Chapter V
After a few seconds, I knew something wasn't right, even amidst the panic I was in. For one thing, I could clearly hear Christopher cursing like a sailor for several straight seconds – no hitting… whatever was below us. Speaking of that – what the hell was below us? I took a deep breath, and decided to look down. I felt an immediate sense of vertigo, but I maintained my composure. Water. An underground lake of some sort. We were falling slowly. Very. Freaking. Slowly.
After a few odd seconds, Jayson spoke up, "Well, this is awkward."
"No kidding," David replied.
"Here it comes…" Brett said.
What? I looked down just in time to smack into the surface of the water. Now gravity was as it should be – at least, as it should be when you're in water. In full tactical gear. I began to thrash, to panic. No, Jon, don't panic. Calm down. Float. You can beat this. You just threw down with trolls and Vikings. Water's not gonna take your sorry ass down.
Somehow my inner monologue worked. I calmed down a bit, realized what I needed to do. I began kicking lightly with my legs to keep my head up, and unzipped my vest. Instantly, it floated upwards onto the surface. I also slid off the backpack and simply held on to it with my hand. I floated for a few seconds and let myself calm down. Then, in a shaky voice, I called out: "Everybody okay?"
After a few seconds, everyone confirmed that they were alright.
"Everybody swim to that boat over there!" David yelled and pointed. I followed his gesture with my eyes and spotted a Viking boat, seemingly abandoned, about thirty-five yards away.
I'm not the most talented swimmer, I'll give you that, but by some miracle, I managed to haul myself over to the boat, and with some help, up and over the wooden railing into the vessel itself.
I just lay there on my back, soaking wet for a few moments. Then I sat up against a wooden bulkhead. David had plopped down on the deck like me, but unlike me, he had fallen asleep. Wow. Hey – I wasn't in any place to judge. Everyone was shaken up, and shivering, but no one looked wounded.
After a few moments, the three conscious members of the other group shook David awake. He came to with a gasp, and looked around with a surprised look on his face.
"How could you fall asleep at a time like this?" April asked accusingly.
"I had a dream, I think… I was in class," David said.
Christopher interrupted, "Man, your dreams suck. Who actually dreams about being in class? I mean, except Jalil," the last part was an obvious stab at Jalil's high intelligence and – some would say – know-it-all attitude.
Jalil shot him a cold look, and the conversation moved on. I laid my two firearms out on the wooden deck of the ship. It was a fair bet that they weren't waterproof. I popped the cylinder out of the revolver and laid the weapon down so as to let it air out. I then dismantled the Makarov so it could do the same. Eli field-stripped his carbine.
Apparently, our work drew the attention of the members of the other group. David was staring at Eli's rifle with interest, as well as desire, and I almost laughed.
David asked, "So, care to explain why you two came so… prepared?"
I don't think he meant to come off as offensive, but it sounded that way.
Before I could reply, Eli shot back at him, "Have you looked around lately? We just saved your asses back there."
I gave Eli a silent look, telling him to calm down. He simply went back to taking care of his weapon.
I turned my attention to David, who seemed dumbfounded at the way my friend snapped.
I spoke to him, "Let's just say we had a little more time to prepare than our friends here, or you guys, for that matter. After seeing Fenrir, we wanted to come in here ready for anything."
David and the others nodded. "M4?" he asked Eli.
Eli didn't look up as he replied, "AR-15 Sporter A2."
David nodded and looked to my weapons. He managed to identify my pistol as a 9mm, but I filled him in on the details of it. He thought the revolver was a .38, but I set him straight on that as well, trying not to sound like too much of a gun nut or know-it-all in the process. He noticed my jacket and asked if I was a USMC fan, which I confirmed. His dad was a Naval officer. The guy was obviously savvy in the ways of the military, as well as sailing. He and his friends lived near Lake Michigan, and we told them that we all hailed from Georgia.
This talking that we went through was our way of calming down, lowering the tension of the situation. An unspoken apology between David and Eli. All of us talked – about what Everworld was – how we were going to stay alive, everything – as we warmed up from the cold plunge into the water. As we talked, the boat glided across the surface of the water, moved by a slight current. At times, David set it in the right direction with one of the large oars that we'd found aboard.
As we turned a corner, we looked upon a village – a village here, in this cave. It had been built on a raised section of rock, well above the water. It had a functioning dock and several longboats milled around in the lake next to it. Standing on a platform that rose out of the water about thirty yards away from us was a Viking archer – who I guess acted as a lookout. He spotted us immediately.
"You there, aboard the boat! Who goes there?"
Eli let out a curse and jammed a magazine into his rifle, pulling the action back to ready it. I signaled for him not to shoot.
"Wait," I said sternly. Jayson and Kelsey had noticed something about this new Viking. His clothing and "uniform" were of different colors than the Vikings who we'd battled earlier. The shield fastened to his arm also bore a different design upon it. This wasn't to say he was our friend, or even that he wouldn't kill us, but the fact that he didn't seem to know who we were or that he hadn't tried to skewer one of us with an arrow (yet) seemed to be enough of a reason not to shoot him just yet. They quickly explained their reasoning. We needed a plan of action.
"Speak quickly!" The Viking was getting impatient, evident by the fact that he began to pull an arrow from his quiver.
Once again, April leapt into action.
"We're traveling minstrels! We mean you no harm!"
"Minstrels, eh?" the Viking asked suspiciously, "alright then, sing me a song."
An awkward silence passed among us for a few moments. In a barely audible voice, one that only we aboard the boat could hear, April said, "Just follow my lead."
With that, she began to sing a song. Her voice was as beautiful as she was. I couldn't make out all of the lyrics – I'd never heard the song before. It was something about Vikings trampling vineyards or some such. After a few moments, the rest of us joined in. I mostly mouthed the words – I'm not known for a spectacular singing voice. It was a pitiful display – a desperate attempt to not be discovered. There was no way he'd enjoy the song. Even as we sang, I pulled the slide back on my handgun without looking away from the Viking lookout. That's when our boat glided right up next to him. I couldn't believe what I saw. Tears were rolling down his cheeks.
In a small voice, he said, "Beautiful."
Thank you, April.
Our boat was docked and on shore we were introduced to a large, blond Norseman by the name of Thorolf. He had a deep, hearty voice. We were to be his responsibility until further notice. We walked through the village, a group of teenagers led by the first friendly Viking we'd laid eyes on so far. Other Norseman surrounded us – almost all were armed and armored, and I noticed that not all of them were Caucasian – there were Asian and black Vikings, as well. We passed by a blacksmith who was busily pounding out weapons, and we also passed multiple farming plots.
As we were passing a lot in which several women were rinsing clothes, Thorolf pointed at the one that seemed to be the leader.
"My wife," he explained. The woman was burly, with brown hair and a large physique. Jayson was obviously trying to stifle a laugh – that big Jayson grin appeared on his face, but Eli was quick enough to intervene with an elbow to the ribs.
"She's beautiful," April said politely.
Libby followed suit, "She looks… nice."
Thorolf nodded, "You minstrels will stay at my farm tonight. Great King Olaf Ironfoot requests your presence tomorrow,"
We were in no position to argue, so we nodded our understanding. Thorolf then led us through a forest at the edge of town. We walked for around a mile, then emerged from the woods, and it became obvious that we were no longer in an underground cavern – how was that? A full moon loomed overhead. We spotted what appeared to be a farm. Cattle grazed in a fenced pasture, and there was a barn to the right of a considerably-sized farmhouse.
"You will sleep with the horses tonight. Get much rest – you will need it for your audience with King Olaf tomorrow," our guide said.
We understood, and were led to the barn. Thorolf showed us several stalls near each other that were empty, save for piles of hay that covered the ground. He left us, and we decided to relax – not much else we could do, and these Vikings seemed friendly enough. I unzipped my vest and laid it with my weapons against the wall of the booth, unbuttoned by jacket, and took off my shoes. My feet instantly felt much better – after having them on for several hours that included a march through the forest and running for our lives, the relief was great. Eli, Kelsey, and Brett settled down in the same stall as me, Jayson and Libby took a stall on the other side of ours, and the four others took residence in the one across from us. The horses in the other booths didn't seem to be bothered by our presence.
Hesitantly, I stretched out and put my back against the wall behind me, resting my head. The ten of us chatted idly about our situation – none of the talk was crucial – just natural conversation-making. A few minutes later, Thorolf's wife entered. She brought us trays for dinner, and we thanked her. The meal consisted of simple rolls, beer, and bowls of water. My companions eagerly began grabbing the food.
"Ay, Brett!" I called out to him.
"Jon," he quickly looked up from the tray to toss me a roll and I caught it.
"Thanks, man." I said, and examined the thing. It was hard, brown, but it was food. We needed to keep our strength – and I was hungry. I took a bite, decided it wasn't bad, and ate the rest. As for drinks, we were cautious of the ale. Well, except for Brett and Christopher, that is. They both quickly gulped down a cup of the alcohol, and Christopher gladly drank everyone else's. The rest of us took to passing around the bowls of water to drink from them.
As we were finishing up, Thorolf entered. He saw our routine and laughed deeply and heartily. "You must be minstrels indeed, making a joke by leaving the ale and drinking the cleaning water! Ha ha ha!"
We looked to one another and smiled uneasily. Somehow, I guessed these Vikings didn't exactly use water for drinking. That was what ale was for, as far as they were concerned. Thorolf took the now-empty dishes and left us for the night. I laid my head back against the wall and, after a while, closed my eyes. With time, sleep came.