The Norse Queen (The Norsewomen Book 1) by Johanna Wittenberg

Author:Johanna Wittenberg [Wittenberg, Johanna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Shellback Studio
Published: 2020-02-10T22:00:00+00:00

Gudrød kept both smiths busy repairing weapons and making new ones for his warriors. The smithy rang with hammer blows. Along with sword blades, Ulf turned out spear tips, arrowheads, and axe-heads, while Arne repaired chain mail and helmets and forged new shield bosses. The charcoal burners worked night and day to keep up with their needs. Every man that could be spared assisted the smiths, riveting spearheads to shafts, sharpening battle-axes, hauling wood and water, collecting scrap metal to be reforged. The boys vied for their turn treading the double bellows to keep the forge’s dual fires white hot.

Gudrød took Olaf down to the beach where the longships lay, ready for action.

“Now, boy, you will learn the art of command. Sea Dragon is yours.”

Olaf stared at the ship. Sea Dragon was a smaller version of his father’s vessel in every way. With thirty oar ports, it was a real warship. The dragon’s head on the stem matched the one on Gudrød’s flagship, Dragonlord. Olaf could hardly believe he had a ship of his own to command. What a change from a few months ago. This was his opportunity to prove himself as a leader, to gain renown and attract followers. A man who wished to be king must show skill and courage in battle, and even more important, he must demonstrate his luck. Gudrød had never given him a chance like this before.

Olaf moved aboard Sea Dragon immediately. The comforts of the hall had lost their allure. He craved the salt air and the stars in the night sky. Scarcely sleeping, he sat up all night honing Bear Biter to a fine edge.

The next day, he passed the hazel poles of the practice yard with a confidence he had never felt before. For the first time, he was glad to see Hrolf waiting to challenge him. He met his half brother’s searing stare and gave a brief nod before drawing his practice sword.

Olaf let Hrolf charge, dodging the blade at the last moment. Hrolf whipped around and stabbed up under Olaf’s shield. Olaf slammed his shield down on Hrolf’s sword arm with a numbing force. Before Hrolf could recover, Olaf fetched him a blow to the helm that sent him reeling, then swept the flat of his sword at Hrolf’s legs, bringing him down to the jeers of the onlookers.

Hrolf lay on the field in defeat, but his glare promised revenge of such ferocity that it sent an icy shard of fear up Olaf’s spine.

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