Chaos

An otherworldly shriek shook Isa to the core, that high pitch wail clawing its way into her ears. It was only when her lungs ran out of air, that she realized her throat had made that ghastly howl of despair. Slumped over the rudder, Father was grasping at an arrow sticking out of his shoulder. Dark splotches appeared on his hands and squelched onto the wooden planks below. The pale light of the moon played fickle tricks on Isa’s eyes as she watched her father take on the image of a ghost.

Another bellow of pain sounded behind her as presumably one of the crew also met one of arrows she knew was barbed. ‘Pechenegs,’ was her only thought before Magnus’ lean bulk threw her down and out of the way of arrow fire. Splinters dug underneath her nails as she clawed her way over to her father. The wiry man convulsed once, coughing up a huge wad of crimson-tinged phlegm. Leaning back, his bloodshot eyes widened in fear and he desperately tugged at the rudder with all his might. The massive shudder of the ship hitting the riverbank and throwing everything and one forward showed how successful Gorm’s reaction had worked.

Rock ground on wood as the ship shuddered and groaned, sliding off the sand and boulders to rest at an awkward angle. Picking herself up again, mindful of Magnus’ warning as his hand tugged her hair, the young girl carefully peaked towards the river’s beach. The ship had settled with her hull facing the forest. A sigh of minor relief covered her prayer of gratitude for not facing the other way towards the attackers.

“GET YOUR ARSES OFF THE DECK AND MOVE!” A mighty roar came from the stern as Father had seemingly shrugged off his wound with a rush of adrenaline. A flurry of activity happened all at once as men pushed off debris, pulled one another upright, and gathered their shield to protect or bows to fire back. “GUNNAR! BRANDR! THE OARS!” Both men were the biggest of the crew, the most likely to shove the ship off the bank.

Another arrow found its mark and the shield wall flagged until the unfortunate soul found his footing again, though his shield wobbled and swayed. Mounted savages came flying out from the dark forest, war cries swelling the air as they revealed themselves.

“PROTECT THE DAMNED OARS!” Gorm’s shouting was lost in the smattering of arrows hitting wood. Shields bashed together from the hail of metal, ship shuddering with each powerful shove to displace her, all while cries of anguish blanketed the gaps of momentary silence. Another man went down. No one replaced him.

“MAGNUS! ISA! LOWER THE FAERING!”

Breaking from his place on the shield wall, Magnus reached for Isa and tugged her to the other side of the ship. Her panicked hands could barely untie the ropes to lower the skiff attached to the side of the ship. With a satisfying plonk, the faering dropped down the few feet to the river below. Magnus caught the rope just in time to prevent it from sailing away under the current. Tears swelled in her eyes at having almost ruined everything. She muttered a quiet apology which Magnus ignored as he busied himself by throwing whatever he could onto the skiff below.

Isa caught her father’s gaze; an understanding passed between them. Anguish filled her already breaking heart. He gestured towards the small compartment near him, silently ordering her to get what was inside as he turned his attention back towards the enemy. The pale girl trudged through the haphazard debris, unlatching the hook and yanking the door open. Inside the inky blackness, small chests of their precious cargo lay.

Getting onto her hands and knees, Isa blindly felt around. The cool kiss of wood and metal met her inquisitive fingers which soon wrapped around the nearest handle. With a hefty pull, Isa popped back into the moonlit world of pain and ****. Another crewmate slumped backwards lifelessly nearby. His throat torn by an arrow deflected by his companion’s shield. She lifted the chest full of amber and ivory off the ground, working her way through the debris, feet always just a moment away from going out from underneath her as if the blood slicked wood taunted her.

Magnus had made steady progress, a few bundles of pelts and a sack of something was already in the faering. His strong hands wrapped over hers, taking the chest from her. Isa threw the bundle of pelts Magnus had at his feet over the edge and into the skiff. She turned back towards Father just in time to see it happen.

Gorm Frodeson, the patriarch of their village and a fierce former member of the Varangian Guard, pierced by another barbed arrow. Right in the center of his chest. Time slowed down as Isa processed what was unfolding before her. Father simply slumped backwards onto the small chair he kept by the rudder. Words formed in his mouth, though the only thing to pass were bubbles of blood.

A queer feeling filled her. Her emotions drifted away as a soft, meticulous hand guided her forward to her dying father. Gorm’s eyes darted around in frantic worry, calming when he saw his only child approach. His large, weathered hand jerked upwards, tearing his jerkin and shirt down. Calloused fingers digging past his shirt and yanking his necklace forward as much as he could before it suddenly stopped.

Isa landed on her knees before her father. Her shaking hands gently caressed his face, the stubble on his cheeks pricking her skin. Another firm yank from Gorm pulled the necklace free, though Isa noticed the small precious pouch was not attached to it anymore. Before grief could paralyze her, that warm sensation overtook everything. Her slim hand reached forward with determination, firmly grasping the key her father was trying to give her. Blood coated her palm as she grasped the warm metal.

The moment he saw it in his daughter’s possession, Gorm’s eyes drifted down towards the now empty strand of silk. A small smile lit up his face, his chuckle turned into a long wheeze as air escaped his lungs from their puncture wounds. A fleeting ghost of a touch grazed her cheek as her father looked at her with all the love his failing body could muster. His eyelids fluttered weakly before shutting forever.

Isa found herself standing up, walking towards the inky darkness of the room once again. Kneeling by the door, she put her arm inside. Her hand reached up and over back towards her to search along the seam where the wall met the roof. A small indent told her where to push, worming her finger into the tight space designed to conceal. The false plank clattered amongst the other cargo. Isa grabbed at the compact lockbox that her father wanted her take.

After a kiss to her father’s forehead, Isa darted back as fast as she could towards Magnus and the faering, praying all the while. Halfway through, a war cry on the other side of the river broke out. Black streaks of wicked **** blocked the moonlit just moments before they thudded into wood and flesh.

Magnus, the love of her life, toppled over the lip of the ship into the skiff below.