Bothvar Beorcolsson
The day has finally come. I give each of my family a hug. My two little brothers, Bodvar and Thormar. My little sister Svala. My Aunt Sigvor gives me an amulet and tells me it’ll protect me from the magic of the blue-eyed elves. I nod and thank her. My mother nearly smothers me in a bear hug. I almost thought she would never let me go. Tears stream down her eyes as she holds my face in her hands, taking in every last detail before she kisses my forehead and finally lets me go. She does the same to Thorkel, and threatens him to look after me while snuffing the breath out of him with a rib-breaking hug.
My father too gives me a long hug. He looks into my eyes with a nod. “I’m proud of you, son. Now don’t do anything foolish and have your brother’s back. Remember to watch out for the shallows.”
I nod, and this time, his farewell advice isn’t as cryptic as it usually is. I remember the lesson he taught us about the differences between our ships and the elves. Ours are lighter, which makes them sink less into the water.
One last time, I will kiss my wife goodbye and hold my child. I take in those blue eyes of hers and that cute, little nose. Trying to memorize the feel of her lips on mine and the sound of her beautiful voice as she tells me she loves me with tears in her eyes. I try to wipe them away, but the flow never stops. She holds onto me as long as she can before she must take our son and watch me leave with my brother and the rest of the crew. As we finish the final preparations on the ship and set sail, my brother and I take one last time to see our families. Our wives and our children as they stand to watch us go with the rest of them including our mother, Aunt Sigvor, and siblings. Koll, Einar, and Throst’s ships sail beside us as we head south with three other raiding parties.
I did not think it would be this hard to leave, but I feel a part of me has stayed behind with my wife and child. My brother puts his arm on mine as I meet my wife’s eyes for the last time until we return. As the distance between us becomes far too great for the eye to see, we turn our eyes forward and leave our village and our families behind.
As the slaves oar us forward, giving us speed with the sails, we walk up to meet with Skardi and Varin at the stern of the ship near the steering board. Varin shows Skardi the ins and outs of being a Sea Navigator. He shows him that the sun rises from the north, slightly to the east, and sets in the south, slightly to the west during this season. And how the days are much longer in the summer compared to winter, where the night takes over, hiding the sun from sight.
He also reveals how we navigate the sea at night with the stars. There are stories amongst the stars if you know how to read them. The heroes that the gods have seen as worthy rest among the stars along with the monsters of old. The most important one is the three-headed wolf. The top of the wolf’s middle head is a star that points northeast in the summer and shifts to slightly west in the winter.
Father has told me all of this. We have not discovered why this is, but I’m sure the gods have a reason for everything. Although Aldam’s words come back to me about the world being spun around the sun and stars that are just other suns with their own worlds around them. That surely makes more sense now.
Varin also talks about the smell in the air and how the salty sea gives the air the scent. As we get closer to land, the scent changes to a more earthy scent. Also, birds help tell when land is near. Birds can only be seen closer to land. We keep several ravens aboard when we sail out. We set them flying to check how close we are to land. They will return when there is no land, but will not return when land is near. Unless they die, of course.
The day goes on and we leave the land behind as the sun passes over the sky, marking mid-day. The only thing in sight is water as we head west.
I follow my brother around and watch what he does, learning from him how to lead a ship as one day I will have one of my own. The riggers, Ulf Skyrkarsson, Gizor Skasisson, and Gudleif Hialtisson maintain the sails, but for the most part, we keep it steady. Rognvald Homgavtisson is our quartermaster and rations out food and keeps a stock of inventory. Gest Geitirgestsson and Ragnfast Thorgautsson are the gunners of the mounted ballistae, while Hjorvarth Gudvaersson, Ragnar Ogmundsson, Slodi Illugisson, Gnupa Ondottsson, Meldun Karisson, Beiner Atsurrsson, Sveni Skidisson, and Anakol Eindridisson reload, rotate, and realign the ballistae for them.
The rest, including our good friends Solmund and Griotgard Sigvidson and their father, Sigvid Varinsson, help where it is needed but ready themselves to raid. We have slaves work the oars and fight if needed. There’s always a risk that the slaves might turn on us, but being an oarsman allows a slave to earn their freedom by taking a small share of the loot and eventually buying their freedom. That is why most slaves prefer being an oarsman, however hard it is, over a farmhand or personal servant. Although, in most cases, a sex slave is the most comfortable life as those slaves are usually favored unless they are unfortunate enough to have a cruel master. Some often become wives. I still question slavery, but it is not my place. Thorkel will one day be Earl, and these are his burdens to worry about.
Several of our raiders fish for more food, casting nets out to trail behind the ship with the pulley system we have implemented thanks to the Builders. If it weren’t for the Builder Clan, we would’ve been wiped out by the elves. Those crafty bastards come up with some crazy ideas, including putting ballistae on the ship and adding a fishing net line. They designed our three-deck ship so we could carry more loot and potential slaves back without having to sacrifice space for men to raid, storage for weapons and food, and slaves to oar. And these ships are far faster than most pirates and elves thanks to the combination of the sails and oarsmen, along with their design that allows our ships to cut through water like a hot knife through butter.
Our ballistae allows us to attack and cripple other ships, sink them with our hull breaker bolts, or attach ourselves with the chained bolts and use the ballista as a pulley to bring our two ships together so we can board theirs.
We also have blazers on board to allow us to cook and gain warmth without burning our ship down.
I feel on edge and jittery. My stomach feels like a flock of birds keeps migrating from my throat to my bowels and back. I know it’s not sea sickness. I’ve been on a ship plenty of times and never felt like this. Gripping the railing, I look out at the sea and all I can think about is what will happen when we come across a ship. A hand grips my shoulder. “You alright, Bothvar?”
I turn to find Guthhere Sighvatsson, an old, balding man who’s been on the crew long before Thorkel and I were born. I nod. He doesn’t seem satisfied. “Seems like your nerves are getting the better of ya. The first raid is always leaving fishes swimming in even the toughest of men’s stomachs. My suggestion is, when the fighting starts, stop thinking and just act. Leave your thoughts on the ship and follow your instincts and do what you’ve been training your whole life for.”
“How do I stop thinking?” I ask.
“You just do what you feel is right.” He gives me a smile, squeezes my shoulder. “Well, I’ll leave ya to think about it.”
The old man walks away.
We sail for days and days until we reach the elven shore, then we change course to the south and distance ourselves from the shoreline. We spread out from Throst, Einar, and Koll as we search for potential merchant ships to loot while avoiding elven fleets. I’ve lost track of how many days we’ve been out on the sea. I feel like we have spent the first quarter of summer at sea, yet we’ve seen no sign of any other ships. More days pass by and fog sets in as we finally find what we’re looking for. Coming out of the fog is what could only be a merchant ship. Thorkel’s voice carries out. “Ready to raid!”
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