The scouts did not speak much on the way back to camp.They went out to see how many men guarded the road around Borislav. Instead, they found themselves caught beneath the fortress bells and chased through the trees by southern soldiers. Erik walked at the front of the small group, his swords hanging at his sides, his mind still on the woman with the red hair.She stood among the soldiers as if the confusion around her meant nothing. She drew her bow, chose her target and released the arrow without hesitation. Erik only survived because he saw it coming at the last moment.He looked back at the men following him.No one seemed eager to speak about what had happened.The camp came into view as the light began to fade. Fires burned between the tents, and men were returning from the shoreline with weapons and bundles of supplies. The larger force that had remained behind had not seen the fighting at the fortress. To them, the scouts had simply been gone longer than expected.Bo was amon

The broken gate gave way with a sound that carried across the entire fortress.Erik was the first to move through the opening.He stepped over the shattered timber with his shield raised and both swords drawn, and the warriors behind him followed so closely that there was no room between them. The men had spent the morning fighting toward this moment. They had crossed the field beneath arrows, climbed the walls through spears and blades, and battered the gate until their arms could barely lift their weapons.Now they were inside Borislav.But the sight before them was not the victory they had imagined.The courtyard was filled with southern soldiers.They had formed a line several paces beyond the broken entrance, shields locked together, spears lowered. Behind them stood more men with swords and bows, while along the upper walkways soldiers leaned over the stone walls, waiting for the right moment to strike.Erik understood at once.Aleksandr had not abandoned the courtyard when the

The days after Erik sailed south, Gutagard looked much the same as it always had.Smoke rose from the houses. Men worked along the shore, repairing nets and checking the boats pulled above the tide line. Women carried water between the longhouses, while children moved through the settlement under the watchful eyes of older kin. Nothing in the village suggested that hundreds of warriors were far from home, fighting beyond the southern seas.But those who had lived through war knew the difference.There were fewer men around the fires. Fewer voices in the great hall. The training yard was quieter, and the rows of shields that usually hung beneath the outer roof had several empty places where warriors had taken them south.Olaf stood near the settlement's main entrance, watching the path that led down toward the shore.He had spent most of the morning there.Not because he expected Erik to return.There was no reason to.The journey from the South would take time, and even if the campaig

“I've been expecting you.”Gunnarr's eyes narrowed, tracking the shadows that stretched across the timber floor.For a long moment, neither Jarl moved. The few warriors who had followed Gunnarr into the Great Hall stood behind him with drawn steel, their breath misting in the cold air. None advanced. Outside, the thunderous clash of shield-walls was already dying down, splintering into scattered shouts and the heavy, rhythmic thud of iron-shod boots retreating toward the shoreline.Gunnarr understood what that sound meant.His fleet had failed to secure the bay. His men were abandoning the assault, falling back toward the longships before the tide or the defenders trapped them.He looked at Erik, his lips curling into a dry, humorless smile. “You returned sooner than I expected.”“I returned when I was needed.” Erik’s voice was low, carrying the raspy drag of a man who had not slept in days.“You were supposed to be bleeding in the South.”“I bled,” Erik said, his hand resting heavy o

The morning mist off the Wolf Coast had the bite of salt and early ice. Down at the stone pier, the crew of the Sea-Raven was already moving, their muted calls carrying across the gray water as they stowed oars and checked the rigging.Erik stood at the edge of the timber palisade, watching the activity below. The high wall behind him still smelled of charred pine where Gunnarr’s men had tried to set the gates ablaze, a dark scar against the pale wood.A heavy footfall sounded on the frost-dusted gravel. Solvi stepped up beside him, his thick wolfskin cloak wrapped tight against the sea draft. His broad axes hung at his hips, the leather grips darkened by the blood of yesterday’s fight."The tide turns in an hour," Solvi said, his deep voice low. "If we don't catch it, we'll be fighting the northern currents all the way to the Kven passage."Erik didn't turn his head right away. He kept his eyes on the longship's prow, carved into the snarling head of a raven. "Gutagard is barely secu