Chapter 37
“Are you steady?” Keirah heard Aonghus ask while strapped onto his back.
“Aye, charge forward!” she hollered, her ears still ringing like bells belonging to a church tower dinged in her head after the lighting strikes.
With a snippet from the rope off the broken mast, he had tied her much the same way as when they had boarded King H?konsson’s ship.
Her one arm lay across the top on his shoulder, the other tucked underneath his ribs, with both tethered by the rope before his torso as he crawled on all fours like a bull across the bridge.
He was using the axe’s blade to stab the mast’s wood every few lengths to keep them steady.
Sir Brayden yelled behind them. “WAVE!” Oh hell, not again!
All leaned low; a whimper crossed her lips as she tightened her arms on her bull.
Cough, cough, she spluttered then listened to him gasp.
Even if the axe held the name Vengeance, he had given up the personal desire to seek this in honor of her demand.
This is what they were here for. Kollungr…
if the falcon still lived, he would have to keep.
Did Kollungr still live? Hard to tell; the way his face had appeared a red berry at the pressure Aonghus had been applying with the gold chain seemed to demonstrate the falcon most likely had flown into a tide’s watery death after she had looked away while feverishly untying the rope before the lightning strike.
Were they almost there? Through her burning eyes, all she saw was a few lengths. It was awfully quiet behind them. She had relinquished her dagger to the knight, so Sir Brayden was using the pair of blades as a way of steadying himself by stabbing the wood as they crossed.
“Sir Brayden?” she asked, worried.
“Aye, still present! The daggers are working well; blades are sharp,” he called out, then grumbled behind them, “The infernal kelpies have not taken me for a ride yet.”
Aonghus gave a lone chuckle at the quip; she found a hint of smile on her face till the seawater tried to gush into her lips.
The friend’s humor about kelpies, the mythical horses who showed people to watery graves, was correct.
Cough, cough. She glimpsed back up. Was the edge belonging to the supply ship there?
Her soaked lashes narrowed. Aye, they had made it!
She looked down at Aonghus’s shoulder wound.
The chain mail had done its task, taking the blunt force, but the sharpness of Sv?rn’s sword had ripped the woven metal and wool tunic beneath.
Aonghus would need tending. Did she see bone?
No. Her muscles relaxed a bit; even with the strain from his effort to see them across, the gushing blood had slowed. Thank all!
He ordered, “Cluaran, you stay strapped to me.” No problem with that request. The memory of nearly being swept overboard when she untethered herself was fresh in her mind’s eye.
Smack! His feet hit the deck; she peered over his shoulder. Her breath halted.
Oh. My. Enemies.
Over two dozen Northern warriors scattered across the colossal deck, looking the same as a pack of northern wolves giving a collective growl preparing to hunt three lone Scots who were but a tender morsel for the munching.
It seemed Sir Brayden was of the same mind after he landed beside them to groan, “Aw, shite! Appears we have traded kelpies for northern wolves.”
The view went dark when the lighting rumbling the clouds above became silent for a moment, but the sound of low whispers with preparation about attacking seared her ears.
No way, no how. This wasn’t happening! Two Scots, even the finest knights, against a fleet of trained Northmen would be a slaughter.
Could they go back? Grab onto…wait, what was that?
The tiny hairs on her neck began rising; oh shite, it was the same as the time moments ago when lightning had hit the mast!
Here comes another…FLASH! CRACK! The blinding light struck from the heavens like Mother Nature’s finger, but the finger split into a hand.
Time took a peculiar slow quality. One finger struck the mast they had just left behind them, shattering the splintered wood.
The other finger touched down on the farthest corner belonging to the lower deck.
An otherworldly sight appeared when the water looked the same as white ice on a loch after the whole deck took the power from the strike and spread it across the entire water’s layer in streams of blinding light. Ugh!
Aonghus made a strange guttural groan then shuddered under her as if he took the hardest hit from the strike.
What an odd vibration, all the way into her bones.
The Northmen shook as if the devil had loaded them onto a cart and they bounced, headed for hell.
Their bodies jerked in an eerie sort of dance, hair on end, before they all collapsed before her.
Sir Brayden gave a low grunt before he and Aonghus both collapsed onto the deck, unaware as the Northmen.
Aonghus’s weight crushed her arm, trapping her as he fell to his side.
The strike. She scanned the surroundings at the trickling light from the tiny fire glowing upon the deck where the bolt had hit. Diiinnnggggg. The ringing echoed in her ears as if she stood within a bell tower once more while she shook her head.
All lay silent. Some oarsmen’s lifeless bodies were snatched overboard when another wave swept over…“Aonghus?” Her voice broke when he didn’t move. “Aonghus? You hear me, my knight?”
Squirming around his torso, pain seared up her arm where he had landed on her. She gave a whimper. He still wasn’t moving. Help him! She pushed harder, wiggling again.
Cradle his skull. Her trapped arm became a makeshift pillow.
There you are, my knight. Her other arm remained draped over his wounded shoulder.
Her wrists were still bound. There was no use in trying to free them quickly; he had tied the strands to ensure the knot held. Pale. His face was soooo pale.
Her throat clenched; she croaked the word, “A…Aonghus?”
His soaked hair stuck onto his brow; she leaned closer while trying to swallow the sear from bile rising in her throat alongside panic.
Her eyes narrowed more. Did…did he still draw breath?
Tucking her cheek, damp from saltwater alongside her tears, under his nose, she waited.
Warm breath, where are you? Come on, where are you?
He wasn’t breathing! “Nae!”
“Aonghus!” she screamed, then began pulling on his lifeless body.
The fates were not cast.
They couldn’t be.
They wouldn’t be.
Reverse, fate, take note, reverse directly.
This will not be his end!
She raised her face to the sky, the rain pelting her face like tiny slaps. “Reverse!” she yelled into the drowning droplets. “Hear me now! REVERSE!!”
Only the rumble from thunder filled her ears, and bellows from oarsmen upon H?konsson’s chaotic deck, which was somehow tethered to the bark ship, along with rain sounding the same as nails on wood. Nothing. Nothing else.
No!
She fell against her collapsed knight to give a low groan when pain seared behind her eyes.
There. There it is, aye!
Blinking her swollen eyes, she re-opened them to hear…“Cluaran, you stay strapped unto me,” he ordered.
She was back in the moment right before they had set his feet onto the deck! “Keirah, I felt your weight grow stronger; are you well?” His question was etched with worry over his shoulder.
Warn. Warn him directly!
Leaning forward, the soaked raven hair tickled her nose as she whispered fervently, “Aonghus, ’twas a shadow-glance!
When your feet hit the deck, charge right for the sterncastle’s highest deck.
Drag Sir Brayden. A strike will land onto the main deck and our mast bridge, crushing the ranks of oarsmen present. You both will perish.”
The muscles on his back clenched under her a moment. “Hold tight as you are able, my lady.” Aye.
Her muscles tensed, gripping him. Tighter! Her legs wove around his sides to hook her ankles together above his loins. Hell, she was riding a bull when he hit the deck, spun, grabbed Sir Brayden’s wrist, ripped the thick knight behind them, and charged for the stairs leading to the highest deck.
Would the separate higher deck be enough to stall the force given off from the bolt? The hairs stood upon her neck. Here it comes! Aonghus threw Sir Brayden the last stretch before them over the top step before he leaped the air over the fleet of stairs the same moment that…CRACK!
Aonghus landed on the top deck, then spun. The three watched the Northmen ranks fall under Mother Nature’s vengeance of a different kind. The bodies swirled about before vanishing overboard. That…that could have been them.
Through the ringing when the flash finally stalled, she heard in ease from desperation those who argued aboard King H?konsson’s ship.
“Cut the lines loose. It matters not how we tangled with the supply ship – cut them loose. It is dragging us to the shore!” They were headed for the shore? “Cut them all directly! We have eight anchors!”
Forget the anchors – was her Aonghus hurt?
She eased around to his front. He had a gash above his brow about the same size as her hand; she strained to reach her sleeve to brush the crimson bead from his lash.
A nasty bruise lined his upper cheek. All chronicled, he was standing before her, not fallen on the deck.
Pulling upon the tethered rope about his neck, she ground her lips against his, rain and seawater and blood blending in their roughened kiss.
He gave a growl, with his palms tugging her close.
He tasted of life! Her eyes closed, he deepened the kiss. The ship lurched; he unexpectedly broke the kiss to duck low, whisking her with him as something whizzed by their scalps. What was that?!
“Cut the final line!” A voice sounded in the unseen darkness from the direction of King H?konsson’s ship. “THE BARK SUPPLY SHIP IS DRAGGING US ASHORE!!”
She blinked several times – nope, eyes still blurry from all the violent shadow-glances. “Aonghus?” His name was an ask.
“’Twas the golden dragonhead upon King H?konsson’s bowsprit, which flew over the deck…” He cut the explanation short to tighten his grip on her, then yelled at Sir Brayden, “Hold tight, Brayden, when they release the final line the dragonhead will…”
SNAP! All went black.