Dòmhnall was a bully, but as bridegrooms went, there were worse. I would be fine. I would survive.
“Curse this bitter weather.” Danny muttered after a time.
“Shut up and row,” the warrior ordered.
“Do as they say,” I murmured, adjusting myself in my seat to keep my gown out of the bilge water at the bottom of the boat.
“You’re a quiet one,” said the younger of Dòmhnall’s men.
I ignored him, looking out over the sea.
“Our lord prefers his women quiet. He has other uses for a woman’s mouth.” Their crude laughter echoed over the water.
They continued with many rude jests until Danny was white-faced and tight-mouthed and ready to burst with counter insults.
I pressed my lips together and motioned with my hand to be sure Danny would restrain himself. He knew I could handle myself.
My mother had often told me the tale of a great warrior, cursed by a witch to become a monster forever roaming the seas. The same tale Nanny had told me earlier. The story ended with the promise: As a raven flies true, you’ll always find your way home.
My lips curled. Nanny said there was a touch of truth to my mother’s tales, but Dòmhnall was no great warrior, though he would boast otherwise. Nor was he a monster, unless monsters were men who ruled because they had the biggest armies and loudest voices, voices as empty and hollow of reason as their baying hounds. Those were the only monsters I knew.
Dòmhnall’s men had fallen silent until the only sound was the creaking oars and the beating of my heart. The mist was a grey wall on the water, blinding us to all but ghostly shapes in the distance.
When the dragon headed prow first loomed from the mist, I thought I was dreaming.
“What the—” one of the warriors let the strip of dried meat he was chewing fall from his mouth.
“What is it?” his companion twisted and stared into the fog.
“I thought I saw—” the first set a hand to his weapon, shifting on the bench. “There! Ahead, do you see it?”
“Curse this fog. Those are only rocks.” And, to Danny, “Row, boy.”
I stared into the billowing cloud low on the water. I could not be sure, but my ears caught the cry of a wolf, far across the water. My arms prickled. In the mists of time, the Sea Wolf stalks his prey.
“I saw something,” the warrior insisted. “T’was more than a rock.”
“You’re supposed to wait ‘til tonight to drink. Wait until I tell his lordship you were in your cups—”
“There! Look.” The first warrior seized his friend and faced him north. At least, I supposed it was north. Thick grey walls surrounded us.
“I see nothing,” the second warrior said, but his brow wrinkled. Even Danny craned his neck and I leaned over the side of the boat. Was that a shadow on the water?
“Tis nothing. A trick of the light…”
The wind picked up, cleaving the mist like a knife shearing wool. Out of the gloom a ship appeared, a great black sail straining beyond the wooden prow. A carved dragon head, sharp-toothed and snarling, gaped at us.
For a moment we were all frozen.
Chills ran through me. The dragon-headed prow, the billowing sail—I’d heard of such ships before. They’d come to harry our shores, attack and set fire to our crofts, steal gold and any goods, kill the men and carry the women off for slaves. But the High Kings of old had fought and driven the Northmen off. The Northmen’s ships hadn’t haunted our land in over hundred years.
The dragon-headed boat glided forward, silent for such a great craft. It was not legend. It was real.
And it was headed straight for us.
“Morrigan’s britches,” Danny gasped.
“Row, damn you,” one of the armed men shouted, but too late. The long boat glided close to us, the swells making us bob up and down like a tiny cork in a sloshing barrel of ale.
Alarm clutched me. The boat tilted sideways, sliding down the side of a wave, threatening to tip. Bilge water slopped at my feet. A white-knuckle grip on my perch kept me from tumbling out. We hovered sideways for a heart stopping second before balancing.
When we bobbed upright, the Viking ship was upon us.
Dòmhnall’s men may not have been my choice of an escort, but they were well trained. As one, they rose and drew their swords, one grimly straddling the bench and the other setting his back to his companion’s. But their brave stand was overshadowed by the great ship.
Danny struggled to row, but the wake overwhelmed us, and his hands slipped on the oars. I didn’t blame him. My own face and limbs were numb. I was glad of the veil hiding my fear-filled expression.
For all its speed catching us, the ship did not seem manned by anyone. If the wind wasn’t slapping the sail, whipping the tattered edges, I’d say it was a ghost ship, a vision, a nightmare haunting rising from my fears about Dòmhnall’s threats and my wedding. Would that I would wake up…
A figure appeared at the prow. Danu preserve us. A huge warrior stood with a boot propped on the boat edge. He was half-naked, his broad chest half covered in a white fur pelt. His golden head was bare, long hair streaming in the wind like a standard. And he was looking right at me.
The wolf howled again. It was not a trick of the wind. My toes curled in my boots and I gritted my teeth, tears pricking my eyes at the long, mournful note.
The fog swallowed the prow, hiding the warrior for a merciful moment. When it broke again, another fearsome figure appeared. This was no man. The head was a bear’s head, teeth bared as if the animal was a second away from attacking.
Then the fog slipped away, revealing the truth. The bear’s head was only a pelt, worn on the tall man’s head.
Another man appeared, and another. Warriors all, ranged along the side of the ship, big and brawny with bare chests or rough garb. Some wore animal pelts. A few had rough helmets made of dull metal. Besides the bear, there was another wolf’s head, its mouth open and roaring.
“Danu save us,” Danny whimpered. The warriors all glared down at us, silent. Waiting.
Calm suffused my limbs. They were not here to do battle. Perhaps we would be spared.
My escort’s voice rang out.
“Who are you? This channel belongs to Dòmhnall now, given in marriage. What right do you have to sail these waters?” the man blustered but his voice cracked.
None of the warriors answered. I began to believe they were ghosts when they moved aside and the first warrior I’d seen set his hands on the side of the ship. He was the biggest warrior of them all. Tawny hair tumbled over his broad shoulders. In his huge hands, he held a double headed axe.
Silently, he handed the weapon to one of the ghostly men before hopping onto the ledge.
Oh, mother, I thought despite my fear. This is a great warrior. And he was looking straight at me as if he’d strip off my clothes with his gaze.
I shrank before I remembered I wore a veil.
“Tell us what you want,” the elder of my escort boomed. I would’ve laughed at his ridiculous bravado if we hadn’t been staring death in the face.
The golden-haired warrior raised a hand and pointed to me.
My heart thumped once, twice.
From the fog, a bird came flapping dark wings. A raven. The black bird landed beside the warrior’s boot a moment, then flew off.