Page 9 of Bats Out of Hell (Vikings Rock #1)

Two Hours Earlier

“O h, bloody hell, in the name of the gods! Look! Is that what I think it is?” Astrid burst into a sprint, heading east along the shoreline.

Haakon paused, plucking mussels from a rock and watched her kicking up the sand.

“It is!” she yelled. “It’s a shield from our boat.”

When she reached the flat, circular object, she snatched it up and held it at arm’s length.

“It’s still strong,” she called to him.

“Good.” He nodded up the beach. “Let’s go eat.”

The others had also collected shellfish and they were now cooking on a hot rock beside the fire.

His stomach growled as the scent wafted toward him. Seaweed for supper hadn’t suited him and he didn’t intend for that to be his only option to eat on this night.

Astrid spun a circle, dancing with her shield, then she mocked a sword fight, twisting and turning and ducking.

Haakon laughed and exited the rock pools. Very little of their boat had washed up—a few planks, a part of the sail with a rope and strip of mast, and an empty barrel. But at least they all still had their daggers, clothes, and boots—something to be grateful for.

Egil was sat poking at the small morsels of food with a stick. “Got more?” he asked when Haakon approached.

“ Ja , here.” Haakon dumped a pile on the sand. “Wish we’d had more than a shield wash up. The sea has eaten everything we had.”

“She’s happy, though.” Gunner nodded at Astrid.

“Always a good thing.” Knud chuckled. “Her temper is like a snake’s venom.”

“I would agree with you there, my friend.” Haakon sat on a low rock and let his wrists dangle over his bent knees. He watched Elgin start scraping the meat from shells.

“Mountains to the east,” Ivar said, sitting opposite him and reaching for a cooked morsel of shellfish. “Not sure about west.” He popped the food into his mouth.

“We’ll head west,” Haakon said.

“More chance of finding a village to raid or a boat to claim.” Gunner nodded. “Good idea.”

Haakon sighed.

“What?” Knud asked. “You don’t think there’ll be a village? There must be.”

“I know there’ll be one. We’re not the first in this cave. Someone uses it regularly.”

“True.” Ivar glanced around. “Which is a good thing, right? We need stuff. Plus, we want a boat.”

“But do we?” Haakon questioned.

“Do we what?” Ivar asked.

“Do we want a boat?” Haakon had spoken slowly and he looked at each of his men in turn.

“Of course we want a fucking boat,” Astrid said, standing in the cave entrance, silhouetted by the winter light. “We’re the wolves of the sea. We need to roam and check our territory.”

“The stones.” Haakon gestured at the pouch of runes on her belt. “They have spoken. This is a place to start a new life, learn afresh. The soil is fertile, the sea giving.” He paused. “What if this is the place we’re meant to stay?”

“Stay…? I think you mean claim .” Gunner raised his eyebrows and snorted.

“ Ja , that’s what I mean.” Haakon looked out to sea. It had been an omen that they’d landed here, he was sure of it. The gods did everything for a reason. The stones spoke only the truth. You just had to understand their language, as Astrid could. “I want to stay here. I’m sure we’ll find a good place to farm, to settle. Put down roots.”

Everyone was quiet.

“Isn’t that why you jumped on board with me?” He swung his attention to Orm, who for once was sitting still and quiet, though he’d swiped fresh charcoal under his eyes, which made him look brooding and dark. “Huh? Isn’t that why you leaped from our homeland onto my boat? Because you wanted a new start.”

“It is true, brother. I set sail with you looking for a new life, away from our thieving, asshole brother and our father’s undisguised hatred of me.”

“So you agree this could be a good place.”

“I guess.” Orm shrugged.

“And that we should try to do this peacefully?” Haakon went on. “Negotiate with the locals rather than slay them.”

“Why?” Knud said. “I don’t understand.”

“Because we could learn much from them, I am sure. Save ourselves years of figuring out how to farm this land for ourselves.”

Orm thought for a moment. “I’m surprising myself when I say I think you might be onto something.”

Haakon was quiet, but he raised his eyebrows at his brother.

Orm nodded. “ Ja …so I am on board with trying the not-slaying-everyone plan. Count me in.”

Haakon could have punched the air with triumph, but instead he kept the pleasure from his voice. “And you, Astrid?”

She banged her shield. “I will be peaceful until the first sword is raised against me, then I cannot be responsible for what I do. And I will pray the gods are with me.”

Egil laughed. “I’m with Astrid because we’re not going to find a welcoming committee. Even if we are like gods in comparison to these Lothlend people.”

Haakon thought back to his Valkyrie on the beach. She’d been so beautiful. And she’d come to him again in his dreams, making him hard as he’d woken at dawn. That was very uncomfortable in damp breeches.

“This is all wrong. We should attack and talk afterward, when the men are dead or pleading for their lives,” Gunner said. “After we’ve taken what loot we can find and satisfied ourselves with as many women as we can manage, then we talk.”

Haakon nodded slowly and fought down the urge to assert his authority. “It’s what we have done in the past. That is true.”

“And it works well.” Gunner gnawed on the inside of his cheek and stared at Haakon. He was a big guy, shoulders as wide as a bear, and the ground had been known to shake when he walked.

“That’s true, when we are just passing by, then raiding is good,” Haakon said. “But now we are staying…we want to, it is true, but also, we have no choice.” He stood and stepped out of the cave. “We have no boat and no boat builder.”

The hills to his right, though frosty, were not snow-covered and there was more light in the sky than he’d seen in weeks. “And I think we can flourish here. If this is what it is like in the depths of midwinter, imagine the long summer.”

“Imagine if we can grow more than one season of crop.” Knud rubbed his beard. “Two chances for a harvest rather than one.”

“Do you think that could actually happen?” Egil asked.

“Why not?” Haakon felt enthused at the thought. “We’ve traveled south. The soil is more fertile, the weather less harsh and with more light…” He held his belly and laughed. “Why, we may all get so fat, we can’t sail out of here for fear of sinking even the sturdiest boat.”

There was a burst of laughter, partly because they were all so hungry, the thought of being so fat, they’d sink a boat became unusually funny.

“These look good,” Astrid said, plucking up a cockle and blowing on it. “Well, good , as in they’ll do.”

Egil and Knud also started to eat.

Haakon looked toward the forest again. He squinted a little. There appeared to be a small track into the shadows. Perhaps that was the route used by the cave visitors.

When they’d eaten their forage, he’d suggest they follow it, see where it brought them out. It might just be the path of his destiny and lead him to the great riches he dreamed of: a farm, a family of his own, love, and respect.

*

Haakon held up his hand, signaling for his crew to stop. Instantly, their chatter silenced and they stood still, peering from the shadows of the pine forest. In the distance was a wooden fortress perched upon a shallow hill.

It was not unlike others Haakon had seen on his travels. Smaller, maybe, a few wooden sections in need of repair—a sign that the inhabitants didn’t get bothered often by unwanted guests.

That enticed Haakon. A peaceful life was not wholly unappealing.

Smoke drifted upward in lazy spirals. There was little wind today after yesterday’s storm. A couple of dogs barked their conversation.

“Look,” Orm said. “They grow, even now.”

Haakon’s attention had already been captured by the rows of crops. Mostly, they weren’t ones he recognized, strange, frothy leaves and flat, glossy foliage, tall sticks holding up winding greenery. A few villagers, dressed warmly, were tending the long, muddy rows.

A filthy pen held pigs who rooted around. Several horses were hogtied to prevent them from wandering and they munched on a pile of hay.

Several big fire baskets, alive with flames, lit the otherwise-gray day and were situated near to the animals.

“You never can get away from wolves and bears,” Astrid said. “Those fires are a deterrent.”

“ Ja , I saw tracks back there. Wolves,” Haakon said. “I also heard a raven’s call. Odin is with us. He sees our every step.”

“That is a good omen,” Astrid agreed.

For a moment, they were quiet, watching the village. An ironsmith was at work, his hammer banging rhythmically against an anvil. The roofs that he could see were topped with frosty grass. Beside a gate—closed—stood four men holding pikes and a watchtower jutted into the gray sky.

“They’re expecting us,” Eglin said. “This doesn’t seem like the type of place that usually has four guards.”

“It’s no surprise that we were spotted.”

“Really?” Astrid said. “In that hellish storm, wouldn’t you think these mice-like people would have been tucked up in their holes? Afraid of the wind and rain.”

“’Haps they are hardier than you think.” Orm shrugged.

“We were seen by locals.” Haakon recalled the warm ashes and dropped nuts in the cave. “And now they’re bracing for attack.”

“Fuck it! I still say we should just raid.” Gunner pulled out his long, glinting dagger. “Take what we want, decide who can live as our thralls and whores, and kill the rest.”

Astrid banged her shield as though in agreement.

Haakon frowned at both of them. “We made a decision back there to do this peacefully.”

“Those guards don’t look too peaceful with their pikes.” Astrid jerked her head their way.

“You blame people for wanting to protect their homes, their families?” Haakon said, raising his eyebrows. “Isn’t that what we’ve always done back at Drangar?” He looked from Astrid to Gunner.

Gunner pressed his lips together and his nostrils flared.

Haakon studied the fortress again. The village within it was small. He’d guess maybe a hundred souls at most. They’d be self-sufficient too. This was a long way from anywhere and surrounded by mountains and bays full of cruel rocks. They’d have to be self-sufficient.

His guts clenched a little. Excitement? Anticipation? Had he found the place the gods had planned for him all along? He couldn’t deny the spark of hope.

“They’ve got a church.” Astrid spat on the ground. “They worship the one god, the way others have when we’ve raided west. How foolish are these people?”

“It’s how they are, you know that.” Haakon stepped from the shadows and into the weak winter light. “Come on, and keep your daggers sheathed unless I say otherwise.”

He waited for Gunner or Astrid to object. They didn’t.

As the warriors approached, the field workers spotted them and ran, minus their tools, toward the gates.

A sudden flurry and many men with pikes and pitchforks assembled, ready to defend as the gates were hastily closed, locking the women and children inside.

“They are braver than I thought,” Orm said. “Most would cower within the walls. All of them.”

“There are only seven of us. ’Haps that has given them courage,” Astrid said.

“We are outnumbered, five to one at least.” Gunner grunted. “Not that it’s a fucking problem.”

“Let us hope they speak the same language as my father’s thrall.” Haakon strode forward, shoulders swinging and chin tilted as he stepped over a small stream. “So we can negotiate.”

“By ‘negotiate,’ you mean tell them what we want,” Astrid said, already switching to the language of this land.

“ Ja , that,” he replied.

Haakon moved with purpose past the shivering crops and grazing horses toward the fortress.

“Halt! You are not welcome.” A man stepped forward from the group of so-called guards. He had graying hair and a long beard, his fur cloak was dark, the hood pushed back, and he held a curved stick, much like Haakon’s father’s. His skin was like Urd’s too. Weathered and wrinkled, sagging at the jowls, lined over his brow.

“We come in peace,” Haakon said, holding up his hands, palms facing forward. He was glad they could understand each other. It made things much simpler.

“We don’t want you here.” For an old man, he had a commanding and strong voice. He flicked his head toward the forest. “Leave. Now.”

“We need food and shelter. Our boat was smashed in the storm,” Haakon kept walking. “We are stranded here. In this strange land.”

“I said , halt.” He banged his stick on the hard ground.

A dog ran up to Haakon, barking noisily, saliva hanging from its jaws as it circled. Haakon ignored it. A swift kick to the ribs would send it scampering if it got too brave with its teeth.

“Let us talk.” Haakon stopped a few feet from the man who he presumed was their jarl.

The other men, crowded behind their leader, had their pikes and pitchforks at the ready and their expressions ranged from grim determination to obvious fear.

Haakon stood a head taller than all of them, heavier too. He was aware of Astrid to his right, Orm to his left. Gunner grunting behind him, and Eglin, Ivar, and Knud coming up the rear. He hoped they’d done as he’d instructed and kept their weapons holstered. They were intimidating enough as it was.

“We do not wish to fight or raid,” Haakon said. “Or destroy your crops and homes.”

“I do not believe you.”

“ We do not believe you,” said a broad, young man with hair the color of a sunset on a hot day. He held an axe at his side and there was a silver cross around his neck, dangling from a slim, leather chain.

“You should believe.” Haakon paused and glanced around. He spotted a well and a store of grain and logs. These people were organized for winter. “Who is your king?”

“I am the village leader. The toisech . And who are you stepping onto on our land?”

Haakon pulled in a deep breath. Proud as ever of his ancestry. “I am Haakon Rhalson, son of King Urd Rhalson of Drangar.”

“I suggest, Haakon, son of King Urd Rhalson, that you continue on your way.” The village leader pointed west. “As you can see, we are not accustomed to unannounced visits and we have nothing to offer you.”

Haakon shrugged and a small smile tugged at his lips. It was as he’d suspected. This was an isolated village, which meant for peaceful times. “That’s not very friendly, now, is it?”

“I’m not feeling friendly today,” the leader said, raising his eyebrows. “It is the bleak depths of midwinter. We are surviving, nothing more.”

Haakon pulled out a small bag from his tunic. He needed to show his intentions with actions rather than words. “So how about a trade to brighten the gray? I have amber, lots of amber. We could do with food and mead and are willing to trade.”

“‘Trade’?” The man’s brow creased. “I thought the likes of you just took what you wanted.”

Haakon threw back his head and laughed. Orm joined in, clapping and stamping his feet too.

The farmers with pikes angled their weapons at Orm. Clearly bemused by his reaction.

“Oh, I do,” Haakon said, breaking out of the safety of his group and ignoring the sharp pikes and pitchforks pointed his way. He clasped the old man’s shoulder. “I do just take what I want.”

Suddenly, he felt eyes on him from above.

His attention strayed upward, to the watchtower above the gate, and landed on a beautiful woman with dark-brown hair that was catching on the breeze. She was studying him with an intensity that was as hot and wild as any flame.

His heart did a strange beat, a stutter, then an extra beat to catch up. His attention was glued on her. A hundred thoughts tumbled in his mind. His beautiful Valkyrie was here, right now, staring down at him.

And it wasn’t because he was about to be killed, slain in battle, and escorted by her to Valhalla. No, it was because she was a real, living, breathing mortal, a woman—a woman he wanted in a way he’d never wanted anyone or anything before.

He smiled, keeping his attention firmly on her. “But today, I’m feeling generous and I am willing to trade peacefully with you good people. Because…well…let’s just say there is something I want here that will require a little more delicate negotiation.”