The Viking's Chosen (Clan Hakon #1)

“You, Rush, and Kjell head for the trees. I want you far enough away that the fire will not spread to the palace grounds, but close enough to be of concern to them. While the palace staff busies themselves with putting it out, the rest of us will work on the hinges.” I looked at Brant, who was giving me his own fearsome grin. If Delvin was fascinated with fire, Brant was keen on blunt-force destruction.

I gave a silent command for Delvin and the others to move out, and I watched them slink through the drainage ditch until it joined the moat. They then lowered themselves into the water and swam across, emerging on the other side. By that point, I could barely catch a glimpse of them as they took cover in the tall grass and slunk toward the trees, soundless as a pack of wolves tracking their prey.

“I’m not sure if they will sound an alarm at this time of night, so we wait until we see movement toward the fire,” I said to the others. Brant had a tight grip on Eve, waiting for my signal.

A quarter of an hour later, smoke was rising high into the air, and the rumblings of concerned citizens began. As soon as the first soldiers carrying buckets of water emerged from the gates, Brant shot me a grin.

“Feel like hitting something?” I asked him.

“Always.” He chuckled.

The sound of Brant’s hammer on steel echoed like a high-pitched cannon in the confined space. I constantly looked toward the top of the battlements, sure someone would hear the loud banging and find us attempting to break through the grate. So far, the gods had been with us. Everyone was too concerned with putting out the blaze to worry about us. Ten minutes of agonizing bashing later, which felt like ten hours as I stood watch, Delvin, Rush, and Kjell popped up a few feet from me, each of them smiling from ear-to-ear.

“That was fun,” Delvin said a little breathlessly.

Amund shook his head. “And you wonder why no woman can stand to be with you for longer than a week.”

“Hey, they just can’t handle the heat,” replied Delvin.

I rolled my eyes and patted Brant on the shoulder, who was still grunting and pounding on the iron bars. “Easy, big guy. I just want the grate hinges loosened, not the entire castle to come down on top of us.

“Hopefully, they are ready,” Siv, the quiet one of the bunch, said as he stepped to the middle of the grate and gripped the bars.

Each of us moved to surround the grate, Brant and myself closest to the hinges on either side. “On three,” I said once again. “One, two, three.” Our grunts and groans were finally rewarded as the large pins lifted from the hinges. The grate was as heavy as the dead weight of a bear and just as awkward to carry. “Lean it against the wall.” I grunted. We set the heavy grate aside and, one-by-one, climbed through the opening of the drain.

The cramped space felt much like I imagined an underground tomb would feel, and I had no desire to dawdle. “Let’s slide it back into place, but prop it against the hinges so it looks as though it hasn’t been tampered with.”

Even pushing the grate across the muck was no easy task, having to pull the large grate back into place from inside the opening using only the strength of our upper bodies. Luckily, everyone outside the drain was still too focused on the fire to notice the struggle going on in the crevice of the castle wall. As soon as the grate was again resting near the hinges, we turned and let our eyes adjust to the dark tunnel ahead. “Delvin…” I started to say.

“Already ahead of you, Commander,” he said as I turned to see him working on a small torch. Once the torch was glowing, we could see about ten paces in front of and behind us, and we slowly began our journey into the belly of the castle grounds.

“Amund,” I called out. “Keep count of our steps.” Knowing the approximate distance of our escape route could help us know whether to hide or to flee, should an emergency arise.

We continued relative silence, only commenting occasionally in hushed tones. I assumed the others were, like me, trying to ignore the smells we’re breathing into our lungs.

After what felt like an eternity, I began to hear hurried footsteps and muffled voices. Soon, we reached a ladder built into the stone, which extended up to a grate on the sewer roof. As quietly as I could, I ascended the ladder and peered out into the moonlit darkness. The fresh air could not have been more welcome. I pressed my face against the grate, straining to get a good look at my surroundings. With my visibility limited, I could see only the night sky above me and a few paces of cobblestones in each direction. We would need be careful exiting the drain. Our task would have been much easier had we been able to procure guard’s uniforms before entering the grounds, but no such opportunity had presented itself. Now, we had to emerge inside the castle gates covered in waste from the knee down, and three of us dripping wet.

I waited until I could hear no one close by. Then, I reached up and carefully pushed the grate up and away, wincing as it ground nosily across the stone floor of the courtyard until the opening was wide enough for us to get through. I motioned down to the others to follow, and I clambered out of the hole, quickly ducking behind an empty cart against the wall. I didn’t have to tell the others to make themselves scarce—we would all find a place to hide.

One by one, my men propelled themselves out of the drain, each waiting to surface until there were no voices or footsteps. A few times, I heard signals given in our private battle language, meaning either halt or go now.

Finally, Siv, the last man, appeared and replaced the grate before sneaking off to find his own hiding place. We all rested for a few minutes, watching each other in the darkness. Eventually, when I felt the coast was clear, I give a hand signal for my soldiers to follow me. I rose and began to walk down a narrow alley, knowing that each of my warriors would covertly follow at their own pace. Then, a voice stopped me in my tracks.

“Oy. There is a fire outside the gates. We need all able-bodies. Where are you going?”

I turned and shrugged, narrowing my eyes and cocking my head to the side as if I hadn’t heard him.

“Don’t play dumb with me.” He barked, marching quickly toward me. Five figures sprang into the alley behind the soldier, who was so intent on dressing me down that he didn’t even hear my men lining up behind him. As he neared, the man’s eyes widened as he took in my appearance. I imagined I was quite a sight. We looked nothing like their people. The soldier was clean-cut and clean-shaven, not traits that would have describe any of my warriors. I then realized we were all going to have to cut our hair and shave our beards if we were going to have any hope of blending in with the English. Long hair and beards were a sign of strength in my clan. The thought of cutting either stirred my ire. Damn Magnus and his need for power,