The Distant Tide - Heather Day Gilbert Page 0,2

functioning eye.

“What was the real purpose of this voyage, Ari?”

What sort of question was that? The entire crew understood his motivation to avenge his brother’s blood, spilled in this deceptively green place—Ireland, some called it. The clan responsible for Egil’s death must feel the wrath of the Northmen, as had so many others on this fair isle.

Feeling weighted by the heavy, humid air, Ari chose his weapon carefully and did not answer. He was most comfortable with his sword, its name carved in the blade: Peacebreaker. Surely it was an apt name, since peace had been stolen from him with Egil’s untimely death. His brother had only been sixteen when he fell in a raid on this very castle.

Sigfrid pressed him again. “Are you certain you want to attack?”

A sudden twinge of doubt reared its head. He had only been ten himself when his brother was slain. His father forced him to stay with his mother on the longship, waiting for the outcome of the struggle. Although he could barely remember the castle his family had raided, he could still close his eyes and smell the pungent blood that had spread across Egil’s chest that day.

His eyes fixed on the odd mountain backing this castle, its point similar to the beak of one of Odin’s ravens. Strange that he could not recall it from his youth.

Sigfrid had not been with his family during that raid, so he could not confirm Ari’s memory. But he had followed the course his father had mentioned, and the lines of the castle looked so familiar. This was the one.

Blond strands of hair escaped their leather binding as Ari nodded forcefully. “Of course we must attack. We did not sail here to trade or explore. We came for vengeance.”

Sigfrid nodded. “Then take care as you scout for us.”

Thunder boomed, and he sheathed Peacebreaker, taking his shorter knife in hand. This sharp angled seax would serve him well in close quarters. He hoped to gain access to the castle grounds before anyone could send up an alarm.

The men had set up camp last night and would soon lose the benefit of surprise. Ari knew they were still exhausted from the long voyage to this Irish inlet. He had to move now that twilight was falling.

He gave a nod to his men. No words were necessary. If they heard his battle cry, no force on earth could stop them, no matter how exhausted they were. Like a wave of heat and hatred, Vikings would sweep the offensive castle clean.

The rain moved in heavy sheets, forming deep puddles and loosening Ari’s footing. Creeping cautiously among the wet tangle of berry vines inside the walled garden, he hoped the tightly stitched seams of his leather boots would keep his feet dry. There was nothing he hated more than cold, soaked feet. At home, when he checked traps in the deep snows, there had been several times he’d feared frostbite would take his toes.

He glanced back at the circuitous route he’d taken to creep up to the rear of the castle. Clambering the stone wall hadn’t been easy in the near dark, but it was surprisingly low. Perhaps the Irish were prepared for shorter invaders, or perhaps they anticipated attacks only on the castle gate in the front. He had spied but a single guard stationed there.

It was possible that he had timed his attack well, when the castle wasn’t fully manned. And the crashing storm had provided effortless concealment. It was a sign: the gods smiled upon this raid.

He clenched his jaw. Who was he fooling? The gods hadn’t protected his brother. They hadn’t given him any happiness in the years he had tried to please his father, stepping into the position of heir. They had never even brought him a woman interesting enough to marry.

He fingered the ancient bronze bottle he kept belted inside his tunic. It was unwieldy, but it was his heritage, and he didn’t want to die without it. It was a trophy from his ancestor, who had bravely sailed west, to this very country, and plundered the holy men who lived here. This bottle and its story had passed to each Thorvaldsson heir. Ari stomached the thought that Egil should have inherited it and pushed on.

Candlelight flickered in the window then disappeared. This was his chance. He gripped his seax, ready to slash at anyone inside. For Egil, he told himself. For Egil he would bring this castle to its knees.

Chapter 2

Spinning her mother’s