Jarl Halfdan, who had survived thirty years of war, was drinking as if he’d never see another battlefield.He sat beneath the carved wolf's head that hung above the high seat of Gutagard, a horn of ale in one hand, a roasted boar's leg in the other. Warriors packed the long tables around him, their shouts rising with the crackle of the great hearths. Weapons hung from sash hooks. Chests of ale stood stacked along the stone walls. The heavy scents of roasted meat, woodsmoke, and spilled mead filled the hall.It was a fine night for warriors. It was a strange night for Halfdan. Erik had sensed it before the first horn was drained.His father laughed when the others laughed, drank when they drank, and even joined in for a verse of the saga-singing. But his gaze kept drifting toward the heavy oak doors.Toward the sea.Erik took a slow breath and leaned back against the wooden wall beside Hilda."You've been watching him all night," she said quietly."Aye."Hilda smiled into her ale. "Wat

Halfdan was buried before the sun reached its highest point.The pyre had been built near the cliffs overlooking the sea, where the wind carried the smoke toward the water. His shield rested against his chest, his sword lay beside him, and the old wolf-cloak he had worn through countless winters covered his body.The people of Gutagard gathered around him in absolute silence.Warriors who had bled beside the old Jarl stepped forward one by one. Some laid silver arm-rings, arrows, or small hand-axes beside the pine logs; others simply bowed their heads before stepping back into the ranks. There were no long speeches. Halfdan had lived by the sword. He would leave this world with it.Erik stood beside Fridda. As she has been a loyal wife and a strong mother. Thora was between them, her black hair moving in the cold wind. She had not spoken much since dawn.Hilda stood among the shield-maidens a pace behind Erik, her hand resting lightly on the pommel of her side-blade. Olaf occupied the

The messenger from Borislav reached Slovia before noon. He had ridden through the night without stopping, exhausting two horses along the southern king's road. Mud caked his woolen cloak, and a trail of dried blood ran down his temple from a flying stone. The guards at the iron gate took one look at the wax seal on his parchment and threw the gates wide.He was brought straight into the high hall.King Askold was in council when the double doors opened. He sat at the head of a long table, Queen Yeva at his right hand, while Prince Aleksandr hovered over a leather map spread across the board. Several boyars and garrison commanders occupied the surrounding chairs.The messenger dropped to his knees, his breath ragged. "My King."Askold raised a hand, his dark eyes narrowing. "You bear Lord Egor’s seal. Speak.""Borislav was attacked at dawn, Your Majesty," the rider panted.The room went completely still. Aleksandr stood up, leaning over the table. "By whom? Nomads from the east?""No,

Back in Gutagard. Thora woke up before dawn with her heart pounding.For a long time, she remained motionless beneath the heavy wool furs, staring up at the smoke-blackened rafters of her chamber. The fire had gone low during the night, leaving only a faint red glow among the ashes.She could still see the river from her dream.It was wide, black, and choked with mist. On the muddy bank stood a woman with her back turned. Her hair was a fierce, striking red—and dark blood dripped steadily from the steel blade in her right hand.Thora had never seen her before. Yet the woman's face had felt strangely familiar.She threw back the furs, dressed quickly in her leather tunic, and hurried down the timber staircase.Hilda was in the lower hall when Thora found her, sitting near the fire while two women prepared food for the household. The shield maiden looked up as Thora approached."You look as though you've seen a ghost."Thora sat on the wooden bench beside her, pulling her cloak tight ar

The smoke from the ruined supply train was still rising behind them when Bo turned in his saddle, checking the timberline.A horn echoed faintly through the pine trees, followed by the muffled thunder of hooves on hard earth."They found us," Bo called back, reining in his mount.Erik slowed his horse, looking over his shoulder. A cloud of dust was rising across the valley road behind them. "How many?""Too many to count from horseback," Bo replied, his hand dropping to the hilt of his sword.The remaining men behind them slowed, their leather saddles creaking as they reached for spears and round shields.Bo frowned, eyeing the road. "We have the captured horses from the convoy. We should ride hard for the river.""No," Erik said, his eyes scanning the steep, boulder-strewn terrain on either side of the trail. "Their cavalry is light and unburdened. They will run our rear guard down before we reach the beach."Bo understood instantly. "So we turn and fight.""Not on their terms," Erik