In the pre-dawn hours, the pale summer twilight revealed little beyond their bow as Helga's karve cut through the choppy swells. A steady drizzle merged with the sea-spray, creating a gray veil that shrouded their approach to the hidden cove. Helga gripped the tiller, her flaxen hair braided tight against her head, protected from the persistent northwest wind. Her keen eyes searched the murky distance where water met sky, watching for any sign of Gunnar's fleet.

  Despite only a few hours' rest, Sigrida sat alert near the stern, every sense sharp in the chill morning air. Nearby, Helga's husbands Sigmund and Beowulf attended to the sail and oars. Like Sigrida, they were ready to react instantly to Helga's commands.

  The warriors who filled the benches remained stoic, their expressions grim. Each understood the risk - if Magnus's deception had failed, if Gunnar had seen through their ruse, their mission would end before it began.

  Helga guided the karve close to the steep cliffs, the other ships following in her wake. In the quiet hours of the night, even the seabirds still slept, leaving only the rhythmic surge of waves and whisper of rain. Each bend in the coastline could conceal Gunnar's warships lying in ambush. Sigrida's heart quickened as they approached another curve in the shoreline. The drizzle-laden twilight shrouding the waters ahead seemed alive with menace.

  As they rounded the cliff face, a war horn blasted across the water. "Drakkars!" came the panicked shout from the forward karve. "Gunnar's ships!"

  Helga's voice rang out in feigned alarm. "All ships, make for open water!"

  The karves wheeled about in apparent chaos, their crews crying out in dismay. Through the drizzle and dim light, the massive shapes of Gunnar's drakkars emerged from their hiding place, their oars churning the gray sea to foam as they moved to cut off escape.

  Sigrida gripped the rail, her knuckles white. The deception had worked - Gunnar's fleet had taken the bait. Now came the true test, luring them into the deadly trap while avoiding destruction themselves.

  "Row!" Helga commanded. In unison, the decoy ships turned sharply out to sea, sails billowing, oars churning up white water. Gunnar's ships slowed, then changed direction to follow. The trap was sprung.

  Heart pounding, Sigrida turned to watch the enemy fleet bearing down on them. The gap between their ships was closing – close enough to keep Gunnar's captains fixed on their prey, but not so close they'd be overtaken before reaching the reefs. Her fingers found her hammer amulet, seeking comfort in the familiar silver as she felt the weight of their lives hanging on this delicate balance.

  Helga braced at the tiller, her legs planted wide against the deck's steady pitch as she called the rhythm. "Pull! Pull!" The warriors strained at their oars, muscles burning as they fought to maintain the perfect pace. Rain streamed down their faces as they rowed. At the sail, Sigmund and Beowulf worked in coordination, adjusting the canvas to catch the wind.

  Behind them, the deep thrum of war drums rolled across the water, growing steadily louder. Their massive drakkars cut through the waves with deadly purpose, each stroke of their oars eating away at the distance between predator and prey.

  "Together now!" Helga's voice rang out as she urged on her crew. The karve surged forward as the rowers dug even deeper, knowing their lives depended on their strength and timing.

  Glancing back, Sigrida squinted through the drizzle at Gunnar's fleet. The massive longships emerged from the dark mist, their dragon-headed prows rising and falling with terrifying grace. Through the dim light, she could just make out the blood-red shields lining their gunwales - the same as the raiders who had attacked their knarr weeks ago. War drums and battle cries carried across the water, growing louder with each passing moment.

  Sigrida's eyes searched the murky coastline for the landmarks Erik had pointed out during their escape from Skogstrand. The distinctive jut of rock, the shallow curve of shore - somewhere in this twilight lay their salvation. Her heart raced, knowing those deadly reefs lurked beneath the waves, as hidden from their pursuers as they were from her straining eyes.

  Helga steered unerringly forward, giving no sign she knew what lay ahead. Sigrida silently thanked Erik for his meticulous maps. Movement caught her eye as she looked back - dark shapes of archers taking position along the drakkars' rails, their forms barely visible but their intent clear.

  "Shields up!" Helga commanded sharply. "Keep rowing!"

  The first volley whistled overhead as the warriors raised their shields with their free hands, still pulling desperately at the oars. They were entering the reef maze now - Sigrida could feel the change in the water's motion beneath their hull.

  "Port side, ready!" Helga called, her voice cutting through the din. "Channel narrows ahead!"

  From nearby karves came similar shouts - "Starboard oars, half speed!" "Watch the current!" Each captain guided their crew through their own treacherous path, following Erik's carefully mapped routes.

  The karves slowed, forced to navigate with precision even as arrows continued to rain down. Through her shield, Sigrida saw Agnar's karve falter - arrows had found both men working the sail, and three rowers lay slumped over their oars. Without full control, their vessel veered from its course. A sickening crack split the air as they struck the hidden rocks, followed by the shouts of the crew as their ship began to list.

  Sigrida's heart clenched at the sight of her allies thrashing in the dark water.

  "Steady now!" Helga called, her voice cutting through the chaos. "Don't look back!"

  From nearby karves came the shouts of captains guiding their crews - "Deep water here!" "Mind the current's pull!" "Ready to turn!" The voices grew more confident as they neared the far side of the reef field.

  Behind them, the arrow volleys suddenly ceased. Panicked shouts carried across the water as Gunnar's shipmen realized the danger. Their captains bellowed competing orders - some demanding their rowers pull back, others calling for turns their ships couldn't make.

  "Last channel!" Helga shouted. "Steady hands!"

  As her crew responded to her commands, Sigrida heard the first impact - the horrible sound of wood meeting rock. Through the drizzle and dim light, she glimpsed a drakkar listing hard to port, its oars splintering as the persistent swells drove it further onto the reef.

  More crashes followed as the heavy ships, caught by the northwest wind and current, foundered on the hidden rocks. Warriors abandoned their dying vessels, only to vanish in the cold gray waters. Those drakkars still afloat were trapped now - the wreckage of their sister ships before them, the reefs waiting beneath.

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  Another sickening crack pierced the air as one of the larger drakkars struck the reef. Its bow rose sharply before crashing back down, sending men tumbling into the waves. Each new surge drove it further onto the rocks, its hull breaking apart under the relentless assault of wind and wave.

  "Clear water ahead!" Helga called triumphantly. "Now, turn and show them our teeth!"

  The karves wheeled about, warriors bracing low on their benches as they reached for bows and quivers stowed beside them. Sigrida settled into a stable crouch, nocking an arrow despite the ship's roll beneath her.

  "Archers ready!" Helga commanded, her voice carrying over the water. The surviving enemy ships lay before them, trapped and floundering.

  "Loose!"

  Sigrida knelt at her position, steadying herself against the ship's motion as she loosed arrow after arrow with the others. Through the drizzle and dim light, they fired volleys toward the shadowy mass of warriors on the listing decks, knowing that while precise aim was impossible, the sheer number of arrows would find targets.

  The trapped warriors raised their shields, many crying out to Odin as the arrows fell. Those without shields beat their chests and brandished weapons, choosing to face death like warriors rather than cower. Their defiant war cries carried across the water, even as arrows found gaps in their defense.

  On the most damaged drakkar, warriors gathered on the higher ground of the tilting deck. They locked shields, forming a protective wall while others worked desperately to keep their vessel from breaking apart completely. Their disciplined response spoke to their training - no Viking warrior would abandon ship while fight remained possible.

  Helga's strategy was proving devastatingly effective. The karves maintained their barrage, the warriors drawing arrow after arrow from their secured quivers, forced to pause only when particularly large waves threatened their balance.

  Sigrida watched in horror as the steady swells drove Gunnar's ships inexorably against the rocks, splintering hulls and breaking spars. Warriors struggled in the cold water as their vessels broke apart beneath them, trying to swim to the last drakkar still somewhat intact. In the dim light, dark patches spread through the gray water like shadows. Most disappeared beneath the surface, dragged down by their armor. A few managed to grasp ropes thrown by their companions, hauling themselves onto the crowded deck of the surviving ship.

  The dying screams of trapped men carried across the water, punctuated by the grinding of wood against rock. Broken bodies and splintered deck planks drifted in the shadowy waters, the blood around them visible only as deeper darkness in the pre-dawn light.

  "Don't let them regroup!" Helga's voice cut through the chaos.

  Sigrida drew another arrow, but Helga raised her hand. "Hold!" The surviving warriors on the somewhat intact drakkar had formed an impenetrable shield wall on their listing vessel. Behind the wall of shields, men worked frantically to patch the hull and bail water.

  "Pull back!" Helga commanded. "Keep position but save your arrows. They're trapped like rats now."

  The karves drew off to a safe distance, their archers maintaining ready stance. Tense minutes crawled by as they watched the enemy struggle to keep their damaged ship afloat. Sigrida's muscles ached from holding her bow at ready, the motion of the waves making it difficult to maintain balance even while kneeling.

  Through gaps in the shield wall, she glimpsed the desperate work at the reef - men passing makeshift patches forward, others frantically bailing water. The drakkar rode low in the water, dipping with each swell. Their efforts seemed futile, but still they fought to survive.

  Sigrida squinted into the drizzle and dim light, straining to see the horizon. Where were Helga's reinforcement skeids? They couldn't maintain this standoff forever.

  The warriors shifted their shield wall smoothly to protect a new work area, never leaving an opening despite the rolling deck beneath their feet. These were no common raiders, but hardened veterans of Gunnar's fleet. They would neither panic nor surrender while hope remained.

  Through the rain, dark shapes finally emerged on the horizon. The high sides of Helga's approaching skeids sent a surge of relief through their crew. The larger warships would bring fresh arrows and warriors - enough to overwhelm even the most disciplined shield wall.

  From the drakkar came cries of dismay as the warriors recognized the skeids. Some beat their weapons against their shields in defiance, while others slumped behind the wall, knowing these were likely their final moments. Even those who welcomed a warrior's death had hoped to meet it in glorious battle, not trapped and arrow-shot like cornered prey.

  The skeids took position beyond the reef field, their higher decks giving their archers the advantage. Fresh volleys darkened the sky. The trapped warriors could only huddle behind their shields as arrows rained down from multiple directions.

  "Now!" Helga called. "While they're divided!"

  Sigrida steadied herself against the karve's roll as she drew and loosed with the others. She saw warriors stagger and fall as arrows pierced the gaps in their weakening shield wall. More followed, their discipline finally breaking under the relentless assault.

  "Circle wide!" Helga commanded. "Follow the reef's edge!"

  The karves turned carefully, keeping well clear of the hidden rocks as they made their way around the reef's perimeter. Though longer, the safer route would let them join the skeids without risking their own ships. At the reef, the trapped warriors finally lowered their shields in surrender, knowing their position was hopeless.

  After Helga's karves joined the skeids, they moved swiftly to secure the crippled drakkar, their crews throwing ropes to bind the vessel. Gunnar’s warriors were transferred quickly to the skeids - some requiring force, others going quietly, knowing they might yet survive to be ransomed.

  After a long, tense journey around the reef's edge, they finally reached the skeids. Sigrida watched as Helga boarded the lead ship, her sea legs sure despite the climb. The captains gathered to report their losses, and even from the karve, Sigrida could feel the heavy silence that fell over them.

  "Agnar's karve?" Helga asked, though the answer was written in the captains' faces.

  "Lost at the first rocks," Sigmund said quietly. "None made it clear."

  Helga turned toward the reef where her husband's ship had gone down. Beowulf and Sigmund moved to stand beside her, their grief evident in their silence. For a long moment, the three watched the steady swells wash over the rocks that had claimed their loved one, the water seeming to clean away all traces of the battle but not their loss.

  Then Helga straightened, though her voice was rough when she spoke. "He died as he lived - leading the way through dangerous waters." Her hand stayed pressed against the Thor's hammer at her throat.

  Sigrida's heart clenched as she recalled the sickening crunch of wood and final battle cries. She touched her own hammer amulet, remembering Agnar's easy laugh and generous spirit during their meal at the warrior’s longhouse. His death seemed a senseless waste, whatever glory might be found in it.

  Helga drew a deep breath, her grief transforming to steel in her spine. "We've bloodied Gunnar's fleet, but Skogstrand still waits."

  The waves crashed against the skeids' hulls, the morning's victory carrying a bitter cost.

  "Feed the warriors," Helga called from the skeid's deck. "The captives take the oars to Skogstrand."

  As the crews settled to eat and bind their wounds, Helga motioned to Sigrida. "Come up, girl. You'll fight beside me when we reach Skogstrand."

  Sigrida rose, her arms heavy from drawing her bow. She studied the rope ladder swaying between the vessels.

  "The water's cold if you miss," Sigmund said with a wink.

  Sigrida stepped onto the ladder without hesitation, climbing smoothly to the skeid's deck.

  Pride warmed her chest, but it mingled with darker feelings. She thought of Agnar and his warriors, now beneath the waves. Even victory carried a heavy price.

  "Eat and take your rest," Helga commanded. "Skogstrand's battle won't wait forever."

  Sigrida nodded, watching the captives being arranged at the oars. Her thoughts turned to Astrid and the others already facing battle. She gripped her Thor's hammer, asking the gods to guard her friends until they could arrive with aid.

  For now, there was only the rhythm of the oars, the steady wind, and the persistent surge of the waves - a moment's peace before battle called again.