Raven Boy

Chapter 18

Hrafn woke in a jolt. His raven had called to him.

The sun hadn't risen, but the sky was turning gray, the wind falling slightly. Next to the boy, his uncle Örjan snored in his sleep.

Trying to shake off the rest of his sleep, the boy jumped to his feet and leaned on the wooden rail. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. In a matter of a heartbeat he was in the head of his raven, looking through the bird's eyes. He was soaring very high in the morning sky and strong, fresh wind pleasantly stroked his feathers. Flying was good, a great pleasure, and the boy marveled at it just as much as his bird. Far below, seven ships glided on the waves, their sails bulging with the wind. From the height of his flight, they looked small like toys. They were large warships. Foreigners' warships. Raven's sight was so sharp that Hrafn could clearly distinguish the cargo – stones and weapons of all sorts, and the mail hauberks of the crew.

Sharing thoughts was so much quicker than exchanging words. In the time of one breath, the boy knew that the bird had reached the Foreign mainland and found that their warships were gone. It took the raven the whole night to find them and discover their plans.

"They are heading for the town," the bird silently informed him. "They have nearly one day on you. Hurry."

Hrafn's eyes flew wide open, his heart thumping. The town had no chance against such an army. He had guessed right the Foreigners' plans, but it didn't make him feel any better. He span around and called, "We are turning back! Now!"

"What?!" gasped Ottar, who sat nearby.

Hrafn turned to Sveinn, who was on the rudder.

"Sveinn, turn us back, quickly!"

This time, Sveinn didn't bother to hide his bewilderment. "Konungr, what's the matter with you? We are more than halfway to the fortress!"

"Turn the ship, please! I'll explain later!" Hrafn put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. The sharp sound covered the wind and the waves, making most of the Vikings jump. Even on the second ship people heard it. Hrafn shouted, "Start wearing! We are going back!"

He instantly ordered the same thing to the second ship through the sign system he had taught them.

To say that the Vikings were flabbergasted was an understatement. Instead of following the orders, the warriors scowled and shouted.

"We are almost there!"

"Are you mad?"

"We can't turn back!"

"Vikings are not cowards!"

"Are you scared or what?"

"Told you he wouldn't have the nerve!"

The last one belonged to Kirk. Arms crossed over his chest, the boy returned them their scowl.

"I am the konungr here, and I just gave orders" he said, boiling inside.

His red hair messy after sleep, Örjan made his way to his nephew. He didn't say a word, but decisively stood by Hrafn's side, thus making his opinion more than clear.

Hrafn realized but too well the urgency of the matter. But no one around him was even thinking of obeying. The angry, agitated Vikings around him left him frustrated, not knowing what to do.

Meanwhile, the arguing was growing louder and angrier.

"What about our people in the fortress? We cannot abandon them!"

"Running away is a shame!"

"We want to fight!"

"Listen!" yelled Hrafn. "You'll get your fight sooner than you have expected!"