Surviving 3 - Cover

Surviving 3

Copyright© 2007 by Scotland-the-Brave

Chapter 25: Sky High

Time Travel Sex Story: Chapter 25: Sky High - Scott mac Fergus rides again! God help the Norsemen and the English - and any desirable women he comes across!

Caution: This Time Travel Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa   Ma/ft   Fa/Fa   Fa/ft   Romantic   Science Fiction   Time Travel   Anal Sex  

Gabrain ordered the captain to bring the ship about and head back out to sea. The great Isle of Wight lay on their right as the captain navigated them south, back into the English Channel. Their search of the extensive haven of Portsmouth had turned up empty.

There were signs that a large camp had existed here in the past, but it existed no longer and there was no Danish shipping to attack. This was becoming an all too common occurrence.

After five weeks on station the three Scots ships had encountered only a handful of longships. Tara had shown her abilities as a captain during the first chase. She seemed almost to be able to read the wind, finding every advantageous gust, and her sea-wolf soon outstripped Gabrain and Lachlan.

The fact that her ship wasted no time in firing a broadside to hole and sink the Dane, also showed she had the nerve for the task at hand. From that point onward Lachlan and Gabrain stopped worrying that Tara might prove to be a handicap in their campaign.

No, what worried the friends now was the almost complete absence of Danes. Scouts had been put ashore and their intelligence confirmed large numbers of Vikings were still present in the area yet there was no sign of the thing they were most attached to, their ships.

Gabrain signalled to the two others and they brought their ships alongside.

"It can only be the rivers, they must be using them, going further inland on these waterways." He shouted across. "I suggest we return along the coast westwards and investigate one of them. I will lead, Tara next and you bring up the rear Lachlan. Keep your wits about you."

The others nodded to indicate they had heard and understood.

The Scots angled in towards the coastline and then headed west in the direction of Bournemouth. Once they reached the mouth of the River Avon, Gabrain told his captain to steer them up the river, keeping to mid channel.

The going was difficult as they were sailing against the current. The captain had to use all his skill with the ship's sails to keep them moving forward. On both sides the land was relatively flat and featureless, not at all like their own highlands. Gabrain thought it looked dull, probably rich and fertile, but nonetheless dull.

Soon they had to navigate a large island in the middle of the river and, countless twists and turns later; they passed another smaller island as they continued roughly northwards. After perhaps four miles the river split and Gabrain opted to take the left-hand fork, that channel looking by far the wider.

The path of the water was now westwards, but within half a mile it had meandered north once more, narrowing for a few hundred yards before widening out again. There had been no sign of life all the way and Gabrain was beginning to think this was something of a fool's errand.

Trees were now appearing in greater numbers, crowding down to the banks of the river, some of them overhanging the channel and making the going almost impossible due to the ship's masts. Gabrain decided to turn the ship around at the next likely spot on the river.

They turned another bend and found the river wider, almost forming a pool. Gabrain had just ordered the captain to turn the ship when the air was filled with shrieks and screams.

Out of the trees appeared literally hundreds of Vikings who had quite obviously been laying in wait. Around twenty or so swung on ropes out over the ships and dropped to the deck. This little band crowded together and swept along the side of the ship, clearing the decks so their friends could swarm over the side more easily. The Scots had had no chance to use their cannons.

Within minutes there were over two hundred Vikings on Gabrain's decks and bloody hand to hand fighting ensued. The Carrack had a crew of perhaps three hundred, but they had not been ready for a sword fight and that told heavily against them. Men rushed to find their arms, many cut down as they did so and quite quickly Gabrain could see the tide was really against him.

He felt the ship rock and looked up to see Tara's ship bumping into his stern, men leaping over the bow of the second ship to come to Gabrain's aid.

The Vikings now found themselves fighting both front and rear, but seemed to revel in the challenge, their swords and great battleaxes flashing in the sunlight and their voices roaring out their Viking slogans.

Gabrain saw the slight figure of Tara O'Cahan running forward to meet a huge Dane. Her blade flashed and the Viking tumbled to the deck with a slash across his throat. He had to take his eyes from her as Vikings began to assault the foredeck on which he stood and he found himself having to fend them off. Only a few handguns had been manufactured so far, but Gabrain had one of these. He now drew the pistol and fired a number of shots rapidly, bringing down the two closest Danes, but more swarmed up the steps towards him.

The men around him were cursing as they met Viking iron with Scots steel, the tougher metal proving a great advantage. Still the Danes pressed forward however, intent on reaching Gabrain who they recognised as the leader of the crew. He loosed off another few rounds when a clear shot presented itself and another Viking collapsed with blood pumping from his chest.

One particular Viking stood out from the rest. He was bigger and broader, his wild blond hair whipping around in the breeze; some of it plastered to his forehead due to the sweat there. His eyes were the eyes of a berserker and he was laying about himself left and right with a double-headed axe. His gaze fixed on Gabrain and the young King shivered with the intensity of it.

With two bounds the Dane was up the steps and heading directly at Gabrain. Gabrain raised his pistol once more and pulled the trigger. Nothing! He was out of rounds, hadn't been counting his shots and was perhaps now about to pay for that carelessness. He dropped the useless firearm and drew his sword, preparing to meet the threat.

The Dane was wheeling his axe around him in a figure of eight; his eyes now locked on Gabrain, seeing only him. Gabrain steeled himself to meet the axe with his blade when the Danes eyes turned glassy and a sword point protruded out of his belly.

As the Viking fell forward onto his knees, Gabrain was treated to the sight of Tara O'Cahan, red hair streaming in the wind and her emerald eyes flashing as she tried to pull her sword from her victim.

"At your service my Lord." She quipped as she turned to ward off a blow from another Dane.

Gabrain strode forward to cover her back and the two of them engaged yet more Vikings. The numbers were clearly dwindling however and it seemed as if the joint efforts of the two Scots crews had swung the exchange in their favour and the Danes were pressed back towards the ship's rails. The end wasn't long in coming and soon Vikings could be seen leaping over the side of the ship to escape.

Gabrain and Tara found themselves without further enemies to take on and he lifted her bodily with one arm, kissing her soundly on the lips.

"What a sight for sore eyes! Good timing Tara, but if your husband finds out I allowed you to enter battle like this I'm sure he'll have my head."

"Scott can't order me around like that my Lord. He may be the High King, but I can still make my own decisions in life. Besides, it's been too long since I last crossed swords with these barbarians. Now, put me down or Scott will be having words with you!"

He laughed as he dropped her to her feet and they both set about the task of bringing order to their ships and getting back down the river. Lachlan had to turn his ship first, then Tara and finally Gabrain. All of the crews had learned a harsh lesson and now had their weapons close to hand in case of a repeat attack. Gabrain estimated he had lost over forty men in the exchange and considered himself lucky the numbers weren't higher.

The three ships reached the mouth of the Avon without further incident and made for the open seas. Gabrain hove to, to give his dead men a proper send off. They were stitched into canvass shrouds, with a cannon ball as a weight, and then dispatched into the deep with a few words from Gabrain.

Recognising that sailing up rivers was at best folly, and with no other Danish shipping to assail, the Scots decided to head for home.


As summer was fading into autumn the ship that had sailed for the America's returned to Oban. Using Scott's maps the captain had completed the round trip in five months. Large steel drums had been manufactured to store the latex from rubber trees and these were soon offloaded from the ship. The crew had brought back other things too, mostly seeds from some of the plants that the specialists knew were indigenous to that part of the world. Amongst the cargo were a number of rubber tree saplings that it was hoped could be cultivated in Galloway's greenhouses, thereby saving the lengthy voyage for this commodity.

The drums of latex were loaded onto wagons and taken across country to Inveraray for processing. The chemists were delighted at the chance to work with the latex and wasted no time in creating the first batches of rubber. As had been forecast, trial and error was required to establish the optimum mix of sulphur and other agents in the vulcanisation, but soon moulds were being created and the first tyres were produced.

The ninth-century Scots thought this was another of Scott's outlandish ideas. Every now and again he came out with something that they thought was a waste of time and effort and this was one of those occasions. None of them could see the point of developing something to fit onto wheels; wheels were fit for purpose the way they were so far as they were concerned.

There had been much excitement amongst the newcomers as the summer progressed and the first plane neared completion. Scott had of course enquired if any of them were pilots and discovered that two had flown small planes back in their own time. He wasn't surprised to find out that Mac MacKelvie could also fly - both planes and helicopters. There seemed to be nothing even remotely connected with warfare that that man couldn't do.

Scott recognised that the first flight would be risky as they didn't have the benefit of the kind of facilities that might have been used to test the engine, aerodynamics etc of the plane before having someone take her up.

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