acted without thinking and worse, he’d left his sister Caragh alone. She had no one to take care of her and he doubted if he would make it out alive.
One man, in particular, made him nervous. He stared hard at him, as if he intended to murder Brendan the moment an opportunity presented itself.
Silently, Brendan prayed that he could somehow get out of this. He considered letting the woman go, throwing himself overboard, no matter how far from shore they were. His chances of survival were better.
But he held on to her, for she was the only person keeping him and his friends alive. Soon enough, they would reach the southernmost tip of the eastern coast of éireann.
The moon was clouded this night, making it difficult to see. His body was exhausted and he fought to keep his hands from shaking.
A shout came from one of his men, alerting them to another ship. Brendan kept his blade at the woman’s throat as he turned to look. Just as his friend had warned, a large merchant ship was bearing down on them.
But the men weren’t Irish.
His mouth went dry, his palms sweating. It was the Gallaibh, the Danes who were as fearless as the Norse. His grandsire had spun tales of the bloodthirsty invaders who would kill anyone who breathed.
God help them all. If they survived this night, it would be a miracle.
‘Turn the ship!’ Brendan commanded. If they could get closer to shore, they might have a chance of escaping. But he wasn’t accustomed to the Lochlannach vessel and he didn’t know how to steer it. Instead of moving in the direction of the shore, it seemed that an invisible force was turning them towards the path of the Danes.
Fear ripped through him and he caught a glimpse of archers taking aim. His stomach twisted and he stared back at the water, wondering if he had the courage to seize his escape. Drowning was better than facing a dozen arrows.
His gaze fixed upon his hostage. The woman was hardly older than his sister Caragh. He took a breath, wishing he’d never taken her. She didn’t deserve to fall into the hands of the Danes, who would rape her before they killed her. He’d made countless mistakes this day, but there were precious seconds left.
With his knife, he cut the ropes securing her to the front of the boat, then sliced through her bonds. She stared at him in surprise, rubbing her wrists. Without asking why, she stumbled back towards her kinsmen.
To his friends, Brendan ordered, ‘We’ll have to jump. If they get too close, we won’t survive.’
‘If we abandon the ship, we’ll drown,’ a friend countered.
Brendan’s heart beat faster, a thin line of sweat sliding down his neck. ‘Once we make it to shore, we’ll journey back to Gall Tír on foot.’
If they made it to shore. The Danes were even closer now and he heard them shouting words in an unfamiliar tongue.
‘It’s too far,’ his friend argued.
‘We don’t have a choice. If we stay here, we’ll die tonight.’ After they abandoned the ship, he could only hope that the Lochlannach would remain on board and let them be. But from the mercenary look in the Viking leader’s eyes, Brendan wasn’t at all convinced that the man would let them go. His stomach lurched at the thought of their impending fate.
Without warning, the Lochlannach rose from their places, closing in on him. It was clear that they’d freed themselves from the ropes some time ago and had been waiting for the right moment to attack.
The archers drew back and the first storm of arrows struck the ship. Brendan threw himself to the deck and heard the dull thud of an arrow piercing flesh. When he saw the face of his dying kinsman, he cringed, keeping low on the ship.
The Norsemen were shouting, and all around him, he heard the sounds of men jumping overboard. He heard the screams of those who were shot by the archers before their bodies landed in the water.
The woman lay against the bottom of the boat, while her kinsmen defended her. He saw the Lochlannach leader stiffen when an arrow pierced his leg. The woman cried out, and a moment later, she emerged from her hiding place, jumping off the ship. The man followed, though Brendan doubted he would make it to shore with his injuries.
Fear rose in his throat and he closed his eyes, prepared to face his death. All around him, he heard the sound of the Danes closing in.
Let my death be swift and painless, he prayed. And let my sister be safe.
* * *
Elena’s heart slammed into her chest, her pulse beating so fast, she was dizzy from fear. The icy water struck her like a fist, her gown weighing down upon her. Though she moved her arms and legs, it was not enough to swim—more like treading water.
Now that she was free of the ship, it seemed that the outcropping of rock was impossibly far away. Her breathing quickened and she fought with her arms and legs, struggling to keep her head above water. Behind her, she heard the shouts of men and the clash of swords.
Her face dipped beneath the wave and she choked upon the salt water, coughing as she struggled again to reach land. In the darkness, she could barely see anything around her and she doubted if she could make it to the small island.
Fear penetrated her to the bone. You’re not strong enough to reach land. You’re going to drown.
Her resolve was weakening, but she continued churning her arms, until there was a sudden splash. A strong arm grasped her around the waist, pulling her to him. When she looked up, she saw Ragnar holding her. He propelled them through the water with immeasurable strength, like a ship cutting through the waves. She gripped him around the neck, thankful that he, too, had escaped.
‘Swim!’ she heard Ragnar say. ‘Don’t look back.’
She was desperately afraid, her mind seizing with shock. Her face dipped below the water again, but a strong arm dragged her up. Ragnar urged her to keep moving, holding his arm at her waist. They swam together while behind them, they heard the shouts of the Danes taking command of the ship.
Freya, protect me, she prayed, as they fought to reach land. The crescent moon slid from behind a cloud, reflecting its light upon the surface of the water. She stared at the light, her fear closing in again.
She had to live. Despite her terror, she would fight to survive. Even if they were the only two left alive.
Chapter Three
Her arms were leaden, her body freezing from the icy water. But with Ragnar at her side, she took courage. He was speaking words of encouragement, though his pace had slowed.
When at last her feet touched the bottom, Elena breathed a sigh of relief. Her body was exhausted and trembling, but they were both on land.
Ragnar’s steps were heavy, his body leaning upon hers as she strode through the water. She couldn’t understand why he was struggling to walk, until the moonlight gleamed upon him, revealing the arrow protruding from his upper thigh.
‘You’re hurt,’ she breathed, offering him her support as they stumbled to the sand.
Ragnar didn’t answer and
