Cold sea spray splashed over the bow of Herleif's longship the Salt Boar, white foam splashing outward into the air like great eagle's wings as the ship cut through the waves. The ship's figurehead curved upward on the prow, decorated with a mighty boar's skull with long curved tusks stretched outward in challenge against the open sea, ready to strike fear into the hearts of all who looked upon its approach. Fixed within the skull was a metal cage where a flames could be lit, giving the prow beast an all together more ferocious look of breathing fire and smoke. For now though, that kind of fear was not necessary while the ship sailed on, as these choppy waters were still well within the territory of Valkenheim.
Herleif looked out across the ocean as it stretched on before him, the vast blue of sky and water coming together to create a vast nothingness to sail into while his hall and family now lay far behind him.
Yesterday he had set sail with his raiding ships from Brosmegaurd's port, and just this morning had sailed out of the strait that cut through Valkenheim and into the wider ocean north Ashfeld. His destination was the southern half of the island called Hel, which sat between Valkenheim and Ashfeld, and was where Erik had bid them to meet to stage this great raid.
There were fifty ships to his fleet built of large drakkar and smaller skeid and snekkja. Long and sleek vessels that cut easily through the water, each holding twenty to thirty rowing benches plus supplies. It was a sizable army for any raid that he might carry out on his own, but once it was added to the numbers of warriors and ships that both Erik and Ivar would provide it would become a fleet worthy of sagas.
As leader of this raid Erik boasted the greatest numbers of boats, warriors and war gear, and so no doubt would take much of that glory for himself.
It was a fact that Herleif just couldn't ignore, one that had been weighing on him for days. As much as he wanted to be part of this endeavor there was something about this invitation that just wasn't as simple as it seemed. Turning his back on the approaching horizon, he walked down the deck past the rowing benches in search of his brother.
"Gunnar," he called, finding his brother at the stern of the longship, handling the rudder and keeping them on a steady course. They had caught a good wind that filled their sail and sent the fleet speeding on its way without the need of ores. He stepped up to the ship's railing and leaned against it as he spoke. "Tell me again about what Jarl Erik shared with you of his plans. Was there anything you left out in what he said to you?"
Gunnar frowned, stroking the braid of his beard with one hand and keeping the other on the tiller arm of the rudder. "I think not. I told you exactly as he told me. 'Take this invitation from me to your elder brother, and my respect,' is what he said to me. He wants you and Ivar to meet him at the Hallowed Bastion so that we can come to terms before raiding down river through northern Ashfeld. Winter is ending and the spring winds will make for speedy sailing. We'll be in and out so quick those tin bastards won't know what hit them."
"Will we now? With our three forces combined and Erik's golden shield glaring bright in the sun we will be the very meaning of stealth, is that it?" Herleif grinned. Gunnar didn't seem to have an answer for that, so he went ahead and made his point. "Erik has had plenty success raiding on his own. I am not saying it is unusual for one Jarl to seek help from another, but why split the rewards when he can just take it all? He has the ships and the men, and the villages along Ashfeld's rivers are easy enough to hit before any legions are brought to arms. So why does he need more? Did he say anything about what territories he plans to hit? What strong positions the Knight legions might hold against us?"
Gunnar squirmed uncomfortably under his brother's gaze.
"There were rumors of fighting within the legion ranks while I wintered at Tua Peak. Confusion and distrust between the Knight commanders. Erik thinks they are weak, and so he means to hit them hard before they can organize. He has plans, Herleif, great plans. But I do not know the details. I was not so far in his council while I stayed in his hall to be told everything," he said, though he looked a bit sheepish to not have a better answer.
Herleif nodded, though he thought that his brother was probably just to busy drinking and wenching the winter away to even be aware that Erik had a council at all. He couldn't fault Gunnar though, for he knew that he meant well by bringing this message from such a powerful Jarl. His was the heart of a proud Viking eager to raid, and there was no way he could have refused Erik even if he had shared Herleif's reservations.
"Well, I suppose we will just have to wait and hear what he says once we meet him," he said, softly thumping a fist on the Salt Boar's railing.
Sensing a lull in Herleif's questions, Gunnar took the opportunity to put them to an end completely and changing the subject. He looked up the length of the ship and nodded with his chin at the tall Valkyrie standing with spear in hand and looking out across the waves. "She here for Ander then? I saw that she has his old seax upon her belt."
Herleif glanced solemnly over at Skuld as well, finding her presence on his ship both a strange comfort and unsettling distraction. Most of the other warriors kept their distance and whispered things about her when they thought she couldn't hear. She was a source of wonder and mystery with her purpose among them, but it was thought best to leave her alone for fear of angering the gods.
For Skuld's part, she seemed perfectly content with this arrangement and ignored them all right back. As if her ancient order wasn't mysterious enough, Herleif was sure that he hadn't heard her speak a single word since she had accepted Ander's seax, and he had yet to see her ever without her golden helmet upon her head.
"Aye. She is fighting for him so that he may enter Valhalla," he replied.
Gunnar stroked his beard again. "You know that is no guarantee, right? She needs to slay an opponent that is worthy of Ander's warrior spirit and battle-fame, one that she must choose herself. Among these Ashfeld dogs she may find none who are. And there is always the chance that she herself might fall in battle before she gets the chance. That seax might stay in its sheath through the whole campaign and never taste a drop of blood."
"I am aware," Herleif said grimly, "but Audhilda arranged for all of this herself. This is important to her, as it is to me."
Gunnar fidgeted a bit against the tiller. "Just making sure you're aware. They're an uncanny lot, the Valkyries, wandering the wilderness seeking the spirits of dead men. Strange thing for a woman to spend her time doing if you ask me."
Herleif let out a snort of laughter. "As opposed to the Raiders who wander the land seeking to make dead men? All while refusing to put on a damn shirt? Yes, compared to the rest of us they are uncanny, with their unyielding devotion and respect for the gods. Very uncanny indeed. I wonder what it is exactly that makes the gods love them so much?"
He laughed again, and after a moment Gunnar joined in, but were shortly interrupted by a loud call coming from further up the ship.
"Man on the rocks! Lost at sea! Man on the rocks!"
The call caught everyone's attention. Across all the ships that formed up the head of the fleet, warriors scrambled to look. Some grabbed ropes to cast a line for whoever might need pulling in, while others simply stared out across the waves to catch site of the unlucky soul. These waters were frightfully cold, and no one could survive long after going in for any length of time.
"Who is it? Did someone fall overboard?" Herleif called out as he hurried his way up the ship to help.
The warrior who sounded the call just shrugged his shoulders as Herleif approached, then looked off in the direction of a small island of dark wet rock that jutted up out of the sea among the crashing waves.
"No my Jarl. Its just... just a man on the rocks," he said pointing.
Herleif came to the railing and looked out across the water. At his sides came Ragnar, Ragna and Helge, all casting their gazes out towards the island as well. Squinting his eyes, Herleif could make out a lone figure standing against the open sky, and heard the faint noise of yelling on the wind as they sailed closer.
At first he thought the figure was calling for help, but as the sound became more clear he realized that the person was simply just senselessly yelling. Screaming even, at the top of his lungs as if caught in the midst of a great battle.
As the Salt Boar sailed closer, the figure could be seen beating his chest and stomping his bare feet at all the warriors staring at him. His head was shaved except for a long braid running down his back, and his face and chest were painted white, but splattered with red splotches like blood. In his hand he held a sturdy hammer, which he beat against his chest as powerfully as he did his fists.
"Is that..." Ragnar began, surprise heavy in his voice.
"A Jormungandr." Ragna finished as she leaned over her brother's shoulder, sounding unimpressed.
Ragnar squinted and flicked his hand up over his eyes. "No... can't be. One of those snake cultists from up in Storr Stronghold? Think they defeated Thor and stole his hammer, the mad fucks."
Herleif couldn't help but just stand there and stare, jaw slack as the the strange warrior continued to scream uninterrupted. "Looks like it. What in Hel's name is he doing all the way down here?"
He looked around for any sign of a boat or wrecked ship, but saw none. There was always the possibility that the man had swam to the island after his ship sank beneath the waves, but that still didn't explain why he was all alone. There were no other bodies, and no debris floating in the water.
Ragnar scratched his beard, almost unsure if what he was looking at was real or just a strange Loki trick plaguing their minds. "Just listen to him go. He's cracked. Probably doesn't even know where he is."
Helge leaned against the ship railing and laughed. "Crazy fool. He thinks that the World Serpent will be his salvation. He listens to the wrong voices," she grinned.
Herleif frowned and gave her a curious glance, not totally convinced she had had any right to be calling someone else crazy.
"So, are we gonna help him?" Ragna asked, though she didn't sound particularly enthusiastic about the idea.
A few heads turned towards Herleif, waiting to see what decision he would make, ropes ready to throw at the command. Herleif paused and thought for a moment as the ship sailed on by the stranger. For a brief moment their eyes connected, and Herleif saw clear the burning insanity raging inside the Jormungandr's mind.
"No," he said at last, as if still mulling the idea over in his head but giving the answer on gut instinct. "No I think not. I have no need for whatever... that is on any of my ships."
Ragnar, Ragna and Helge all nodded together.
"Its probably for the best," Ragna said, patting Herleif on the shoulder before turning and forgetting all about the screaming man on the rocks. Those holding ropes dropped them down, and everyone went back to whatever they were doing before the strange disturbance.
Herleif remained for a little while longer, watching as the Jormungandr continued to beat his chest and scream with as much might as his hoarse voice could muster. It was awfully shrill and high pitched, that scream, very hard on the ears. As the sound slowly faded away and the Jormungandr shrank on the horizon behind them, there was the faint distant call of 'Ragnarök!', and Herleif was content with the decision that he had made to sail on.