Tangled Threads Publishing

Category: Einarr Stigandersen

  • Afterword

    Afterword

    Alfvin – The firstborn son of Einarr and Runa. He is a slender child from a young age, and his father elects to train him primarily in the spear and the staff. As Einarr promised, at the age of eight he leaves his father’s Hold and travels to Attilsund to study runes and divination under the Oracle there. He is fully grown when he returns to take his place as his father’s heir, and although he does not himself have a martial temperament he gains the respect of the Thanes and Jarls for his wisdom and foresight.

    Arkja – Followed Einarr to the end of his days, forever attempting to prove his worth and his courage. Eventually he managed to earn his own ship. Arkja never quite grasped that the only one who needed to accept his courage was himself, however, and so he took ever more reckless risks – so long as the only one in danger was his own person. He was killed on the high seas, locked in combat with a dangerous band of freeboaters. Neither ship was ever recovered.

    Bardr – Eventually gives up trying to convince Stigander to take a fifth wife when he finally finds one of his own: a baker from the port city below the hold.

    Beatrix – On her return home to the Imperial capital, Beatrix Maria Gundahar discovered and foiled a plot that would have seen her placed on the throne. She then went on to take a much more active role in the Order of the Valkyrie, with Captain Liupold as her second, and in the new era of the Althane it became as much a diplomatic Order as a martial one, beginning a new age of peace between the Empire and the Northern Clans. She did, eventually, marry a young Jarl of the north, although she never quite extinguished the torch she carried for the Althane himself – who had, after all, rescued her from certain doom on their first meeting.

    Einarr Stigandersen – Even after his ascension as Althane, there were holdout clans, and so Einarr spent the next decade strengthening alliances and consolidating his power before settling comfortably into court – although not too comfortably. Once every few years, a matter would show up which required the Cursebreaker’s direct attention. It was not until he was well into his third decade that he found himself face-to-face with an honest-to-goodness dragon on one of these quests, and with only his own wits and sorcery he brought the dragon down – but not without a price. Einarr would go down as the longest-lived Cursebreaker in history, but it was the dragon’s curse which brought him low. He was survived by his wife Runa and their baker’s dozen children. Alfvin, the eldest, succeeded to the throne of the Althane, and his brothers and sisters scattered to the four winds – either by marriage or as emissaries and sailors.

    Erik – After the destruction of the cult, he swore off sailing and settled down to live in Breidelstein with Irding. This lasted approximately six months, after which point he gathered together his own crew of freeboaters and went back out to sea. There are some who claim his is not a free boat, per se, but rather one of Stigander’s spies out on the high seas. He almost certainly has children other than Irding, but in spite of half-hearted attempts to look for them he never finds one.

    Eydri – Eydri eventually allowed herself to be won over by Naudrek, and they followed Einarr to the Althane’s Hall and had many sons. While her voice did improve over time, the song magic she had used to slow Malùnion enough that he could be defeated took a permanent toll. She, along with Runa and Hrug, advised Einarr on matters of lore and magic, mitigating as much as they could the chaos wrought by his status as Cursebreaker and the direct attention of Wotan.

    Finn – Finn stayed on with Einarr’s crew, searching for a way to expunge his failures from Blàvik and from Mýrarhöfn. Driven by this need, he eventually became the top scout on the Heidrun, and stood just below Naudrek and Hrug among his advisors.

    Hrug – Eventually receives a prosthetic hook from Jorir to replace his missing hand, but never returns to life as a swordsman. While it is not perhaps as honorable as life as a warrior, he finds the mastery of runes oddly satisfying. One of Einarr’s primary magic advisors on the Althane’s Council, his status as a mute hampers him very little.

    Irding Eriksson – When Erik goes back out to sea, he takes Irding as his Ship’s Mate. One lesson he learned very well during his time on the Vidofnir: there are old sailors, and there are bold sailors, but there are no old, bold sailors. No-one would accuse him of cowardice, but after the retaking of Breidelstien and the destruction of the cult he learned a degree of cunning that served his crewmates well.

    Jorir (& Jennora) – Jorir and Jennora were among the first svartdvergr to live openly among the humans of the clans, but they were far from the last. When it became known that one of their own was liege man to the Althane himself, no few svartdvergr of Nilthiad journeyed up the Paths of Stone to join them above ground. Thus, in addition to being among Einarr’s most trusted friends, they also served as emissaries for the dvergr settlement that soon sprang up around them – and de-facto elders, for while they may not have been oldest within the settlement they were longest among the humans.

    Kaldr Kerasson – After the ascension of the Althane, Kaldr took up the collection of small statuary, and it became his custom to carry a small figurine somewhere about his person. As deeply as he admired Einarr, however, his loyalty was ever and always to Breidelstein, and so he became one of Stigander’s chief advisors – and frequent emissary to the Althane’s court. Everyone was shocked when he eventually took a Singer to wife – and Reki, at that.

    Naudrek – Wooed Eydri for several years before finally winning her over. Developed a friendly rivalry with Jorir and Jennora, but in the Althane’s Hall only the two dvergr and the Lady Runa herself held more sway over the Althane. These five formed the core of the Althane’s Council.

    Reki Fjorisdottir – Reki’s influence in Stigander’s court was rivaled by few – notably Kaldr, with whom she developed a deep rapport and, eventually, affection. They continued in Stigander’s service, and when Einarr’s second son was named Thane they served him for many years, as well.

    Runa Hroaldrsdottir – Around the birth of their fifth child, Runa determined that Einarr had not only the attention of Wotan but also of Freya (and Thor, and Freyr) – else why would it be so easy for them to conceive, when neither of their parents had such fortune? When she was not absorbed in the day-to-day running of their household (for, even with an excellent steward, there were many matters in the Althane’s Hall that required her direct attention) she would join with Eydri and Hrug to advise Einarr on matters of magic.

    Sivid – After Einarr’s ascension as Althane, Sivid went wandering on his own, chasing the answer he got from the Oracle. No-one ever learned if he managed to break his curse or not, but a decade later he returned to Breidelstein with a wife in tow and much aged to live a quiet life among his former crew. He had, apparently, given up the dice entirely, but whether that was because something truly terrible had happened or because his wife disapproved no-one was quite brave enough to ask.

    Stigander Raenson – Stigander lived well into his 80s as Thane of Breidelstein, and with the help of his advisors and friends managed to undo most of what the Weavess – whose skeleton still clings to a rock in the harbor – and the usurpr Ulfr managed to destroy. After burying four wives, Stigander elected not to remarry again, and when he was not busy with putting down over-bold raiders or rebuilding his home he spent an inordinate amount of time playing with his gaggle of grandchildren. He legally adopted Einarr’s second son when the boy was 12 to serve as his heir, as none of the Thanes would agree to give Breidelstein any more power than it already commanded as family to the Althane.

    Troa – After the destruction of the cult and their return to Breidelstein, Troa takes to the hunt. Before too many years have passed, he has built himself a woodsman’s cabin on the shores of a lake behind Raenshold, where he lives peacefully as a hermit. There are rumors that he is the guardian of an artifact, but no-one is quite sure what it is or who might have entrusted it to him.

    Tyr – gave up sailing but could not quit the sea. He could be found until the end of his days either with his grandchildren in Breidelstein city or at the port, mending nets or doing whatever was needful to keep him near the water.

    Vali – Einarr and his companions kept Vali’s jar with them, in hopes that they could find a way to free their spirit friend from his confinement – and that the madness from the Paths of Stone would have passed when they did. This, though, is a story for another day

    Wotan – Continued to torment Einarr until the end of the Cursebreaker’s days. Was finally devoured by Fenrir during Ragnarok.

    And that, as they say, is the end. If there are any other characters you would like a little note about what they do after the end of the series, say so in the comments and I will try to answer.

    As for what comes next, I have a few non-serial books I intend to finish up and bring out this year. As usual, word will come here first. There’s

    • the mystery of who is trying to destroy the knightly order of unicorn riders, and
    • a desperate quest to stop whatever mad plan Aleister Crowley has set in motion that required him to kidnap a train full of injured POWs.
    • And, if I can manage it, a sequel (finally!) for Advent of Ruin.

    I am also working on plotting my next serial – hopefully with fewer dangling plot threads this time! A college student finds himself plunged into the dangerous world of the mythological beasts when he looks up one evening to see what looks like a dragon and an enormous bird engaged in a dogfight in the skies over Indianapolis – a dogfight no-one else seems to be able to see.

  • 14.38 – Denouement

    14.38 – Denouement

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this last chapter. Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design.

    Some months later, the remainder of the Fleet sailed into Breidelstein harbor, Bea’s Valkyrie ships integrated into their number and most of their dead laid to rest off the coast of the cursed isle. The charred bones of Arring and Thjofgrir rode in state, along with one or two others, to allow the people of Breidelstein the chance to pay their respects, as well.

    Someone must have ordered a lookout for the fleet, because as they sailed into port, the streets were lined with somber crowds. It looked as though the entire city had come out to welcome them back. They had sent no word ahead, so perhaps this – as well as the anxious mood of the crowd – was understandable.

    As they neared the piers, three ships moved out ahead of the rest: The Heidrun, the Lúmskulf, and, between them, the Vidofnir.

    When Stigander stepped to the gangplank and raised a fist high overhead, the crowd erupted into cheers. Soon, he was joined on the pier by Einarr, then by Kaldr, and then, after another moment, by Bea, who grinned at the crowd before her. Her appearance occasioned some little surprise, but not enough to dampen anyone’s enthusiasm.

    These four strode at the head of a long procession of warriors, Captains and crews together, up the cliff road to Raenshold. There, they were met at the gate by Uncle Gorgny, steward during Stigander’s absence, and Runa with Alfvin, flanked by what looked like everyone who lived in the Hold. Einarr blinked in surprise to see how much little Alfvin was grown in less than a year. He still managed to smile at everyone as Stigander accepted back the crown and sword of his office.

    Runa, their son on her hip, fell in beside him as the procession continued on toward the main hall, now larger by the residents of Raenshold. “Welcome home.”

    “I’m glad to be home. What did I miss?”

    “Other than me, I presume?”

    He glanced down, wary, but her expression was impish. He wrapped an arm around her waist, between her and Alfvin. “Of course.”

    “He’s not talking yet, but he can walk. Or, more accurately, he runs. Everywhere.”

    It was all Einarr could do not to laugh. He was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be funny for long. “That’s my boy, I guess.”

    Alfvin giggled and grabbed at Runa’s ear. When she had distracted him again – Einarr had no idea with what – she continued. “Still no sign of any trouble from our little adventure in Svartalfheimr, but we’re watching.”

    “Good.”

    The procession neared the doors of the Thane’s Hall now, and all fell silent. Stigander made a gesture, and the guards flanking the doors threw them open.

    It had not, in fact, been the entire population of the hold who had come to greet them at the gates, for the Hall, too, was packed with people. Certain familiar faces stood out to Einarr: there was his father-in-law, Jarl Hroaldr. His presence, at least, was no surprise: he had probably stayed to play with his grandson. There, the old men from the Althing before they left – Kjartan, and Geirleif, Tore and Olaf and Thorgnyr. Surely they had not stayed here the entire time? Or was the idea that they had returned ahead of the fleet more troubling?

    The Hall was eerily silent as the procession marched up the center of the Hall. When Stigander and Einarr took the first step up towards the dias, however, a low rumble began in the back of the room, and as the returning column filled the hall to bursting it grew into a full-throated cheer.

    Stigander raised his arms and, as though on command, the crowd fell silent once more. “And now,” he intoned, “for the second time in less than a year, the Althing is convened, so that all may know the results of our quest.”

    * * *

    Unlike in the spring, the Althing stretched on, long past what was customary and to the point where some wondered if Breidelstein would be required to host the entire fleet of ships over the winter. This would be no small feat for a country as prosperous as Breidelstein had been under Raen. As things were now, having only just escaped from Ulfr and the Weavess? It would be ruinous. Oh, there was glory to be shared, and honor to be gained, and there could be no doubt that the men who had joined the fleet would gain much face on their return home, but already it began to strain the thin coffers that they had hardly begun to rebuild. Einarr found his time more and more taken up with the daily running of Breidelstein and he stopped following the Althing.

    Runa caught Einarr worrying over it one night and suddenly discovered that she had business to attend to with the other Singers. Some hours later, when she returned, he was too tired from running after Alfvin to worry about much of anything.

    Rumors began to circulate, though, starting among the warriors of the fleet. Whispers that, with as well as the Fleet performed together, unified, perhaps there would be value to the Clans more generally from a similar joining. At first, he thought nothing of it. Truly, it would be a good idea, but he had missed most of a year of his son’s life, and there were precious few of those before Alfvin would have to leave to study under the Oracle. Then he saw an expression on Runa’s face, when two men were discussing it in his hearing, that suggested she was the cat who got the cream. His hackles immediately rose.

    Three days later, a servant came to inform him he was wanted for the discussions in the Hall.

    The doors of the Hall stood open when he arrived, and as he turned to face the Thanes and Jarls in the room before him he smoothed sweaty palms on his tunic. Inside, Runa offered him an encouraging smile.

    Ahead, Stigander stood on the step of the dais, beckoning him forward. Suddenly the expectant looks of the powerful men in the room seemed as heavy as all the stone over Nilthiad. He squared his shoulders and entered anyway. When he reached the dais, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his father and opened his mouth. Before he could ask what this was all about, however, Thane Thorgnyr rose from where he had been seated in deliberations.

    “Einarr son of Stigander son of Raen, you have brought great honor upon your head. Not only did you return at the head of the fleet after a successful quest, every man in this Hall recalls how you fought to bring that fleet together in the first place. In the months since you have left, word has reached our domains of other cities razed by these madmen… some in the time since you must have left their island stronghold.”

    Einarr bowed his head slightly – he was a prince and a war-leader, but Thorgnyr was Thane to his father-in-law. “Thank you, milord.”

    Thorgnyr smirked, and Einarr’s belly went cold. “It has been agreed among the Althing that one is needed whom we can all answer to. We would not have been caught so unawares by the mad cult had we been more trusting of one another. Therefore, for the first time in centuries, the Clans have agreed amongst themselves to acclaim an Althane.”

    The cold in Einarr’s belly turned to an iceberg. Surely they couldn’t mean him? He cleared his throat. “My lords. I have spent the first decade of my career at sea as a humble freeboater. I have claimed my birthright, but it still sits strangely on my shoulders. I do not think…”

    “You are too modest.” A woman’s voice rang out over the Hall, but not from the Singers conclave. Bea stood up and stepped forward. “Your native wit and wisdom – which, I might add, extends to your choosing of advisors – serve you well, such that even I find myself indebted to you. It is no small thing to earn the gratitude of a Gundahar.”

    Thorgnyr inclined his head to Beatrix as to an equal. Any other Imperial likely would have been mortally offended: thankfully, Beatrix was not so minded.

    “The Princess speaks what we all believe. Furthermore, she has suggested that such a joining could bring financial benefits to the Clans, as well as security. Furthermore, while you are currently heir to Breidelstein, you are also Lord over no lands. This is a rare combination. However, acclaiming an Althane against his will would, perhaps, be worse than acclaiming no Althane at all. Will you stand before the Althing and permit the vote?”

    Einarr gaped, aware that he probably looked rather like a fish. Finally, he managed to speak. “Might I have a word with my wife, first?”

    No-one raised any objection. Indeed, Stigander pulled aside a curtain behind the dais and motioned them both back.

    Out from under the watchful eyes of all the Clan leaders, Einarr breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Runa. “Just to be clear, you didn’t… do anything to anyone, did you?”

    She blushed, but shook her head. “I didn’t even start the rumors. Those came from out among the men of the Fleet.” She couldn’t quite suppress a girlish laugh.

    “Aye,” said a voice from behind him. Einarr jumped: he hadn’t realized anyone else was back here.

    “Jorir? What are you doing here?”

    “Keeping my ears open for trouble, mostly. But ‘twas me who started putting bees in people’s ears about the matter. I… hope ye’ll forgive the indiscretion.”

    Einarr sighed and buried his face in his hand, trying desperately not to laugh in his friend’s face. “Of course. Well. I suppose, then, that I needn’t have worried how you would take it, Runa.”

    She nodded, biting her lower lip, and pushed him back towards the curtain. “We’ll work out the succession later.”

    Einarr pushed the curtain aside and stepped back out on the dais to stand beside his father. “Very well. I will stand for the vote.”

    One by one, the leaders of the Clans stood, and one by one they pledged to follow the lead of the Althane, Einarr the Cursebreaker.

    Previous
    Table of Contents
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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 14.37 – Arrangements

    14.37 – Arrangements

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this chapter, and every day this week you will get another until we reach the end of the story (it’s not far off). Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design at some point in there.

    Eydri saw them coming. For a while she stood still, although she was as stiff as Einarr had ever seen. When they were most of the way over to the corner where she had been, however, she suddenly began to move – along the wall, toward the stairs they had just left. Einarr stopped and blinked, a little confused. Then he looked at Naudrek. “Is she mad at me for something?”

    Naudrek shook his head, his face unreadable. “No. Not angry. At least, not at you.”

    “You know something I don’t.”

    Naudrek smirked at him, one eyebrow rising up his forehead.

    “You also know what I meant.”

    “It’s not mine to tell. Are you going after her, or are you going to give her time to calm down?”

    “…I think that is no longer my decision to make.”

    Eydri had turned on her heel and now walked stiffly back toward the three of them. Einarr turned to face her and stood quietly. She stopped in front of them and met Einarr’s eyes with a challenging stare.

    Einarr sighed. “You are my Singer, but you are also my friend. What is wrong?”

    She shook her head violently and turned that same angry look back up at his face. Then she opened her mouth to talk, but all that came out was a croaking cough at first. When the cough died down, she tried again.

    “I am ruined.” Eydri’s voice, which had once been nearly as lovely as Runa’s, came out as a rasp. Einarr’s jaw dropped.

    “You mean, your voice?” Einarr asked stupidly. She nodded.

    “Won’t it heal, given time?”

    She shook her head violently once more. “It is gone. Hrug’s working just now proved it. I will never Sing again. What am I to do now?” Coughs racked her body again. Naudrek reached out as though to comfort her, but drew back.

    Einarr took a deep breath and nodded in understanding. “I swear to you, you will always have a place at my court, as a trusted advisor. I, of all people, know that a Singer’s worth is more than just her voice.”

    Strangely, this did not seem to be what she wanted to hear. “So I am to be an advisor only, left to pace the halls with your lady wife and only hear of your feats secondhand.” Eydri squeezed her eyes shut, and her knuckles turned white on her clenched fists. She turned her back on them. “That is not what I signed on for… but I knew the risk when I began that Song.”

    Einarr’s forehead wrinkled. What in the world had she wanted? He looked at Naudrek, about to ask what he advised, but stopped. The other man had a very peculiar look on his face – one Einarr remembered all too well. He smiled as the realization dawned. “Good luck,” he mouthed and clapped him on the shoulder with his good hand. But, when Einarr and Jorir turned to give them space, Naudrek stopped him.

    “It’s you she wants.”

    “And she knows I am always and only Runa’s. That’s why this is your chance. Good luck.”

    Naudrek turned back to face Eydri and straightened his tunic. Good man, Einarr thought, as he and Jorir left them alone as quickly as Einarr could manage.

    * * *

    While the ground team were setting up an impromptu camp within the fortress and tending to their wounded, a small fishing boat crewed by Troa and the other scouts led the fleet into the harbor.

    The damage was severe. About a third of the fleet was sunk. Of the surviving boats, most merely limped along and many took on water.

    The Vidofnir was no exception. Erik and Irding clasped elbows and clapped each other’s shoulders in greeting. Then Einarr saw Stigander and Bardr leaning on each other as they crossed the harbor and ran to join them.

    “Father! What news from the fleet?”

    Stigander lifted a haggard face to his son. The fighting had been fierce: the shoulder opposite Bardr was tied with bandages, and there were more than a few places blood had seeped through already. Bardr was in worse shape: one of his legs was just about shredded and tied off with a tourniquet.

    “What of the Singers?”

    Stigander offered a wan smile. “Rejoice, my boy. We’ve won – a resounding victory. The Singers? Exhausted to a one. They’ll be down once they’ve gathered themselves somewhat.”

    Einarr nodded, swallowing the worry that had threatened to choke him when he saw the state these two were in.

    “I don’t know what it was you did, son,” Stigander said, and Einarr could hear what almost sounded like admiration in his voice. “But even after Bea showed up that fight was theirs to lose. Right up until that shockwave rolled out from the tower. We lost a couple ships to the wave, I’m afraid, but nothing like we would have lost if things had kept on as they were. And you still came back to me, so… well done.”

    “Thank you, father.”

    Movement from the ships caught his eye, and Einarr looked up to see Reki’s white figure coming slowly down the plank to the shore, followed by several other women. They walked slowly, and a few of them limped, but they held themselves erect. Probably, if Einarr’s guess was correct, trying to keep the men from worrying over them.

    “It looks like the Singers are on their way down.”

    Stigander nodded. “They’ll not be much use for healing, remember.”

    “I’m afraid Hrug and I are about spent in terms of magic, as well. Let’s leave the wounded to Jorir and the scouts, then.”

    Bardr nodded in agreement. “I’ll see to it.”

    Einarr held up a hand, trying not to look at the man’s ruined leg. “Allow me. You two should find a place to rest. All of our wounded are just back that way.” He pointed.

    “I’ll do that, then.”

    Einarr turned to walk slowly back the way he had come, towards where he had last seen Jorir. It was no coincidence that he kept pace with the other two. “We will need to speak to Reki and the other Singers, however, as regards funeral arrangements.”

    Einarr was surprised to see that Stigander’s face could still become a shade or two paler as he blanched. “At least there are no shortages of ships for a proper burial.”

    Previous
    Table of Contents
    Next

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • 14.36 – Eydri

    14.36 – Eydri

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this chapter, and every day this week you will get another until we reach the end of the story (it’s not far off). Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design at some point in there.

    The light behind his allies was blindingly white, and growing larger. It already engulfed the form of Malùnion, and as it grew brighter the sickly greenish-black form grew thinner and fainter. At last, as the bones of the figure appeared to disappear into the light, there was a soundless boom. The light compressed, and then a shockwave traveled out across the temple. His friends, not entirely caught unaware, still stumbled forward. Their torches flickered.

    Eydri’s song ended with a croak.

    When Einarr’s eyes adjusted, the other four stood over him looking worried. He wrinkled his eyebrows and smiled at them but did not move. He was well aware that something was broken, and in no hurry to find out what. “Why so serious? We won.”

    Kaldr glanced over behind them to where the body of Malùnion lay in pieces like so much broken stone. “Aye, we did.”

    His voice sounded hoarse – but then again, every one among them was exhausted. Eydri had tears in her eyes when she nodded her agreement.

    Troa cleared his throat. “My Lord… can you move?”

    “What’s the hurry?”

    “The others are waiting, Einarr. They’ll have heard that thunder, and even if everything down here is still stable we should let them know we’ve made it.”

    Einarr sighed and nodded. It wasn’t his neck, anyway. “How’s your voice, Eydri?”

    She shook her head without saying anything. He certainly couldn’t fault her for wanting to rest it for a time.

    “All right, then.” He sat up, and suddenly he knew exactly what was broken: his left shoulder. “Hey Jorir? I could use a sling.”

    A wry, if tired, smile cracked the dvergr’s face. “And this time, if my patient dies, it’s the Lady Runa who’ll have my head.” Jorir produced a long piece of cloth from somewhere and moved up to Einarr’s side.

    “Heh.” It had been a long time since Einarr had thought of that. “I’m just glad it’s not my thigh – or my back.”

    “If I might make a suggestion, milord.” Jorir focused on arranging the arm as carefully as he could.

    “Mm?”

    “Even if this heals perfectly, you might find a two-handed blade serves you better than a shield in the future.”

    “Duly noted.”

    * * *

    Einarr’s team of seven were the last ones to rejoin the others on the upper floor. Kaldr carried the husk that had once been Thjofgrir, and Svarek and Troa had the grim, bloody task of bringing up the ruins of Arring’s body. Both men had died honorably and well: neither of them could be left to rot unburied in a place like this. Einarr leaned on Naudrek’s shoulder with his good arm, Jorir stumping along beside. No-one spoke: while they had won, it had been a hard-fought battle, and the costs had been high.

    As they passed through the upper basement, past the entrance to the underground port, the others in the underground force fell in behind them. They caught their leaders’ mood, however, and so when they all emerged from the stairway, blinking in the light of day, it was as though they were an honor guard – for both the living and the dead.

    Irding looked up from oiling his blade when the others staggered out, haggard and pale but proud in victory. He raised a fist into the air and gave a ragged cheer. This was picked up by the others who had gone upstairs to take the tower.

    Wounded lined the room, all given some measure of first aid, but all would plainly benefit from the attentions of a Singer. Eydri, though, made no offer of help. That strange Song had obviously been a strain, but this was unusual even so.

    Einarr directed Naudrek and Jorir over to where Irding rested, sitting on the stair, and he, too, sat. “How did it go up there?”

    “About as well as can be expected. We took our knocks… but the defenders didn’t know what to do with themselves. Looks like we should still have enough men to crew both boats, but it might be a little thin.”

    “Good. Could you see what was happening in the harbor?”

    Irding nodded, looking out across the room. Einarr followed his gaze, and saw Eydri standing very still while Hrug drew a rune circle around her. She was looking at her feet, and had her fists clenched: Einarr hoped Hrug would be able to undo whatever damage had been done.

    “They got pincered. Things were looking really grim until those Valkyrie ships showed up.”

    “So Beatrix did show up. Good.”

    “Beatrix, and something like half her order, it looked like. Their sea-fire was all that saved us.”

    Einarr nodded. He was glad, not only that they had won but also that he might get to see a friend again. On the other hand, ensuring that things stayed friendly might be tricky. The Clans and the Empire didn’t often get along, after all. So far as Einarr knew, this might be the first time. “I’m glad I sent for aid, then,” was all he said.

    Hrug was activating the circle. Einarr looked up to watch.

    There was a brief flash of light around the hem of her skirts. Eydri opened her mouth and said something – Einarr was too far away to hear what. Then her face screwed up as though she were trying not to cry. Her shoulders squared, although she looked at the ground again, and she nodded. Hrug set about crafting a rune circle that, if Einarr was any judge, would cover the entire floor. Meanwhile, Eydri took herself off to a corner, everything about her body language screaming ‘leave me alone.’

    Einarr glanced at Naudrek, who still stood by. “Did she say anything to you while I was out down there?”

    He shook his head. “I think that may be the problem.”

    Oh no. Einarr nodded. “All right. Help me over there.”

    Jorir cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s wise, milord?”

    Einarr quirked his mouth in a wry smile. “Maybe not. But Eydri is my friend as much as my Singer. Let’s go see if there’s anything I can do for a friend, eh?”

    Naudrek muttered something mostly under his breath. Einarr thought he caught the words “more than you bargained for.”

    Previous
    Table of Contents
    Next

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

     

  • 14.35 – Frenzy

    14.35 – Frenzy

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this chapter, and every day this week you will get another until we reach the end of the story (it’s not far off). Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design at some point in there.

    The Song, as eerie and strange as it was to Einarr’s ear, got an immediate reaction from Malùnion. The kraken-like mass of energy surged, and for a moment it seemed to be moving twice as fast. Only a moment, though: it soon became clear it had gone into a frenzy.

    Not that that was better.

    It struck wildly left and right, and then, not bothering to check if it had actually knocked them out of the way or not, surged towards Eydri. Einarr ducked past a flailing tentacle to chop at the body between them and nearly got crushed as it pushed forward. He used the arm he had just cut at as a springboard, narrowly avoiding an ignominious death. Whatever this new Song was, Malùnion seemed to hate it.

    Nobody else needed any encouragement to defend Eydri, either, of course. Whether or not they realized what she was doing, “guarding the Singer” was ingrained in the very marrow of the Clan warriors. Naudrek and Arring both leapt for an eye at the same moment, and while it flinched Einarr wasn’t certain it actually used those eyes for seeing. It was, after all, not really flesh.

    No, never mind: it was definitely looking at things through those eyes: one each focused on those two, and a moment later it lashed out with crackling arms. Naudrek barely managed to spin free of its grasp, while Arring cut the tip off the arm. It recoiled, although the arm tip quickly grew back.

    Eydri’s voice was sustaining notes he had not often heard Runa hit – and Runa had the higher voice, generally speaking. Furthermore, she was doing so at a volume best described as piercing. How long can she keep this up?

    Troa had caught its flinch, too, and now reclaimed arrows flew for its eyes. Whatever Eydri was trying to do, they had to stall it long enough for her to break down its resistance. There was a reason, after all, that Song Magic was generally only applied to ones allies.

    It wasn’t trying to seduce him into despair any longer, at least, but Einarr thought its wordless rage in the back of his head might be worse. It was perhaps harder to resist when it bore such a strong resemblance to the Singer’s battle-fury. No matter: he slashed at the octopus arms as they flailed within reach, sometimes biting deep and sometimes doing nothing more than bouncing off the surface. The frenzy had one other irritating side effect: with all those arms, it was even more difficult to get near the main body than it had been before.

    Even with their best efforts, they had closed half the distance toward where Eydri stood, singing with all her might, her eyes closed. If they didn’t manage to stop this thing before it got her, they might not be able to stop it at all. A glance to the side, where Kaldr and Naudrek fought as desperately as Einarr showed the same thought on their minds. On his other side, Arring and Troa hacked gamely away. Arring’s face looked surprisingly peaceful, and Einarr had a sneaking suspicion he knew why.

    Malùnion’s main body jerked towards him, and as Einarr dodged he had no more time to check on his companions.

    His arms moved mechanically now. Eydri’s stamina was not the only one in question. This cut, he got lucky: Sinmora found an already-open wound ahead of him and cut deeply.

    Beside him, Arring roared and leapt up into the air, his blade held high overhead. Einarr blinked, startled, as the strong man landed atop one of the writhing arms and drove the bit of his axe deep enough into the body of the demigod that it was engulfed by flesh. Malùnion’s howl reverberated through the air and through Einarr’s mind at once.

    What happened next was almost too quick to comprehend. The arm Arring stood on whipped back toward the body and wrapped itself about his middle. There was a sucking sound, and a tearing, and then Arring was slammed against one of the pillars that held up the ceiling with a sickening crunch. His axe fell to the ground and his arms flopped bonelessly, but Malùnion didn’t seem to care whether he was dead or merely senseless. The enraged demigod continued to beat Arring’s body against the pillar.

    There was the opening. Grimly, Einarr charged forward: Arring’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

    No less than three of Troa’s arrows planted themselves in the new wound before Einarr reached it, but the eight-legged demigod was far from rational now: something about the combination of Eydri’s Song and the blow that had obviously hurt it had focused all its rage on the cause of the latter. That was good for Troa, and good for Einarr.

    Einarr drove Sinmora up to the hilt into the opening Arring had made, but this didn’t seem to cause any more reaction than Troa’s arrows had.

    He had one idea left: if it didn’t work, he didn’t know what they would do. He focused on the rhythm of Eydri’s Song. This was very different from the beat Sinmora usually resonated at: even if he could make it work, he had no idea what it would do.

    It was going to do something, anyway. He felt Sinmora begin to reverberate with Eydri’s eerie singing.

    The sound of Arring’s corpse being beaten against the wall stopped as a new alarm grew in the mental whispers that still emanated from the mind of Malùnion.

    Einarr opened his mouth and let loose a primal roar. He felt the thrumming in his hands and the bones of his arms as he forced Sinmora’s blade deeper into the body. The pulsation, strangely, grew faster. It was still in time with the song, but it seemed to be racing along at the same time.

    Deep within the body of Malùnion, Sinmora shattered. Einarr felt the moment the blade gave way.

    A moment later, there was a flash of light from inside the massive body before Einarr, and he was flung away, Sinmora’s hilt still clutched in his hand. His flight came to an abrupt end when he impacted the back of one of the stone pews, not far ahead of Eydri. Lightning danced around the edges of his vision: something had broken, but he had no idea what.

    The others were racing across the floor to where he landed: he saw that before he saw what was happening behind them.

    Previous
    Table of Contents
    Next
     

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

  • Two Weeks Running

    Two Weeks Running

    Hi all.

    Many apologies, especially since this is two weeks in a row. Our regularly scheduled chapter of Einarr and the Razing of the North will be delayed. My family and I are in the process of returning to the mainland US from the territories, and, not to put too fine a point on it, I’m exhausted. My goal is to get the next chapter written during our two-night stopover in Guam so that Tuesday’s chapter will post as normal, but at this point I’m not going to promise anything.

  • 14.34 – Before Dawn

    14.34 – Before Dawn

    Einarr dove into a column of benches and kept low, counting on their shelter to at least keep himself from being squeezed to death. It could still crush him, right along with the benches, of course, but some cover was better than no cover here.

    Naudrek was right behind him.

    “So once we get to Arring, then what?”

    Einarr hurried along, crouching low, and shook his head. “I don’t know. Yet.”

    A tentacle slammed down into the benches just behind them, hard enough that the shockwave nearly sent them both flying.

    The next one crashed down near enough to Einarr’s nose that he almost expected to feel blood trickling down the end of it. Einarr fought the urge to freeze in place: that would only lead to both he and Naudrek being crushed where they stood. Better, then, to run and hopefully shake its attention. He came to the end of a row and paused, taking his bearings, before he dashed across the aisle.

    The demigod – so monstrous, even Hel herself would not claim its minions – was waiting for him. One of the giant octopus arms shot forward like a spear.

    His shield broke clean in half. Had the blow come a half inch further up, his arm would have, too. He hit the ground at least twenty paces back from where he started and bounced. For a moment – but only a moment, he lay there, just trying to breathe again. Everything hurt, but he didn’t dare lay there and wallow in it.

    As soon as he had a breath of wind back, he rolled to his feet and scrambled forward into the next column of benches. There he did pause for a moment: hunched over as he was, his ribs and back spasmed at the strain. When he could move again, he peeked over the top of the benches: Naudrek had nearly reached Arring – good. Kaldr and Jorir were still further out than he was, but not by much – and that only because they had circled wide to spread out the thing’s attention. Einarr grit his teeth and moved on.

    A crash, very loud this time, caused Einarr to freeze once more and look up at the scene before him.

    Arring was, he thought, out of the creature’s reach – for now. Which made it all the more impressive that Malùnion had bodily lifted Troa and flung him at the strong man – who caught him without so much as a grunt. Either it hit harder than it threw, or it got lucky when it sent Arring flying. Or, perhaps, unlucky, as the case may be.

    He managed to avoid the monster’s attention as he dashed across the next aisle, but his ear told him his friends were not so lucky.

    The squawk of Malùnion’s presence in his mind turned to a sort of chuckling sound, as though it knew it was winning. As though the time it spent bound in the vines had been worth it. And then, disturbingly, those chuckles turned to whispers in Einarr’s ear. The tone was cajoling, but the words – when there were words – were horrific. A quick glance around told him he was not the only one who heard the mental jabbering. Was that an effect of the corruption, or was it simply the way Malùnion communicated to people?

    Did he really want to know?

    What are we going to do? The question echoed in his mind. Always before he had managed to pull everyone through on the power of his wits and his sword, but here those were rapidly proving inadequate. The runes had failed, Eydri had all she could do keeping them all standing, and Malùnion’s wounds closed almost as fast as they could make them.

    The crackling black octopus’ attacks seemed to have slackened. He once again looked around the room, this time trying to determine what had drawn its attention.

    Movement, it seemed to be. Eydri was not presently Singing, but she strode across the floor with purpose. Their time to plan was over before it began. Bruised and without a shield, Einarr took Sinmora in both hands. “Don’t let it near the sorcerers!”

    “Aye, sir!” Rang across the hallway from his comrades. With hardly a break in their step, lateral movement changed to forward, and all six of them raced inward, toward the foe that seemed likely to spell their doom.

    Their best success against the monstrosity had come at the expense of Thjofgrir’s life. He didn’t want to accept it, but if their lifeblood could stop this thing from wreaking its havoc on the world above, Einarr thought that might be a trade worth making.

    Still, the trouble remained. Thjofgrir’s death had bought them only a moment’s reprieve. How, then, did they ensure their own sacrifices would not be in vain?

    Jorir, who had been closest to its main body, closed to within its guard and leapt for the main body. He planted his axe, almost at head-height for Einarr. Jorir’s momentum carried him up and over the axe handle once before he wrenched it free to land on his feet again. The blood on the axe head hissed and sizzled, as though it intended to consume the steel itself in its corruption. Einarr swore: even that small victory, gained through such hard fighting, had now disappeared. What did they have to do in order to destroy this thing?

    The voice in his ear chittered at him again, whispering of how it would just be easier to accept their fate, and how Malùnion’s dominion would be a beneficent one, and there was no point in fighting a battle you knew you could not win.

    That was where it was wrong, though. Einarr might have let himself be talked down that way, if not for that one idea. Even a futile battle could have merit: what else the meaning of the prophecies of Ragnarok?

    A high, eerie note rose through the dark temple of the dark god before them. Einarr froze for a moment, and then his eyes sought Eydri.

    She had withdrawn from where Hrug fell back towards the door, but now she stood openly in the middle of an aisle there. Einarr had never seen such an expression on her face: it was fierce like a hawk’s, and as angry as a mother bear’s. He had never heard this song before.

     

     

    Previous

    Next

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

     

  • No post today. Post on Tuesday.

    No post today. Post on Tuesday.

    Hi all.

    Many apologies. Our regularly scheduled chapter of Einarr and the Razing of the North will instead be delayed until the normal time next Tuesday. My family and I are in the process of returning to the mainland US from the territories, and the time I would have ordinarily spent writing tonight was instead spent packing boxes and otherwise putting things in order.

    I had hoped to have the story finished before the move, but that no longer appears possible. The boxes are all packed, however, so with luck I should get through this without having to postpone more chapters.

  • 14.33 – Shattered

    14.33 – Shattered

    As one, the six men rushed for the flesh puppet that had been the high priest of the demigod. In rapid succession their blades slashed through his body, and the flesh puppet fell to the vines beneath their feet, in enough pieces that it was hard to tell he had once been human. The energy form that hovered behind the body of the flesh puppet seemed to pulse, and Einarr had the mental impression of a bird of prey’s screech. He held his breath.

    With a sound like breaking glass, the rune circle shattered. The vines disappeared from beneath their feet. Even as he tumbled to the ground, Einarr heard Hrug scream. The sorcerer clutched his head in his hands and fell to the floor bleeding.

    Einarr rolled to his feet: he seemed to still be in one piece, anyway. The others in the melee had risen to their feet again, as well – all except Thjofgrir, whose face was as waxy and ashen as a draugr’s. A fresh wave of rage rolled across Kaldr’s face, but it was gone in a moment.

    A moment after that, they had no room to think about fallen comrades or even their next assault. The crackling black energy that had hovered behind the flesh-puppet like a massive octopus, freed of its binding, tossed Arring, Troa, and Naudrek across the hall in one sweep of one tentacle. A chittering sound echoed through the room: Einarr had the distinct sense that it was laughing at them.

    Then another tentacle swept his side of the room, and it was all he could do to brace before he, too, was thrown halfway across the room. His shield boss rang as it struck the wall, and even over the bell-like noise he heard the wood of the shield begin to splinter. He had been wrong – utterly wrong, about everything it seemed. Had Thjofgrir truly perished for only a momentary advantage? Einarr’s lip curled in rage. He couldn’t let it end this way.

    Even before the activation of the circle their blades had done something. Therefore, they just needed to hang on long enough for someone to figure out their next step.

    That was going to be easier said than done. His ribs ached already, and he was pretty sure dodging one of those tentacles would be well nigh impossible. On the other hand, there was Jorir, clinging to the tentacle by his axes, currently embedded in the mass of energy they fought.

    It’s not that we can’t hurt it – we have. So then…

    Jorir’s axe head lost its purchase in the flailing arm and the dvergr joined Einarr against the wall. “That could have gone better.”

    “Less complaining, more scheming, please!” Einarr resettled his shield and hefted Sinmora once again.

    “Heh. Yes, sir!” Then the two of them were charging back towards the main body of the creature known as Malùnion.

    Einarr heard Arring’s battle cry as he, too, rushed forward with his blade in hand, dashing with surprising nimbleness towards the central mass of the body.

    He got a good way across the floor before one of the tentacle ends came down on his head. The blow stunned him for just a moment, and then the demigod flicked him away again. This time Arring crashed into the back of one of the pews in the temple hall. Arring had ridiculous strength, but Einarr wondered how many more times his back could take that.

    Eydri’s song no longer carried through the Hall: Einarr risked a glance that direction as he hurried through a row of pews. She had crept forward and was checking on Hrug, bless her. Never mind that she was in the most danger from this thing now that it was free.

    We’ll just have to keep it too busy to focus on her, then. Already, though, he felt his fatigue creeping back into his legs. No matter: this was no duel, to be halted on a whim. If they faltered, they died – and very likely the world with them.

    Einarr and Jorir were still several yards distant when Naudrek and Troa reached the main body together. Naudrek’s sword found purchase and opened a gouge in the base of one of the legs, and then Troa plunged his blade deeper into the wound. It was a good idea, and they were well inside its guard.

    Somehow, though, that mattered less now that it wasn’t restrained by its meat puppet or the vines. The end of the tentacle curled inward and bashed both men against its rubbery flesh. Naudrek was still blinking and half-dazed when Einarr and Jorir decided to try the same thing. Jorir chopped at the wound they had opened – and that was rapidly closing now that their blades had fallen free – and Einarr followed up by plunging Sinmora in as deeply as he could.

    This seemed to annoy Malùnion, at least. The screech sounded in his head again.

    Rather than try for another cut, Einarr threw Naudrek’s arm over his shoulder. Movement in his peripheral vision confirmed what he expected. He dove forward, and neither of them were caught up in the tentacle that grabbed at them.

    Jorir and Troa, too, managed to evade being grabbed.

    Naudrek had his feet again, so Einarr freed his arm. “Join up with Arring! We need a plan.”

    His second after Jorir nodded mutely and began ducking and weaving toward where the strong man was still picking himself up off the floor. That last one must have winded him.Then Einarr gave Jorir the same instruction, and headed off himself. Dvergr and scout followed, not many paces behind. Not that they would have very long to plan: Eydri was quiet for the moment, but she was also working independently. If she determined she needed to Sing again, the rest of them would have to be ready to call its attention away again. Its acolytes actively hunted Singers, after all: why wouldn’t the thing itself?

     

     

    Previous

    Next

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.

     

  • 14.32 – Fire on the Waves

    14.32 – Fire on the Waves

    Stigander stood in the center of the Vidofnir’s deck, his hands pressed against his knees, as he caught his breath. Behind him, Reki sang a Song of Healing, and although he was not terribly wounded he felt the innumberable cuts and strains of a hard-fought battle mending. He had fallen back with Bardr over his shoulder, keenly aware that he was growing too old to lead his men into combat this way. He would remain in back, guarding the Singers, until his strength returned to him.

    The fight on the demon ships was even uglier than he had feared: the Clans had already sent many a good warrior on to Valhalla today, and even now their success was far from certain – as was their survival. Sharks churned the red and black water below into a froth, whipped into a frenzy by the blood that continued to sluice off the decks of the clashing fleets. That frothing churn was the only reason the din of battle wasn’t deafening: it muted the water’s echo.

    Stigander straightened, surveying the lay of the battle around him. He had rested long enough, he thought: time to wade back out into the abyss. One small mercy: none of these crews had decided to sacrifice themselves to the beasties under their decks this time. Yet. He reset his shield and readied his sword.

    As he stepped up to the bulwark, though, one foot poised to race back across the boarding line, a plume of flame illuminated the raging storm behind the demon ships. This was followed by three more in rapid succession, one of them so far down the line of the fleet it looked like someone lighting a candle. He froze, the implications clear in his mind.

    Einarr had written Beatrix for help, he knew. If this meant she had come, this could change their relationship with the Empire for a generation or more.

    Princess Beatrix Maria Gundahar stood on the forecastle of Blackwing, her personal ship, and watched for their moment. All was as Einarr had led her to expect: the storm, the demon-prowed longships, and blood in the water. Her front runners would soon be in range for sea fire, and then the wicked would fall before the might of the Empire.

    She grinned. Convincing Father to let her take a fleet out for this had been easy: it would put the Clans in their debt for a generation, he thought. And, perhaps he was right – Beatrix had only been interested because it was Einarr, and Einarr had saved her life not that long ago.

    The din of battle grew loud in her ears. The demon ships were hard to see under the darkness of their stormclouds, and the sheeting rain would cut the range of their sea-fire. Her grin turned to a purse-lipped stare. “Ready the cannons!”

    “Aye-aye!” came the cry.

    The Blackwing crested another wave, and suddenly they were almost on top of the demon ships. On the far side of them, she could just make out the fleet Einarr had mentioned. “Loose sea-fire!”

    The Blackwing’s prow opened up and a gout of flame spouted forth, sweeping over the demon ship. Even the water below burned with the might of the sea-fire, and the deck of the demon ship could also not withstand its heat.

    Gouts of sea-fire traveled outward from the Blackwing in both directions as the rest of her fleet followed suit.

    Beatrix whooped. “Fire at will!”

    The tide of battle turned slowly. Stigander noticed that the defenders were breaking off by ones and twos just before he, too, smelled the acrid smoke of sea-fire. He gave a roar and raised his blade over head – a roar that was answered by every other man of the fleet in hearing range, it seemed. They surged forward, hacking and slashing their way towards the masts of the cultists ships.

    Now, of course, was when things were likely to get really dangerous – and with the number of men who had already fallen in battle today, that was saying a great deal. Should even one of the enemy crew decide it was better to sacrifice themselves so their dark god could improve his chance of victory, they might have trouble fighting it off this time – even with the assistance of the Valkyrian Knights and the Imperial Princess. “Don’t let them scuttle their ships!”

    Of course, the fire could unleash one of the beasts, too – he had seen as much – but it was a risk they would have to take.

    The Knights of the Valkyrie stopped spewing fire at the cultists’ ships and pulled up alongside. “Cast lines!”

    She hardly needed to bother: almost before the words were out of her mouth, men from the crew were tossing hooks across to catch the enemy bulwarks. As soon as the ropes were tight they tied them off, and a moment later her men were swarming over the deck to the enemy ships. For once, since she had met the Cursebreaker, Beatrix had absolutely no qualms about taking the fight to the Clans. In this case, though, she supposed she wasn’t really fighting a Clan. She raised her voice to shout over the wind and the waves and the sounds of battle. “Remember why we are here! We fight, today, not against the Northern Clans but against a group of heretics who would corrupt the entirety of us in the name of their own power. Forward!”

    “Forward!” Came the answering cry – and not just from her own ship.

    Beatrix joined in as well, swinging deftly up and running across the few feet of open, churning sea without so much as a breath of hesitation. They had taken the fight to their enemies, and the poor fools were so wrapped up in the battle at the harbor mouth they wouldn’t even realize until it was too late.

     

     

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    This is what I expect to be the final book of The Adventures of Einarr Stigandersen. After four, almost five, years and fourteen books, I’m ready to move on to other projects – and I’m sure Einarr is ready for me to do so, as well – if only so I stop tormenting him! Fear not, however: my intention is to start a new serial, although not a purely free one. Look for a poll or an announcement from me in the next few weeks as I firm up my ideas.

    If you like what you read, it would really mean a lot to me if you clicked through to Top Web Fiction and voted for Einarr there. It’s a visibility boost in the ever-growing genre of web fiction, and that helps me out a lot. There’s no sign-up, and votes refresh every 7 days.

    If you’re all caught up and looking for something a little longer to read, I also have other works available on Amazon. Or, if you happen to not like Amazon you can also get the Einarr e-book through Draft2Digital, B&N, Apple, Kobo… you get the idea. Direct links are available here.

    Lastly, if you really like what I’m doing, I also have a Patreon account running with some fun bonuses available.