The Viking's Chosen (Clan Hakon #1)



I hated the sound of retching, but it was a common sound on any vessel, large or small, in the open ocean. The long ship carried us well, but the trip was hardly a smooth one. I walked down the middle of the massive deck, trying to ignore any man who made a break for the side to empty the contents of their stomach overboard, which wasn’t easy. There was a time I had been one of those lads, but not anymore. I had been on the boat enough times that my body had acclimated to the constant rocking and tossing quickly. I now seemed to instinctively shift and sway in rhythm with the ship as it rocked

“Torben, do you know how much farther we have on this blasted beast?” Brant called out to me. The huge man strained at the oars, but not nearly as much as those around him. Brant was so strong that he had to temper his vigor when it came to rowing, otherwise the boat would turn in a wide circle. Lately, I had taken to putting two men opposite him. This seemed to almost even out the power on both sides of the boat.

I had been asked that very question every few hours by what seemed like every warrior on the ship. Each time my answer had been the same. “No man can predict the mood swings of the ocean. We will arrive when she wants us to.”

“Well I hope we get there soon. I much prefer the haft of a hammer in my hands to these oars!”

“You complain like a child, Brant.” I responded. “Should I have left you at home and brought Eric’s newborn babe instead?”

The splash of the ship’s oars drowned out his muttered reply, but I distinctly heard the words dragon’s arse as he turned back toward the front of the ship. All the men grumbled, of course, but rarely loud enough for me to hear them. I cared not if they despised my answer, only that they obeyed orders. My job was to make them into mighty soldiers, ensure they were the strongest warriors possible, and then lead them into battle. I was not trying to win their favor. I was trying to keep them alive.

Three skeids had set out just over two fortnights ago, each containing sixty men. Magnus commanded at the helm of the lead boat, its prow intricately carved into the shape of a giant sea monster. I could hear him bellowing across the water, imploring his men to row faster. I had to coax my own shipmates to keep up, though I would have preferred to let the sail, bearing the image of the mighty grey wolf of clan Hakon, do most of the work, yet I followed Magnus’ lead.

Our boats were light and strong, the muscle and sinew of our warriors and the winds of the gods driving the hulls across the open water. The head of a snarling dire wolf graced the prow of my skeid, and I prayed my men would fight like our patron symbol—as a pack, together ferocious and unrelenting.

The third boat, its prow adorned with the head of a dragon, was commanded by the jarl’s lieutenant, Halvard. He was a man loyal to the clan and had seen his share of battles. I knew he too would be reluctant to push his men to their breaking-point to keep up with Magnus’ merciless pace.

On the evening of our thirtieth day at sea, our king finally called to halt. Groaning as they dropped their oars, the warriors practically collapsed into the bottom of the boat, each massaging their aching muscles as the darkness of the ocean seemed to swallow up any bit of light. I prayed to the sea giant, Aegir, that our voyage would soon be complete and that we would land on the beaches of England before my men lost their will to fight.

Morning dawned brightly the following day and I woke to the sound of snapping of sails as mighty gusts of wind propelled our ship forward, its bow cleaving the waves as if it were fighting its own endless battle with the sea. I hopped up, feeling more refreshed than I had since we began our journey, and clambered toward the back of the boat and took the handle of the side rudder. Eric, a loyal soldier who had been manning the rudder throughout the night, grunted his thanks and fell on a pile of furs like a contented cat, happy to enjoy some rest as the rest of the men began finding their place among the oars. The early morning sun warmed our backs, all grumblings from the previous day lost on the strong winds.

Even though I had only sailed to England once, I knew we were nearing our destination. Skeld, the clan’s cartographer who had travelled the world more than any of us, had signaled that we should reach our destination in a day or two. Soon, I would call the men to attention and begin our battle preparations. We had practiced our landing and subsequent advancement multiple times, but I wanted the plan fresh in their mind when our boots hit dry ground. There was no way to tell what would be waiting for us, and our success depended upon the element of surprise.

As I went over the plans again, Brant ambled to the back of the boat, plopping his huge form down upon the platform next to me. I expected one of his typical remarks, but none came. He just stared out across the horizon pensively.

“Something on your mind, vinr?” I asked after a few minutes of silence.

“You name me Friend, eh? Likewise, do I call you, Torben? How long have we known each other?”

“All our lives. You know this. What troubles you?” I stared at him, wondering what brought on the melancholy plaguing my normally boisterous friend. After several more silent moments, he finally spoke again.

“My sleep troubles me.”

I chuckled. “How much sleep did you expect to get while being tossed about in a long boat?”

“Not that.” The huge man growled. “I have no trouble falling asleep. It is what happens afterward that has me troubled. Dreams…or a dream, I should say. The same one visits me over and over, like a faithful dog that comes when it’s called. Except, I am not summoning the dream. It has haunted me every night of our voyage. I fall into my bed and hope it does not come, but it always does.”

I grunted. “And what is this dream about?”

“You.”

“Me?” I ask, feigning nervousness. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have said called you friend. I take that back.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye and took an exaggerated step back from him.

“By the gods, man, be serious! I have something to say to you before the fighting starts and I want you to hear it. Now will you listen?” He barked.