《Reclaim The Honor》


 Chapter 1

    I was cast out.


    A stain on my honor and my family''s. Odin may forgive me¡­ but I had no choice. My clan, Pilombrug, wasn¡¯t as shrewd as Ragnar¡¯s.


    During a raid in one of the small villages of East Anglia, I saw a young drengr attempting to force himself on a girl and her mother. Never in my twenty-five years had I harmed someone without cause. My clan was feared, not depraved.


    ¡°Valrik of Pilombrug,¡± my brother said, his gaze cutting into me. ¡°You are a dark cloud over our clan. Go and never return, for what you did deserves death.¡±


    ¡°Brother,¡± I murmured. ¡°You would¡¯ve done the same.¡±


    ¡°You killed him, Val,¡± he said, shaking his head. ¡°And you denied him Valhalla by throwing his axe away.¡±


    ¡°Odin is my witness¡ªI didn¡¯t!¡± My voice rose. ¡°You have to believe me.¡±


    ¡°Go,¡± a voice commanded from behind him.


    ¡°Be gone!¡± another jeered. ¡°Valrik the disgrace!¡±


    My brother stood flanked by men of our clan, their eyes filled with contempt. I was supposed to be the help Ragnar requested, the key to forming an alliance. But I had ruined it all by saving a handful of Saxons. I wondered if Odin watched me, stroking his beard in disappointment as my brother had.


    I bent down, picked up my axes, sheathed them, and nodded. For the first time in my life, I was alone. No home. No path. Nothing left but to seek an honorable death and hope Odin¡¯s valkyries would carry me away.


    ¡°If I see you near East Anglia again,¡± my brother sneered, ¡°you¡¯ll face the wrath of our clan.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I said, my voice steady. ¡°My last wish would never be to raise my axe against kin.¡±


    ¡°Always the wise one,¡± someone scoffed. ¡°Get out of here, H?ggormr!¡±


    ¡°Damn fool!¡± an old man spat. ¡°This was our chance to stand beside Ragnar! And you destroyed it!¡±


    I pulled my hood up and mounted my horse. Our camp lay deep in the forest near Norwich, surrounded by towering trees. Behind me, a river flowed beneath a wooden bridge I had helped build. I had crossed it countless times¡­ but this would be my last.


    I turned back once more. My brother stood there, his blonde hair tidier than mine, which was braided and unkempt. His beard was long, marked by a tattoo at its end¡ª? ? ? ? ? ? ?. Forever. I bore the same mark. We were meant to be brothers, not by blood, but by bond.


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    ¡°Odin guide me,¡± I muttered, nudging my horse forward. ¡°For I drift now with the wind."


    ¡°What now?¡± a man asked my brother. ¡°We¡¯ll have to bow and scrape for Ragnar¡¯s favor now.¡±


    I had never understood why we bent the knee to Ragnar. He was strong, that much was clear. A master of alliances, a fearless raider. A man I would have followed into battle without hesitation. He would sit at Odin¡¯s side one day, his deeds sung by skalds. But we had never seen eye to eye.


    At the start of the bridge, I paused. Ravens perched on the branches above, their crimson eyes locked onto me, as if judging.


    Forever not.


    I drew an axe and dragged the blade across my wrist, carving through the tattoo. Blood dripped onto the saddle. I took a breath, accepting my fate. I was no longer Valrik of Pilombrug. Just Valrik.


    ¡°Well, old friend,¡± I murmured, patting my horse with a bloodied hand. ¡°There¡¯s nothing left but to seek Valhalla.¡±


    The horse shifted uneasily. I steadied myself, exhaled, and crossed the bridge. This was it. A new chapter. Honorless and shamed, roaming England with no purpose. We had dreamed of ruling East Anglia, forging peace with other kings, building a home. Now, that dream was dust... at least for me.


    After crossing, I looked back one last time. My brother still watched me. But his anger had faded. His eyes no longer burned with hatred¡ªonly pity.


    That stung more than exile.


    ¡°Goodbye, brother,¡± I whispered. ¡°Goodbye.¡±


    I rode into the distance, following the long slope downward and emerging from the other side of the forest. To the west, I could see the tallest building in Norwich¡ªa grand monastery standing at the heart of the city. If this raid with Ragnar had been successful, that monastery would have been our next target. They said its riches were enough to buy the moon itself.


    I turned my horse and trudged in the opposite direction. The only sounds were my axes tapping against the saddle and birds chirping overhead, ready to retreat into their nests as the sun cast golden hues across the forest.


    A young man stepped out from the bushes, standing on the right side of the road. He looked weary, as though sleep had not visited him in a long time. His long brown hair was a tangled mess, with dirt on his hands and the hem of his pants.


    "Valrik." Jerome, the Saxon boy, regarded me with concern. "Where are you going?"


    He was our stablemaster, gifted with horses as if he whispered to them. I had never seen him struggle with an animal¡ªhorse, dog, or cat. When we first arrived here, we found him hiding in a tree trunk, having survived one of Ragnar¡¯s raids. The fear of my kind had been carved into him, but now, he was a friend.


    "Far away, friend," I replied, slowing my horse. "What are you doing here?"


    "Hunting," he said. "Did they¡­ exile you? I heard them talking."


    I nodded. "They did. They had to. If not, they would have to deal with Ragnar and his men. For the sake of my clan, this was necessary."


    "How can you be so calm?" he asked. "You¡¯ve been cast out, Val! And for what? Trying to be a decent man?¡±


    "It¡¯s not the end, friend," I said. "Anyway, I shouldn¡¯t be seen talking with you. Go with Odin¡­ or whatever god you believe in, Jerome.¡±


    ¡°Goodbye, my friend,¡± he said. ¡°I¡¯m going to miss you.¡±


    I smiled, patting my horse. ¡°Mielda will miss you too, Jerome.¡±


    ¡°Take good care of her,¡± he said. ¡°Make sure to brush her when she¡¯s agitated¡ªshe doesn¡¯t like being dirty.¡±


    ¡°I will, friend. Take care.¡±


    ¡°You too, Val. You too.¡±


    I nodded and kept riding into the distance. The sounds of my clan faded¡ªthe barking of dogs in the settlement, Jerome¡¯s footsteps growing fainter. It all felt surreal, as if I were trapped in a dream, desperately trying to wake. But this was reality, worse than any nightmare.


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 Chapter 2

    I stopped at a small pond to wash my face and brush Mielda. Hopping off, I patted her head a couple of times before crouching, plunging my hands into the cold water, and splashing it over my face. The chill woke me, stirring me from my thoughts. Mielda drank beside me, her ears twitching at the sounds of the forest.


    My reflection stared back¡ªa weary drengr. Long blonde hair, a few braids woven along the side. The left side of my head was bare, a scar running through where an arrow had once struck.


    "Valrik," I muttered to myself. "What are you going to do now?"


    A raven cawed from above. I turned, following its gaze to a column of smoke rising in the distance. The scent of burning wood, charred metal¡ªblood. Something was wrong¡­ and that was fine. This was my opportunity. A battle. A way to die with an axe in hand. I couldn¡¯t take my own life¡ªthat would send me to Helheim, far from Odin¡¯s wisdom.


    A grin spread across my face as I grabbed both axes and rushed forward, leaving Mielda behind. The smell of burning thickened with every step. Then, the sounds¡ªscreams, the wet crunch of steel biting into flesh. Women wailing. Children fleeing.


    I pushed through a long bush and took in the scene. A small village, a church standing in the center. Two women in cloth, each gripping a cross in one hand and a sword in the other, stood against two burly men. Not Danes. Not Norse. Common bandits¡ªfilth chasing gold and silver.


    One of the nuns raised her sword, voice shaking. "Stand back, heathen! Stand back!"


    The man sneered. "Oh, but I believe in God, sister. I believe in Hell. I belong in Hell. You belong under me."


    "G-Good God¡­" the other nun whispered. "L-Leave us alone. Please, leave us."


    "Pray, sister," the bastard taunted. "Pray as long as you¡ª"


    I struck. My axe buried deep into his neck. I wrenched it free, then hacked again, splitting flesh and bone. His head came free after I drove my fist into his jaw, sending him sprawling. His companions froze as blood pooled beneath him.


    I bent down, grabbed his severed head, and hung it from my H?ggskjold, securing it in one of the four notches on my belt. A family custom. Let them feel Odin¡¯s wrath before they died.


    The nuns stumbled back as the remaining bandits came at me. One swung. I veered left, deflecting with my axe, then severed his sword hand in one clean motion. He howled, clutching the stump as I slammed my shoulder into him, sending him to the ground.


    "Agh! My arm! Kill the bastard!"


    "Yes," I said, throwing off my cloak. "Come at me, honorless bastards!¡±


    "A Dane!" one of them shouted. "Shit!"


    "For Odin!" I roared, lunging forward.


    I hurled an axe. It buried itself deep into a man''s forehead, sticking out like a unicorn¡¯s horn. As he staggered, I planted a boot on his shoulder, yanked my weapon free, and turned to the others.


    One stepped back, drawing a bow. I darted behind a tree as he loosed an arrow. It struck my shoulder armor, falling to the ground with a dull thud.


    With Thor granting me his strength, I sheathed one axe and grabbed the nearest enemy by the shoulder, using him as a shield. The archer loosed two more arrows, both thudding into his friend. One pierced an eye, the shaft bursting through the back of his skull.


    "No, no!" the archer screamed, turning to flee.


    "Coward!" I roared. "Come here!"


    We collided. I hurled his dead companion¡¯s body onto him, pinning him beneath the weight. As he struggled, I stomped on his face, then brought my axe down three times. Flesh and sinew gave way. His head rolled free. Another for my H?ggskjold. Good.


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    Blood ran down my face, a war cry tore from my throat as I charged after the other one. I caught him, seized his arm, and twisted until the bone snapped and tore through the skin. His scream was cut short as I hacked into his armpit, then his throat.


    He dangled in my grip, barely holding onto life. I swung again, again, again¡ªuntil his head came free. I fastened it to my H?ggskjold. Three down. One more to go.


    But the remaining scum fled. The battle was over. Only the nuns lived. The rest of the village lay in ruin¡ªchildren, women, men, all butchered. Houses burned. Dogs whimpered, cowering in corners.


    "Come back, cowards!" I yelled, pointing my axe at one of the retreating men. "Fight me! Give Odin a battle worth watching!"


    "Crazy bastard!" a burly man yelled. "Fuck your Odin!"


    Rage surged through me. "How dare you¡ª"


    "Fuck off!" he spat, vanishing into the night.


    The grip on my axe tightened. Then I shook my head. ¡°Not worth it.¡±


    I sheathed my axes and turned to face the nuns. One of them trembled, her hands clenched tight, while the other pressed a cross to her chest, whispering frantic prayers to her god.


    ¡°Worry not, sisters. You may get up,¡± I said, crouching. ¡°I am not your enemy. Nor am I your friend.¡±


    ¡°L-leave us, heathen.¡± The taller one glared at me. ¡°Ragnar¡¯s dog! Yellow Dane!¡±


    ¡°A Norse, not a Dane. And I am no one¡¯s dog, sister.¡± I stood up. ¡°Tend to the wounded¡ªif they left any.¡±


    ¡°What do you want?¡± she demanded. ¡°Silver?¡±


    ¡°Nothing.¡± I unfastened the severed heads from my H?ggskjold and let them drop to the ground. ¡°A thanks would suffice.¡±


    They flinched, staring at the bloodied skulls. But I wasn¡¯t waiting for gratitude. Without another word, I turned, resting my hands on the hilts of my axes.


    The village was a graveyard of burning homes and butchered bodies. A man cradled his wife¡¯s severed torso, rocking her as if she might stir again. A boy clutched his dog, the poor creature lifeless with an arrow through its ribs. The air was thick with blood and smoke, the stench of the dead stronger than the flames.


    To my right, four well-armored corpses lay in front of a house¡ªguards, but not the common kind. These were elite. The kind meant to protect a noble.


    ¡°Hmm.¡± I muttered. ¡°What is this?¡±


    I approached the house, one hand gripping an axe. Smoke bled through the cracks in the door. I grabbed the handle and pulled¡ªthick, choking fumes poured out, stinging my eyes. Waving a hand to clear my vision, I stepped inside.


    The heat hit me first. Then, a faint voice.


    ¡°Help¡­ please¡­¡±


    I pushed forward, coughing as the smoke clawed at my throat. A chunk of the ceiling collapsed ahead of me, nearly crushing my foot. I stumbled back, my head cracking against the wall. Pain flared through my skull, stars bursting in my vision.


    ¡°Agh¡­ crap. Anyone there?¡± I called.


    ¡°Please¡­¡±


    I forced myself forward, kicking aside burning debris. Through the smoke, I saw her¡ªa small silhouette curled on the floor. I grabbed her leg, dragging her toward me, then hoisted her over my shoulder and turned back for the door.


    I barely made it out before a fist slammed into my face. The impact sent me and the girl sprawling into the dirt. I rolled onto my side, shaking the dizziness from my head.


    Three men stood over me. Past them, the nuns lay in the dirt, their bodies motionless. The bastards finished what they started¡­ cowards.


    ¡°Piss-colored shit.¡± One of them spat.


    A sword came down toward me. I twisted, ramming my fist into the attacker¡¯s knee and rolling to the side. As I pushed up, a boot crashed into my back. My face hit the ground hard, dirt filling my mouth. Pain burst through my ribs.


    I groaned, trying to push myself up, but another kick followed, this one sharper, crueler. Stars danced in my vision. Then, laughter. I let out a breath, my fingers tightening around the handle of my axe.


    ¡°You thought you won, didn¡¯t ya?¡± one of them sneered. ¡°Well, you were wrong, friend.¡±


    ¡°Do not call me ¡®friend,¡¯ waste of air.¡± I growled, trying to rise.


    Another kick crashed into my ribs, lifting me off the ground before I hit the dirt again. Pain flared through my side as I lay on my back, staring at the dark clouds and the setting sun.


    Then, the world slowed.


    The bird that had just left its perch froze mid-flight. The branches swaying in the wind stood still. And among the three men standing over me, there was suddenly a fourth.


    He hadn¡¯t been there before¡ªI was sure of it. A hood shadowed his face, a long staff resting in his grasp, his chest puffed with authority.


    ¡°You¡­ Odin?¡±

 Chapter 3

    A boot slammed into my face, snapping me back into reality. I gritted my teeth, licking the blood that dripped from my nose. Then, I moved.


    Like a storm breaking free, I sprang up, seizing one of the bastards by the throat. He barely had time to react before I tore his sword from its scabbard and drove it deep into his stomach. With a shove, I sent him to the ground, then drew both my axes, my eyes darting to the remaining two.


    One lunged at me. A swift swing of my axe caught him across the throat¡ªnot deep enough to kill him outright, but enough to drop him to his knees, clutching the wound as blood gurgled from his lips.


    I kicked him aside and raised my axes just in time to deflect an arrow, forming an X with the blades. Another arrow came, but I ducked, then hurled one of my axes toward the archer. The blade sank into his thigh, wrenching a scream from his throat as blood poured down his leg.


    ¡°O God,¡± he whimpered. ¡°No! Please, let me go! Please, huh? Please!¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer. Instead, I grabbed a fistful of his matted hair and dragged him across the dirt. He clawed at the ground, leaving desperate trails in the dust, but it didn¡¯t matter.


    Placing one foot on his shoulder, I leveled my axe at him, then turned my head, glancing toward the wounded girl. Her leg was injured, and she remained unconscious, in dire need of help. Help that this village could no longer provide, as everything lay in ruins.


    "You pathetic bandit trash," I muttered.


    I pressed my axe deeper into his leg. He trembled, his fists striking my shin with all the force of a dying man¡ªweak, desperate, meaningless. I pushed harder, the blade sinking further, carving through flesh and bone. Not satisfied, I raised my boot and kicked the embedded axe, severing his leg completely. His scream tore through the night, raw and agonized, as he clutched at the ruined stump, blood gushing between his fingers.


    I wrenched my axe free, sliding it back into its sheath. Then, placing my foot against his throat, I leaned in, applying slow, relentless pressure. His face darkened, red to purple, veins bulging, eyes rolling back as he clawed weakly at my leg. The last sliver of sunlight vanished beyond the horizon, and with it, his final breath.


    "Well, Mielda," I murmured, looking toward my horse. "Today was not the day."


    She shifted uneasily, sensing the lingering violence in the air.


    ¡°Let¡¯s help her, huh?¡±


    I turned to the girl and lifted her onto my shoulder. Hopping onto Mielda, I nudged her forward, guiding her out of the desolate village and toward York. She needed aid, and there were no nuns left to tend to her wounds.


    Though, something about her struck me as odd. Her clothes¡ªsoft, richly embroidered with gold thread, the fabric itself of fine wool, dyed deep crimson. A delicate fur trim lined the edges, something only nobles or royalty could afford. Even her shoes, though now scorched, had once been crafted from supple leather, decorated with silver buckles. Her small hands bore no calluses, and on her left ear gleamed an earring¡ªgold, adorned with a heart-shaped diamond. It was worth more than anything I had plundered since coming to England.


    She stirred slightly, a faint murmur escaping her lips. Her eyes fluttered half-open, unfocused, hazy with pain. Then, weakly, she reached up, her tiny fingers brushing against my beard before slipping back into unconsciousness.


    I pulled the reins, urging Mielda to pick up her pace. The girl¡¯s breathing was shallow, unsteady. Her shoes had burned through, and her left foot was slick with blood¡ªher own, without a doubt.


    I lowered my voice, softening it. "Rest, little one. I will get you the help you need."


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    I dismounted, gathering the child carefully in my arms. After securing Mielda¡¯s reins to a sturdy tree branch, I pulled my cloak tighter around us and set off toward York. Entering the city on horseback would only invite unwanted eyes, and Northumbria was no place for a Norseman to linger. Too many people. Too many enemies. But it was the nearest city, and turning back to Norwich wasn¡¯t an option. The girl wouldn¡¯t survive such a journey.


    The road leading to York stretched before me, its gates standing open, flanked by two guards. My hood concealed most of my face, and my cloak hid the weapons at my side. The child stirred in my arms, her fevered breath brushing against my chest. I had to get her inside without trouble.


    One of the guards raised a hand to stop me. I obeyed, bowing my head slightly as I waited.


    ¡°Mm.¡± His gaze fell to the girl. ¡°God help her. Pass through.¡±


    I nodded once. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    Inside the gates, I lifted my head, taking in the city. York was a sprawl of timber-framed buildings, stone roads slick with the remnants of rain, and the scent of damp wood mingling with that of roasting meat from market stalls. The streets pulsed with life¡ªmerchants calling out their wares, blacksmiths hammering steel, and beggars lingering in alleyways, hands outstretched in silent plea. Above it all, towering spires of the monastery reached skyward, their candlelit windows casting a soft glow against the night. That was my destination.


    A monastery meant safety. Shelter. And most importantly, healers. I had no desire to stay in the city longer than necessary. I would leave the girl in their care and vanish before anyone could ask questions.


    ¡°Almost there, little one,¡± I murmured. ¡°You¡¯ll be safe soon.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡± The girl¡¯s voice was barely a whisper. ¡°Cold.¡±


    I pressed a hand to her forehead. Burning hot¡ªlike Muspelheim¡¯s fire.


    ¡°Ah,¡± I muttered. ¡°Curse it. Just hold on.¡±


    I quickened my pace, weaving through the streets until I reached the monastery¡¯s courtyard. Just as I neared the heavy doors, a figure stepped in front of me. A priest. He blocked my path, his weathered hand resting on the hilt of a small dagger at his belt. His eyes flicked from my weapons to my face, and I saw the shift in his expression. He knew what I was.


    He unsheathed the blade, holding up a cross in his other hand. I halted, tightening my grip on the girl but taking a step back to show I meant no harm. This was not the time for a fight, and the death I sought would not come from an old priest with shaking hands. If it did, Odin himself would drag me from Helheim just to mock me for eternity.


    ¡°Friend,¡± I said, my voice low and even. ¡°I am not here to fight.¡±


    His lips curled in disgust. ¡°What did you do to the girl, you Dane bastard? Rapist.¡±


    ¡°I am Norse.¡± My jaw tightened. ¡°And I did nothing to her. I found her like this. Can you help her?¡±


    The priest hesitated, lowering the dagger slightly. ¡°Did you, now?¡±


    I exhaled sharply. ¡°Like I said. Not a threat. Can you help her or not?¡±


    He studied me a moment longer before nodding. ¡°Aye. Give her to me. Let me see her wounds. What happened?¡±


    He was older, perhaps in his fifties, with white hair and a short goatee. His frame was small, but his arms were strong¡ªlike those of a man who had once wielded a blade but now clung to the cloth. A warrior who had laid down his sword.


    I hesitated before handing the girl over. ¡°Bandits,¡± I said simply. ¡°They burned her village.¡±


    The priest took her carefully, his expression softening as he cradled her against his chest. Then he turned on his heel, pushing open the heavy monastery doors. The warmth of candlelight spilled onto the stone steps.


    ¡°Come, heathen,¡± he said. ¡°Get inside.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied, shaking my head. ¡°But thanks for the invite.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± he mocked, an angry smile twisting his lips. ¡°You think a good monastery is a pillaged one, don¡¯t you? Blood staining the holy ground?¡±


    I turned away. ¡°Help the kid, priest,¡± I said. ¡°She¡¯s suffered enough. Don¡¯t make her endure any more.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t, Dane.¡± he said. ¡°Come back tomorrow. I¡¯ll reward you.¡±


    ¡°Not Dane. Norse.¡±


    The door shut in my face. I took a deep breath, exhaling as I stepped away. This city was vast, ripe for plunder, but the death I sought wasn¡¯t here. I wasn¡¯t meant to die in York. I could feel it in my bones.

 Chapter 4

    I found a bench nearby and sat down, tilting my head toward the ground. With my boot, I traced patterns in the dirt, shaping imaginary maps. The rock was my clan¡¯s longhouse. The yellow patch of soil was the western side, where autumn leaves would fall. A small stick¡ªa bridge I had helped build. The bridge I would never cross again.


    A sudden chill snapped me back. It was late. I had lingered longer than intended. Exhaling, I stood up.


    ¡°They say King ?lla seemed upset today,¡± a woman muttered to her friend. ¡°Wonder why¡­¡±


    ¡°Who knows?¡± the other replied. ¡°The raids have likely worn him down.¡±


    ¡°Damn Ragnar and his yellow dogs. God take them.¡±


    ¡°Animals...¡±


    I passed by without a glance, heading toward the city gates. Outside, Mielda waited where I had left her, tied to a low-hanging branch. Taking up her reins, I swung into the saddle and urged her into a slow trot. There was a cave not far from here, enough shelter for the night. Staying in the city would only invite trouble.


    The horse seemed uneasy, shifting nervously on her hooves. I patted her gently after hopping off, holding the reins in one hand as I tried to calm her down. She was the most troublesome horse in the settlement, yet I¡¯d chosen her. I didn¡¯t know why. Maybe it was fate... or maybe my taste in horses was nonexistent.


    "Easy, girl. Calm down now," I murmured, stroking her mane.


    As she settled slightly, I mounted her again, steering her toward the side, away from the city. I had no idea what had set her off, but I wasn¡¯t interested in finding out. I just needed to leave now¡ªbefore things got ugly.


    ¡°Calm down, girl. Easy,¡± I repeated, patting her again. ¡°I know you¡¯re tired. We¡¯ll rest soon, friend.¡±


    She shook her head but then calmed. I was exhausted like Mielda, and needed a good night¡¯s sleep before deciding what to do next. My vision blurred, and sleep became a necessity; if I ignored it any longer, I might collapse. The scuffle in that village had drained the last bit of strength I had.


    With my hood concealing my face and cloak blending me into the background, I moved away from the city, my half-lidded eyes fixed on the road, struggling to stay awake.


    ¡°Come on, Valrik,¡± I whispered to myself. ¡°Don¡¯t sleep now.¡±


    I took to the forest, avoiding any potential patrols, making my way toward the cave. With each hoofbeat kicking up dust, the sky above darkened, promising rain. I was used to bad weather, but England''s was something else¡ªunpredictable. One morning would bring snow, and by nightfall, the sun would shine as if winter had never arrived.


    I tugged on the reins, slowing Mielda when I spotted a figure in the forest. A father, teaching his son how to hunt. The boy aimed his bow at a rabbit but hesitated.


    The father caught a glimpse of my hood as the wind lifted it slightly. His grip on his son tightened, and with cautious eyes, he led him away, allowing the rabbit to escape.


    I exhaled. ¡°Hope they won¡¯t alert the guards.¡±


    I trudged along the forest path, passing countless trees. After some time, I reached a small clearing, where a hill rose with the cave I sought. A pond lay in front of the entrance, its still water reflecting the dimming sky. To reach the cave, I had to climb the rock face and squeeze through a narrow opening in the stone.


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    I dismounted, tied Mielda to a sturdy tree, and approached the climb. Gripping a protruding ledge, I hoisted myself up, planting my foot firmly before leaping to grab another handhold. Carefully, I edged along a narrow ledge until I reached the slit-like entrance. Pressing myself against the rock, I slipped inside.


    ¡°Okay,¡± I muttered, sinking onto the ground and shaking my head. ¡°Looks like I¡¯ll be staying here tonight.¡±


    I curled up, resting my head on my arm, and shut my eyes. Sleep was all I needed. Tomorrow¡ªValhalla. I still couldn¡¯t believe what I had seen in that village¡­ Odin himself, watching over me.


    ¡°What a sight it was¡­¡±


    Sleep came sooner than expected. Normally, I struggled, but the soothing sounds of the night and the gentle patter of rain dulled my senses. I let myself drift¡ªonly for a nightmare to take hold.


    I was back at the raid, fighting alongside Ragnar¡¯s men, cutting down guards and plundering the village. Blood stained my axe, a grin stretched across my face as I led seven warriors toward a church. My face was smeared with dirt and blood, ready to cut down my enemies. However, as I walked toward the church, I halted when a scream echoed from a nearby house.


    I turned, gripping my axe, expecting danger. But what I saw instead made my stomach twist.


    One of Ragnar¡¯s men was inside, forcing himself onto a child, no older than eight. The girl¡¯s mother lay on the floor, her clothes torn, her body trembling.


    ¡°It¡¯s your turn, slut!¡± the man snarled. ¡°Come here!¡±


    ¡°Friend!¡± I barked, stepping inside. ¡°The raid is still on! There¡¯s plunder to take. Do not do heinous things like this.¡±


    ¡°Or what?¡± he sneered, tearing at the girl¡¯s clothes, then forcing a kiss upon her while locking eyes with me. ¡°What will you do?¡±


    ¡°Let the girl go,¡± I said, gripping my axes tightly. ¡°She is but a child.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t act all high and righteous, boy.¡± He slapped the child, sending her to the floor. ¡°Your clan licks our boots to be our allies. You little weasel!¡±


    ¡°Do not speak ill of my clan, friend,¡± I said, my voice dangerously calm. ¡°Or you will face the consequences.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± He grabbed his axe from the table. ¡°What will you do? You think you can take me on?¡±


    ¡°Calm down, drengr,¡± I warned. ¡°Join the raid. You don¡¯t want to¡ª¡±


    He hurled his axe at me. I sidestepped.


    Anger flashed through me. As he reached for a second weapon, I surged forward with thunderous speed, seizing him by the throat and hurling him through the weakened wall of the burning house. The wall, already crumbling under the heat, gave way easily, and he crashed to the ground outside.


    I stepped out and circled him as he struggled to rise, shaking off the daze. Fury took hold of him. He snatched a handful of dirt and flung it into my face before lunging, tackling me to the ground.


    ¡°Lick my boot, or I¡¯ll tell Ragnar what you did!¡±


    ¡°Are you a child?¡± I snapped, punching him to shove him off me before standing. ¡°Stop this nonsense! Join the raid!¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll raid your asshole when I slay you, fucker!¡±


    I exhaled, forcing myself to stay calm. ¡°Stop, friend.¡±


    He lunged, swinging his axe at me. I dodged, seized his wrist, and drove my boot into his knee, forcing him down. Grabbing the back of his head, I slammed it against the house wall, the weakened wood cracking under the impact.


    Dazed, he barely had time to react before I pressed my axe to his throat and slashed sideways. Metal tore through flesh. He collapsed, gasping for air.


    As he crawled toward his axe, desperate to die with a weapon in hand, I denied him that honor. I kicked the axe away and planted my foot on his shoulder, leaning in with my elbow resting on my knee. He had always been pathetic. Now, he was even more so. Scum.


    ¡°Helheim is where you go,¡± I sneered, my voice eerily calm. ¡°Odin¡¯s winged women will not take you today.¡±


    ¡°You¡­¡± was all he could choke out before death took him.


    Suddenly, a chill washed over me, and I felt smaller than ever. I turned around and saw him¡ªthe one above all. Odin. He shook his head, his eyes fixed on me. He was saying something, but his words slipped away, lost in the haze of the dream. A deep sense of dread gripped me. I dropped my axes, desperate to understand him. Just as I thought I might catch a word, everything went dark.

 Chapter 5

    I woke abruptly, my senses dulled by the cave¡¯s suffocating darkness. For a moment, I forgot where I was. As I gathered my thoughts, I exhaled, rubbing my face. The nightmare was already slipping away, but the cold sweat clinging to my skin told me it had been a bad one.


    Peering outside, I caught sight of the rising sun, its warmth slowly breaking through the night¡¯s chill. The rain still drizzled, soft and steady. My horse stood where I left her, nibbling at a patch of grass, waiting patiently.


    My body ached from the night spent on hard, uncomfortable ground, but I was used to places like this. It didn¡¯t matter.


    ¡®I wonder how the kid is doing,¡¯ I thought to myself. ¡®Maybe I should check on her¡­ make sure she¡¯s okay and get my reward from the old priest. But first, I need to wash. I smell like death and blood.¡¯


    Stretching out my stiff limbs, I left the cave and carefully descended the ledge. From here, I could see the monastery in the distance. The candlelight that had burned through the night was now gone. Birds perched on the branches above, the damp earth releasing a scent I had always liked¡ªrain mixing with dirt.


    Stripping off my armor and tunic, I placed my axes beside them before stepping into the pond, letting the cold water wash away the grime.


    After a little while, I left the pond and donned my armor, making my way toward Mielda, mounting her. She shifted uneasily, ears flicking back as if sensing danger, but then calmed and started moving. The city of York was close now. If it weren¡¯t for the reward I¡¯d been promised, I wouldn¡¯t have set foot there again.


    Seeing the city up close once more, I hitched my horse to the same tree as before and pulled my cloak tightly around me. A crowd of people was making its way through the city gates¡ªsome carrying buckets of fish, others holding bundles of flowers. I fell in step among them, blending into their ranks as we passed through the entrance.


    ¡°Have you heard about the little girl who came here?¡± a man asked his wife. ¡°Poor soul.¡±


    ¡°Bless the man who helped her,¡± his wife replied. ¡°Bless him! My heart sank when Priest John carried her in. She screamed so much.¡±


    ¡°But she¡¯s alive,¡± the husband said. ¡°That¡¯s something, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Yes, it is. We should pray for her tonight.¡±


    Slipping away from the crowd, I made my way toward the monastery. There, a woman in simple robes sat on a bench, reading aloud to five children who perched on a fallen log, listening intently.


    The monastery¡¯s garden was modest but peaceful. A great oak tree stood at its center, its wide branches casting dappled shade over the uneven grass. Weathered stone benches were scattered about, some nearly swallowed by overgrown greenery. Vines crept up the monastery¡¯s walls, weaving between cracks in the aged stone.


    As I approached, the woman glanced up from her book, eyes flicking over me before she returned to her reading. But then, mid-sentence, her voice faltered. She looked up again, this time locking eyes with me. I could swear I heard her breath catch in her throat.


    ¡°Then what happened, Sister?¡± a boy asked eagerly. ¡°Tell us!¡±


    ¡°I¡ªhe, so¡ª¡± She stumbled over her words. ¡°That¡¯s enough for today, children. Run along now.¡±


    ¡°Aww,¡± a little girl whined. ¡°We didn¡¯t get to hear the ending!¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll hear it tomorrow. Don¡¯t be like that.¡± She snapped the book shut, pressing it to her chest as she quickly stood and approached me. ¡°Dane. We want no trouble. Please, don¡¯t hurt the children.¡±


    ¡°Norse, not a Dane. And I want to see this Priest John, if that¡¯s all right, Sister,¡± I said, my voice even. ¡°I mean no harm.¡±


    ¡°You¡­ John?¡± she asked, hesitant. ¡°Why? Are you going to hurt him?¡±


    ¡°No one is hurting anyone,¡± I replied, shaking my head. ¡°I helped a girl yesterday. I expected no reward, but John told me to return today. He said he had something for me.¡±


    She hesitated, glancing toward the monastery doors. ¡°He is inside, heathen,¡± she said, her voice tense. ¡°But if you enter¡­ leave your unhinged god outside.¡±


    ¡°I believe in no unhinged god, Sister,¡± I replied calmly. ¡°Odin is a seeker of wisdom.¡±


    ¡°Right¡­¡± she muttered, gripping her book a little tighter. ¡°Leave your weapons outside as well. This is sacred ground.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± I said, my voice losing its usual smoothness, an edge of irritation creeping in. ¡°You might as well ask me to cut off my own hands.¡±


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    ¡°You¡­¡± She started to argue but stopped herself, swallowing hard. ¡°Can I trust you not to do anything reckless?¡±


    ¡°If I do, you¡¯re free to call the guards,¡± I said, my expression darkening. ¡°But if I see you alerting them for no reason¡­ by Odin, I will hunt you down and carve a blood eagle into your back. You know what that is, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Her face went pale. ¡°Y-yes¡­¡± she stammered. ¡°Okay¡­ okay.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± I said calmly. ¡°Thank you, Sister.¡±


    With one hand resting on the hilt of my sword, I pushed the monastery door open and stepped inside.


    The air was cool and heavy with the scent of old parchment, melting tallow, and faint incense. Rows of towering stone columns lined the hall, their surfaces worn, each one supporting grand arches that stretched high above. Candles flickered in iron sconces, their glow barely touching the vaulted ceiling. A long wooden table sat in the center, scratched and stained from years of use, scattered with open books, half-burnt candles, and a brass chalice.


    At the far end, beneath a stained-glass window depicting a saint in flowing robes, stood a modest altar draped in a deep red cloth. The silence inside was profound, broken only by the occasional crackling of candlelight and the soft whisper of wind slipping through the gaps in the stone.


    John was slumped against the wall, sitting on the cold stone floor, his head tilted back, mouth slightly open as he snored. I walked toward him, cleared my throat, and waited for him to wake.


    Nothing.


    I exhaled, crouched beside him, and shook his shoulder lightly. ¡°Hmm.¡± I sniffed the air and scowled. ¡°Ale. Are you drunk, priest? Inside sacred ground?¡±


    ¡°Huua!¡± John jolted awake with a start and, before I could react, swung a wild fist into my face.


    ¡°Get out!¡±


    Pain exploded across my forehead as I hit the ground. Shaking my head, I let out a slow breath and rubbed my forehead where his fist had landed. Meanwhile, the priest blinked blearily, his mind catching up with his actions. His lips curled in regret.


    ¡°Ah¡­ sorry, Dane.¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± I muttered, nodding. ¡°You¡¯ve got a good punch for a priest, friend. And it¡¯s Norse, not Dane.¡±


    ¡°Right, right,¡± he muttered, rubbing his temples. ¡°You¡¯re not gonna kill me, are you? That¡¯d be a pathetic way to go.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied flatly. ¡°I¡¯m here for my reward. You told me to come today.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­ right, right, right.¡±


    I wrinkled my nose. ¡°You smell like an old ale-drenched¡­ fart.¡±


    John waved a hand dismissively. ¡°Being a man of God comes with a lot of responsibilities. Sometimes, you gotta take your head off for a while¡ªanyway.¡± He dug into his pocket, pulling out a small pouch, and tossed it to me. ¡°Fourteen silver coins. Spend them well.¡±


    I caught the pouch midair, feeling its weight before securing it to my belt. As I did, John braced a hand against the wall, tilted forward, and promptly emptied his stomach onto the stone floor.


    I stepped back immediately, not wanting to catch any of that.


    When he was finally done, he let out a long burp, closed his eyes, and took deep, shaky breaths. I glanced around and spotted a lone wooden chair in the corner¡ªdark, sturdy, and slightly uneven. I dragged it over and motioned for him to sit.


    John slumped onto it with a groan. ¡°You¡¯re different,¡± he muttered after a moment. ¡°Not like Ragnar¡¯s men.¡±


    ¡°I am like them,¡± I replied. ¡°If I were raiding this monastery, I¡¯d be drowning you in your own puke, priest.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s harsh,¡± he grunted. ¡°But I understand.¡±


    ¡°You understand?¡±


    He let out a dry chuckle and tilted his head back. ¡°Yeah. I fucking do.¡±


    ¡°Good.¡± I crossed my arms. ¡°What happened to the girl, by the way?¡±


    ¡°She lives,¡± John said, rolling his shoulder with a wince. ¡°Did you have any idea who she was when you helped her?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± I replied. ¡°Why? Who was she?¡±


    Before he could answer, the monastery doors groaned open, and the same woman who had been reading to the children rushed inside. Her face was pale, as if she had seen an undead. She moved quickly toward us, hands clasped in front of her. As she reached us, she glanced down at the mess John had left on the floor, hesitated for a moment, then shook her head and turned her attention back to the priest.


    ¡°Ernest¡¯s men!¡± she said, breathless. ¡°They¡¯re attacking a village nearby! The guards there need help!¡±


    ¡°Them again!¡± John spat, shaking his head. ¡°Filthy wretches!¡±


    ¡°Who are these men?¡± I asked. ¡°The same group who went after the girl?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± John muttered, pushing himself to his feet. ¡°I know you like silver, Norse. Would you hear my offer?¡±


    ¡°Maybe. What are you offering, priest?¡±


    ¡°Help me deal with those fucking¡ª¡± He stopped mid-sentence, shutting his eyes and pressing two fingers to his forehead before drawing them down to his chest in the sign of the cross. ¡°Forgive me, O Lord, for I have sinned within sacred ground.¡± He exhaled sharply. ¡°Help me put an end to those¡ªidiots, and I¡¯ll see you rewarded handsomely.¡±


    ¡°Then let¡¯s ride,¡± I said. ¡°Where¡¯s the village?¡±


    ¡°Not far,¡± he answered, striding toward the door. ¡°Normally, it would be quiet, but there¡¯s a small festival being held. Bards, poets, travelers¡ªwe¡¯re accommodating them. Ernest¡¯s men must¡¯ve caught wind of it.¡±


    We left the monastery and moved toward the city gates. John headed straight for the stables, reclaiming his horse from the stablemaster and adjusting the dagger at his belt.


    ¡°You go ahead,¡± I said. ¡°My horse is outside the city. I¡¯ll catch up.¡±


    ¡°Fine. We ride northeast.¡±

 Chapter 6

    I sprinted through the gates and retrieved Mielda, mounting her swiftly before galloping after John. The road ahead stretched into the countryside, the sky darkening as heavy clouds loomed. The rain, which had been gentle before, began to fall harder, as if the storm had been waiting for this moment.


    Further down the road, we spotted people coming toward us¡ªbattered, wounded, their faces twisted in pain. Among them were a few guards, limping and bloodied, barely able to stand. They had fought and lost.


    I clenched my jaw. A village this small likely had few defenders. Ernest had planned this well¡ªknew the festival would bring silver and gold, knew the guards would be spread thin.


    And now, he was reaping the spoils¡­ can¡¯t say I wasn¡¯t jealous, the little bastard.


    ¡°How many enemies are there?¡± I asked. ¡°Do we know?¡±


    ¡°What, Norse?¡± John called over his shoulder while galloping. ¡°You scared?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not, friend,¡± I replied, raising my voice over the wind. ¡°Just wondering how many sacrifices I¡¯ll be giving to Odin.¡±


    ¡°Probably ten or more,¡± he answered. ¡°Those dung heaps aren¡¯t stronger than us, and they don¡¯t have the numbers. They¡¯re just¡­ clever.¡±


    ¡°And wicked?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Wicked.¡±


    A sharp scream tore through the air¡ªthen another, and another. The clash of metal rang out, the crackling of burning wood followed, and the scent of blood thickened.


    We were close.


    From the shadows, a man lunged, sword flashing. Mielda reared up, sensing the danger, but before I could react, an arrow whistled past my head. I threw myself from the saddle, landing hard on the ground before slapping Mielda¡¯s flank to send her away. As I rose, I pulled both my axes free.


    ¡°Come!¡± I roared, throwing off my cloak. ¡°I¡¯ll paint the village crimson with your blood, cowards!¡±


    John clashed swords with an attacker emerging from the bushes. ¡°Heathens! God will judge you! You will burn in hell!¡±


    The swordsman nearest me swung, but I caught his blade with one axe and carved upward with the other, slicing his cheek open. He stumbled, cursing, but I gave him no time to recover. Sliding forward on my knees, I drove my blade across his midsection. His gut split open, intestines spilling onto the earth.


    He was still alive.


    Grinning, I grabbed his throat, yanked his entrails free, and coiled them around my fist. Then, using them as makeshift knuckles, I slammed his own guts into his face. Once. Twice. Again and again, until his forehead caved in, his nose shattered, and his gurgling stopped.


    ¡°For Odin!¡±


    I severed his head and strapped it to my H?ggskjold, then turned.


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    John had already finished his fight. He stood over his fallen enemy, sword raised high before plunging it straight into the man¡¯s chest. The blade struck the heart, killing him instantly. This priest was no ordinary holy man. That much was certain.


    He exhaled deeply, wiping the sweat from his brow. We met in the middle of the battlefield and looked toward the village.


    It wasn¡¯t large¡ªjust two guesthouses, big enough to shelter at least twenty people. At the center stood a statue: a tree with outstretched branches, a small child reaching for an apple on his toes.


    Blood stained the carving. The boy¡¯s face, the tree, all of it drenched in crimson. And at the base of the statue, in cruel mockery of the sculpted scene, lay a real child. Lifeless. His glassy eyes frozen open in terror.


    John¡¯s rage erupted. ¡°Bastards!¡± he bellowed. ¡°Come, Norse! We¡¯ll make them pay!¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± I shouted. ¡°Kill them all!¡±


    As a man rushed at me, I ducked under his swing and slammed my shoulder into his gut, knocking him to the ground. Before he could react, I dragged my axe across his throat, spilling his life onto the dirt. The momentum nearly pulled me forward, but I caught myself with one hand on the ground and turned back.


    Kneeling over his corpse, I set to work severing his head roughly, then strapped it tightly onto my H?ggskjold. With each head I claimed, I could feel Thor¡¯s strength coursing through me.


    John, a few paces away, struck a man square in the jaw. As the enemy staggered backward, the priest drew his dagger in one swift motion and buried it deep into the man¡¯s heart.


    Then, a scream.


    A brute of a warrior, wielding a massive axe, brought his weapon down on a mother who had been shielding her child. The blade cleaved her back, ending her life instantly. She collapsed over her son, her body shielding him even in death. The boy screamed, sobbing as he shook her limp form, calling her name in vain.


    An unnecessary kill.


    ¡°No!¡± John roared. ¡°You fucking trash!¡±


    ¡°Priest, stop!¡± I barked, but it was too late.


    Blinded by rage, John charged the brute, only to be caught mid-lunge. The warrior seized him by the throat and hurled him like a ragdoll into the carcass of a dead horse. John rebounded off, his back slamming into the burning walls of a house. He crumpled to the ground, unmoving¡ªexcept for the rise and fall of his chest. Good. He wasn¡¯t dead yet. I still had a reward to claim.


    I turned my focus to the axeman.


    Rushing forward, I brought both axes up to lock against his great axe, straining against his strength. But he was stronger. With a grunt, he shoved me back and swung. I barely jumped out of range, but not fast enough¡ªthe blade kissed my stomach, slicing a thin line across my skin. A fresh wound, but nothing I couldn¡¯t endure.


    ¡°Where is Ernest?¡± I demanded. ¡°Take me to your leader. We¡¯ll settle this with a holmgang.¡±


    ¡°We don¡¯t care about your fucking gods or your backwater customs, piss-colored shit,¡± he spat. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you and send you to your puny god myself.¡±


    I rushed him again, rolling beneath his wide swing and aiming for his exposed back. But he was faster than he looked. He spun, catching the hilt of my axe in his grip. His strength was greater than mine¡ªI had no chance of ripping the weapon free¡ªso I let it go and stepped back.


    The brute tossed my axe to the dirt and stalked toward me. Then¡ªI heard it. The sharp whistle of a blade slicing the air behind me.


    Instinct took over. I twisted just in time, raising my arm. A sword slammed into my gauntlet, shattering the light metal and scraping my forearm beneath.


    ¡°Take this, Dane!¡± the attacker sneered.


    I didn¡¯t give him the chance to swing again.


    I trapped his weapon arm, yanked him close, and smashed my forehead into his face. He reeled, dazed, and that was all I needed. My remaining axe found his neck, burying itself deep. I punched him twice, dislodging the blade¡ªand with the final strike, his head came free.


    Another trophy for my H?ggskjold.

 Chapter 7

    A war cry tore from my throat, fueled by the thrill of battle. Dropping my axe, I charged like a bull, unrelenting. My sudden aggression must have caught the brute off guard, for he stepped back, swinging his great axe in defense. But I was faster. Sidestepping the blow, I seized his weapon, yanking it toward me. As he stumbled forward from the force, I drove my fist into his face.


    Without hesitation, I pulled my seax from my boot and thrust it upward, the blade piercing his throat. The tip emerged from his eye socket, yet he still clung to life, choking on his own blood. I twisted the weapon left and right, forcing him to drop to one knee, his body trembling from the agony.


    Yanking my seax free, I retrieved both my axes and spread my arms wide, muscles tensed, as if preparing to take flight like a raven. Then, in one quick motion, I brought both blades down¡ªsevering his head clean from his shoulders.


    My H?ggskjold was now full. Four trophies. Thor himself would be laughing over his ale, watching the slaughter with Odin at his side.


    I tilted my head to the sky, letting the rain wash the blood from my face as I roared.


    Then, turning to the struggling guards, I raised my voice. ¡°Do not fear! The gods are with us!¡±


    ¡°Kill them!¡± a guard shouted.


    ¡°Is that a Norse?¡± another called.


    ¡°Kill the bandits! Kill them all!¡±


    A bandit rushed at me, but rage burned in my veins. Moving with the speed of Thor¡¯s own thunder, I swung my axe, cleaving through both of his arms. He stumbled back, shrieking, staring at the stumps where his hands once were. Gripping him by the throat, I hoisted him toward the burning house, slamming his head against the scorched wooden wall. His screams grew more desperate as the fire caught his hair, then his clothes. He writhed in my grasp, trying to claw at my arm with the stubs that remained. But it was useless.


    I released him with a final shove, sending him tumbling into the inferno. The weight of his body shattered the weakened wall, and the flames consumed him whole.


    The remaining bandits lost their nerve, scrambling to gather whatever loot they could before vanishing into the trees. I considered chasing them down but dismissed the thought. Victory had already been claimed.


    Not today, Valhalla.


    My breathing grew heavy, my limbs weary. Dropping to one knee, I steadied myself with a hand on the soaked earth. ¡°A fight worthy of the greatest skalds.¡±


    ¡°Ah¡ªfuck¡ª¡± John groaned as he pushed himself upright. ¡°My ass¡­ ugh.¡±


    I glanced at him. ¡°Are you alive, Priest?¡± My voice returned to its usual, steady tone. ¡°You took quite the beating.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll live.¡± He rubbed his ribs, then his gaze fell upon my H?ggskjold. ¡°What the hell is¡­ that?¡±


    I smirked. ¡°I¡¯ll tell you later. For now, check on the wounded. See who¡¯s still breathing.¡±


    John gave a weary nod. ¡°Thank you, Dane. I¡¯ll tell King ?lla what you did here today.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t need praise from your king,¡± I replied. ¡°I need my reward.¡±


    ¡°Ah, yes.¡± He exhaled. ¡°Come to the monastery tonight. It will be waiting for you.¡±


    ¡°I will.¡± I sheathed my axes and turned to leave.


    John hesitated before speaking again. ¡°Are you¡­ not afraid of death?¡±


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    I looked back at him, eyes steady. ¡°Why should I be? When I die, I will feast in Odin¡¯s hall, drinking and learning from his wisdom. I will fight beside the bravest warriors, die with honor, and rise again. There is no end¡ªonly glory.¡±


    ¡°Good Lord.¡± He shook his head. ¡°I didn¡¯t know you believed in such things. It¡¯s¡­ nonsense. Norse nonsense. Your war chiefs made up that god to control you, to keep you fighting. Promised you Valhalla, a place that doesn¡¯t even exist.¡±


    I smirked. ¡°And you believe in a god who was nailed to a cross, tortured for all to see, and still call it a victory. Your faith is built on suffering, yet you glorify it. How does that make sense?¡±


    ¡°Christ died for our sins. We are but his followers.¡±


    I studied him for a moment. ¡°You speak of sacrifice as if it explains everything. But if your god is so powerful, why does he demand endless suffering? Why let people live in pain, only to promise salvation after death? Isn¡¯t that just another kind of bargain? One with too high a price?¡±


    John exhaled sharply, shaking his head. He turned away, scanning the ruined village. The wounded needed tending, and I had no reason to linger. Though we had fought side by side, the guards still watched me warily, their eyes filled with unease. I was an outsider¡ªunwanted.Good. I had no desire to stay.


    ¡°Tonight, heathen,¡± John muttered. ¡°Come for your reward.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°I will, Priest.¡± Then, without another word, I walked away, dropping the severed heads to the ground.


    ????????-?????-???????


    As night fell, I pushed myself off the tree trunk I¡¯d been leaning against, stretching my limbs lazily. My body ached from battle, but my mind lingered on something else¡ªsome half-remembered nightmare from the night before. No matter how hard I tried, I couldn¡¯t recall the details, only the lingering unease it left behind.


    Yawning, I shook off the thought and looked around.


    I was near the cave where I had spent the night, just outside the city. The rain had not ceased, though the sky had begun to clear, revealing glimpses of the moon behind the parting clouds. Even from here, the remnants of the attack lingered in the air. The stench of burnt wood and blood clung to the wind, carried toward York. Word of the raid had spread quickly¡ªguards now lined the streets, patrols doubled in number.


    ¡®The drunken priest is waiting for me,¡¯ I thought. ¡®Time to collect my reward.¡¯


    Pulling my cloak over my shoulders, I turned toward the city. This time, I left Mielda behind. She was still shaken by the battle¡ªI¡¯d found her deep in the forest, alone and frightened, ears pinned back in distress. The moment she saw me, she trotted over and nuzzled against me like some overgrown pup, seeking comfort. She wasn¡¯t made for this life.


    ¡°You¡¯re staying here,¡± I said, running a hand down her mane. ¡°Rest, girl. You¡¯ve earned it.¡±


    She shifted uneasily, her hooves shuffling against the wet ground.


    ¡°Now, now,¡± I murmured, offering a faint smile. ¡°It¡¯ll be fine. Just stay put.¡±


    With one final pat, I turned and made my way toward York. The rain continued, each step splashing in the mud beneath my boots. Along the roadside, small streaks of red mixed with the water¡ªblood from the wounded who had fled to the city after the attack.


    When I reached the slope leading up to the city gates, I slowed my pace. The guards would never let me pass on my own. But there¡ªstanding by the entrance¡ªwas John, speaking with one of them.


    His gaze met mine. Without hesitation, he stepped away from the guards and strode toward me. We met in the middle of the road, exchanging a silent nod before walking through the gates together. With John at my side, the guards didn¡¯t even spare me a second glance.


    ¡°You¡¯ve come, Norse,¡± he said. ¡°Someone wants to meet you.¡±


    ¡°Who?¡± I asked.


    ¡°The mother of the girl you saved.¡±


    I exhaled sharply. ¡°I don¡¯t need thanks. Don¡¯t waste my time with such nonsense.¡±


    ¡°Oh, but you will want to meet her,¡± he said, smirking. ¡°Come.¡±


    I fell into step behind him, following in silence.


    As we moved through the city, I passed a small house with its door left open. Inside, wounded men lay on makeshift beds, women of the cloth tending to their injuries. Outside, a handful of priests knelt in prayer. Among the wounded, I spotted a few Norsemen¡ªperhaps festival-goers caught in the attack.


    I raised a brow. They¡¯re even treating my kind?


    ¡°You tend to Norse as well?¡± I asked.


    John glanced at me before following my gaze. He let out a tired sigh. ¡°Ah. That one¡ªhe¡¯s a poet of some renown.¡±


    ¡°A skald, huh?¡± I mused. ¡°What does he write about?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t know,¡± John said with a shrug. ¡°Not interested in that sort of thing. Just heard he was famous.¡±


    I nodded, my curiosity fading as quickly as it came. Whatever the skald¡¯s tales were, they didn¡¯t concern me. For now, I had a reward to claim

 Chapter 8

    We walked for some time before stopping in front of a bench where a woman sat in silence. The moment she and John locked eyes, she rose to her feet and strode toward me.


    One look, and I knew she was from the North¡ªmy homeland. Her blonde hair framed a face hardened by years of battle, her blue eyes sharp and unwavering. She was nearly my height, her body muscled and strong, and though age had begun to mark her, it did little to diminish the presence she carried. A seax rested at her belt.


    ¡°Freydis,¡± John said, nodding toward her. ¡°This is the man who saved your child from that village.¡±


    The woman gave me a firm nod. ¡°Nice to meet you, drengr. It is an honor. What is your name?¡±


    ¡°Valrik. You¡¯re not from here,¡± I replied. ¡°Yet you don¡¯t conceal yourself as I do.¡±


    ¡°I once had a reason to,¡± she said, offering a faint smile. ¡°But that¡¯s no longer necessary. I¡¯m no longer with my clan anymore. Now, I am merely a trader¡­ a wealthy one, at that.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± I said. ¡°And why were you cast out?¡±


    She exhaled, her expression darkening. ¡°Not cast out. A month ago, Ragnar sought help from my clan. We had just returned from plundering a monastery¡ªour men were exhausted, some wounded, some dead. But Ragnar had no patience for weakness. One night, he and his men came and¡­ slaughtered us.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± I muttered.


    ¡°He took most of my men prisoner¡ªmy husband among them.¡± Her jaw clenched. ¡°Honorless dog.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± I muttered. ¡°I was exiled because of Ragnar. Seems his name is on many lips these days.¡±


    Her gaze sharpened. ¡°You have no clan?¡±


    I shook my head.


    ¡°What will you do?¡± she asked.


    ¡°Die with an axe in my hand,¡± I said simply. ¡°I seek Valhalla, skjaldm?. I have no desire to remain in this world. Odin awaits me, for Skuld stopped weaving my fate long ago.¡±


    ¡°Jesus Christ, that¡¯s depressing,¡± John muttered. ¡°You can¡¯t just give up, heathen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not giving up, priest,¡± I replied. ¡°If I were, I would have already slit my throat with my own axe.¡±


    Freydis studied me for a long moment. ¡°You seek Valhalla¡­ then would you fight for me? Help me reclaim what was taken? Reclaim the honor I lost?¡±


    I exhaled sharply. ¡°I have no interest in drama. I¡¯ve had enough of it for one lifetime.¡± I shook my head. ¡°No. I¡¯m here to collect my reward and leave. My axe needs repairs¡ªthe hilt is cracked. I need silver.¡±


    John sighed. ¡°You need God in your life, boy. Pray with me tonight. Ask Him for forgiveness.¡±


    I scoffed. ¡°I¡¯d rather take my reward and be on my way.¡± I met his gaze. ¡°I have no time, priest.¡±


    Freydis leaned back on the bench, arms crossed, eyes shut. When she opened them again, she gave a slow nod, as if she understood me. Yet behind that understanding, I still saw sadness.


    If I were still part of my people, I might have agreed to assist her¡ªperhaps even help rebuild her clan and form an alliance. But now¡­ I was alone. I had no need for such things.


    She unsheathed her axe and rested it on her lap, running her fingers over the worn handle. Her gaze lingered on the weapon, lost in whatever memories it held¡ªjoy, rage, exhilaration. That axe had likely seen as many battles as she had.


    ¡°I know a blacksmith,¡± she said after a moment, gesturing toward the street ahead. ¡°Go straight, take a right, and walk a bit. You¡¯ll see his forge on the left. If you tell him I sent you, he¡¯ll repair your axes for free.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°I¡¯ll do just that. Take care.¡±


    ¡°If you change your mind¡­¡± She met my eyes. ¡°I¡¯ll be here, drengr.¡±


    I gave a small nod and turned away, following the path she had pointed out.


    The streets were quiet, most folk retreating into their homes for the night. But whispers still carried through the alleys¡ªtalk of the attack on the village. By the sound of it, my intervention wasn¡¯t part of the rumors. Good. The last thing I needed was unwanted attention.


    I turned the corner and spotted the blacksmith Freydis had mentioned.


    The forge stood near the end of the street, a squat, sturdy structure built from stone and timber. Thick wooden beams framed the entrance, while a slanted roof extended outward to shield the front from rain. Sparks danced from the open-air workspace, where a burly man hammered away at a glowing piece of metal atop an anvil. A bellows wheezed beside the forge, feeding the flames, and the scent of hot iron filled the air. Tools¡ªhammers, tongs, chisels¡ªhung in neat rows on the walls, and racks of swords, knives, and axe heads lined the interior. A water trough sat nearby, steaming from the weapons recently quenched.


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    As I approached, I drew both axes from my belt, their worn hilts rough against my palms. The movement caught the attention of a few passersby. Axes were the preferred weapons of my kind¡ªno wonder they grew wary at the sight of me. Some quickened their pace, others crossed the street altogether.


    ¡°Time to get you both repaired,¡± I muttered. ¡°For free, at that. The gods favor me today, it seems.¡±


    ¡°Hello, Norseman,¡± the blacksmith greeted me, wiping the sweat from his brow. ¡°What brings you to my forge today?¡±


    ¡°My axes,¡± I said, placing them on the counter. ¡°They¡¯re in dire need of repair.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± he murmured, running his fingers over the worn hilts. ¡°Yes, they¡¯ve seen better days.¡±


    ¡°Freydis sent me. Said you could fix them for free.¡±


    ¡°Huh. Alright, then¡­¡± He set his hammer on a barrel and picked up my weapons, inspecting the metal. ¡°Good craftsmanship. Sturdy.¡±


    ¡°You knew I was a Norseman the moment you saw me,¡± I noted. ¡°Yet you didn¡¯t flinch like the others. Are you used to dealing with my kind?¡±


    ¡°I am your kind,¡± he said with a chuckle. ¡°Or was. My clan is no more.¡±


    ¡°Were you one of Freydis¡¯ people, drengr?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Aye. Most of my brothers and sisters were taken by Ragnar. And for what? Because we couldn¡¯t answer his call for another raid? Nonsense.¡±


    ¡°Ragnar is not an easy man to understand,¡± I admitted. ¡°Only the gods know what goes on in his head.¡±


    ¡°Heh.¡± A shadow passed over his face. ¡°Either way¡ªI¡¯ll repair these for you. Come back tomorrow.¡±


    ¡°Valrik,¡± I said, giving him my name.


    ¡°Nitton.¡± He gestured toward himself. ¡°Come by at dawn, Valrik. Your axes will be good as new.¡±


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said. ¡°Farewell, Nitton.¡±


    I retraced my steps back to the city gates. Once outside, far enough to avoid prying eyes, I uncloaked myself and took a final glance at York before heading toward the cave where I¡¯d spend the night.


    Seeing me, Mielda stepped closer, resting her head against my shoulder. I ran a hand along her neck, exhaling deeply as I drifted into thought. The longer I stood there, the heavier the weight of reality pressed down on me. Sensing my unease, Mielda shifted restlessly, lifting her legs one after the other as if trying to pull me back to the present.


    Shaking my head, I gathered my senses, climbed up to the cave entrance, and slipped inside.


    "Sleep, drengr," I muttered to myself. "And start a new day..."


    As expected, sleep came easily¡ªbut it did not come alone. Nightmares followed.


    A memory. An old one.


    My mother and my father kissed their drinking horns before raising them to their lips. My father, of course, drank first, slamming a fist against his chest with a victorious grin. He always claimed he could outdrink Thor himself, and I believed it. I had seen him down five horns of ale without pause, not even stopping to take a breath.


    "I win again!" he roared.


    My mother pressed a hand to her stomach, groaning. "Ugh... you animal. Yes, you won."


    "Do you hear that, Val?" my father said, turning to me with a wide grin. "I always win."


    "Yes, you always do!" I replied, laughing.


    But then¡ªeverything faded into darkness.


    A vast, empty void swallowed the scene. My mother remained seated on the ground, my father leaning against something that was not there, his drinking horn still clutched in his hand.


    Time stood still.


    The ale my mother had just dropped hung in the air, frozen mid-fall, some of it touching the ground but refusing to splash. And, from within the void, something roared.


    A sound both powerful and terrifying.


    I looked down and saw my own reflection¡ªlittle Valrik. I was young again, my hair short, a bow slung across my back.


    "One eye richer in wisdom, though he had lost his sight in one," a voice murmured from nowhere and everywhere at once. "And now, he ascended."


    I blinked. The scene shifted.


    A pit stretched before me¡ªso deep I could not see where it led. Though, something moved within it.


    Something, or somethings. Angry. Hungry.


    I looked down again. My reflection had changed. It was me again. Clanless. Honorless. Lost. In my hand, I held the broken shaft of a spear. And in my chest¡ªa blade. Yet despite my wound, I felt at peace. As though, for the first time in my life, I had won something. As though I mattered.


    "To the end I cling, though the fall from grace may be my cost," I muttered. "I refuse my fate."


    Yet again, I blinked, and the scene shifted. I stood before a wolf, my axe slick with its blood.


    Breath ragged, heart pounding, I raised my weapon and drove it down again. Once. Twice. Thrice.


    I struck without mercy, as if the beast had stolen something from me¡ªsomething I could never reclaim. Still, I did not stop. Even as its entrails spilled onto the earth, even as its body convulsed beneath my blows, I kept going.


    But the wolf was still alive. Its crimson eyes burned into mine, filled not with pain, but defiance.


    "Die, die, die!"


    I planted my boot against its shattered lower jaw and pushed. A final, sickening snap followed, and the wolf collapsed beneath me.


    It was dead. Finally.


    Then, I woke.


    My breath came in shallow, desperate bursts as I assumed a sitting position, my hand covering my right eye, sweat dripping to the ground from my forehead.


    Another day. Another nightmare.


    "This cave..." I muttered, running a hand down my face. "Cursed with troll magic."


    Or maybe... the weight of everything was simply starting to break me.

 Chapter 9

    I left the cave and made my way down, inhaling the crisp forest air. The rain still fell, steady and unchanging.


    Mielda was awake, nibbling at a patch of grass. I walked over, reaching into my small satchel and pulling out an apple. Biting into it, I let the taste settle on my tongue before shifting my attention to my waist. My hands moved instinctively to my sheaths¡ªempty. I needed to retrieve my axes from the blacksmith.


    Leaning against Mielda, I chewed my apple and patted her side. The rain, the scent of damp earth¡ªit was calming in a way I hadn¡¯t felt in a long time. I could have stood there for another winter if the world allowed it. But there was no time for that.


    ¡°No time at all¡­¡±


    The cold wind stirred memories of home¡ªNorway, the snow crunching beneath my boots each morning. I could almost hear my brother¡¯s laughter as we dared each other to dive into freezing waters. We¡¯d always end up sick, scolded by our parents, but we never learned. Those days had hardened me, made me accustomed to bitter weather.


    ¡°No sense in waiting¡­ time to get my axes.¡± I tossed away the apple core and turned to Mielda. ¡°Stay here, don¡¯t wander off, alright?¡±


    She gave a small nod, almost as if she understood me.


    I smiled. ¡°Good girl.¡±


    I walked into the forest, listening to the birds chirping on the branches as rain pattered against my hood. The last few days had been strange. If I had never gone on that raid in the first place, maybe I¡¯d still have a clan, a roof over my head. Maybe I wouldn¡¯t be waking up from nightmares in a damp, cold cave, far from everything.


    After emerging from the trees, I spotted the city¡¯s entrance¡ªand a line stretching as long as a longhouse from the front gate to the road. The guards were checking everyone who entered, likely tightening security after yesterday¡¯s attack.


    ¡°Hmm. Looks like I need to sneak in.¡±


    The crowd was restless.


    ¡°How much longer?¡± a merchant with a donkey called out, yanking the reins impatiently. ¡°We¡¯ve been standing here all morning!¡±


    ¡°This is ridiculous!¡± a woman yelled. ¡°I should¡¯ve opened my stall by now!¡±


    ¡°Let us through!¡±


    As I made my way toward the crowd, a familiar voice called out. ¡°Heathen. You came.¡±


    I turned and saw the woman who had been reading to the children the other day. She was helping a wounded guard walk, supporting him as they moved toward the gates.


    ¡°You,¡± the guard muttered, looking at me. ¡°You were in the village.¡±


    ¡°I was.¡±


    ¡°Thank you.¡± His words were unexpected. ¡°Ernest¡¯s men have been causing trouble for a long time.¡±


    Over his shoulder, I noticed two figures watching me from beneath a tree. I focused on them for a moment before realizing who they were¡ªthe father and son I had seen hunting a rabbit in the forest. The older man nudged his son, then the two turned and walked away from the city, taking the road in the opposite direction.


    I returned my attention to the guard. His arm hung limp, broken. His face was battered, his upper lip cut, and his armor was in tatters. Parts of his tunic were burned.


    ¡°Do you know John, the priest?¡± I asked.


    ¡°Oh, yeah,¡± he muttered. ¡°I know him. Tough old bastard.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t think a man of God would wield a sword like that,¡± I said. ¡°Was he a warrior?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± the guard replied. ¡°But after his son died, he turned to God for solace and peace.¡±


    ¡°Come,¡± the woman urged. ¡°They take the wounded first. I can get you both inside the city quicker.¡±


    ¡°But I¡¯m not wounded.¡±


    ¡°Then act like it,¡± she said. ¡°At least I can do that for you.¡±


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    ¡°Lying in front of your own guard?¡± I raised an eyebrow.


    ¡°You¡¯re about to make me change my mind, heathen¡­¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± I muttered. ¡°Let¡¯s go.¡±


    Hunching forward, I clutched my arm as if it were injured. Together, we moved past the line and approached the entrance. The guard at the gate studied us for a moment before giving a small nod, letting us through. We passed without issue, leaving the crowd behind.


    The woman wiped her forehead, then spoke briefly with a nearby healer about the wounded guard¡¯s condition. When she turned to leave again, I frowned.


    ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°There are more people to help,¡± she said, striding toward the gate. ¡°I can¡¯t leave them behind. You wouldn¡¯t understand.¡±


    She disappeared into the crowd, and I exhaled, adjusting my cloak as I moved forward.


    York felt especially grim today. A few people sobbed in the streets. Guards carried bodies through the city¡ªvictims from the village, no doubt. They hadn¡¯t been able to save everyone.


    The rain only made the scene heavier. Keeping my head down, I walked toward the blacksmith, hoping my weapons were ready.


    ¡°Ernest¡­¡± I muttered. ¡°Troublesome bastard.¡±


    Rounding the corner, I spotted the blacksmith at his forge, hammering away at a blade. Beside him stood a boy¡ªhis son, most likely¡ªwatching closely as he worked. The rhythmic clang of metal on metal filled the air, blending with the distant murmur of the marketplace. As I approached, the blacksmith glanced up, said something to the boy, and sent him hurrying inside.


    I stopped a few steps away, crossing my arms as I nodded in greeting.


    ¡°Nitton.¡±


    He wiped the sweat from his brow with the back of his hand. ¡°Drengr. You look pale. Like you¡¯ve seen a troll.¡±


    ¡°Or a nightmare,¡± I muttered. ¡°The kind that vanishes the moment you wake up.¡±


    ¡°Ah,¡± Nitton exhaled through his nose, tossing his hammer into the air and catching it with ease. ¡°Those are the worst.¡±


    The door to the shop creaked open, and the boy emerged, carrying my axes. His small hands gripped the weapons tightly, and as he stepped closer, he hesitated, glancing up at his father for reassurance. Nitton gave him a nod, and the boy extended the axes toward me.


    I lowered myself to one knee, meeting him at eye level. A warm smile found its way onto my face.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± I said as I took them from his hands. I tested the weight, swinging them lightly. The balance was perfect. ¡°Feels like new.¡±


    ¡°Better than ever,¡± Nitton said. ¡°I reforged the hilts, sharpened both blades.¡±


    ¡°And all for free.¡± I got up and slid the axes into their sheaths. ¡°The deal of the century.¡±


    ¡°Heh,¡± he scoffed, shaking his head before turning back to his work. ¡°I heard Freydis offered you a job. But you didn¡¯t take it?¡±


    ¡°She wanted me to save the rest of her clan,¡± I said. ¡°But I don¡¯t like getting tangled in drama. Crossing paths with Ragnar again is the last thing I want.¡±


    Nitton grunted, his hammer striking metal in steady rhythm.


    I watched him for a moment before speaking again. ¡°I know Ragnar is unhinged, that his way of thinking is¡­ different. But I don¡¯t think he¡¯d slaughter an entire clan just because they refused to help him.¡±


    The hammer paused mid-swing. Nitton¡¯s grip tightened around the handle. He let out a long breath before setting the tool down beside a barrel. Without a word, he placed a hand on his son¡¯s shoulder and motioned for him to go inside. The boy obeyed without question, disappearing into the shop.


    Nitton dusted off his hands and finally met my gaze.


    ¡°Freydis stole from him,¡± he said.


    I raised an eyebrow. ¡°Stole what?¡±


    ¡°Medicine.¡± His voice was quieter now, edged with something heavier than frustration¡ªregret, maybe. ¡°The last raid we did went bad. We didn¡¯t expect fifteen guards to be there.¡±


    ¡°So you stole to treat the wounded?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Freydis tried to trade with Ragnar first. He agreed¡ªbut he wanted men in return. We refused. So¡­ she took it.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°I thought she had coin. Why didn¡¯t she just buy it?¡±


    ¡°We did,¡± Nitton said, rubbing a hand through his hair. ¡°Bought yarrow and willow bark from the market. But Ernest stole it.¡±


    At the mention of that name, I felt my jaw clench. ¡°I keep hearing about this Ernest. Who is he, really?¡±


    Nitton let out a harsh laugh, though there was no humor in it. ¡°A rat. A backstabbing, lying son of a bitch.¡± His fingers curled around the hammer again, and with each word, he brought it down onto the blade with more force. ¡°Because of him, we had to steal from Ragnar. Because of him, we were punished!¡±


    I watched him in silence, letting the weight of his anger settle.


    ¡°Your Jarl,¡± I said after a moment. ¡°Freydis¡ª¡±


    ¡°It was her husband, Thrainr. He was our Jarl.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± I nodded, recalling what Freydis had told me. ¡°She said most of the men were captured, not killed. That true?¡±


    Nitton exhaled sharply, his grip loosening on the hammer. ¡°It is.¡± His voice had softened. ¡°Ragnar was¡­ merciful. He only killed those who raised an axe against him. The rest¡ª¡± His expression darkened. ¡°The rest couldn¡¯t even lift a finger, they were sick. Wounded.¡±


    ¡°A shame,¡± I muttered.


    He didn¡¯t respond, just stared at the blade in front of him, the firelight reflecting off the metal like dying embers.

 Chapter 10

    Understanding that it was my time to leave, I took a few steps back. ¡°Well, good talk, Nitton. I should be on my way.¡±


    ¡°Yes, drengr. Go with Odin.¡±


    I pulled my cloak tighter around me and walked toward the gates, I was ready to leave the city behind. The further I went, the more of Ernest¡¯s destruction I saw. The wounded lay scattered, makeshift beds hastily arranged on market stalls. Healers moved between them, pleading with merchants for space, their hands red with blood.


    As I scanned the scene, my eyes fell upon John. He had his back turned, kneeling beside a wounded man. Slowing my pace, I approached, placing a hand on his shoulder before stepping in front of him. I shifted my cloak just enough to conceal my axes¡ªtoo many guards were nearby.


    ¡°Priest,¡± I said calmly. ¡°This man¡­ one of Ernest¡¯s victims?¡±


    John glanced up, his face weary. ¡°Oh, it¡¯s you.¡± He grabbed a mortar and pestle from the ground, dropping a few crushed herbs inside. ¡°You guessed right.¡±


    ¡°I¡ªI saw you,¡± the injured man rasped, his voice barely above a whisper. ¡°You¡¯re that Dane. You helped protect the village.¡±


    ¡°Norse,¡± I corrected, voice low. ¡°And I¡¯d like it if you kept that to yourself, hmm?¡±


    The man gave a weak nod. ¡°Y-yes. Of course, hero.¡±


    Before I could respond, a panicked voice cut through the air.


    ¡°John!¡±


    I turned to see Freydis rushing toward us, her breath ragged, her face slick with sweat despite the cold weather. Her hands trembled as she came to a halt, fear tightening her features. Whatever she had to say, it wasn¡¯t good.


    ¡°My Ela!¡± she gasped. ¡°She took five of my best warriors and left! She went to rescue her father and the others!¡±


    John¡¯s face darkened as he placed the mortar aside. ¡°Oh, good Lord. No, no, no. Ragnar and his men will carve her apart. How could you let her go, Freydis?¡±


    ¡°She ran off in the night while I was asleep!¡± she cried. ¡°Please¡ªwe have to find her.¡±


    John shook his head. ¡°I can¡¯t leave the wounded, Freydis.¡± Then, his gaze landed on me. ¡°But you can, Dane.¡±


    I exhaled, shaking my head. ¡°I told you before, friend¡ªI don¡¯t want anything to do with Ragnar and his men. I don¡¯t want any drama or¡ª¡±


    ¡°Please¡­¡± Freydis grasped both my hands, her grip desperate. ¡°Please, drengr. You have to help her. I¡¯ll reward you. I¡¯ll do anything. Just¡­ please.¡±


    I froze. A memory surfaced¡ªa time when I had been the one pleading for help, begging the people I trusted. But they were too afraid. No one came. I had gone alone, carrying my father¡¯s name on my back, revenge the only thing driving me. Not even my mother had stopped me.


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    I shut my eyes, then took a step back, exhaling slowly. I couldn¡¯t let a child die. And maybe, just maybe, Odin would see this act and let me into his hall despite the dishonor I carried from that cursed raid.


    ¡°Fine,¡± I muttered. ¡°But I go alone. Where is Ragnar keeping the prisoners? Ela went there, didn¡¯t she?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Freydis fumbled in her pocket, pulling out a worn map. Her hands shook as she unfolded it. ¡°Here¡ªit¡¯s marked. Please, Valrik, save her. She¡¯s all I have left. She¡¯s not ready for Odin¡¯s hall yet.¡±


    "I took the map, studied it, and then nodded. ¡±I will, Freydis. You¡¯ll be with your daughter. Don¡¯t worry.¡±


    ????????-?????-???????


    I hopped off my horse, gripping both axes as I crouched low behind a fallen tree. Below me, Ragnar¡¯s men had turned a ruined village into a temporary prison camp. The stench of smoke and rot still clung to the air. Scorched beams jutted from the earth like broken ribs, the skeletal remains of houses that had been set ablaze. A well stood in the center of the camp, its stone rim cracked, the bucket discarded nearby. A collapsed barn leaned on its side, the roof caved in. Scattered among the ruins were overturned carts, shattered doors, and remnants of belongings¡ªtorn cloaks, broken pottery, rusting tools. Even the church at the far end of the village had not been spared, its wooden doors hacked apart, a crude banner with Ragnar¡¯s sigil nailed across its entrance.


    On the far right, I spotted a large cage fashioned from thick wooden beams, bound together with iron bands. Inside, huddled figures sat or stood, their faces hollow with exhaustion. Twenty, maybe thirty people¡ªcaptives waiting for their fate. Opposite that, another, even larger cage held more prisoners, packed so tightly that some were forced to stand. My eyes scanned both, searching. The girl wasn¡¯t among them. That meant she was still alive¡ªeither hiding or second-guessing her reckless charge into the camp.


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± I muttered. ¡°The guards¡­¡±


    Ragnar¡¯s men milled about, comfortable in their victory. One stood near the well, relieving himself against the crumbling stone. Another sat on a barrel, swigging ale from a clay jug, his beard slick with drink. Near the cages, two more entertained themselves with cruelty¡ªone grinning as he smashed a prisoner¡¯s face into the dirt with his boot, the other pressing a red-hot knife against a man¡¯s arm, delighting in the pained howls. A fifth guard sat on a broken cart, sharpening his sword, humming to himself as sparks danced from the whetstone. Another group, four or five men, stood around a fire pit, roasting meat and laughing at some crude joke. They had grown careless. Overconfident.


    ¡°Can¡¯t see the kid anywhere¡­¡±


    I dropped from the hill¡¯s lower ridge, landing softly in the dirt. Then, keeping low, I leaped again, reaching the campgrounds. I tucked myself behind an overturned cart, scanning the area. There were at least ten of them¡ªtoo many for a direct assault. I had to be smart, or they¡¯d cut me down before I could even find the girl.


    Crouching low, I crept through the underbrush near the cages. My first target stood by the well, relieving himself, unaware of the death creeping toward him. Silent as a shadow, I emerged from the bushes, wrapped an arm around his neck, and yanked him back into the foliage. His body thrashed, but I clamped down hard. With my free hand, I set my axe on the ground, its blade angled upward. Then, with a brutal shove, I drove his throat onto the steel. A wet, gurgling noise escaped him as blood gushed down his chest, his hands instinctively clawing at the fatal wound. He twitched, spasmed¡ªthen went still.


    A little further from the well, another man sat slumped on a barrel, nursing a clay jug of ale. He was half-drunk, but still dangerous if given a chance to react. The two guards tormenting the prisoners were facing away, distracted by their cruelty. Taking the opportunity, I slipped from my cover and crept behind the well. I peered out, watching the drinker fumble with his jug. When he reached behind him for another, his foggy eyes met mine.


    No time to hesitate. I lunged.


    We crashed to the ground in a tangled mess of limbs. The jug shattered, spilling ale across the dirt as we grappled. I scrambled on top of him and slammed my fist into his face, knocking the air from his lungs. Before he could yell for help, I hooked my hands under his arms and dragged him into the husk of a burned house. He struggled, kicking against the charred debris, but I kept my grip firm. I threw him against the blackened wall.


    Before he could recover, my axe found his skull. His body slumped, blood dripping down the scorched wood.


    I wiped my brow, heart pounding. "Okay¡­ Keep going, Val. Keep going."

 Chapter 11

    The two men who had been tormenting the prisoners perked up, their heads snapping toward the sound. Their eyes locked onto the clay mug spilled across the dirt and the lone axe lying beside it¡ªthe weapon must have slipped from the dead man¡¯s sheath as I dragged him away.


    The taller one nudged the shorter, exchanging a glance before they both cautiously stepped toward the scene. I kept still, pressed against the scorched wooden wall inside the ruined house, listening to their footsteps crunch over debris.


    I risked a peek through the broken window. One of them was mere inches from me, within arm¡¯s reach, while the other crouched down, inspecting the axe and mug.


    This was my moment.


    In one fluid motion, I shot up, grabbed the closest one by his collar, and yanked him through the window. He barely had time to gasp before my fist cracked against his jaw. He reeled, but before he could recover, my axe split his face open. Blood splattered against the ruined wall, his body collapsing in a heap.


    ¡°Huh?¡± The second man muttered, straightening. ¡°The fuck was that?¡±


    He stepped toward the window, brow furrowed, gripping his sword tighter. Leaning inside, he peered into the darkness¡ªonly to find his comrade''s corpse staring back at him, eyes wide with frozen terror.


    I was nowhere to be seen.


    He recoiled, but before he could react, I slipped out of the front door. In an instant, my fist crashed against the back of his head, making him stagger forward. I seized his hair, forcing his face into the dirt, then hoisted him up and hurled him through the same window. His body crashed inside, rolling to a stop beside his dead friend.


    Vaulting over, I landed atop him, both axes flashing. The first buried deep into his chest, splitting ribs. The second met his neck, severing flesh and bone in one clean strike.


    I exhaled, pulling my weapons free.


    One of the remaining guards¡ªthis one sitting atop an overturned cart¡ªwho was sharpening his sword, yawned. As he finished, he sheathed his blade and stood, making his way toward the prisoners.


    He frowned. ¡°Where the hell did those two idiots go?¡±


    I slipped behind him and tapped his shoulder.


    ¡°Here.¡±


    He barely turned before my axe sank into his gut. A choked grunt escaped his lips, but I wasn¡¯t done. I struck again. And again. His body crumpled, twitching on the ground.


    Quickly scanning my surroundings, I dragged his corpse behind the cart, shoving it beneath broken wood to keep it hidden.


    I muttered under my breath, voice low. ¡°By Odin¡­ how many guards for such a small camp?¡±


    By the fire, another man stirred. Rising from his seat, he stretched, then wandered toward a barrel brimming with ale. He dipped his horn in, lifting it to his lips, and downed it in one long gulp before belching loudly.


    As he reached to fill it again, I struck.


    Silent as a snake, I emerged from the shadows. My hand clamped onto his hair, yanking his head back before slamming it into the ale. He thrashed wildly, clawing at my arm, legs kicking in desperation. I kept my grip firm, forcing him under, his muffled screams bubbling to the surface.


    Seconds stretched into eternity. His struggles grew weaker. Then, at last, his body sagged, going limp in my grasp.


    I let go. His lifeless form hit the ground with a dull thud.


    Grabbing him by the legs, I dragged him into the thick underbrush, concealing his corpse beneath the tangled growth.


    One by one, they were falling.


    And I wasn¡¯t done yet, unfortunately.


    ¡°More to go¡­¡±


    I stepped toward the campfire in the center of the ruined village, its glow flickering against the scorched remnants of the houses. Three men sat around it¡ªone, a fat brute with a comically large head, tore into a chunk of meat, grease dripping down his chin. The other two spoke in hushed tones, their heads close together.


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    Moving behind a wooden crate, I kept low. But just as I was about to slip past, a door creaked open from a nearby burnt-down house. My body tensed. I dropped into a crouch and crawled under an overturned cart, the cramped space barely enough to fit me. Holding my breath, I gripped my axe tightly, waiting.


    ¡°When are we killing them?¡± The guard who had just exited the house asked, his voice laced with impatience. ¡°We can¡¯t just keep feeding them.¡±


    One of the men by the fire snorted. ¡°Ragnar says we feed them until he decides otherwise.¡± He took a swig from his mug. ¡°So, we feed them until he decides otherwise. Simple as that.¡±


    The first guard muttered a curse and let something drop to the ground with a dull thud¡ªan axe. ¡°Shit, my sheath¡¯s ripped.¡±


    Crouching, he reached for it. His eyes flicked downward. Then, in an instant, they locked onto mine.


    I lunged.


    One hand clamped over his mouth before he could let out so much as a gasp. His body jerked violently, thrashing against my grip, but I held firm, tightening my arm around his throat like a vice. His boots dug into the dirt, fists pounding at my sides, but I didn¡¯t relent. He choked, his muffled screams lost to the crackling fire.


    Slowly, his struggling weakened. The life drained from his limbs. Then, with one final twitch, he went still.


    I exhaled sharply, shoving his corpse under the cart before rising to my feet. That was close¡ªtoo close.


    ¡°Hey,¡± one of the men at the fire called out. ¡°You got the food yet? It¡¯s behind the cart.¡±


    Silence.


    The man scowled, glancing toward the cart, then shook his head and muttered a curse under his breath. Too lazy to check, he simply took another gulp of ale and returned to his conversation.


    A little later, the remaining men around the fire stood and wandered off toward the far side of the camp. This was my chance. I retraced my steps, walking toward the two prisoners. They were bound, lying in the dirt just opposite the ale barrel.


    ¡°You¡¯re safe,¡± I murmured, kneeling beside them. ¡°I¡¯m a friend. Freydis sent me.¡±


    One man had a deep gash along his arm, the wound still raw and exposed. The other¡­ he was barely breathing, his face swollen from relentless beatings.


    I cut their ropes and crouched, checking their condition. The one with the wound groaned softly but didn¡¯t move, while the other barely managed to part his swollen lips, unable to form words.


    Leaving them, I moved toward the cages, stopping between them. The prisoners inside stirred, their sunken eyes flickering with hope. Hands reached through the bars. Silent cheers rippled among them.


    One man gripped the bars, his knuckles white. ¡°You¡­ Who are you?¡±


    ¡°Freydis sent me.¡± My voice was low. ¡°Where are the keys?¡±


    ¡°There.¡± An old man pointed to a table nearby. ¡°Hurry. Unlock these damn things!¡±


    I wasted no time, snatching the keys and unlocking the cages swiftly. The moment the doors creaked open, the prisoners slipped out, grabbing whatever weapons they could find from a chest hidden in the underbrush.


    As they armed themselves, I returned to the injured men. The one with the battered face was barely holding on, but the other¡­ his breathing was shallow, his skin pale. He wouldn¡¯t make it.


    I crouched beside him, resting a hand on his chest. His fingers weakly curled around my wrist. His lips parted, whispering something. I leaned in.


    He said just one word.


    ¡°Axe¡­¡±


    I looked up, just as a woman approached. She held out a weapon¡ªhis axe, probably. Her voice trembled. ¡°It was his. Give it to him, drengr.¡±


    I took it. Without hesitation, I placed it on his chest. His fingers wrapped around the hilt, as if it was the last thing anchoring him to this world. Then, with a final breath, his grip slackened. His chest did not rise again. Odin had sent his winged women to carry him home.


    ¡°Farewell, warrior,¡± I murmured. ¡°You¡¯re among the best, now.¡±


    The woman beside me swallowed hard, eyes glassy, but there was no time to grieve.


    ¡°Was there a child with you?¡± I asked, turning to her. ¡°In the cage?¡±


    She frowned. ¡°No. Why would¡ª¡±


    ¡°We need to go before they come back!¡± A man from the group urged. ¡°We have the numbers, but we¡¯re too weak to fight.¡±


    I nodded, slinging the barely-conscious man over my shoulder. ¡°Follow me.¡±


    Then¡ªa door burst open.


    ¡°You shits!¡± One of Ragnar¡¯s men stormed out, sword in hand. ¡°I¡¯ll kill you all! Sound the horn!¡±


    The sharp blast of a war horn shattered the air.


    I let out a low curse, gently lowering the wounded man to the ground. ¡°You,¡± I barked to the woman, ¡°Take him. Get out of here. Meet me at York, near the cave with a pond. Do you know it?¡±


    She hesitated for only a moment, then nodded. ¡°Yes, I know it. I¡¯ll tell the others. We¡¯ll wait for you there.¡±


    More of Ragnar¡¯s men poured from the surrounding buildings, weapons drawn, eyes burning with fury.


    The freed prisoners fled into the forest, but I stayed. I planted my feet, axes in hand, heart pounding. Six men stood before me, the firelight glinting off their blades.


    I bared my teeth, muscles coiling.


    ¡°For glory!¡± I roared, charging forward. ¡°For Valhalla!¡±

 Chapter 12

    Raising my axe, I clashed metal with the closest enemy, forcing him back a step. Before I could press my advantage, another warrior came at me from the side, twin swords flashing in the firelight. I twisted, deflecting one strike, but the other sliced across my shoulder, ripping through my tunic and drawing blood.


    Gritting my teeth, I barely had time to register the third attacker before his arm locked around me from behind. His other hand held a dagger, the blade pressing against my back. Pain flared as he stabbed once¡ªbut I caught his wrist before he could drive it deeper, my axe slipping from my grip in the process.


    I snarled and threw my head back, the impact smashing into his nose with a sickening crunch. He grunted in pain, loosening his hold just enough for me to twist free. My elbow crashed into his face, and as he staggered, I wrenched the dagger from his grasp and rammed it into his throat.


    The man let out a strangled gurgle, his hands clawing at his own neck as blood poured out. I barely had time to retrieve my axe before another sword came down toward me. I threw my weapon up, metal shrieking against metal as I deflected the blow.


    My hand trembled under the force, my legs buckling as I dropped to one knee. Another enemy lunged¡ªhis blade swinging low. I managed to deflect it, the force knocking me backward into the dirt.


    I crawled away, reaching for the dagger I had just buried in that bastard¡¯s throat. Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I yanked it free and hurled it.


    The blade struck true.


    ¡°Shit!¡± The man shrieked as steel buried itself in his forehead. His body twitched violently, his eyes bulging in terror. ¡°Agh¡­ no! No!¡±


    A sharp whistle cut through the air.


    An arrow struck the dirt inches from my head.


    I rolled, grabbing both my axes as I dove behind an overturned cart. Peering out, I spotted them¡ªtwo archers perched on the rooftop of a burnt-down house, arrows nocked and ready.


    One of them loosed a shot. I ducked, the arrow thudding into the cart¡¯s wooden frame.


    I exhaled sharply. Five against one. This was going to be hard.


    ¡°Come on, Val,¡± I muttered, chest heaving. ¡°Come on.¡±


    Pushing off from the ground, I broke from cover, sprinting toward the three nearest enemies¡ªone being on the ground with a dagger in his forehead, still alive. Two reacted instantly, one raised a shield, the other stood just behind him, morningstar poised to strike.


    The shield was unlike any I had seen before. It was so heavy that even the enemy struggled to carry it. It covered his chest and extended downward, completely shielding him.


    ¡°I won¡¯t give up.¡± I said to myself. ¡°I won¡¯t¡­¡±


    I adjusted my footing as the spiked metal ball came swinging for my ribs. At the last second, I dodged left¡ªmy boot catching against the body of the man I had just put a dagger through. He was still alive, mumbling to himself, eyes wide with delirium.


    I stumbled but caught myself, just in time to bat away another arrow with my axe. Without hesitating, I kicked the dagger¡¯s hilt, driving it deeper into his skull. His twitching ceased instantly.


    Raising my axe, I swung down twice, hacking into his neck. The first blow nearly severed it. The second finished the job.


    The shield-bearer stepped forward. The man with the morningstar swung again.


    This time, the spikes found their mark. Agony lanced through me as two of them punched into my already wounded shoulder.


    I roared in pain but refused to fall.


    ¡°You¡¯ll regret that,¡± I growled through gritted teeth.


    Gripping the morningstar¡¯s chain, I yanked hard, tearing the weapon free from my flesh. The enemy staggered, and I seized the opportunity¡ªrolling past him and grabbing the severed head of the man I had just killed, tying it to my H?ggskjold.


    Three more. Three more for Thor¡¯s blessing.


    ¡°Valrik the traitor!¡± One of them bellowed. ¡°That¡¯s you!¡±


    Another arrow whistled through the air. This time, it struck true.


    The shaft buried itself into the same wounded shoulder, the impact forcing me to my knees. My vision swam. Pain pulsed through my entire body, blurring the edges of my sight.


    I barely registered the shield-bearer rushing forward before the heavy slab of wood smashed into my face. Stars exploded behind my eyes as I hit the ground, dazed.


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    Then came the kick¡ªhis boot slamming into the side of my skull, sending fresh waves of agony through me.


    My axes slipped from my fingers.


    I tried to reach for them, but my limbs felt heavy.


    I crawled, my breath ragged, blood soaking the earth beneath me. Every inch forward was a battle, my body screaming at me to stop.


    The dagger wound on my back. The arrow lodged in my shoulder. The morningstar¡¯s brutal strike. It was all too much. My strength was failing. My vision dimming.


    ¡°I¡­¡± My voice rasped as I dragged myself forward. ¡°Go to Valhalla¡­¡±


    Again¡­ everything came to a halt.


    The men froze¡ªthe two archers on the rooftop, their arrows aimed at my skull, the blood soaking into the dirt, the very air itself seemed to hold its breath. And then, from the corner of my vision, a shadow emerged.


    I barely turned my head, but I knew who it was.


    Odin.


    His hood shrouded his face, and in his grasp rested Gungnir, his spear, its tip pressed against the ground. Though his eyes were hidden, I could feel his gaze upon me¡ªwatching as I bled, as I crawled, as I fought for every breath.


    ¡°Honor, once lost, is not easily regained,¡± he spoke, his voice calm, steady, filled with an ancient weight. ¡°It follows you like a shadow, ever present, whispering of your failure.¡±


    I struggled to talk. ¡°O¡­ You¡ªOdin¡­¡±


    ¡°You aren¡¯t destined to die here, warrior,¡± he said, his voice harsher. ¡°Fight! Earn your place in my hall! Reclaim the honor you have lost!¡±


    I blinked.


    And just like that, he was gone.


    The moment returned to me in a rush¡ªthe pain, the dirt beneath my fingers, the warriors charging at me, their weapons raised. But I no longer felt alone. He had walked beside me. He had seen me. And he was still watching.


    A grin stretched across my face, wild and unshaken by the agony searing through my body. I pushed myself up, roaring, my voice cracking through the air.


    ¡°Odin is with me!¡± My eyes burned as I struck my chest with a fist. ¡°He is with me!¡±


    Fueled by the fire coursing through my veins, I lunged forward. The shield-bearer barely had time to react before my hand clamped around his throat. I drove my forehead into his face, the impact sending him staggering backward. His companion swung a morningstar, the chain whistling through the air¡ªI caught it. Wrapping it around my arm, I yanked him toward me and drove my fist into his jaw.


    The shield-bearer collapsed, and before he could recover, I ripped the morningstar free and swung downward. The iron ball crushed his skull, his body twitching as blood ran down from his ears and nose.


    The second man, desperate, threw himself at me, trying to drag me down. But the rush of battle had taken me, and I would not falter. I caught him mid-charge, slamming the hilt of the morningstar into his temple. He crumpled.


    Above me, the archers released their arrows. I ducked, the shafts slicing through the air where my head had been.


    ¡°You die now!¡± I snarled, striding toward the fallen man.


    Grabbing the discarded shield, I mounted him, pressing the wooden frame against his throat. His hands clawed at me, at the shield, at anything¡ªgasping, choking. Just as I was about to crush his windpipe, pain erupted in my back.


    An arrow¡ªbut I didn¡¯t flinch.


    Lifting my head, I turned to the rooftop. The archers scrambled to notch another shot, their hands trembling as they fumbled with their bows.


    My vision blurred with rage as I stepped back, planting a boot on the shield. Then, with a burst of strength, I launched myself upward. My fingers gripped the rooftop¡¯s edge, and as I hauled myself up.


    The archers fired. One arrow grazed my arm, the other lodged into my boot, but I didn¡¯t stop.


    ¡°He is with me!¡± I bellowed, charging.


    Before they could react, I seized them both¡ªgrabbing one by the waist and dragging the other along as I ran toward the ledge. With a final burst of momentum, I threw us all off the rooftop.


    We crashed onto the dirt below.


    I rolled, then sprang onto one of them, fists hammering down. Left. Right. Left. Right. I lost count of the blows, lost myself in the blood and the fury. When I finally stopped, his face was unrecognizable.


    But the second archer had recovered.


    I barely registered the pain as he drove an arrow into my side. My body jolted, my strength faltering for the first time.


    ¡°Fucking shithead,¡± he spat, yanking another arrow from his quiver. ¡°You¡¯re dead!¡±


    I gritted my teeth, fingers curling weakly around the arrow embedded in my flesh. My limbs felt heavy. My vision darkened at the edges. He lifted another arrow high, ready to strike¡ª


    And then a sword pierced through his face.


    The tip of the blade jutted from his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. He gurgled once before crumpling to the ground.


    I gasped for breath, my gaze shifting to the figures standing before me. Five warriors, armored and armed, their swords still slick with blood.


    And beside them¡ªa small figure. Ela. Freydis¡¯ little girl.


    Her wide eyes locked onto me, filled with worry. ¡°Help him,¡± she pleaded, tugging at one of the men¡¯s sleeves. ¡°He won¡¯t die, right?¡±


    A man crouched beside me, lifting my head. ¡°Are you awake, drengr?¡± His voice was steady, but there was urgency in his grip.


    ¡°He¡¯s barely breathing,¡± another muttered.


    ¡°We need a healer,¡± someone else insisted. ¡°York. It¡¯s the closest city.¡±


    The sky above me blurred into darkness.


    I exhaled, hoping that if the winged women of Odin came for me, they would take me to his hall.


    Then, everything faded.


    ????????-?????-???????

 Chapter 13

    My father was a wise man, or so our clan, Pilombrug, believed, I was too little to remember. A kind Jarl, yet vicious when needed. Thoughtful, but never hesitant. His brother, M¨¹ltegjol, was nothing like him. Greedy. Power-hungry. He wanted to rule, to hoard wealth, to see men kneel before him. And when my father refused to rule as he wished, M¨¹ltegjol did what any spineless coward would do. He took matters into his own hands.


    I opened my eyes, only for a moment. A raven perched on a tree branch above me, its dark gaze locked onto mine. Watching. Waiting. My vision blurred, and I slipped away again.


    I was ten the day M¨¹ltegjol betrayed us. He and my father, Drogni, went on a hunt, taking my brother and me with them. My father said we needed to learn¡ªhow to track, how to kill, how to survive. I remember the cold air biting at my face, the crunch of frost beneath our boots, the smell of pine hanging thick in the forest. I remember trusting him and my father.


    ¡°He¡¯s stirring.¡± A voice cut through the darkness, urgent. ¡°Hey, drengr! Can you hear me?¡±


    ¡°Mmm¡­¡± Another voice grunted in response. ¡°He¡¯s not waking up. We¡¯ve rested long enough. The horses are ready.¡±


    ¡°He can¡¯t die!¡± Ela¡¯s voice, high and trembling. ¡°We have to go!¡±


    ¡°You heard her! Move!¡±


    We followed M¨¹ltegjol into a cave that day, deep into the den of a great black wolf. I had no reason to question him. He was family, we were just hunting. And¡ªwe didn¡¯t see the trap until it was too late. The bastard snuffed out our torches, leaving us blind in the suffocating dark.


    ¡°How did he fight like that?¡± a voice whispered. ¡°It was like watching Thor himself in battle.¡±


    ¡°My father¡­¡± Ela¡¯s voice again, quieter this time. ¡°He¡­ he didn¡¯t make it, did he?¡±


    Pilddr, who I considered my brother, scooped me into his arms. I was too small, too weak, but he was older¡ªstronger. He carried me, running blind through the tunnels, the gods guiding our steps. My father wasn¡¯t as lucky. He never made it out. I wanted to go back, to fight, to die at his side, but Pilddr held me tight.


    Then, after what felt like eternity, M¨¹ltegjol emerged from the cave, untouched. The black wolf followed him. It was his. I learned later that he had raised it since it was a pup. He had led us into the dark, knowing what awaited us there.


    ¡°Ugh¡­¡±


    My eyes fluttered open again, this time to the pale glow of the moon. My head rested against someone¡¯s back, the steady rhythm of a horse¡¯s hooves jarring my wounds with every step. I groaned, my fingers curling weakly against the blood-soaked saddle beneath me.


    ¡°Valhalla¡­?¡± My voice barely escaped my lips.


    ¡°Not yet, drengr.¡± The old man in front of me chuckled, his voice steady. ¡°One day, I¡¯m sure. But not yet.¡±


    I swallowed, trying to straighten myself. Pain seared through my ribs. ¡°Where am I¡­?¡±


    ¡°Close to York.¡± He kept his horse¡¯s pace even, as if careful not to jostle me too much. ¡°Don¡¯t sleep. Talk to me.¡±


    I forced a breath through my nose, my vision swimming. ¡°About what¡­?¡±


    ¡°Your belt.¡± He glanced back at me. ¡°That¡¯s H?ggskjold, isn¡¯t it? Just like in the legends.¡±


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    I nodded weakly. ¡°Yes¡­¡±


    ¡°They say the blacksmith who forged it climbed a mountain and begged Thor for a blessing. He spent two winters up there, shitting in a bucket and eating bugs.¡±


    I let out a dry, rasping laugh. ¡°Then¡ª¡± I coughed, wincing. ¡°Then Thor heard him.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s right.¡± The man smirked. ¡°One stormy night, lightning struck the belt. That¡¯s why the metal has ripples, like waves frozen in steel.¡±


    A shout rang out ahead.


    ¡°York! We¡¯re here! Get him down¡ªnow!¡±


    The horse came to a stop, and the man in front of me dismounted. Without hesitation, he grabbed me by the waist and hoisted me over his shoulder. My head was hanging limp as I watched the ground below. The muddy path bore the imprints of his boots, each step sinking slightly into the wet earth.


    I barely had the strength to lift my head, but in the dim torchlight, I caught sight of a small figure walking ahead. A dress. Short stature. Ela. Freydis¡¯ daughter.


    The man carrying me halted near a flickering torch, its glow casting long shadows over my face. Ahead, voices swelled¡ªtalking, laughing, crying. The unmistakable sounds of a city¡¯s entrance. York.


    ¡°We¡¯re with Freydis. Let us through,¡± the man beside me called out.


    ¡°Freydis?¡± A rough voice, likely a guard, snapped in response. ¡°You Dane dogs! Leave now, or I¡¯ll cut you down where you stand!¡±


    ¡°We are expected, Saxon!¡± Another one shouted from behind. ¡°Let us through!¡±


    ¡°Sound the alarm!¡± the guard roared. ¡°We¡¯re under atta¡ª¡±


    ¡°Stop!¡±


    A familiar voice cut through the night. John.


    The torchlight shifted as he stepped forward. ¡°Let them through,¡± he ordered. ¡°They¡¯re expected.¡±


    A tense silence followed. Then the guard scoffed. ¡°Fine. Get inside. But if any of you so much as look at someone wrong, I¡¯ll see you all hanged.¡±


    With that, we passed through the entrance.


    John walked beside us, his sharp gaze sweeping over me. Without a word, he reached out, tilting my chin up. He grimaced.


    ¡°They messed you up,¡± he muttered.


    ¡°You should¡¯ve seen the other guys,¡± I rasped, wincing.


    John exhaled through his nose, then glanced past me. ¡°That little girl¡­ That¡¯s Ela, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    I barely managed a nod. ¡°That¡¯s her.¡±


    We walked in silence until the man carrying me stopped in front of a house and knocked. Ela stepped closer nex to John, peering up at me. Her small face twisted in a grimace, much like John¡¯s had.


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± she murmured. ¡°For saving our men.¡±


    I didn¡¯t respond.


    The door creaked open, revealing a dimly lit interior. Inside, the house bore the marks of Saxon living¡ªwattle-and-daub walls, a thatched roof, and a central hearth casting a warm glow. The scent of smoke and dried herbs lingered in the air, and wooden beams stretched overhead, their rough surfaces blackened by years of soot. Animal pelts lay scattered across the floor, serving as makeshift rugs, while a long table stood against the wall, cluttered with earthenware and tools.


    Freydis, seated at the table, shot to her feet the moment she saw us. In an instant, she was across the room, scooping Ela into her arms and holding her tightly, spinning her once before setting her down.


    Meanwhile, the man lowered me onto my feet, ensuring I could stand before releasing me. I barely managed a few steps before finding a bed and collapsing onto it, my head sinking into the pillow¡ªalready damp with my own blood.


    ¡°He needs healing,¡± John said, crouching beside me. ¡°Do we have yarrow and willow bark?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Ela piped up. ¡°I stole it from Ragnar¡¯s camp.¡±


    John huffed a quiet chuckle. ¡°You¡¯re safe now, heathen,¡± he said, his voice softer this time. ¡°Rest, okay?¡±


    I let my eyes close, my body sinking further into the mattress.


    ¡°Yeah¡­¡± I mumbled, barely above a whisper. ¡°Rest, huh¡­¡±


    And then, darkness took me.


    ????????-?????-???????

 Chapter 14

    I woke to an unfamiliar ceiling, my vision hazy, eyes half-lidded with exhaustion. Sunlight streamed through a nearby window, its warmth stinging my face as my senses slowly returned. With a quiet groan, I pushed myself upright, sitting on the edge of the bed. My limbs felt sluggish, and my mind swam in a fog of half-formed memories.


    As I turned my gaze toward the outside world, the events of the previous day crept back to me¡ªwounds, blood, battle. Most of all, him. Odin. The Allfather.


    His voice still echoed in my mind, a constant refrain that refused to fade.


    "Honor, once lost, is never easily regained."


    It wasn¡¯t a dream. It couldn¡¯t have been. The weight of his presence had been too real, the wisdom in his words undeniable. He had been there, watching me, guiding me, deciding that it was not yet my time to enter his hall.


    "By the gods..." I murmured, my breath catching. "He really was there."


    A sharp pulse of pain shot through my side as I moved, dragging me back to reality. I exhaled slowly, planting my feet on the wooden floor. The house was quiet, empty. The hearth at the center had long since burned out, leaving behind only the scent of old smoke.


    Outside, the city hummed with life. York stood bathed in morning light, its streets bustling with movement. The air was crisp and clean, untainted by storm clouds or rain. Despite the city¡¯s usual weariness, there was an undeniable energy¡ªpeople talking, vendors calling out, the scent of fresh bread wafting through the streets. And yet, the scars of battle remained. Healers moved, tending to the wounded, their hurried footsteps echoing off the stone paths.


    A dull pressure wrapped around my torso, the tightness of clothes pressing against my skin. I touched them absently, realizing they had been applied while I was unconscious. My mind churned, trying to piece things together. Then, it struck me¡ªJohn. He had stayed with me, tending my wounds through the night.


    "Ah¡­" My gaze landed on a nearby table where my armor sat, neatly arranged. "My armor."


    But my axes¡­ they were missing.


    With slow movements, I reached for my light armor, pulling it over my head. The weight was familiar but felt heavier than usual. As I adjusted the straps, a wave of dizziness struck, forcing me to grip the edge of the table to steady myself. My knuckles whitened against the wood as I exhaled through gritted teeth.


    "Mielda¡­" I muttered, my vision still blurred. "I left her there. Damn it¡­ and the prisoners. I told them to wait at the cave."


    I staggered toward the door and pushed it open. Warm air rushed to greet me, carrying the mixed scents of the city¡ªbaking bread, damp wood, and the tang of iron.


    To my left, a frail man sat against the wall, his cloudy eyes unfocused as he extended a trembling hand for silver. His ribs pressed against his skin, hunger and hardship carved into his very being.


    To my right, a city guard lounged in a wooden chair, a half-empty tankard of ale slipping from his grasp. His head lolled forward, threatening to drop fully into sleep.


    Ahead, the front gates loomed, guarded by two men standing stiffly at attention. Above them, the city walls bristled with more bowmen than usual¡­ because of Ernest.


    ¡°Curse that man.¡±


    A pang of hunger coiled in my stomach as the smell of freshly baked bread curled through the air. My throat felt dry, my body drained. But it could¡¯ve been worse. I could¡¯ve been hungry, parched, and dead, forever denied the halls of Valhalla.


    ¡°I need to get to the cave,¡± I muttered, glancing around. My axes were still nowhere in sight. "Ugh..."


    At that moment, a child turned the corner and nearly ran into me. Ela.


    She clutched something in her small hands¡ªmy axes. And my gauntlet, the one that had been broken in battle, now whole again.


    ¡°Oh,¡± she breathed, blinking up at me with wide green eyes. ¡°You¡¯re awake, sir. Thank God.¡±


    She was small, barely reaching my waist, with golden hair that framed her features. Her dress was fine, far too elegant for the filth-covered streets¡ªdeep red wool embroidered with golden thread, the fabric thick enough to ward off the cold. A silver brooch fastened it at the shoulder, likely passed down through generations.


    I eyed the items in her hands. "Those are my axes, little one?"


    She nodded, lifting them toward me. "Yes, sir. I cleaned them. And I fixed your gauntlet."


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    I took them carefully, sliding my axes back into their sheaths. "You fixed my gauntlet?"


    She grinned, tilting her head. "Well¡­ the blacksmith did. But I brought it to him."


    A quiet chuckle rumbled in my chest. "Then you have my thanks." My gaze softened as I studied her. ¡°Tell me, what happened at the camp? I remember being there, but my mind is clouded. Like a snowstorm¡­ nothing is clear.¡±


    Her small hands folded in front of her. ¡°You fought Ragnar¡¯s men off and freed the prisoners,¡± she said. ¡°Then¡­ you passed out.¡±


    I furrowed my brow. ¡°And my horse? Mielda?¡±


    Ela hesitated, shaking her head. ¡°No. We didn¡¯t see any horse.¡±


    I inhaled sharply. "She wasn¡¯t there?"


    ¡°Was it important to you?¡± she asked, tilting her head.


    ¡°Not it. She,¡± I corrected gently. ¡°A horse is not just a beast of burden. Treat them well, and they will carry you through storms, through battle, through death itself. A loyal steed is worth more than a blade in war.¡±


    Ela lowered her head. "Sorry¡­ she."


    I nodded, rolling my shoulders, still feeling the weight of exhaustion pressing down on me. "I need to find her." My eyes flickered toward her once more. ¡°Where is your mother? Freydis?¡±


    ¡°She went to a cave nearby,¡± Ela answered. ¡°One of our men came to the city and told us they were there. I think¡­ you told them to wait there?¡±


    So they had listened. Good.


    I secured my gauntlet, flexing my fingers to test its fit. "I''ll go check on them." I glanced at Ela, offering a nod. "Thank you for helping me."


    She clasped her hands behind her back and smiled. "Thank you for saving my family." A flicker of admiration shone in her green eyes. "You''re a hero sent from Odin."


    I let out a short breath, shaking my head. "I''m not. But I appreciate it, little sparrow." I rested a hand atop her golden hair, ruffling it gently. "I''ll see you soon."


    Turning, I made my way toward the street, my steps uneven. A dull ache pulsed through my leg¡ªlikely from my fall from the rooftop. I hadn''t noticed it before, not when the adrenaline had been coursing through my veins. It wasn¡¯t unbearable, but it slowed me. The real pain came from the dagger wound on my back, flaring with every movement.


    I pushed through, leaving the city behind as my pace steadied. The road stretched before me, open and waiting. To my left, the River Ouse gleamed under the morning sun, a handful of boats rocking gently as fishermen cast their lines. To my right, the forest loomed, dark and endless¡ªthe direction I needed to go.


    "Mielda..." Her name left my lips, heavy with worry. "She¡¯s too weak to be alone. How could I have left her like that? Curse it¡­ be safe, Mielda.¡±


    My limp quickened into something closer to a hurried stride. As much as my body protested, I refused to slow.


    After some time, the entrance to the cave came into view. Six horses stood hitched nearby, but none of them were Mielda. A sigh left me, half frustration, half relief. If the men had managed to bring their horses here, it meant they had escaped the camp successfully. At least there was that.


    I moved toward the pond near the entrance, glancing up. A faint light flickered from within the cave, shadows shifting against the walls.


    I took a breath and called out, "Hello. I¡¯m¡­ Valrik. Is Freydis there?"


    A figure appeared at the entrance, then pressed against the rock wall, peering out cautiously. As the sunlight lit their face, I recognized her¡ªFreydis. She looked tired, like she had just woken.


    "Valrik," she called back. "Come up here!"


    I shook my head. "I can''t, friend. I have to get my horse back. I left her near the camp."


    Freydis blinked, then nodded in understanding. "Your horse?" She rubbed her face before straightening. "I¡¯ll come. We¡¯ll ride there with my horse."


    I studied her, frowning. "Are you sure, shieldmaiden? You look¡­ pale. Tired."


    "And you look like shit," she shot back. "Do I say it to your face, though? No."


    A chuckle rumbled in my chest. "Fair enough, friend. Fair enough."


    Before I could say more, another figure emerged from the cave entrance, stepping out into the light. I recognized him instantly¡ªthe man who had carried me, who had made sure I was treated.


    He was older, likely in his fifties, with long white hair that reached past his shoulders. His belly was round, but his build remained strong. A well-worn shield rested on his back, and an axe hung at his hip. Black gloves covered his hands, and a thin scar ran from his right eyebrow down to his upper lip.


    "I¡¯ll come as well," he said, his voice steady. "It¡¯ll be safer."


    "You¡­" I exhaled, nodding. "I remember you. Thank you for helping me¡­"


    I trailed off, waiting.


    "Thrainar," he supplied. "Nice to meet you, Valrik."


    "Likewise, drengr."


    As they carefully made their way down the rocky path, I crossed my arms, watching. The rest of the men were likely still inside, wounded and exhausted. They needed rest. Time.


    "How are the prisoners?" I asked once they reached me.


    "They''re getting better," Freydis said, brushing dust from her hands. "Ragnar¡¯s dog didn¡¯t treat them well enough. But I did."


    Thrainar gave a firm nod. "It¡¯s thanks to you they¡¯re alive."


    I met his gaze. "And it¡¯s thanks to you and Ela that I¡¯m alive." A smirk tugged at my lips. "Without you, I¡¯d be dinner for some pig by now."


    Thrainar let out a deep chuckle. "I saw how you fought, drengr¡ªas if Odin himself was beside you. You would¡¯ve sent them all to Helheim before they touched you."


    Freydis swung herself onto her horse, adjusting the reins. "Enough talking. It¡¯s still early. If we¡¯re lucky, we might find your horse."


    I rolled my shoulders. "Hmm. Let¡¯s go."


    ????????-?????-???????

 Chapter 15

    I pulled the reins, slowing my horse as my eyes scanned the clearing where I had last left Mielda. My chest tightened¡ªshe wasn¡¯t there. The ground where she should have been stood empty, save for trampled grass and broken twigs. She must¡¯ve bolted, spooked by something. But where? That was the real question. Finding her in this vast wilderness wouldn¡¯t be easy.


    I swung down from my saddle, my boots hitting the dirt with a dull thud. The others dismounted as well, their eyes following me as I strode toward a fallen tree near the edge of the clearing. From there, I had a clear view of the abandoned campsite above.


    Crouching low, I pressed a hand to the ground, fingers brushing over scattered leaves and upturned soil. A few hoofprints stood out¡ªfaint but still visible. Nearby, a fresh pile of droppings confirmed Mielda had been here not long ago.


    ¡°She ran,¡± I muttered, tracing the disrupted earth with my fingertips. My eyes followed the prints, leading deeper into the forest. ¡°To¡­ there. She¡¯s headed straight into the trees.¡±


    Freydis stepped closer, arms crossed. ¡°Then let¡¯s go after her,¡± she said, her voice firm. ¡°I hope she¡¯s safe.¡±


    I let out a slow breath, brushing the dirt from my hands. ¡°I hope so too.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll stay here,¡± Thrainar announced, gripping his horse¡¯s reins. ¡°Just in case Ragnar¡¯s men regroup at the camp below. If things turn ugly, I¡¯ll sound my horn.¡±


    I met his gaze and gave him a nod of thanks before turning toward the trail. The prints in the dirt were uneven, scattered. Mielda had been running¡ªfast. At one point, the tracks deepened sharply, a rough indentation in the ground where she had stumbled. She must have tripped over something. I ran a hand over the dirt¡ªno blood. Good. She wasn¡¯t hurt, just frightened.


    As I pressed forward, Freydis followed close behind, her boots crunching softly against fallen leaves.


    ¡°You carry two axes,¡± she noted, her tone almost casual. ¡°Is there a story behind them?¡±


    I kept my eyes on the trail, watching for any signs of disturbance. ¡°One belonged to my father,¡± I said, stepping over a broken branch. ¡°The other¡ªmy mother.¡±


    She hummed, intrigued. ¡°Oh? They¡¯re both alive then?¡±


    I shook my head. ¡°My mother is.¡± A pause. ¡°My father¡¯s dead.¡±


    She exhaled through her nose. ¡°Hope he¡¯s with Odin now.¡± Her voice softened. ¡°How old was he?¡±


    I glanced at her briefly before returning my focus to the ground. ¡°About your age.¡±


    Freydis let out a short laugh. ¡°Fifty-four. Surprised I¡¯ve lasted this long.¡± She kicked a small rock aside, adjusting the leather strap across her chest.


    ¡°Why the questions, friend?¡±


    ¡°Just making conversation, that¡¯s all. This forest is thick, and yesterday¡¯s rain has muddied the ground. Tracking¡¯s going to be slow.¡±


    I sighed, scanning the blurred trail. ¡°You don¡¯t have to stay, you know.¡± I turned slightly, meeting her gaze. ¡°You just reunited with your daughter. You should be with her.¡±


    She scoffed. ¡°It¡¯s fine. The least I can do after everything.¡±


    I studied her for a moment, then simply nodded. ¡°Hmm.¡±


    After a few more minutes of silence, I suddenly stopped, lowering to one knee. My brows furrowed as I examined the ground. Another set of footprints. Larger. Heavier. A man¡¯s.


    The tension in my shoulders tightened. The pattern in the dirt changed here¡ªMielda¡¯s prints were no longer scattered in fear. They had shifted, falling in line with the man¡¯s, as if¡­ she had been following him. Or worse¡ªhe had taken her.


    My fingers curled into a fist.


    ¡°Someone else was with her,¡± I said through clenched teeth. ¡°Shit.¡±


    Freydis crouched beside me, eyes narrowing. ¡°Yeah, I see it.¡± She pointed at the deep boot prints. ¡°Think he was leading her somewhere safe?¡±


    I let out a slow breath, shaking my head. ¡°Maybe.¡± But doubt gnawed at me. ¡°I don¡¯t know.¡±


    Freydis rose, brushing dirt from her palms. ¡°Well, whatever it is, let¡¯s go find her.¡±


    We followed the trails in silence, our steps steady but cautious as we ventured deeper into the forest. The air grew heavier, the thick branches above swallowing the sunlight, casting long, shifting shadows across our path.


    ¡°You said your mother was still alive,¡± Freydis murmured, breaking the quiet. ¡°Where is she now?¡±


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    ¡°Ireland.¡± My voice came out low. ¡°She sailed there two weeks ago¡­ to sell thralls.¡±


    ¡°Ireland, huh?¡± Freydis let out a wistful sigh. ¡°Always wanted to see that land.¡± She paused, studying me with sharp eyes. ¡°So I assume she doesn¡¯t know you were exiled from your clan, Valrik?¡±


    I exhaled through my nose. ¡°No.¡± I veered right, following the trail as it twisted through the undergrowth. ¡°She doesn¡¯t.¡±


    A stretch of silence passed between us, only broken by the rustling of leaves in the wind. In the distance, a fox yipped, and high above, birds flitted through the branches, their calls sharp and fleeting. Our boots squelched in the mud from the previous day¡¯s rain, slowing our pace as the path sloped downward.


    I reached for a low-hanging branch, gripping it firmly as I ducked beneath, then stepped over a fallen log. Behind me, Freydis adjusted the bow slung across her back, tilting it so it wouldn¡¯t catch on the wood before following my movements with ease.


    ¡°I¡¯m surprised,¡± she said as she landed lightly on the other side. ¡°That your clan didn¡¯t¡ªwell, execute you. Betrayal isn¡¯t exactly something taken lightly.¡±


    I kept my eyes ahead. ¡°My father founded our clan.¡±


    Freydis hummed in understanding. ¡°So out of respect, they let you walk free.¡± She tilted her head. ¡°Lucky, huh? Could¡¯ve been an axe in your skull instead.¡±


    I didn¡¯t answer. Instead, I froze. My muscles tensed. ¡°Ssh,¡± I hissed, raising a hand for silence.


    Freydis halted beside me. The sound drifted to us¡ªdistant, but clear. Voices.


    My pulse quickened as I crouched, motioning for her to follow. Moving low, we crept forward, careful to step where the leaves were damp and the twigs would not snap. Each step brought the voices closer, each breath laced with anticipation.


    I raised a hand behind me, signaling Freydis to stop. Then, slow and measured, I pushed through a thick patch of brush, peering out.


    There. Mielda. But she wasn¡¯t alone.


    Four men surrounded her¡ªRagnar¡¯s men. Their shields bore his sigil: a raven, flanked by two crossed axes.


    ¡°Shit,¡± I muttered under my breath. ¡°Ragnar¡¯s men. They¡¯re here.¡±


    Freydis shifted beside me. ¡°What do we do? Is your horse with them?¡±


    I glanced again. Near a lone hut, the four men stood around Mielda, drinking from flagons of ale, their laughter crude and careless. One of them¡ªa giant of a man with yellowed teeth and filth-caked hands¡ªlifted a meaty palm toward her.


    My blood went cold. Without thinking, I rose from my hiding place, axes drawn.


    Mielda saw me immediately. A relieved whinny burst from her, and she pushed forward, pressing her nose against my chest. I ran a hand over her mane, steadying her, then took a step forward, placing myself between her and them.


    The laughter died. The men turned to face me, eyes narrowing, grips tightening around their weapons.


    ¡°Friends,¡± I said, my voice calm despite the heat simmering beneath it. ¡°I hope you didn¡¯t harm my horse.¡±


    A man sneered. ¡°Valrik the traitor.¡± His grin was all teeth, his hand resting on his sword. ¡°And here we thought today would be boring.¡±


    ¡°So that was your horse,¡± another muttered, tilting his head. ¡°I should¡¯ve guessed. The little shit was terrified of us. Took us long enough to calm her down.¡±


    My jaw tightened. ¡°Which hand did you touch her with?¡± My voice dropped, a slow edge creeping into it. ¡°So I know which one I¡¯ll be cutting off.¡±


    The hut door creaked open. And then¡ªhe emerged.


    Ragnar.


    His shaved head gleamed under the faint light, his long blonde beard shifting as he stretched his lips into a slow grin. His piercing blue eyes studied me, amusement flickering beneath them. He had always worn that expression¡ªmocking, entertained¡ªbut I had seen him turn deadly in an instant. Ragnar was not a man to be underestimated.


    And he wasn¡¯t my Jarl. No longer my brother-in-arms. Just an obstacle in my way.


    ¡°Well, well, well,¡± he drawled, his smile widening. ¡°Valrik¡­ the fucking dog.¡±


    I met his gaze. Unflinching. Unmoving. ¡°Ragnar Lothbrok,¡± I said evenly. ¡°We meet again.¡±


    His laughter was light, easy, as he placed his hands on his belt. ¡°How dare you show your slimy face,¡± he mused. ¡°After you slew one of my men? I¡¯m just¡­ curious, really.¡±


    I tilted my head. ¡°Your man tried to force himself on a mother and her daughter during the raid.¡± My fingers flexed around my axe handle. ¡°We don¡¯t do that. We take slaves. We sell them.¡±


    ¡°And so you took it upon yourself to punish him?¡± Ragnar scoffed. ¡°I didn¡¯t realize I was speaking to Jarl Ragnar.¡± His smirk deepened. ¡°I thought I was Jarl Ragnar.¡±


    I let my own smirk form. ¡°And I didn¡¯t realize I was speaking to a Jarl either, Ragnar. What a coincidence.¡±


    The mirth in his face faded. His expression darkened as he took two slow steps forward, stopping just shy of my space.


    Our gazes locked. I did not move.


    Ragnar studied me for a moment. Then, suddenly, he smiled again, nodding as if in approval.


    ¡°They say you are fearless,¡± he murmured. ¡°Shall we put that to the test?¡±


    My fingers curled tighter around my weapons. ¡°How?¡±


    His grin widened. ¡°I challenge you to holmgang, Valrik of Nothing. You and¡ª¡±


    Before he could finish, I met his challenge. ¡°I accept.¡±


    A flicker of satisfaction crossed his face. ¡°Perfect.¡± He clapped his hands once. ¡°Let¡¯s have it, then.¡±


    He took several steps back, unsheathing his axe, rolling his shoulders as he settled into a battle stance.


    I exhaled, lowering into my own, my axe steady in my grasp, its blade gleaming in the dim forest light.


    The fight was coming.


    And I would not fall.


    ¡°Freydis,¡± I muttered. ¡°Take Mielda and get her out of here.¡±


    She stepped out from behind the bushes, took the reins, and stood silently behind me. Though I couldn¡¯t see her, I could feel her unease¡­ and I knew it was because of Ragnar. I felt it too. He wasn¡¯t a man to be taken lightly.

 Chapter 16

    Ragnar¡¯s gaze flickered to my shoulder, then to my back. His smirk wavered, and he exhaled sharply, like a man who had just had his ale ripped from his hands.


    I didn¡¯t move. I waited, studying him. Was this a trick? Was he trying to lull me into dropping my guard before striking? My mind raced through every possibility. Ragnar was unpredictable¡ªbrutal and cunning. He was capable of anything.


    His tongue clicked against his teeth. ¡°You¡¯re wounded.¡± A slow shake of his head, his expression unreadable. ¡°Shame.¡±


    My grip tightened around my axes. ¡°I can fight.¡± My voice was steady. ¡°Pick up your axe, Ragnar.¡±


    A dry chuckle escaped him. ¡°Where¡¯s the honor in that?¡± He spread his arms, as if genuinely considering it. Then, shrugging, he let them drop. ¡°Leave, Valrik. Before I change my mind.¡±


    I bared my teeth in something between a grin and a snarl. ¡°Then do change your mind.¡± I flexed my grip, shifting my stance. ¡°Change your mind and¡ª¡±


    ¡°Enough.¡± Freydis pushed through the bushes, gripping my arm before I could take a step forward. ¡°We came here to find your horse. And we did.¡± Her grip tightened. ¡°Now move, Valrik.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    ¡°Move!¡±


    I let out a slow breath. My fingers loosened around my weapons. ¡°Fine.¡± I turned my head slightly toward Ragnar. ¡°Another time.¡±


    ¡°Another time indeed, my Saxon-loving friend.¡± Ragnar¡¯s lips curled into something between amusement and disdain. He gave a mock bow, arms spreading wide. ¡°Another fucking time.¡±


    I held his gaze a moment longer before sliding my axes back into their sheaths. Without another word, I turned, taking Mielda¡¯s reins in my hands and guiding her away from the hut.


    My steps were measured, my posture relaxed¡ªbut inside, frustration burned hot. Freydis walked beside me, occasionally glancing over her shoulder, her bow in hand, fingers poised to draw an arrow at the first sign of pursuit.


    ¡°That was Ragnar.¡± Her voice was low. ¡°You cannot win against him.¡±


    ¡°I can,¡± I muttered, jaw tightening. ¡°I¡¯m just wounded.¡±


    Freydis huffed. ¡°He could beat you with one arm tied behind his back.¡± She didn¡¯t look at me as she spoke, keeping her attention on the path ahead. ¡°You know that better than anyone. You¡¯ve seen him fight.¡±


    ¡°I did¡­¡±


    I exhaled, my thoughts drifting back to the raid. I had watched Ragnar move through the battlefield like a storm, cutting down warriors twice his size with terrifying ease. He was faster. Stronger. Deadlier.


    And she was right. I had no chance against him. Not as I was now.


    But I couldn¡¯t back out of a holmgang either. That would be another stain on my honor. And after what Odin had told me, I couldn¡¯t afford any more stains.


    ¡°Ah,¡± I said, shaking off the thoughts before they could take root. ¡°Let¡¯s just get out of here.¡±


    ¡°Yes. A good idea.¡± Freydis nodded. ¡°Fighting him today would have been reckless. We were outnumbered. And you¡­¡± She glanced at me. ¡°You¡¯re wounded.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right.¡± The words tasted bitter. I hated backing down. It made my skin crawl. ¡°So¡ªanyway, what about you, Freydis? What will you do now?¡±


    ¡°Take Thrainr, and go back to my people.¡± She kept her gaze forward. ¡°They need me.¡±


    I hummed in acknowledgment.


    Then, after a moment, she turned her head slightly. ¡°And you, Valrik?¡± Her eyes searched mine.


    I opened my mouth¡ªthen hesitated.It was a simple question. But I didn¡¯t have an answer. I had no clan. No home. No path forward. My only goal had been Valhalla. But now? Now I had to reclaim my honor before Odin would ever consider letting me into his hall.


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    I stopped walking. Freydis halted beside me, Mielda tugging slightly at the reins before settling. I turned, staring down at my shadow stretching across the muddy ground. In that moment, Odin¡¯s words echoed in my mind. The weight of them settled deep in my chest, pressing against my ribs.


    Freydis watched me, frowning slightly. ¡°You¡¯re quiet.¡± A pause. ¡°Won¡¯t you answer my question?¡±


    I blinked, dragging my gaze back to hers. Then, with a faint shrug, I let out a small, dry laugh. ¡°I had enough action for one day. I guess I¡¯ll follow you to the cave. That was my camp.¡±


    She arched a brow. ¡°And then?¡±


    ¡°Then¡­¡± I glanced up at the sky, the trees swaying above us. ¡°I guess we¡¯ll see.¡±


    ????????-?????-???????


    As we neared the cave, Freydis and I dismounted, landing lightly on the damp earth. We led our horses to a nearby boulder and tied their reins securely, just outside the cave¡¯s entrance. Near the small pond, a man crouched over a growing campfire, the glow flickering against his weathered face. At his feet, freshly hunted rabbits lay still, their fur stained with blood. Around him, a handful of wounded men sat or reclined on the ground, their expressions weary. A shieldmaiden knelt beside them, carefully feeding the ones who were in the worst condition.


    Thrainr remained seated on his horse, scanning the surrounding woods. ¡°You go,¡± he muttered, tightening his grip on the reins. ¡°I¡¯ll check the perimeter¡ªmake sure none of Ragnar¡¯s men followed us.¡±


    Freydis turned to him, her brows drawing together. ¡°Be careful.¡±


    Thrainr gave a curt nod before nudging his horse forward and disappearing into the trees.


    We walked toward the campfire, our pace measured. As we drew closer, some of the warriors lifted their heads, their eyes widening slightly at the sight of Freydis alive and well. A few nodded in acknowledgment; one or two even managed faint smiles before turning back to their quiet conversations or tending to their wounds. The majority of the men must have still been inside the cave¡ªthese few were the ones fortunate enough to stand.


    Freydis knelt beside one of the injured, placing a steady hand on his shoulder as she spoke to him in hushed tones. I hung back, leaning against a tree, arms crossed. She had her clan again. Her people. It must have felt good to return to them.


    A shieldmaiden sat nearby, grinding herbs into a bowl. Without looking up, she spoke. ¡°We gave him his axe, Freydis. He died with honor.¡±


    Freydis inhaled sharply. ¡°I¡­ already wept for him,¡± she murmured, standing up. ¡°I thought he was dead long ago. But knowing he fell among his own people¡­ that is enough.¡±


    The shieldmaiden glanced toward me, her sharp eyes studying me for a moment before she spoke again. ¡°That drengr helped us greatly.¡±


    Freydis followed her gaze, her expression unreadable. Then, with a slight tilt of her head, she said, ¡°Come, Valrik. Join us.¡±


    For a moment, I hesitated, then exhaled and pushed myself off the tree. I strode forward and sat beside one of the wounded men, feeling the weight of their stares settle over me. Without a word, the shieldmaiden handed me a wooden plate filled with rabbit meat and sliced tomatoes. The scent was rich, savory.


    I took the plate with a nod. ¡°Thank you. Smells good.¡±


    She offered a small, satisfied hum before turning back to her work.


    Freydis settled herself across from me, gaze shifting between the others. ¡°What¡¯s the situation?¡± she asked, her tone firm. ¡°How are the rest of the men?¡±


    The shieldmaiden who had served me my meal straightened. ¡°Getting better,¡± she said, determination in her voice. ¡°They¡¯ll be up and about in no time.¡±


    ¡°Good¡­¡± Freydis said. ¡°We will rise again.¡±


    A bitter scoff came from the man beside me. His grip on the blanket over his lap tightened. ¡°Our Jarl is dead.¡± Desperation edged his voice. ¡°How do we rise, shieldmaiden?¡±


    I swallowed a piece of tomato, chewing slowly. I knew that feeling¡ªadrift, with no clear path ahead. Like grasping at smoke. I had no answer for him. If I did, I wouldn¡¯t be lost myself.


    Freydis clenched her fists, her voice unwavering. ¡°We will rise,¡± she said, fire flickering in her eyes. ¡°We always do.¡±


    I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and leaned forward slightly. ¡°May I ask something?¡±


    Freydis shifted her attention to me. ¡°Of course, Valrik. Anything.¡±


    I gestured absently. ¡°You and some of your people entered York without issue. I thought King ?lla wouldn¡¯t allow that.¡±


    A slight smirk tugged at her lips. ¡°He is¡­ probably against it,¡± she admitted, nudging at the dirt with the toe of her boot. ¡°But I bring silver into the city and cause no trouble. So he and his guards tolerate me.¡±


    I chewed another bite of rabbit, considering that. ¡°Does that priest play a role in this?¡±


    Freydis sighed, crossing her arms. ¡°He does,¡± she admitted. ¡°John vouched for me. And apparently, he¡¯s well-loved by the people. They trust him.¡±


    I let out a quiet chuckle. ¡°Hard to believe. I found him dead-drunk in a monastery, vomiting all over the place.¡±


    She huffed a small, humorless laugh. ¡°They say he wasn¡¯t always like that.¡± Her voice softened, darkened. ¡°After his child died¡­ well, that would break any man.¡±


    I nodded slowly, staring into the fire. The flames crackled, throwing flickering shadows across our faces.


    Some wounds never truly heal.

 Chapter 17

    I set the empty plate on the ground and pushed myself to my feet. The pond wasn¡¯t far, its surface rippling under a light breeze. Kneeling by the water¡¯s edge, I cupped my hands and submerged them, letting the coldness chase away the lingering grease and dirt.


    The sun was still up, I had time to find John and thank him for saving me, even though he didn¡¯t have to. If it weren¡¯t for him and Freydis¡¯ men, I¡¯d be rotting in that prison camp, tossed into a ditch like a dog. Ragnar and his men would have laughed, making a joke of my death over their next cup of ale.


    I had been ready to die. Axe in hand, I was at peace with it. But then Odin came to me, his voice like a storm rolling through my mind, his words cutting deeper than any blade. I was glad to be alive now, if only because I had to be. The stain on my honor needed cleansing¡ªuntil then, Helheim¡¯s cold gates would be the only ones waiting for me. In quiet moments like these, when I was alone with my thoughts, I sometimes wished I hadn''t saved that Saxon woman back there...


    Freydis¡¯ voice broke through my thoughts. ¡°What are you thinking?¡± She stepped beside me, arms crossed, her expression tinged with concern.


    I exhaled slowly. ¡°I killed one of Ragnar¡¯s men in a raid.¡± My voice came quiet, heavy. ¡°I denied him Valhalla. Threw his axe away.¡±


    Freydis said nothing at first, only watching me with quiet understanding. Then she hummed, waiting for me to continue.


    ¡°He was forcing himself onto a mother and her child.¡± My fists clenched at the memory, nails digging into my palms. ¡°I¡¯m just disappointed in myself.¡±


    Freydis studied me, then tilted her head slightly. ¡°Would you do it again, if you could go back?¡±


    I lifted my gaze to hers, searching for something¡ªjudgment, maybe. But her eyes only held patience. And that made my answer feel even heavier.


    ¡°No,¡± I admitted, shaking my head. ¡°And that¡¯s why I¡¯m disappointed in myself, Freydis. Knowing what happened afterward¡­ I don¡¯t think I¡¯d stop him this time.¡±


    She exhaled through her nose, leaning back against a tree, her arms loosening. ¡°Valrik,¡± she said, voice softer now. ¡°One day, I caught my husband speaking to another woman in the city. Laughing, smiling¡­ cheating.¡±


    I frowned, glancing at her. She wasn¡¯t looking at me, her eyes focused somewhere distant.


    ¡°I grabbed my sword and was ready to cut him down, right there in the street,¡± she continued. ¡°I¡¯d known him all my life, but in that moment? I was ready to end him in seconds¡ªbecause I was jealous.¡± She scoffed, shaking her head. ¡°It felt like a fire had started in my stomach, eating me from the inside. I wanted him to suffer before I killed him. I was desperate and¡­ angry.¡±


    I remained quiet, waiting.


    ¡°But I didn¡¯t.¡± She turned to me, her lips pressing into a small, humorless smile. ¡°Because when I raised my sword, it felt heavier than Thor¡¯s hammer. I couldn¡¯t lift it, even though the rage inside me kept burning hotter.¡±


    I huffed a small, tired chuckle. ¡°And?¡± I asked, lifting a brow. ¡°What did you do to your husband?¡±


    Freydis grinned, mischief lighting her face. ¡°Oh, we fucked for a whole day. My apology gift for yelling at him.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°What?¡±


    She laughed, shaking her head. ¡°The woman he was talking to? Turned out to be a man. Just had long hair.¡± She sighed dramatically. ¡°I wished Odin had struck me down right there and saved me the embarrassment.¡±


    I ran a hand down my face, unable to stop the smirk tugging at my lips. ¡°That¡­ took a turn, alright.¡±


    Freydis chuckled again, pushing off the tree and stretching. ¡°Mm. Lesson learned, though, right? Anger and desperation makes us think one way, but acting on it? That¡¯s different.¡±


    I nodded, her words settling deep, their weight pressing against thoughts I wasn¡¯t ready to face. She was right. I would¡¯ve done the same thing again, slay that man where he stood.


    These thoughts didn¡¯t feel like mine. Or maybe they were, and I just didn¡¯t want to admit it. I felt adrift, like I was lost at sea, searching desperately for land. But the closer I swam to something solid, the more it felt like I didn¡¯t belong there.


    I was afraid. I wouldn¡¯t say it out loud, but I was.


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    With no Clan to call my own, no brothers to drink with, no banners to fight under¡ªI was alone. I wanted to ride back to my brother, sit by the fire, drink until my head pounded, and laugh like we used to. Share stories with the Jomsvikings, lose myself in the familiarity of it all.


    But instead, I was here. Wandering. Letting the wind push me in whatever direction it pleased.


    ¡°Valrik.¡± Freydis¡¯ voice pulled me back. She stepped closer, watching me carefully. ¡°Stay with us.¡±


    I blinked. ¡°Hmm?¡±


    ¡°Stay,¡± she repeated, firmer this time. ¡°Join our Clan.¡± There was something lighter in her voice, something open. ¡°We will accept you as one of our own.¡±


    ¡°I¡­¡±


    I hesitated, my gaze shifting past her shoulder. The wounded men sat hunched around the fire, some whispering, others lost in their own silence. I had never once considered following another leader, another Clan¡ªnot after my father¡¯s. He had built it with his own hands, led it to victories, bled for it.


    The idea of belonging somewhere else felt wrong.


    Freydis seemed to sense my hesitation and took a small step back. ¡°You don¡¯t have to give me an answer right away,¡± she said. ¡°But my men and I would be happy to see you with us.¡±


    I exhaled, rubbing the back of my neck. ¡°I don¡¯t know, Freydis,¡± I admitted. ¡°But¡ªI¡¯ll think on it.¡±


    She nodded. ¡°Do that, Valrik. You know where to find me in York.¡±


    ¡°Where is your settlement?¡± I asked.


    ¡°West from here,¡± she said. ¡°Do you know the village where Ernest¡¯s men attacked? Take a right there, where the ¡®S¡¯-shaped tree stands. Ride a little farther, and you¡¯ll find it.¡±


    I nodded. ¡°Alright. Thank you, shieldmaiden.¡±


    With a small smile, she patted my shoulder before turning back to her men. I stood still, watching as a breeze rippled across the lake, distorting my reflection in the water. I needed time to think. To decide what came next.


    The sound of hooves crunching against the dirt pulled my attention back. Thrainr rode into the campsite, Ela sitting closely behind him. He swung off his horse and turned to help the girl down. As soon as her feet hit the ground, she clutched something in her hands and hurried toward Freydis.


    ¡°Mother,¡± Ela called, holding up her small bundle. ¡°I brought mushrooms.¡±


    Freydis¡¯ face softened, but before she could reply, Thrainr shook his head. ¡°I found her alone in the woods,¡± he muttered, disapproval thick in his voice. ¡°Alone.¡±


    Freydis¡¯ smile vanished. ¡°Alone?¡± She knelt, gripping Ela by the shoulders. ¡°We talked about this. You can¡¯t go off by yourself anymore. It¡¯s dangerous.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Ela mumbled, lowering her head. ¡°I just wanted to help. Thought the men would need food.¡±


    Freydis exhaled sharply, pressing her lips together before pulling the girl into a tight embrace.


    Taking that as my cue to leave, I turned toward the cave¡¯s entrance. The climb was short, but as I drew closer, the sounds inside bled through the cracks in the rock¡ªmuffled whimpers, quiet sobs, hushed voices trying to soothe the pain.


    I needed to see them before heading back to John. Make sure they had what they needed.


    Stepping inside, the dim candlelight flickered against the rough stone walls. Straw had been laid across the ground as makeshift beds, where wounded men lay recovering. A shieldmaiden moved between them, her steps slow, shoulders heavy with exhaustion.


    She couldn¡¯t have been older than twenty. Her dark hair was tangled, and her movements sluggish¡ªshe hadn¡¯t had proper rest in days, but still, she kept going. Tending to the men. Ensuring they survived.


    Respectable.


    She noticed me as I stepped closer, pausing by one of the candles. ¡°You,¡± she said, her voice hoarse but steady. ¡°Valrik, right?¡±


    I nodded.


    ¡°Thank you again, drengr.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the situation here?¡± I asked. ¡°Will the men be alright?¡±


    Her expression faltered. ¡°We need medicine,¡± she admitted. ¡°But¡ªwe¡¯re out.¡±


    I frowned. ¡°Ela stole some from Ragnar¡¯s prison camp. Isn¡¯t that enough?¡±


    ¡°Not at all.¡± She shook her head. ¡°We need more. But I don¡¯t know how we¡¯ll get it.¡±


    ¡°Raiding villages could get you some,¡± I said, though the words felt empty. ¡°But your men aren¡¯t ready for that.¡±


    Her gaze darkened, but not with anger¡ªmore with resolve. ¡°Drengr,¡± she said, her voice quieter now. ¡°Would you help us again?¡±


    I met her eyes. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Thrainr, some of the men who can still fight, and I are raiding a village along the coast,¡± she explained. ¡°Our longships are ready at the settlement¡ªbut we lack men. If you join us, we¡¯d be grateful.¡±


    I considered her words, rolling my shoulders. ¡°When?¡±


    ¡°When the sun dips,¡± she said. ¡°We¡¯ll return to the settlement. Should we wait for you?¡±


    I let out a breath, nodding. ¡°Yes. I don¡¯t want to half-ass this. I¡¯ll help however I can.¡±


    A small flicker of relief passed across her face. ¡°Thank you.¡±


    I nodded once more before stepping back outside, breathing in the cool air. The sky was still bright, the sun far from setting.


    It was time to head back to York. To find John at the monastery. I owed him my thanks.