Page 102 of Lord of Fire and Ice

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“Ulf Skallagrimsson,” Katla repeated in a whisper from their place of concealment, downwind from the group of four guards surrounding the signal fire.

She and Finn had tied up the faering on the far side of the island and spent the better part of the day spying on the doings of the men occupying Katla’s farmstead. Once night fell, they hiked up to see if they could free Haukon. So far, he was too well guarded, but men had to sleep sometime, and Bloodaxe’s men had a well-fed look that leads to nodding heads during the dark watches.

All but the one Bloodaxe called Skallagrimsson. It was difficult to make out the man’s features, but when he turned his head, his profile was so similar to Brandr’s, Katla’s breath caught in her throat. “Do you suppose that really could be—”

“Brandr’s father,” Finn finished for her. “Ja, it must be. And he’s betrayed us all by the sounds of it.”

Katla’s chest constricted. This would wound Brandr more than thinking his father was dead. She felt her husband’s mind on the fringes of hers, questioning, angry, but she kept the mental wall between them firmly in place. Whatever Brandr was doing, he didn’t need the added burden of knowing the details of the dangers she ran for the sake of her youngest brother.

She and Finn crept closer to the edge of the forest and settled to watch the watchers. Once, Skallagrimsson climbed the woodpile with a dipper of water from the bucket at its base and gave Haukon a drink. The others merely stood or hunkered at their respective corners of the man-high pile.

When Brandr’s father clambered back down, he took his place on the fourth corner, on guard despite his bowed back and uneven shoulders.

The next time the breeze set the pines around them whispering, Finn nocked an arrow on the string and drew the fletching back to his ear. But before he could loose the first silent shaft, Ulf Skallagrimsson was on the move again, ambling over to the guard on his right. The jarl drew close to the man, grasped the fellow’s own dagger, and made a quick, upward stabbing motion. The guard’s knees crumpled, but Ulf caught him and let him sink silently to the ground, unseen by the other watchmen, owing to the height of the woodpile and its sharp corners.

Katla put a hand to Finn’s bow arm, and he lowered the arrow tip. They watched in stunned silence as Ulf did the job of dispatching the other guards for them, one by one. Then dagger still drawn, Brandr’s father started to climb up woodpile toward Haukon.

“Stay your hand, Skallagrimsson,” Finn ordered as he stepped into the clearing with bow drawn. “Else I’ll split your gizzard.”

Chapter 35

“Let me spell you at the steering oar,” Harald said to Brandr, deep into the second watch of the night.

The dragonship’s sail billowed out like a pigeon’s breast as the vessel sliced cleanly through the smooth water of the fjord. Orlin, Ragnar, and the twins were taking advantage of the favorable sailing weather to snatch a few hours sleep, curled up in hudfats in the narrow craft. Later, when the tide changed, they’d have to row, but for now, the Jarl of Jondal’s ship made fair speed toward Tysnes Island.

“You need rest.” Harald insisted.

Brandr sighed. When his friend set his feet, he would not be moved.

“I don’t think I can sleep.” But he stood in any case and let his friend take the heavy arm of the tiller in his beefy hands.

“You worry for your woman,” Harald guessed.

Brandr nodded. Among other things.

He feared he’d seen his brother for the last time in this life. He feared the weapon he pinned all his hopes on wouldn’t work, since they hadn’t been able to test the mixture. He feared the destruction of everything he held dear.

But most of all, he feared for his stubborn, willful wife.

Why did she not Send her thoughts to him? Why did she ignore him when he broadcast his to the four winds? Surely she realized he knew she’d sailed away to Tysnes with Finn on a fool’s errand. Hilde had already told him all. Katla’s silence wasn’t keeping any secrets from him.

The cold, dark possibility she was dead stabbed his heart, but he shoved it away. Surely he’d know if she was. He’d feel her absence in the very air around him. His body would refuse to keep breathing in a world where she did not.

“You sure we shouldn’t have strapped more shields to the sides of the ship?” Harald’s voice pulled him back into the moment. “Might have made it seem as if there are more of us aboard.”

“It wouldn’t make that much difference.” He hadn’t even told Arn he was taking his ship. He couldn’t very well add to that misdeed by depleting his brother’s armory for the sake of appearances.

“Twenty-five ships we’re sailing into, eh?” Harald’s voice cut through the wind soughing through the rigging and the steady shush of water against the hull.

“Ja,” Brandr admitted. “Maybe more.”

“Well, that gives us the advantage, then,” Harald said.

“How do you figure?”

“When they see us coming, at least half of them will die laughing.” Harald smacked his knee and threw back his head in a guffaw that echoed off the rocky sides of the fjord.