Storm Maiden (48 page)

The rest of the day passed uneventfully, and
by night, the sea calmed. Dag was able to leave Rorig at the tiller
and seek his rest. Fiona lay beside him, not sleeping but listening
to the reassuring sound of his rhythmic breathing. She dozed for a
time, then woke with a start and reached out for him. He mumbled
slightly at her touch, but did not wake. Fiona sat up and looked
around. By starlight, she could make out Rorig’s tall form near the
tiller. She lay down again and tried to sleep, but she could not
rest. Her chest felt tight, her muscles tense. Mayhap it was the
discomfort of sleeping on a hard deck that bothered her.

She turned over restlessly, then her heart
caught in her throat as a shadow moved a few feet away. Straining
her eyes in the dim light, she tried to ascertain who it was. Could
it be Breaca, too seasick to sleep? Nay, the shape appeared too
large for Breaca.

The hair on the back of her neck stood up,
and without puzzling further, Fiona reached out and felt for the
dagger Dag wore at his belt. Usually he took it off to sleep, but
tonight he had been too tired to bother. Fiona grasped the hilt of
the weapon and gently disengaged it from Dag’s belt. She thought of
waking him and decided against it. If she was wrong about the
danger, she would feel terrible for interrupting Dag’s badly needed
rest.

Gripping the dagger in sweaty fingers, she
waited for the dark shape to move again. As moments passed and
nothing happened, Fiona began to feel foolish. Why would someone on
the ship try to creep up on her and Dag? All the warriors had been
handpicked by Dag and Ellisil, and they had sworn as oathmen to one
man or the other. She was being ridiculous.

She closed her eyes again and relaxed her
grip on the weapon. Breathing in the sea air, she sought to calm
herself. An acrid, unpleasant scent permeated the tangy odor of the
ocean, reawakening memory. Fiona opened her eyes and saw a dark
silhouette looming above her. She had only a second to grasp the
dagger and thrust it upwards with both hands.

There was a harsh cry as the dagger tore
through flesh, and the dark figure staggered backwards. Fiona froze
in fear, but Dag jerked out of a dead sleep and, shielding her with
his body, rolled them both beneath the hide covering which
sheltered this part of the deck. “My knife,” he breathed, groping
at his belt.

“I used it,” she answered.

“On who? What’s out there?”

“Brodir.”

“What?”

“It’s him,” Fiona gasped. “I recognized his
smell.”

“Thor’s thunder!” Dag threw off the
tarpaulin and stood up, bellowing, “Brodir, you cowardly bastard,
I’ll tie you to the prow and let the sea creatures eat you! I’ll
deny you water, make you beg for my mercy!”

“
Nei
! I’ll die like a warrior,”
Brodir challenged. “You’ll have to take me in honest battle. If you
can still fight—you coward, you man who hides behind a witch woman
for protection!”

Fiona scrambled from beneath the tarpaulin.
It was so dark, she could scarcely make out either Dag or Brodir.
Frantically, she realized that Dag was without a weapon. If Brodir
attacked, Dag might be wounded before anyone could come to his aid.
She groped across the deck, making her way to the nearest sea
chest. There would be weapons inside, wrapped in cloth to protect
them from the corrosive sea air.

“ ‘Tis you who will die a coward’s death,”
she heard Dag say to Brodir as the two men faced off near the prow.
“Never will you reach Odin’s hall. Never will you see your battle
companions again.”

“I’ll die a hero for trying to save my
people from the witch woman.” Brodir’s voice sounded strained, and
Fiona realized that the wound she had inflicted must pain him. “If
only you hadn’t interfered in my plan.”

“What plan?” Dag demanded.

“I set the fire,” Brodir taunted. “I thought
she would be blamed for it. If only Sigurd had believed me.”

“You burned the longhouse!”

“Better that a few women and children should
perish than the whole clan succumb to the woman’s evil.”

“What about Knorri?” Dag asked. “How dare
you kill the man you were sworn to! For that alone, you deserve to
die a gruesome death.”

“The fire killed Knorri, not I,” Brodir
answered stubbornly. “He was old anyway. He should have stepped
aside years ago and let Sigurd become jarl.”

“Do not
argue
with him!” Fiona called
to Dag. “I fear he uses this time to scheme.”

As if in answer, Brodir laughed, a chilling,
murderous sound. Fiona recalled Brodir’s battle prowess. He had a
weapon and Dag did not. Desperate, she searched the sea chest until
her fingers closed around the long, slim shape of a sword. She
yanked it from its cloth covering and rushed to Dag. She thrust the
sword hilt toward him.

“
Nei,
I will not use it.” Dag pushed
the weapon away. “I will not ease Brodir’s passage into the
otherworld by giving him a warrior’s death.”

“Please, Dag,” she begged. “I would not have
you hurt.”

“This craven wretch does not have the
courage to hurt me.”

Fiona glanced behind them and made out vague
silhouettes. Dag’s oathmen had risen from their sleep to aid their
leader. If only they could reach Brodir before he attacked Dag!

A glint of light flashed through the
darkness. Dag dodged the weapon, and it rang harmlessly against the
deck. Another object whistled through the air. Fiona could made out
Dag’s quick movement, and then the two men grappled in a blur of
shadows on the foredeck.

“Someone help Dag!” Fiona begged the men
around her.

It seemed too late, for all heard a
bloodcurdling shout and then a splash. Fiona rushed forward. “Dag!”
she screamed.

He came to her out of the gathering sea
mist. “Fiona,” he murmured, wrapping his arms around her. “You are
safe. Brodir is no more.”

“You killed him?”

“
Nei.
When I laid my hands upon him,
he pulled away and jumped overboard. As I thought he would, he
chose a coward’s death.”

Fiona breathed a sigh of relief as she
allowed Dag to lead her back toward their sleeping area in the
stern of the ship. “Oh, Dag,” she murmured, clutching him. “I’m so
glad you are safe.”

Dag cradled her in his arms. “ ‘Tis over
now. Brodir will not trouble us again.”

“Odin’s fury, but that was close,” Rorig
called from the tiller, where he tried to steer while holding a
trembling Breaca. “Brodir must have hidden in the underdeck before
we set sail. I vow he meant to murder you both while you
slept.”

“What woke you, Dag?” Ellisil asked from
nearby. “I am ashamed to admit, I heard nothing until the fight was
joined.”

“ ‘Twas not I who roused,” Dag said. “Fiona
was the one.”

Ellisil came closer, his voice full of awe.
“Though Dag says you do not have magic powers, I wonder. How did
you know there was danger when all the rest of us slept
peacefully?”

Fiona gave a shaky laugh. “ ‘Twas not magic
which alerted me, but smell. Brodir has no fondness for bathing,
and a distinctive odor follows him wherever he goes. Even with the
scent of the sea and all the smells of the crew and supplies,
nothing reeks like Brodir.”

“Ah, Fiona, once again you saved my life,”
Dag said softly. “One would think you wished to keep me always in
your debt.”

“What is between us has nothing to do with
honor or debt. I love you, Dag. I will do whatever I can to keep
you safe.”

Dag guided Fiona back to their sleeping
place. At least it was dark, and the other men could not see the
fiery blush on his face that Fiona’s words aroused. She was but a
woman. It was not her responsibility to defend him. Even so, her
avowal of love pleased him. What other man could boast of having
such a fierce warrior-woman to guard his back?

Settling down into his bedsack, Dag smiled
into the darkness.

* * *

“ ‘Tis very green,” Ellisil commented to Dag
as the two men stood side by side at the tiller, gazing upon the
shoreline to their port side.

“
Ja
. I have often wondered what the
color of the place reminds me of. I think it is emeralds, the
bright green jewels a Norseman I know once brought back from a
year-long trading expedition to the Eastern city Constantinople.
When the sun shines in Ireland, the hue of the hills is fair
blinding.”

“ ‘Tis a wonder more Norsemen have not
thought to settle here.”

“They will,” Dag answered. “As ambitious
younger sons leave Norseland and sail out to plunder, more and more
will discover this place. We must expect to fight off our greedy
Norse brothers as well as Irish chieftains who would increase their
lands. We must have a strong fortress and keep a constant guard.
Fiona’s father chose a good location for his palisade, but his men
were unprepared to defend it. We will do better.”

“Making plans?” Fiona asked as she joined
them.

“
Ja
,” Dag answered. “Can you advise
us if there is a place to land where we could hope to remain
unseen? I would not risk being forced into battle ere we even reach
Dunsheauna.”

“There is a shallow area upriver from my
father’s lands where we could beach the ship and make our way
through the woods. I don’t think our arrival would be noted
there.”

Dag nodded. “We will take down the sail now
and wait until dusk before rowing in.”

Beside them, Ellisil gave a little shiver.
“I can’t forget the stories I have heard.” He turned toward Fiona.
“Are there spirits in your homeland we should fear?”

Fiona cocked her head, thinking of Siobhan’s
insistence that ancient spirits dwelled in every rock and stream
and tree of Eire. Had Fiona not felt them herself sometimes when
she walked alone, heard them whispering to her?

“There are forces, very old ones, which
sometimes still hold sway over men,” she answered thoughtfully.
“Legend tells of a race of men who knew magic. They were called
Tuatha De Danaan, and they ruled the isle for many years. Other men
came and conquered Eire, and the Tuatha De Danaan went to live
underground. Many say they survive there still, guarding the land
from intruders.”

Fiona saw that Ellisil’s eyes grown wide.
She smiled at him. “To my mind it seems more prudent to fear the
men of Eire rather than the spirits. Although I am not certain how
Irish spirits perceive Norsemen, I know that Irish
men
with
stout spears and swords hate them.”

“That is why we must not travel upriver
until night comes,” Dag said firmly.

Fiona excused herself to see to Breaca, who
suffered from another bout of seasickness. After she left, Ellisil
moved closer to Dag. “Tell me truly, sword brother, do you not fear
the spirits of this place a little?”

“Mayhap I do. But with Fiona at our side, I
believe we will be safe.”

“All along you have denied her powers; now
you say you depend upon them. What is the truth? Do you believe
Fiona possesses magic or not?”

“I don’t know,” Dag answered. “If she has
powers, she is not aware of them, and I do know that she would
never use them for evil. She is not like that cruel woman of
Ottar’s steading who poses as the Angel of Death to prey upon bound
and helpless victims.”

“So, you knew the old wise woman was false.
I wondered how you were brave enough to order her away even as she
sought to curse you. I’ll admit that impressed me. I would not have
dared to speak so to a woman reputed to be a
volva.”

“
Volva!
That one was no more a seer
than I. Merely a sour, old woman who hates those younger and more
appealing than her and kills them when she has a chance.”

“It seems you had the right of it, Dag. And
of Brodir, too. I heard him admit that he started the blaze which
burned the longhouse. What a treacherous wretch he turned out to
be.” Ellisil shook his head.

“
Ja,”
Dag answered. “It will satisfy
me greatly to someday tell my brother that he was wrong about
Fiona, and even more wrong about Brodir. But for now—” He flexed
his shoulders restlessly. “Now we must concentrate on reaching Dun-
sheauna.”

The
Wind Raven
glided up the Shannon.
Fiona closed her eyes and listened to the men dip their oars gently
in the water. A drizzly rain fell, dripping off the hood of her
cloak and glazing her bare face with moisture. She stuck out her
tongue and tasted the sweetness of Irish rain. As the men spoke in
low voices around her, Fiona’s chest tightened with anticipation.
The dragonhead prow of the ship had been removed to disguise the
ship, and the men were all garbed in full battle attire beneath
their cloaks. Whatever met them at Dunsheauna, the Norsemen would
be ready.

Dag; appeared beside her. “Are we near the
place, Fiona?”

Quickly, she scanned the mist-shrouded shore
off their starboard side. She hadn’t realized they had travelled so
far already. Could they really be near the shallow cove above the
curve of the river where her father’s palisade had once stood?

“I can scarce tell in the dark,” she
answered. “But I think...
Ja,
it is only a little
farther.”

Dag gave a quiet order to the rowing men,
and the ship’s progress slowed. Fiona squinted at the ghostly dark
shape of the shoreline, suddenly afraid. Once she had known every
rise and curve of the river, but that was months ago. What if she
made a mistake and the ship ran aground or put in too soon to
arrive at Dunsheauna undetected? Dag trusted her. What if she
failed him?

“There!” She pointed to a place where the
river widened and the alder trees grew a little ways back from the
shore.

Slowly, gracefully, the ship glided in.
There was a groaning sound as the keel of the
Wind Raven
met
the river bottom. In seconds, the men had thrown down their oars
and begun to scramble over the sides. Fiona watched as they pushed
the ship through the shallows and up onto the beach.