Wild Viking Princess Read Free

a wild fury the like of which he had never seen before, though he had lived his life on the sea. His heart had raced more than once with the gut-wrenching terror that came with being at the mercy of a turbulent sea, and shuddered for anyone caught in this storm. Its sudden intensity had taken everyone by surprise.
    His boats strained at their moorings, but he feared they would not remain undamaged, even in the shelter of their hidden cove. There was already wet sand in the hull of the one he had secured. Too much would sink it. The crew would start repairs at the first sign of a break in the weather. It was vital their boats always be ready.
    A voice came on the wind. “Reider!”
    He straightened his shoulders and peered into the darkness, icy rain pelting his face, his fingers numb. It was Kjartan. Perhaps his friend needed help with the other boat?
    Satisfied the newly secured ropes would hold, he rammed his hands back into his sealskin mittens and set off across the sodden sand to assist his comrade.
    Kjartan stood ready to greet him. “All secure here, let’s walk back together. This wind is enough to sweep a man away. I’ll hold on to you and you hold on to me!” He linked his arm playfully in Reider’s.
    They struggled up the beach to the lodge like two drunken fools. Kjartan grabbed the nape of Reider’s neck and squeezed. “Good to see a smile on your face, my friend, instead of your usual scowl.”
    Reider shrugged him off and stopped smiling. As they made their way to the lodge, he became lost in thoughts of treachery and vengeance, grieving for his father. He and Kjartan were soaked to the skin and panting hard when they ducked under the shelter of the low overhang in front of the wooden structure. Kjartan pulled off his sealskin hood and shook the rain from it. “What a storm!”
    Reider stooped to unlace his wet boots, but Kjartan grasped his arm. “What’s that? Out there.” He pointed out to sea.
    Reider squinted. The moon’s glow had transformed the driving rain to an impenetrable screen of silver. He shook his head.
    Kjartan pointed again. “There. See. In the waves.”
    Reider still saw nothing, but Kjartan was known to have exceptional eyesight, so he peered again.
    Af Odin! It’s a ship. Surely Gorm would not pursue us in this storm? He’d have to be mad.
    He indicated he had seen the ship.
    Kjartan shoved his hood back on. “It’s not a Danish ship.”
    The vessel was barely visible. How could Kjartan tell what kind of ship it was? The man had the eyes of an eagle.
    Kjartan stepped away from the overhang and called to Reider over his shoulder. “Get the men. Whoever is out there won’t survive this storm if we don’t help them. They are trying to make it to the shelter of our cove.”
    Mindful of the unwritten law that men of the sea go without pause to the aid of those in peril on the waves, Reider strode into the lodge, grabbed the metal rod suspended from the tocsin by a strip of leather, and struck the triangular alarm repeatedly.
    The men sprang to their feet, and within minutes had donned their foul weather gear. They followed Reider to the cove. Kjartan stood at the tiller. “Untie the moorings,” he yelled. “We’ll take this boat out. Someone get the sand out of the bottom, or none of us will survive. I need only one skeleton crew.”
    Not one man withdrew. Kjartan barked out the names of the men who would accompany him. They scrambled aboard, grabbing oars and manning their positions. Reider shoved the boat off and leapt aboard, almost missing his footing as the boat rocked wildly in the swell.
    Soon they were rowing hard to reach the other boat, muscles bulging with the strain, faces tense. The spray quickly had them drenched. Reider braced his legs at the prow, clinging on for dear life, praying the stout rope around his waist would be enough to secure him. The boat pitched and rolled.
    As they neared the other boat, Reider saw that Kjartan had been right. The stricken