Galvanized by Snorri's taunt, he started his jog. Gunnar fearfully snapped behind his shield, and both Ulfrik and Snorri trembled at restraining their laughter. He gained speed as he approached Gunnar, then pulling before him, Ulfrik hopped up and slammed his foot on Gunnar's shield.
His son grunted and shoved into the blow, but the force drove him to the ground and Snorri stumbled backward. Catching his foot on something, he collapsed as well. Now Ulfrik's laughter exploded. "Easiest battle I ever fought, one kick to breach a shield wall."
Snorri rolled on the grass laughing, while Gunnar threw his shield aside. "Not fair! You didn't give me time to brace."
"Any more time and Snorri would've died of old age. Now stand up and we'll try again."
Gunnar sprang to his feet and retrieved his shield. Then Ulfrik heard his name shouted in the distance. His stomach tightened, and he shared a worried glance with Snorri who still sat in the grass. He faced the caller.
Running across the field, a man waved his arms overhead and shouted. As he neared, Ulfrik recognized him as Darby, a shepherd for his flock. "Lord Ulfrik, raiders! Raiders!"
"Gunnar, raise the alarm at the hall." Ulfrik removed the shield from his son's grip, who looked up at him with wide eyes. "Run, now!"
Ulfrik ran to close the gap with Darby, Snorri following fast behind. As they met, he saw Darby's face and shirt smeared with blood. A quick glance across the horizon revealed no smoke or other sign of destruction.
"Raiders," Darby said, stumbling the final distance. He leaned on his knees, fat drops of blood running from his head and plopping to the grass. "They stole your flock, about two-thirds of it."
"Are they headed over land or sailing away?" Ulfrik grabbed Darby's shoulders, then lifted his face to examine the wound. He had been gashed above his left brow. "Did you fight them?"
"No, lord," Darby's eyes fell aside. "Too many, and they struck me in the head. I was dazed for a long while. They must've thought me dead."
"Better you didn't fight, lad," Snorri said, patting Darby's shoulder. "You did well to warn us."
"Have they just gone? We could catch them, if we are swift."
"I ran as fast as I could, lord. They know the land, using the paths up the northern cliffs. It will take time to herd the sheep down to their ship. You could catch them still."
Ulfrik ran for the hall without another word. A blaring horn told him Gunnar had fulfilled his task. The paths along the northern cliffs were steep and treacherous, and hidden from anyone who did not already know where to search. This meant he had time to intercept them at sea, and also meant the raiders were locals. Hit and run foreign pirates would not bypass an unsuspecting village to steal sheep from pastureland. His northern enemies had come to pick at his weakness.
Outside the hall, men already fell into place, dragging shield and spear in their rush to meet the threat. Runa waited outside the hall door with Gunnar, her face a tense picture of fear. She reached for Ulfrik as he neared, as if touching him would dismiss the threat. "What's happening? Gunnar said raiders are coming."
Pausing only long enough to offer Runa a reassuring squeeze, he moved for his men. "Gunnar, fetch my sword and shield. You men, listen! My flocks have been raided, through the north cliff paths. So it's our shit-eating neighbors come to fatten their stores for winter and empty ours."
Angry shouts met his announcement. As Snorri fell in beside him, Ulfrik handed him the wooden shield he had carried from practice. "Darby said they might still be near. So get to the ship and catch these bastards!"
Gunnar emerged, shield and sword wrapped in his arms. Ulfrik accepted these, and nodded at Gunnar. "Go to your mother."
"I want to go with you."
"Go to your mother and protect your brother. Hakon needs you." He had no time to waste on Gunnar's protest or Runa's worry, but bounded downslope with his men. Fortunately, Raven's Talon still sat at dock and had not been carried into the boathouse for winter. The fastest men were already loosening her moorings and preparing to sail. Streaking down the slope, he dashed across the dock and leapt the rails.
Snorri barely made it aboard as the ship slipped free, men using oars to launch the ship. "Gods, lad! Did you plan on leaving me?"
Ulfrik ignored him, straining his eyes along the horizon. He guessed his thieves were relatives of his old enemy, Hardar. His cousins had slipped back north after Ulfrik's victory, but had returned often enough to be a continual threat. The raiders would have to sneak from the fjord and take a northern route along the cliffs. Ulfrik only had to follow, and if the gods loved him he could catch the raiders as they passed out of the fjord.
Men rowed as hard as they dared, conserving strength for the fight they anticipated. Though the stolen sheep belonged to Ulfrik, reduction of flocks hurt them all equally. The sheep were more valuable than jewels and gold, especially in winter.
The wind fought them, but Ulfrik roared into it as if he could blow it back. He threatened, cursed, and cajoled every back at the oars. Even Snorri rowed, muscles bulging as if he were a man twenty years younger. No one wanted the raiders to escape.
"Ship ahead!" someone shouted. Ulfrik craned to see beyond the prow, spying a wide ship in the gray distance. Over the wind and the slash and spray of the sea, he heard the bleating of captured sheep.
"Row harder, men! It's a fat ship, slower than ours. Keep at it, and bring me to those scum!"
The ship was an impractical choice for a hit and run raid, though Ulfrik understood the need for size to hold his flock. Their mistake had been in not killing Darby, for now they would be caught. Ulfrik bit his lower lip in anticipation of capturing the ship and throwing its crew into the sea.
Waves pressed both ships toward the cliffs and rocks, making progress arduous and dangerous. Both sides knew the waters, and where the major threats lay. Along the route, the looming brown cliffs were cut with deep crevasses and inlets. Waves crashed and jetted spray into the air with thunderous roars. One such inlet lay ahead, though rocks made a wave-break before it. Almost the same moment Ulfrik cast his eyes at the dark purple slit in the cliffs, a thin knife of a ship launched out of it.
He slammed on the tiller, forcing a groan from the hull as Raven's Talon strained to bank away from the second ship.
"Ambush!" he yelled. "Get down!"
Swearing as he collapsed to the deck, first he heard arrows plunking into the planking then heard a howl as a shaft found flesh. Covering his head with both hands, his world darkened as the arrows fell. Being attuned to his ship, he sensed the current take command of its course. Even as arrows streaked across the gap, he leapt up to seize the tiller and steer against the waves ceaselessly forcing them to the cliffs.
Men huddled against the gunwales, sheltering from the arrows. One man squirmed on the deck, curled against his pain and gripping his pierced shoulder. Blood smeared the deck beneath him.
A second volley streaked after the first, though the wind batted many shafts into the water. Ulfrik hunkered at the tiller, forcing Raven's Talon to straighten her course. The cliffs glared down and their shadows brushed her hull. He glimpsed the ambushers lining the side of their ship, stringing more arrows.
"Do we have any bows?" Ulfrik's question sounded more like a plea. He had not prepared bows, thinking only to catch the raiders' ship. No one replied, but held themselves low against the next volley. Now the gap had widened and the last flight of arrows served only as a warning not to drift into range. Ulfrik ran to the prow, past his cowering men, jumping up to shake his fist at the ambushers.
"Come fight!" he challenged. The crew of the slender ship waved their bows overhead and laughter skipped across the water to Ulfrik's ears. "You won't escape me, you turds. I know who you are!"