Border of Bones

Prologue

Salty winds howled across the bow as the ship carved its way through steel-grey waters. Tolly’s knuckles whitened against the railing, his fingers numb from cold. Belowdecks, he could hear the passengers moaning and bringing up the small amounts of food they had brought with them. Smallpox had pursued them across the Irish Sea despite every effort to escape it.

‘God save us,’ the old woman said a few feet away, her breath exiting her like a ghostly mist.

Tolly fixed his gaze on the horizon where the Welsh coastline would appear. A prayer passed his lips, a plea for deliverance from disease and death aboard a floating prison. He tugged up the hood of his dead father’s cloak to protect his ears from the piercing cold. The wood beneath his feet felt like ice seeping through the soles of his shoes.

The old woman coughed, prompting him to shuffle further away.

She laughed at that, her weather-worn face creasing. ‘I don’t blame you. That sickness respects neither young nor brave.’

Tolly did not respond.

‘Ye think we’ll make it off the ship, boy?’ she asked.

He glanced west, knowing that the moment the sun disappeared, the temperature would plummet. ‘God willing.’ He never slept at night for fear he would not wake.

The words had barely left his mouth when someone called, ‘Land ahead!’

The crew began shouting to one another, and ropes creaked overhead. Tolly could just make out the silhouette of land in the east.

‘It seems God wills it after all,’ the woman said, letting go of the rail and retreating to a spot out of the wind.

Tolly leaned his elbows on the timber and blew warm breath into his hands as he watched the land grow bigger and the details more vivid. An hour passed before he could see the dock. It was packed with men watching the ship approach. Eventually, he could make out the wary expressions on their faces. He watched as a small boat rowed out to the ship, preventing it from docking. An uneasy feeling replaced the hunger in his belly.

‘Why are we stopping?’ the woman asked, expecting him to have answers.

He glanced back at her. ‘I don’t know.’

The boat’s occupants climbed aboard, two men holding cloths over their mouths and noses. They looked around, heard the noises below their feet. There was no sea wind strong enough to blow away the stench of death. They spoke with the captain, their voices rising and hands gesturing wildly. Then they climbed back into the boat and rowed away.

Two hours the ship remained there, the captain pacing back and forth across the deck and speaking in hushed voices with the crew. They were waiting for something. An answer or instruction of some kind.

Patience gone, the captain told the crew to dock. A minute later, the ship was moving towards the shore again. The men on the dock responded by fetching their longbows and setting the arrows alight.

Setting the arrows alight.

Nobody wanted them there. Who could blame them?

‘Incoming!’ someone shouted.

The sky was raining fire.

‘Fire on deck!’ shouted another.

Panic broke out like… like smallpox.

‘They mean to scorch us from existence,’ the old woman said, her voice shaking.

Tolly took off towards the bowsprit, smelling the smoke before he saw the flames. The visual confirmed what he already knew: the ship was on fire. Then came the rocks. When Tolly looked back at the dock, he spotted a catapult. One rock landed barely ten inches from his foot, breaking straight through the wood. He leapt back from it, his gaze travelling upwards when he noticed the sails were on fire. Then the ropes. Then the mast they were attached to. He glanced around, unsure where to go or what to do. There was no saving the ship as the flames spread from one sail to the next.

‘Everyone, into the water!’ the captain shouted when the barrels beside him burst into flames. ‘Swim to the shore!’

That was manageable for Tolly. He was a strong swimmer. But what about the old woman? She would not survive the drop into the water, let alone make it ashore.

People were bubbling up from the lower decks now, their faces covered in blistering pox. They ran in all directions, screaming for people and at people and some to no one at all. It was simply the sound of fear exiting their bodies.

Tolly returned to his old spot on deck and looked around for the woman, but she was gone. Nowhere to be seen. He told himself that she had already jumped overboard and was on her way to the shore, because if he believed she was hiding somewhere on the boat, he might feel obligated to search for her, help her, despite being scared to death and unsure if he could even help himself.

He stepped up to the rail and looked down at the water. What if the fear rendered his arms useless? What if God willed him dead?

The heat coming from above had him shedding his cloak. The air bit at his skin through his clothes as he climbed onto the railing and stared down at the dark churning waters breaking against the side of the ship. People were jumping left and right, and Tolly flinched every time they hit the water below. Encouraged when they reappeared, he swung his legs over the railing and let go.

Down he fell, into the water. The shock of the cold stole the breath from his lungs. He resurfaced with a gasp as flames roared above him. His arms and legs still worked. Fixing his gaze on the shore, he headed towards it. He swam hard and fast until the surrounding air was pierced by the threatening hiss of arrows. But they were not aimed at the ship. They were aimed at the people in the water trying to escape it. Then came the cries from those struck. Tolly pulled up to watch a man drown in front of him, just out of reach. He knew trying to help him would mean death. His gaze returned to the dock, to the determined faces of the archers. They were protecting their own, ensuring the plague of disease that had just arrived on their shores did not take what little they had left. But if Tolly did not make it ashore, then his brother would never find him. Cardiganshire was their meeting place. Their reunion was supposed to take place on the very dock they stood on trying to kill him.

Panic sent him swimming backwards out of reach of the arrows, but there was no getting back on the ship. A body floated by, facedown in the water. Even though he knew they were dead, instinct had him reaching for the person and flipping them over. It was the old woman, her mouth open and eyes empty. He shoved her away with a sharp intake of breath. With a surge of desperation, he swam away from the ship and out to sea, certain it would drag him down and drown him.

But he did not drown. He did not even tire at first. Fear was fuel, and he had an endless supply of it.

Only when he was so far out that no one could see him did he stop and look back. The once-proud ship was tilting, slowly sinking into the water inch by inch. Passengers and crew continued to jump overboard while others clung desperately to broken masts and burning sails. They were waving for help, but there was none. The wood creaked and groaned as it was ripped apart by the force of the sea. Shouts and cries rang out as water rushed into the lower decks, blending with the chaos.

There was no going back.

Tolly continued swimming, staying parallel to the coast. He could make it ashore further south. He simply had to ignore the burn in his muscles and chattering teeth, the pain deep in his lungs every time he drew breath. The cold was a living thing, intent on killing him.

As he swam, images of his family flashed through his mind. His sister’s pretty grey eyes. His father’s eternal frown. His mother’s gentle hands on his face. And the brother who would come looking for him. Ryder needed him to survive. He needed to save one person in their family after helplessly watching the others die.

Keep moving.

Tolly was not sure how long he swam for, but as the swell rose and fell, his strokes grew sluggish and his thoughts muddled. The sea was eager to claim him, drawing a defiant roar from deep in his chest. It rang out across the tumultuous water, all his remaining energy expelled with it. The salt blurred his vision as he fought to keep his head above the water’s surface. So when a longship appeared in the distance, its dragon-headed prow cutting through the water, he did not trust what he was seeing. He treaded water, blinking, spitting, and swallowing.

‘Mother! Look!’

It was a youthful voice, speaking in old Norse. Through the stinging salt, Tolly saw a young girl with platinum hair, parted in the middle and held in two braids, standing at the prow of the vessel. Her hand was pointed at him. A woman appeared beside her, a concerned look on her face. Her eyes were gentle as they took him in.

‘What is it?’ came the gruff retort of a man.

The girl looked behind her. ‘A boy. He’s alive.’

‘We’re not taking strays.’

The woman’s expression softened as she looked at Tolly. ‘He’s just a boy. He’ll drown if we leave him.’

‘Death is all he’ll bring aboard,’ the man said as he stepped into view, peering down at Tolly. ‘Likely come from the ship—full of pox.’

They argued like Tolly’s parents had once. As they continued back and forth, the young girl reached for an oar and slid it across the side of the ship, extending it all the way out to Tolly. He grasped it with both hands, which was surprising given how numbed he was by cold and fatigue. A young boy stepped up beside the girl, a gosling tucked against his chest. He was a few years younger than the girl and stared down at him with open curiosity.

‘Lina, get that oar back in the boat,’ her father said when he saw what she was doing.

Her name was Lina.

She made a sad face at him. ‘He’s going to drown. We could tow him closer to shore.’

‘No.’

‘Farulf,’ the woman said gently, touching his arm. ‘Listen to your daughter. He’s a child.’

Farulf appeared unmoved. ‘He’s a stranger.’

Lina blinked. ‘What of courage in the face of strangers?’

The man’s jaw worked as he looked around the boat at the other passengers, who were all waiting to see what he would say. Tolly’s fate rested on his reply.

‘Curse your soft hearts,’ he muttered with a defeated sigh before walking off. ‘Take us closer to the shore,’ he instructed, ‘but keep us out of shooting range.’

Lina gave Tolly a victorious smile. ‘I’ve got you. Now hold on properly, and don’t let go.’

With strength he found from God only knew where, Tolly dragged himself over the oar so that his chest lay across the blade. The girl struggled with the additional weight, so her mother stepped up to help her. Tolly wrapped his arms around the smooth timber, and his eyes sank shut. A moment later, the boat began to move.

Chapter One

Waiting for an arrow to strike you was not Lina’s idea of a fun time. She adjusted her grip on her shield as she scanned the green hills and rocky cliff faces around them. Behind her, longships were being dragged onto the beach. Everyone was eager to be on land after six days at sea. Glancing sideways at her brother, she noted the nervous twisting of his axe.

‘Calm yourself,’ she said quietly so their father would not hear. Simian received enough criticism without her drawing more attention to him.

Farulf stepped up between them and stretched out his fingers. They had fought an easterly wind to come ashore, which had aggravated his condition. ‘All quiet?’

‘Looks to be,’ Lina said, keeping her eyes trained on their surroundings.

Simian cleared his throat. ‘How far can a Chadorian defender shoot an arrow?’

Lina’s mouth turned up. ‘We’re too far north for defenders. Attacking us would require them to venture out from behind their walls.’

‘Wastelanders, then,’ Simian said.

Lina lowered her shield a little. ‘There are no wastelanders. The handful who survived the famine have since sold their souls to the Queen of Carmarthenshire.’

Farulf glanced at his daughter. ‘That doesn’t make them any less of a threat. Remember, there are close to a thousand soldiers in the Carmarthen Militia and only four hundred of us.’

‘One sea warrior is the equivalent of three soldiers,’ Lina said confidently, ‘which means they’re outnumbered.’

Her father chuckled lightly before turning away. ‘Silly girl. Simian, give me a hand with the crates.’

The pair headed back to their longship.

An elkhound went bolting past, kicking water up at Lina. A moment later, Aife followed, howling like a dog. The ten-year-old was as wild as her older sister. Lina watched as Trinka splashed through the shallow water towards her, dark locks of hair clinging to her face thanks to the relentless ocean spray.

‘Do you think it’s safe for your sister to be running about the beach?’ Lina asked.

Trinka looked at Aife, who was spinning in circles with her arms outstretched. ‘She’s not going to hurt anyone.’

‘I meant safe for her.’

Trinka waved a hand. ‘She has more knives packed into her trousers than me.’ Drawing a deep breath, she rested an arm on Lina’s shoulder. ‘We’re going to eat so much meat this summer. We’ll be unrecognisable by the end.’

‘You’re assuming no one else is hunting here.’

The dog ran by again, spraying the pair with water. Trinka turned her face away, then looked off down the beach. ‘Father says everything between here and River Teifi is ours for the taking.’

They had arrived in Llangrannog, a village in the kingdom of Cardiganshire. The kingdom was nestled between England in the north and Chadora and Carmarthenshire in the south. ‘We’ve seen one beach. Let’s not get too comfortable just yet.’

They both stared at Aife, who was now digging a large hole with the help of her dog.

‘What are you doing?’ Trinka asked her.

Aife continued without looking up. ‘Making a trap!’

‘What are you trapping?’ Lina asked.

‘A husband for Trinka!’

Trinka frowned. ‘Whatever gets the job done, I suppose.’ Then she called to her sister, ‘Make sure it’s nice and deep!’ Her gaze returned to Lina. ‘I like a big man.’

Lina shook her head. ‘Oh, I know.’

‘Incoming!’ Simian shouted.

Lina and Trinka instinctively reached back for their bows, then realised that he was warning them of Olga’s arrival. The goose skated across the water and landed next to Lina.

‘For the love of God, boy,’ Farulf scolded. ‘Think before you shout. You had the entire clan arming themselves.’

Simian sheepishly adjusted his grip on the crate he was carrying. ‘Sorry.’

Lina bent to pick up Olga. ‘What do you think, old lady? Happy to be on land again?’

‘She’s happy to be anywhere but in a pot,’ Trinka said, affectionately tapping the goose’s beak with her finger. ‘Your father’s too soft.’

‘Don’t let him hear you say that,’ Lina whispered as she placed the goose down again. ‘We should probably help.’

Farulf dispersed men left and right to check the area and set up a perimeter for their camp. When the longships were unloaded, they all made their way to the clearing amid the trees. It was out of sight of the shoreline for safety and offered some protection from the elements. Everyone got to work erecting tents and building enclosures for the small amount of livestock they had brought with them. Once the animals were secured, they made beds and built fires to cook on.

‘Why is Olga not in with the rest of the livestock?’ Farulf asked, taking a seat next to Simian in front of the fire.

He knew exactly why. Lina looked down at Olga, who was tucked in a loose ball on her lap. ‘She’s just warming up.’

Farulf gave her a tired look before diverting his attention to Simian, who was carving into a small piece of wood. ‘Why aren’t you out hunting?’

‘I’ll go shortly.’ He was so engrossed in what he was doing, he did not even look up.

Farulf leaned closer. ‘What is that?’

‘Every detail I can recall of the seabird I spotted while coming ashore.’

Lina watched her father’s expression turn from annoyed to defeated. Simian was always carving things of interest to him. Back home in Trondheim, there was a box in their house filled with such pieces. ‘A puffin?’ she asked.

‘No.’ He finally looked up. ‘Its markings were different and its legs smaller.’ He turned the knife in his fingers as he thought. It was clear that hunting was the last thing he wanted to do.

Lina placed Olga down on the ground and rose. The goose flapped her wings in protest and shook out her feathers. ‘I’ll hunt,’ Lina said, going to fetch her bow and quiver. ‘You take care of the fire.’

Simian looked up all hopeful. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I’m sure.’

Farulf changed the position of his feet. It was clear by the speed with which he moved that they were hurting. ‘You won’t be sitting around carving. There’s firewood to collect.’

Lina went to leave.

‘Don’t go past the perimeter,’ her father said.

‘I’ll only cross if our dinner does.’

He looked at her to check that she was joking. ‘Very funny.’

Olga was preparing to follow her. ‘Absolutely not,’ Lina said to the goose. ‘You are the worst hunting companion on the planet. Stay right there.’

Simian reached for Olga, and she honked in protest.

The air was already cooling as Lina went by Trinka’s tent to see if she wanted to join her. Her father, Frode, said that the girls had gone to set traps.

‘They left not long ago if you want to try to catch them,’ he said, pointing in the direction they had gone.

‘Thanks.’

He offered her a brief toothless smile before returning his attention to the fire.

Lina headed south in search of Trinka and Aife, greeting other clan members along the way. Many were out foraging for whatever food they could find close to the camp. While she did not know everyone by name, everyone knew the chieftain’s daughter.

The landscape was breathtaking, with its rolling hills that stretched for miles, though sadly the meadows that would normally be populated with wildflowers in the summer resembled muddy fields. The sun occasionally peeped through the heavy cloud cover as she walked, warming her back for fleeting periods.

She trekked for half a mile before the trail she was following disappeared. After studying the ground for a moment, she found fresh tracks and followed them east.

As she moved beneath a canopy of trees, her surroundings darkened and the temperature fell. She listened for Trinka and Aife, but all she could hear were birds. The last thing she wanted to do was call out to them and send every hare in the region running for cover. But soon, she lost the tracks completely and ended up having to backtrack before eventually giving up the search.

She would be hunting solo that day.

As Lina looked around at the cloud cover seeping between the trees, she felt a sense of unease. The birds that had been vocal the entire walk had fallen quiet. That was the moment she realised she was not alone. She felt eyes upon her, watching. As much as she wanted it to be Trinka and Aife, remaining silent to avoid scaring off all the prey, her gut told her otherwise. She loaded her bow, her fingers instinctively tightening around it as she did so. When she went to walk forwards, an arrow struck the ground right where her foot was about to land. Drawing her bow, she searched the trees.

All was still.

Lina braced for another arrow, but it did not come. A single shot was a warning. That was as far as she was allowed to go.

She flicked her gaze down to the arrow protruding from the mud, noting the peacock fletching. It seemed they were not the only ones with a perimeter in place. Her ears strained for any thread of noise as she continued to watch the trees around her but did not see a thing. Slowly, she began to back up in the direction she had just come.

‘All right,’ she said calmly, in case the shooter could hear her. ‘I’m leaving.’

Only when she was twenty yards away from the arrow sticking out of the ground did she turn and jog away.