bone-shaking laughter that he cut off abruptly. He grabbed Dak’s chin between his finger and thumb so tightly that Dak’s eyes watered.

“I want you to hand over whatever it is that’s letting you sail through time,” he growled. “Nothing will get in the way of my power.” As if to emphasize his point he shook Dak roughly.

The SQuare slipped a little more so that it was now slowly sliding down his leg in his pants. Dak flexed his leg and squeezed, desperately trying to keep the device from dropping to the ground.

“I don’t know —” Dak started, but he was interrupted when Siegfried began shaking him even more. The SQuare caught behind his knee and he was certain that if anyone looked they’d see the shape of the device outlined against his pant leg.

Dak quickly shifted tactics. “I don’t have it,” he blurted out.

This stopped the shaking. “Get it,” Siegfried barked.

“I can’t,” Dak explained. “It’s inside the city walls.”

Siegfried pushed Dak with a roar. Dak crumpled to the floor, using the motion to yank the SQuare from his pants and shove it back under his waistband. When he looked up all eyes were still on Siegfried except for one pair on the far side of the room. It was Rollo, his expression trained on Dak with interest.

Dak knew right away the Viking had seen the SQuare. He waited for the large man to sound some sort of alarm or bring it to Siegfried’s attention but instead he remained silent, his focus glued on Dak’s every move.

Siegfried crouched, drawing Dak forward by his tunic. “You’ll get me that device and I’ll make yours a quick death. Defy me, and you, as well as your friends, will have the blood eagle just like Ivar the Boneless gave to Ælla of Northumbria.”

Dak frowned, his confusion evident. “Blood eagle?”

Gorm grinned, his teeth gleaming in anticipation. “We’ll slice open your back. Cut your ribs, one by one, and break them open to look like the bloody wings of an eagle. Then we pull out your lungs and watch them flutter. When we get bored with that, we’ll rip out your lungs and pour salt on all the wounds. Don’t worry about missing out — you’ll be alive and screaming through most of it.”

D
AK TUGGED
again on the bars to his tiny cage, hoping that perhaps in the last five minutes they’d grown loose, but nothing budged. It was like being in the brig of the
Santa María
all over again except this time he was freezing and alone.

Dak was beginning to accept that history could kind of stink.

He’d been so sure that his knowledge would keep them all safe. And now look at him: waiting in a cage for a Viking chieftain to grow tired of him and toss him to the wolves.

As if just thinking the word
wolf
was enough to cause one to materialize, Dak heard a soft whining and then the brush of a cold nose against his knuckles. He squinted his eyes in the darkness to find Vígi standing by his cage, her ears pinned back in worry.

She paced around the cage restlessly, stopping every now and again to nudge his hand. He tried to pet her but could only manage to draw two fingers along the ridge of her snout.

“It’s okay, girl,” he whispered. He was surprised to hear his voice quaver a bit. He was glad that at least some living being cared about what happened to him.

A large form lumbered out of the darkness, rain dripping from his metal helmet and causing his thick cloak to hang limp and heavy from his shoulders. Dak squinted, trying to make out who it was.

“Well,” the Viking said, striding toward the cage. Vígi’s tail thumped the ground as he neared. “You do keep surprising me.”

Dak recognized the voice before he saw the face: It was Rollo. The giant tugged on the bars of the cage, bending them open as though they were strings of cheese, and leaned his head in. “Now, you want to tell me what that contraption jammed down your pants is?”

Dak was totally busted. He squirmed in his cage, but that didn’t deter Rollo, who merely reached in and plucked the SQuare from behind Dak’s back. His finger must have brushed the
ON
switch, because it chirped to life with a bright light.

Rollo squealed in surprise, holding the SQuare away from his body as though it were some sort of poisonous bug that was crawling up his arm.

“Careful!” Dak cried. “Uh, please.”

“What is this thing?” Rollo asked, his eyes illuminated with wonder and by the light of the screen. Vígi bared her teeth in a growl, the hair between her shoulder blades standing on end so that she looked like a buffalo calf.

It was time for Dak to admit that he’d royally messed up. His cover was blown; no lie could dig him out of this hole. And he couldn’t fight the man either. Rollo could fell Dak with the flick of a finger. Plus, he was pretty sure that even though Vígi seemed to like him, the moment Dak threatened her master it would be all over for him.

“Back by the fire,” Rollo said, his gaze still riveted by the glowing screen, “you couldn’t say what year you were born.”

Dak felt his cheeks warm. He was a genius with history and dates; that he couldn’t answer that one simple question was a massive source of embarrassment.

He fumbled for an excuse. “I get nervous in front of, uh, chieftains.”

Rollo waved his words from the air. “It’s not me you have to worry about with this lot,” he said. “I’ll follow Siegfried when it’s in my best interest, but that doesn’t mean I support him in all endeavors, if you know what I mean.”

Dak wasn’t sure that he did and so he stayed silent.

The SQuare’s screen went dark and Rollo sighed with dismay. Vígi relaxed, leaning all her weight against Dak’s cage. Dak absently scratched at her ears and she grunted contentedly.

“My great-grandfather was one of the men to sack Lindisfarne Priory almost a century ago. It’s true that Norsemen can be a dangerous lot who go off on voyages simply for the fighting and pillaging, but my great-grandfather was not a violent man. He was simply looking for someplace to settle down and start a farm with his wife.”