Buku The Terror: A Short Story by Giles Kristian

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The Terror: A Short Story by Giles Kristian

Author:Giles Kristian [Kristian, Giles]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2014-11-07T08:00:00+00:00

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The Terror: A Short Story by Giles Kristian

#

I don’t know why, considering all that had just happened, but the last thing we expected to hear was angry voices bellowing across the water: yelled insults, shouts that we were craven cowards and murderers. After all, we had killed everyone at the stead. Well, everyone apart from the thrall and Alfarin’s ugly wife, and it was not her who was clamouring.

‘Where in Niflheim did they come from?’ Olaf said.

 

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The Terror: A Short Story by Giles Kristian

Author:Giles Kristian [Kristian, Giles] , Date: June 6, 2019

,Views: 16

Author:Giles Kristian [Kristian, Giles]

Language: eng

Format: epub

Published: 2014-11-07T08:00:00+00:00
#

I don’t know why, considering all that had just happened, but the last thing we expected to hear was angry voices bellowing across the water: yelled insults, shouts that we were craven cowards and murderers. After all, we had killed everyone at the stead. Well, everyone apart from the thrall and Alfarin’s ugly wife, and it was not her who was clamouring.

‘Where in Niflheim did they come from?’ Olaf said.

The skipsbåt following us was half as long again as ours but had three pairs of oars in the water where we had only one pair. It hardly took sea-craft to know they would catch us before we were safe across the channel.

‘Friends of Alfarin,’ Slagfid supposed. ‘That lad ran off, remember? Must have known his master was outmatched.’

‘Who would have thought that prick would have so many friends?’ Styrbiorn said.

‘I do not think we really got to know the man,’ I said.

‘Still, it is more likely they are friends of this bad-tempered beast,’ Olaf said, nodding at the ram which stood wide-eyed and bleating in the thwarts.

What none of us had yet brought up was the unfortunate fact that our pursuers were armed – you could not miss the blades they were waving – and we were…well, naked, having left those swords up at Alfarin’s place for his poor wife to sell. I had Alfarin’s helmet of course, having stashed it under the stern bench. But I would have felt a fool wearing that and nothing else, so I left it where it was.

‘Can you not row faster than this, Olaf?’ Styrbiorn said.

‘Why don’t you jump overboard, you big bloody ox, and then we will see how fast we can go,’ Olaf said.

But that had given me an idea.

‘They are close enough that I can see their ugly faces,’ Slagfid said. ‘Gods but I wish I had a good long-axe now.’

‘Well, seeing as you don’t, this is what we are going to do,’ I said.

‘So you are giving the orders now?’ Olaf said.

I cupped a hand around my ear. ‘I am listening, Olaf. Let us hear your cunning scheme. I am certain Loki is chafing to hear it too.’

The foulness which Olaf muttered into his beard then could hardly be called a plan.

So I continued. ‘So, Slagfid, if you ever dreamt of being our jarl’s prowman, this is your time to show us what you have got.’

Slagfid’s brows arched like Bifröst. ‘At the arse end of a rowboat? With an oar instead of an axe?’

He was right; it was hardly the stuff of skald songs. But what choice did we have?

Olaf was red-faced and bellowing at the row bench now, his oars bending with the strain. The muscles on his arms were swollen with blood and his shoulders and neck were corded with bulging veins.

And yet our enemies were close enough for me to wish I had a spear. As I have said, there were three at the oars, but there were two more standing at her bow and these had swords in their hands and grimaces in their beards.

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