The wind no longer had only the hints of cold as Karik steered Sea Dragon into the fjord from their third raid into the west. Another freeze was coming in, and the falling rain was mixed with sleet as the ship rose and fell on the wind whipped waves that churned the water.

Most of the crew were huddled together, shivering on the benches, their cloaks and hoods pulled close against the cold, but Thora had climbed up to stand in the prow, watching as their home drew nearer.

Despite the cold, Karik was smiling beneath his beard. They had more than enough food for the winter, and for the first time in his life, he looked forward to the coming of snow. They were weary, and it would be good to rest at last.

As they slipped under the shadow of the great high rocks overhead, Dranri shook himself and grinned. “It is a good feeling to be off the sea and in the smooth waters of home.”

“It is made better by the deeds we have done,” Havar replied, rising stiffly to his feet. Water poured from where it had pooled on his cloak, and he shook himself as he laid a hand to ropes to adjust the sail.

As Orlanna had warned, it had torn along the seams, and they had been forced to watch it carefully as the wind pushed them homeward. Before they had left, she had been making good progress upon the new sail, and Karik had hope it would be done by the time they set sail again.

“I take it we will not need to worry too much about it until next year.” Havar jerked his head toward the sail. “I doubt we can, or should, sail again.”

Karik nodded. “I will speak with Ylmi, but I think we have enough to see us through the winter. Beyond that, we must set ourselves to preparing for next year.”

Havar grinned, pulling down one rope and tying it off. Here in the fjord, the wind was less rough than on the open sea, so the sail was let out to catch more of it, but not so much that the ragged seams gave way.

“If we can finish another ship before next year,” Havar said. “We will become raiders such as Vranr once was, and we will truly be his heirs.”

“Vranr was not a raider,” Karik frowned. There was much he wanted to learn of his ancestor, but that he had been more than a butcher seemed clear. “A trickster perhaps, or a warrior when threatened, but not a raider.”

“Not in the stories I heard,” Havar chuckled. “The way I heard it, he was mistreated by his king, so he turned to raiding to make a living for himself. He sailed from north to south, and there were few who could withstand him. He and his crew ate what they pleased, took what they wanted, and won victories wherever they turned.”

“Hm” Karik snorted. “Do those stories say how he ended up exiled here?”

Havar wiped the rain from his face and wrung it out of the short beard that now covered his face. “They had to resort to some dark magic of some sort,” he shrugged. “But Vranr only had one ship, a massive thing. Us, we will have far more than that. And you have seen how our ships fly… I defy anyone to build a ship fast enough to catch us.”

“We will see,” Karik shook his head. “But I hope your words are not put to the test.”

“Don’t worry,” Revik said from within the folds of his bearskin, “If you are wrong, Havar, I will see that it does not matter.”

“One day you will find the limit to your strength,” Havar warned, “and it will not go well for you.”

Revik’s indignant face appeared out of the black fur as he fixed Havar with a glare. “I look forward to that day. I have not yet met the edge of my strength, and I am curious where it lies.”

Though it was late in the day, they did not stop in at the inlet just within the fjord. All were cold and wet, and the danger of the storms was lessened within the fjord. So, although the water was rougher than normal, and though the wind blew with its cold bite, they sailed on even as the evening gloom settled in.

As darkness descended, Revik took up a ram’s horn and blew three long blasts, each one echoing down the fjord. Over the wind and waves, they heard an answering horn in the far distance, and a tired cheer went up from the crew as the prospect of home drew even closer.

The rain and waves had soaked Karik to the bone, and he had shivered when the dark, towering shape of the mountain appeared out of the rain ahead of them. As he leaned against the till to steer them around it, Karik’s eyes lingered on the dark gash where they had entered the mountain.

He had not returned to the deep chamber where he had spoken with Vranr’s… ghost? Shade?

Whatever it had been, Karik was not sure he should return. When the dead were allowed back into the realm of the living in stories, it was rarely for a good purpose. Even so, Havar’s words had scratched at the old itch of curiosity, and Karik wondered if he could convince the shade to give him answers. Though he was not sure if he could trust the answers that he was given.

As they rounded the mountain, the light of a fire could be seen in the far distance, and another cheer went up at the sight of home.

“Out oars!” Karik called. “We’re almost home, and it will be good to warm up a bit, lest we freeze those who greet us.”

A ripple of tired laughter went up as the oars bumped and thumped against the benches as the crew set them into place, and Havar took up the sail as the oars pulled Sea Dragon through the water faster and faster.

If she were empty, she would have skimmed over the waves, as the little boat had long ago, when Karik had rowed with Ylmi and the rest to challenge the dragon. It had been dark, just as this, Karik reflected, though it had not been raining. But Sea Dragon was loaded down, heavy with the weight of barrels and sacks of meat, grain, and anything else that looked edible.

As they cut through the waves, the thought came to Karik that perhaps, perhaps they had enough to share. It was a matter to discuss with Ylmi first, before he began making noise about it elsewhere. Dragonsrest had grown steadily since Ylmi had become jarl, but Karik had not pressed to complete so many raids in quick succession for his own amusement. They had learned a little more about the coastline of the west, and each time they had returned with Sea Dragon filled with food and provisions.

With each raid, the plans in Karik’s mind had grown a little clearer.

The moonlight was dim, shrouded by clouds and rain as they sailed in, but a bonfire had been built near the beach, and in the falling rain it beckoned them in from the cold.

A cheer went up from the shore as they drew close, and within a few moments Revik and Dranri had leaped overboard with ropes, and drew the ship up on the shore.

Sea Dragon hit the gravel and sand with a heavy thump, tilting a little to one side as the water ebbed, and the crew began piling out as the rest of the village pressed close to see what they had brought back.

Karik swept his eyes over the dark beach till he found Ylmi, the firelight flickering over her burned eye as she stood with her spear on the water’s edge.

With a grin, Karik vaulted over the side of Sea Dragon and splashed through the shallow water. It would have taken his breath away, but he was already soaked from the rain, and the joy of being home warmed him almost as much as the heat radiating from the bonfire.

Ylmi smiled when she saw him, though Karik detected the signs of weariness on her face.

“I am sorry I took so long,” he said, pulling her into a gentle embrace. “But I am glad to be back. “

Ylmi patted his shoulder. “I was worried the storms had caught you coming back through the Isles. I dislike sitting here while you make the passage.”

“And I dislike leaving you,” Karik replied. “Especially now.” Their eyes dropped down to where Ylmi carried their child, near to birth.

“There will be no more raids,” Ylmi said. “Not this year.” She wiped the falling rain from her face and looked about, but before she could speak, Igil raised his voice.

“There will be time for welcoming and resting soon enough,” he shouted. “But our raiders are hungry and weary, and we have a ship to unload before the rain turns it to rot. So, all set to, and we will have Sea Dragon brought in, and the goods of the raid set aside to be separated in the morning.”

Ylmi nodded to him with a weary smile and turned back toward the hall.

“You are tired,” Karik said quietly when they were alone.

Ylmi rolled her eyes. “Did you guess that all by yourself, Karik Haldsson? I am growing a child, and it is no easy thing.”

“I did not think it was,” Karik chuckled.

They quickened their steps as the rain grew heavier, and behind them the voices of Igil and Orlanna could be heard directing the unloading of the ship. The wind was picking up as well, and Karik sensed the storm would grow much worse before it passed.

They reached Ylmi’s hall only a short way from the beach, slipping through the door to where a small fire was burning on the hearth. Ylmi’s mother, Siggi, was stirring a pot, and Karik’s stomach suddenly remembered its hunger at the scent of venison and stew.

“I guessed you would be hungry,” Siggi said without looking up, and Ylmi took up a bowl.

“I am.” she replied and ladled up some of the stew, then handed it to Karik with a wink.

He took it with a smile, but handed her another bowl. “They say it is rude to eat alone, no matter how late one comes in from the sea.”

Ylmi chuckled, but her bowl was already full, and the two of them sat down together beside the fire. Karik felt the warmth slowly seeping into him, and the first bite of the stew fell through him like boiling water through ice, and he shivered violently.

“I know my cooking is good,” Siggi said. “I did not know it was that good.”

“It is,” Karik said, blowing on the spoon. “And it is even better when compared to dried meat soaked with salt spray.” He looked around the dim hall, then shrugged. He had half hoped to see his mother there, but Elva had not spoken to him since he first sailed through the Isles.

Ylmi’s father, Bodvar, arrived a few moments later, shaking the raid from his beard and long hair as he came through the door.

“All is unloaded,” he told them, “And set aside to be divided up in the morning, or when the rain slackens.”

“We should build sheds,” Ylmi muttered into her bowl. “Though where we will find the time, I do not know.”

“Sheds would be simple enough,” Bodvar assured her, but Ylmi shook her head as she finished chewing.

“The sheds yes, but there are also piers to build, a half dozen homes that need finishing, and it is in my mind that we would do well to have a wall about the village.”

“A wall?” Bodvar chuckled, but when Karik looked at her, he saw Ylmi’s black eye glaring into her bowl.

“We have wealth,” Ylmi said quietly. “For the first time, one of the coastal settlements has enough to feed itself, and more. How long until someone decides we are the ones who should be raided next, rather than Girhom… or Torhom.”

There was a moment of silence, the crackling fire the only sound within the hall while outside the wind and rain rushed down from the mountains and toward the sea. 

“There is time yet before the snows come and all turns to ice,” Karik said. “There will be no more raids this year. We will turn ourselves to seeing that Dragonsrest is not neglected.”

###

Ylmi rose twice in the night, but each time she told Karik to stay. When he woke in the morning, she was fast asleep, her bearskin pulled close around her shoulders and Ulfr sleeping at her feet.

His shoulders were sore, and his back felt as though it had been set in a vise as he rolled silently to his feet and stepped around the screen that had been set in the back of the hall. A second screen had been set up a little further down, allowing Siggi and Bodvar to have some privacy of their own, but Bodvar was already awake, stirring the fire to life.

“You are sore,” he grinned when he saw Karik moving stiffly around Ylmi’s great chair.

“I wager I have sailed farther in the last month,” Karik stretched out his shoulders, “than any man of Vrania since Vranr. I have earned a little soreness.” He kept his voice quiet as he moved to stand closer to the fire.

Bodvar chuckled and set a couple of split logs over the young flames. “I suspect you will sail much farther before all is said and done.”

Karik grunted, pushing away the thoughts of the voyages that would come next. There were many things to be decided, and he suspected that he might have to argue with Revik again, not to mention Havar.

“Is it still raining?” He asked. He took his boots, mostly dried in the night, and pulled them on, tightening the leather straps over the thick hide.

Bodvar shook his head. “Turned to sleet in the night, and only a little remains outside floating on the breeze.”

Karik rolled his shoulders again, trying to get the pinching sensation out, but it remained stuck under his shoulder blades. He considered a moment, then took up his cloak of deerhide from beside the door, and pulling it on against the sleet and wind, he stepped outside.

The sleet was still falling, but in the morning’s dim light, some of it had turned back to rain. The wind had died down as the storm had mostly passed, leaving a slush of mud, ice, and damp.

Torig was pushing his boat out into the fjord, but the old man was not the only one fishing. Two other small boats disturbed the stillness of the fjord, some newcomers who had made their way through forests and over mountains to find a new home in Dragonsrest.

The sound of chopping could be heard, and Karik chuckled. Igil was already at work on their next ship, though the cold would soon require it to be put away for the winter. Karik picked his way through the mud that lay between the houses, more than a few of which were new to Dragonsrest. People had come from all along the coast to Dragonsrest, many people, and Karik suddenly wondered if they would have enough to feed them all, even with the haul from their raids.

Igil was at work on the ship, shaping a plank with a broad-bladed ax, and his son, Torm, was sitting nearby, his childish hands holding a knife as he struggled to smooth out a board.

“You are up early,” Karik said as he approached.

Igil turned, “Are you just awake because you didn’t work as hard as the rest?”

Karik grimaced, “sailing is sore work, and I feel as though my back had been turned to wood.”

Igil laughed and set down his ax. “Not as easy as it looks.” He bent over Torm’s shoulder and adjusted the boy’s hold on the knife before turning back to Karik.

“How went the raid?”

Karik sighed and looked over the ship before him. “We will speak of it more later,” he said. “But I am concerned. They had patrols all along the coast, only a few men that ran away at the sight of us, but as we left, I saw a company of horsemen riding along the shore. Double our number at least.”

“Then it’s a good thing we’re building another ship,” Igil grinned.

But Karik shook his head. “It won’t be enough. If we go to war with them, we will need all the coast lands at least, though all of Vrania would be better.”

Igil’s laughter vanished. “You think it will come to war?”

Karik shrugged. “Things often do, no matter how many wish it otherwise.” He glanced around to see that they were alone, then in a quiet voice. “The smith we took from the west, have you spoken more with him?”

Igil nodded. “His name is Ninnian. He seems to have little love for his jarl in the west, but at other times, seems strangely loyal. I do not understand it, nor do I understand everything he says. We talk a little more each day, and though he sleeps a great deal, he has taken to working with Ethna and Ymr from time to time. They say he is very skilled.”

Karik nodded thoughtfully, his mind racing over possibilities. Perhaps they could use the smith to arrange a peace with the west, or he could tell them how best to wage war against it. And what was this strange loyalty that Igil spoke of? There had to be a way they could test Ninnian to find out how far they could trust him. It would be a good thing if he could learn Ninnian’s language as well. Perhaps in the winter they could spend more time together, and Karik would find some answers to his questions.

“I am not sure what next year will bring,” Karik said slowly. “I do not think raiding will be as easy or as fruitful as it was this year when we caught them unaware.” He sighed. “I’m not sure how much better we have made things.”

Igil clapped him on the shoulder. “Hold your head up, Karik. If nothing else, we’ll make it through this winter, and come out stronger than we were before. We have bought ourselves time to find the next step.”

Karik nodded and smiled at his friend. “Let us hope it is enough.”