The United States of Vinland Box Set by Colin Taber

Author:Colin Taber [Taber, Colin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Alternate History, Fiction, Historical, Science Fiction, Vikings
Publisher: Thought Stream Creative Services
Published: 2018-11-16T16:00:00+00:00

The United States of Vinland: Loki’s Rage

Prelude: The Midnight Sun

Early Summer, Faraldr’s Farm, Greenland.

There was no easy way to hide, not in summer, when the Greenland sun only briefly set. The sky, touched by the gloom of dusk on one horizon, still burned amber where the sun had dipped below on the other – and above the thin clouds stretched golden. Yet it was midnight.

In spite of the dim light, Ineke knew now was the time to strike. The short night would not get any darker and, soon enough, the sun would rise to start a fresh day.

Besides, those who followed her grew restless.

She had led them to the shores of Greenland, sailing along the Brine Road, guided by her adoptive brother, Raust. They were more than half way to Markland, but they needed to replenish their supplies.

And here was the place to do it, at her Uncle Faraldr’s Greenlandic farm.

Pastures surrounded the farm in front of them, the buildings and yards nursed in a low vale split by a good stream that meandered to meet the calm waters of the fjord. All of it was edged by ridges of bare rock. In some ways, the land was like Iceland, but it was not the same. Greenland was still rugged, but also bore a tired look, as though it had long ago been exhausted by the wind and weight of what Raust had said were extremely bitter winters.

At least for now, in summer, the air was still and fresh – and thankfully clear of the fogs they had passed through during the last few days.

The banks of mist still unnerved her.

Agmundr, the grey-haired leader of the shipwrights, stood beside her and murmured, “The farm is surrounded.”

Raust had warned of the doors on the far side where two new wings ran off the old stone and turf hall. Those extensions, built of Markland timber, were used to house many of the settlers who wintered here during the annual crossing along the Brine Road.

With a grim smile, she wondered – would there be more of such crossings?

Perhaps not. Not after the mess she and her people had left behind in Iceland.

And what they would leave here...

She nodded at Agmundr and prepared to go forward.

Before she did, she glanced back over her shoulder at the fjord’s waters. With no ships at anchor, other than her own, it was safe to say that the settlers who had spent the previous winter here had already sailed for Markland.

Her dark smile broadened.

She commanded eight ships – a mix of large cargo-carrying knarr’s and longships – as she led hundreds of people seeking land in the west.

Half of them were the shipwrights or those who had followed her from Jarl Drengr’s village, now a looted ruin, while others had joined her from other settlements and farms along the Icelandic coast. Everywhere they had travelled, before sailing west, they had spoken of green vales, fertile fields, and a new world of woods and riches, collecting more ships, and those willing to fill them, in return for the promise of land.

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