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  • 8.20 – Armory

    8.20 – Armory

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    The trick with the runes gave them a chance to get out of the dungeon, but they could only do it once. There simply wasn’t time, while dodging the flesh-puppets of a creature whose attention was only now coming to focus on them. Even if there had been time, Einarr was not at all certain it would work against the full attention of the undersea horror.

    Liupold led them down corridor after corridor, more than once making a hasty turn when something shambled into their path. By the time they reached the top of the second set of stairs, each and every one of them was out of breath.

    “Where to now?” Einarr asked.

    With a quick glance around, Liupold pointed, but they had hardly started down that hallway when a pack of the flesh-puppets appeared ahead of them.

    Three turns later, when they were once again facing the exit, it happened again.

    And again.

    “I think it knows where we’re trying to go,” Naudrek offered.

    “I think you’re right. Well, I guess that means we have to do this the hard way.”

    Liupold nodded again and took off down the corridor to their left. Whatever the puppet master had expected, this wasn’t it. Once again, the shambling horde was reduced to chasing the much-faster living humans.

    It couldn’t last forever. The puppetmaster had enough eyes to see through that it was only a matter of time until he could redirect his flesh-puppets to block the way to the armory. Liupold picked up the pace, and everyone else stayed with him.

    Another flight of stairs. Rambert hurled a javelin at one of the puppets that was getting a little too close behind them. Einarr could hear more closing in from the sides.

    “Up there!” Liupold pointed forward at a large, heavy door just as a pair of the flesh-puppets shambled in front of it. Only two, though. Einarr and Naudrek brought up their bows, aimed, and fired. Two puppets sprouted arrows and fell forward, inert. Moments later, Liupold led them in hurdling over the bodies.

    Einarr turned his shoulder to ram the door open without stopping. Naudrek, Hrug, and the oarsmen followed suit as Liupold and the women scrambled out of the way.

    Already the kraken was beginning to reassert control over the fallen peasants, but the door creaked open on its hinges under the combined force of five charging warriors.

    Moments later, they had all scrambled inside. With that same drawn-out creak, they shoved the door closed behind them, and then Bea dropped the heavy wooden bar with a bang.

    Einarr, the first to recover his breath, took in the room with a glance. If the door could be barred, there were probably other entrances from higher up in the citadel. “Bea, Hrug, Rambert. Go check for other ways out of here. Bar them if you can.”

    The princess gave him a long, appraising look but did not object.

    “Burkhart, gather up all of the arrows and javelins you can find. All of them. Liupold, Naudrek, let’s see if we can’t make this room a little more defensible. I bet we can pile up some of those racks into a nice, defensible wall we can shoot through.”

    Liupold, too, gave him a long look, although his seemed oddly more annoyed than Bea’s had. Still, he didn’t seem inclined to dispute the call, so while the others were making sure they had weapons and didn’t get attacked from behind, the three of them set up a wall inside the armory, outside the sweep of the door but curving around to meet the walls of the room on either side. The closest thing to a killing field they could come up with.

    The flesh puppets were trying to force the door, but it seemed they could afford a moment’s rest. Einarr flopped down on the floor and began inspecting his bow. It would very shortly be seeing heavy use.

    “You’re a natural at this, aren’t you,” Liupold said, sitting next to him. It wasn’t a question.

    “What, taking charge?” Einarr shrugged. “I wouldn’t say that. My grandfather was Thane over the clans of Breidelstein. Father knows he never will be, not with as long as its taken us to reclaim our throne. My whole life he’s been preparing me, first for captaincy, then for thanehood.”

    Liupold nodded. “He’s taught you well, but I think he had a good student. Even the princess didn’t hesitate when you took charge.”

    Einarr shrugged again. “Just because she’s not likely to ever inherit doesn’t mean she’s got soup for brains. It needed to be done, and it was better if we did the grunt-work.”

    “I’ll not deny it.” Liupold exhaled a deep breath and stood again. “We should get the ammunition racks set. We’re going to have to unbar that door if we ever want to get out of here.”

    Einarr heaved a breath himself, then followed suit. The sooner they could bust free of this castle, the sooner they could torch the island and turn their full attention to the kraken.

    Einarr was reluctantly impressed: the bar had started to crack. They all gathered around the outside of the wall, bows in hand and plenty of javelins and arrows in easy reach. Even Eydri had a bow.

    Bea stood by the pulley that would raise the bar and let the flesh-puppets surge forward. Hrug had also prepared a number of fire runes as a last defense. The idea of setting the castle on fire around their ears did not appeal, but neither did the idea of a never-ending surge of flesh-puppets. The arrows that had taken down the ones in the hall, before, had not hit anything vital. That suggested to Einarr that the kraken’s control over its puppets was tenuous. But by the same token, he didn’t think reasserting control had taken much effort, either.

    “Are we ready?” Bea called.

    A series of affirmations came from around their perimeter. “Do it,” Einarr answered after everyone else had called in.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.19 – Imperial Princess

    8.19 – Imperial Princess

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    The woman who stepped out of the cell Liupold opened was tall, lithe, and buxom, with black hair falling to her knees in a thick braid. She wore snug trousers and a swordfighter’s tunic, tied at the sleeves and waist, and if it weren’t for the hay clinging to hair and clothes, the smears of dirt on her face, and some new-looking tears in her clothes Einarr would not have believed her to be so recently a captive. She didn’t even have dark circles under her eyes!

    “My lady,” Liupold intoned with a bow. “Let me present the Cursebreaker, Einarr son of Stigander of the longship Vidofnir; Eydri, a Singer of his acquaintance and no small skill; Naudrek, his man-at-arms; and Hrug, a sorcerer trained in the use of runes. Lord Einarr, this is her Imperial Highness, the fourth Princess Beatrix Maria Gundahar.”

    Einarr had never met an Imperial princess before, although he had met a landed Thane or two in his time on the Vidofnir. He bowed, much as he would have for one of their offspring. Eydri curtsied. Naudrek bowed deeply enough to hide the blush Einarr glimpsed on his cheek, even as Hrug took a knee.

    The princess gave a dismissive upward motion, which Einarr chose to interpret as haste to be out of here – a sentiment which he shared. “We can worry about formal introductions later. First we need to… was one of your men a Painter?”

    The princess had noticed the charred corpse of her jailer, and she stared at it as though trying to divine who he had been before.

    “No, my lady. I have received something of an education, today: runes are good for more than fortune-telling.”

    “But useless in combat,” Einarr cut him off. The last thing he needed was the Empire trying to figure out a way to use rune magic in battle. It could be done, of course, given sufficient rune sorcerers with sufficient runestones, but that was not a discussion he intended to have with any Conehead, let alone one of their royals. “We should go, before that kraken can get reinforcements down her to replace its pet dog.”

    She nodded. “Quite right. Have you found my things?”

    Liupold shook his head. “Haven’t yet looked.”

    “Well then, let’s get to it! Father will be quite cross if he has to fit me for armor again, and the spear is an heirloom.”

    It took far longer than anyone among their party liked to find the princess’ – Bea’s, she finally directed them to call her – breastplate and spear. By the time Bea had asked (instructed) Eydri to help her put it on, they could all hear the sounds of the kraken’s flesh-puppets shambling above. It was only a matter of time before they found their way down.

    “What can the runes do?” Liupold asked. “Can they get us out? Or even just destroy the flesh-puppets, like your little lightning setup did for the jailer?”

    Einarr and Hrug shared a look. Einarr envied the other man a little for not having to explain this. “Rune magic is fundamentally an act of will. The greater the change, the larger the expenditure of will. We could probably catch several of them on fire – but not enough. And there’s no way we have enough arrows and javelins to fend them all off down here.”

    “No, I suppose we don’t.”

    “Is there a place we could get more? Bows, arrows, javelins, I mean.”

    “Yes, there will be an armory. I think I even know where.”

    “Good. Then what Hrug and I can probably do is lay runes to keep them away from the staircase long enough for us to get past them. Then all we have to do is evade the flesh-puppets long enough to reach the armory – or the exit, either one. Now that we’ve got the Princess out, there’s no reason not to burn the island, right?”

    Bea answered for him when he hesitated. “None.”

    “Wonderful. In that case, I have a slight preference for racing back across the island for the ship, but I will leave that to your discretion. In the meantime, Hrug, we have some runes to lay.”

    While it did require some syntax, this was one of the easiest and earliest ‘spells’ Elder Melja had taught them. In the village, they used it to keep pests away from their crops. The Elder had always been cagey about whether or not it was also used to keep humans away from the village. Whether or not that was the case, it should be more than sufficient to keep the kraken’s victims from descending on their heads. While they worked, Naudrek and the oarsmen took up positions to either side of the stair, weapons ready.

    After what felt like another eternity, Eydri finished buckling on Bea’s breastplate and had it adjusted to her satisfaction. Bea grabbed up her fancy metal-plated spear.

    “Are we ready? I feel like the puppeteer has started to notice something amiss.”

    Bea, much to Einarr’s surprise, was self-aware enough to apologize for the delay. “Let’s go,” she added, gesturing for Liupold to lead the way.

    Up the stairs they raced. Those who had bows had them limbered and arrows nocked as a precaution. Those who did not prayed for room to throw a javelin should the need arise.

    The flesh-puppets milled about on the floor above – none of them in the straight line leading up away from the stairs, and most of them not seeming to even realize there was a gap there. Liupold dashed down the hallway and across that intersection like a shot, the rest of the group hard on his heels.

    The group of intruders had made it past three more intersections and around a bend before the kraken realized what was going on. Then there was a dull groaning from its puppets as they shambled off after their prey, as rapidly as their rotting legs could carry them.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

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    Table of Contents

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.17 – Southwaite

    8.17 – Southwaite

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    As was probably to be expected of an island of this size with the number of people it must have had, most of the interior was taken up by farmland – although Einarr would have hesitated to tend any crops there now. It was bad enough hurrying across the abandoned fields, eyes open for anything – man or beast – that might be hostile.

    There were, however, significant benefits to traipsing over farmland, namely in open and easy terrain. Even skulking, trying to avoid combat with anything still alive here, it only took them a few hours to cross the handful of miles between Kettleness and Southwaite. Thankfully, they encountered no more of the strangely shimmering curtains. Forced to the choice, he would risk Sinmora against one again rather than sending any of their number through… but the idea of Sinmora becoming tainted disturbed him nearly as much.

    Their first sign that they were approaching Southwaite was the rise of walls – far more impressive than the wooden palisade that had served Kettleness, but not, to Einarr’s way of thinking, anything that would slow a ship of Clan raiders more than an hour or two. They drew nearer, and then Einarr caught sight of the fortress within the walls, a great rectangular brick of stone, quarried who knew where, that squatted over the village like some giant toad.

    “As expected,” Einarr muttered.

    “I beg your pardon?” Liupold’s eyes, too, were on the castle town ahead.

    “If this is the seat of whatever petty jarl rules this island, as it appears to be, then they will want the defenses and capacity of that citadel for their own purposes. The captives should be in the citadel prison. At least, that’s where I found Runa.”

    Liupold hummed and they continued forward.

    Einarr still saw no sign of whatever that strange curtain of energy had been outside Kettleness. Why would they not use it as a defense around their base of operations?

    Why had they not seen any in the svartalfr fortress?

    He shook his head: they had not. He was not going to assume their absence here, but it made no sense not to worry over their absence, either. “Be cautious,” he whispered as they drew into view of the unguarded gate. “I expect the corrupted will have gathered their forces here, so as to better defend themselves.”

    “That’s almost certainly the case,” Liupold agreed. “Follow me. Assuming the old Lord stuck to convention, I know right where the prisoners will be held.”

    Sneaking their way through the castle town of Southwaite was almost anticlimactic compared to the circle fortress of the svartalfr city. Not that there weren’t corrupted villagers everywhere – there were – but the villagers seemed less at ease in their corruption than the cultists in the circle fort had been. Did it perhaps take some time for the corruption to take full control of the mind, even after the body succumbed? He did not know, but the only way he could think of to find out would ensure their enemies knew they were there.

    True to his word, Liupold led them down the narrowest of village ways to a small servant’s entrance in the side of the castle near the wall. Up until that point, it was easy.

    Inside, the fortress was filled with labyrinthine narrow passages, any one of which could hold one of the shambling, half-asleep villagers who grasped pitchforks and javelins alike like walking sticks. More than once Liupold had to duck back behind a corner he had just rounded, or dash across an intersection, to avoid the notice of the strangely lethargic villagers.

    They had nearly reached the cells in the bottom of the keep when Einarr noticed something he wished he had not.

    One of the villagers in the cross-hall, who he could see without being seen – he thought. The figure turned around, and Einarr saw what appeared to be a mass of dried blood on her neck. A large mass of dried blood. A strong wind gusted down the hallway and the head tilted back at an unnatural angle.

    She was already dead.

    Einarr’s breath caught in his throat. This wasn’t a regrowth of the cult, like he’d thought, at all. The kraken itself had brought the people around to its rule, and those it could not bend it broke and made into puppets.

    When next they had a quiet place, hidden from the view of any of the creature’s flesh-puppets, Einarr warned the others. “Are you sure these captives are still alive?”

    “The very existence of the Order of the Valkyrie depends upon it. I only wish I were exaggerating.”

    Einarr nodded. “Just so long as you understand, I do not believe there is anyone else alive to save here. We get the captives, and we run before the kraken can figure out where we are.”

    “Don’t we need to destroy the kraken, too?” Naudrek asked.

    “Yes, but… on our terms. Not its, and definitely not on ground chosen by its flesh-puppets. Are we almost there?”

    “Nearly. As soon as I find the next stairwell, we only have two more flights to descend.”

    “Assuming the prison is where you think it should be, of course.”

    “Of course.”

    He shook his head, a little exasperated. “Well, lead on. Hrug, you’re getting all this, right?”

    The mute nodded his head and made a gesture Einarr recognized as later.

    “All right, then. Down we go, I guess.”

    If this was a typical Imperial fortress, Einarr was just as glad they weren’t trying to storm it. The stairs alone would have been murder holes, not to mention the twisty corridors that seemed to make up the bulk of each floor. Still, with a castle defended entirely by the kraken’s puppets, reaching the prison cells in the basement was not so difficult as the designers intended. Ahead of them stood a single straight hallway, bounded on either side by solid wooden doors. The one responsible for guarding the cells, however, stood very alert in the center of the guard room.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
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    Table of Contents

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.16 – Rescue Party

    8.16 – Rescue Party

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    An entire afternoon and evening, and more than one cask of beer (although only one of eisbock: it was rather heady) went into planning their expedition, but in the end the map was the only reliable information they had. For where the corrupted men might be, to where they might be keeping their captives, they had only extrapolations based on Einarr’s experience at the much more thoroughly developed fortress.

    The next morning, after they had downed some water and some weak ale to banish their hangovers, they set back off in the expedition craft. Burkhart and Rambert actually volunteered to row for them. Einarr shook his head, understanding tinged with melancholy, as Liupold granted them the chance they sought.

    No one spoke as they rowed away from the Arkona. What was there to say? Einarr stared forward, studying the island, trying to divine why here from currents of wind and water and the shape of the land. Eventually, he blew out his moustaches and shook his head. Elder Melja might be able to learn something that way, maybe, but Einarr was far too inexperienced.

    Hrug, too, stared towards the island, although he suspected the other man’s thoughts were rather more focused on his own task. Eydri trailed her fingers in the water, apparently absentmindedly, although Einarr suspected she, too was lost in her own plans. He still wasn’t entirely happy about having her along. On the other hand, the battle fury reliably showed those who had succumbed to the corruption.

    Finally the enforced stillness of the boat ride was at an end and the hull of the landing boat scraped against the sand of the inlet. The time for planning was over: now, there would only be action.

    Rambert took the lead once they were on land, leading them up the well-worn trail to the burnt-out husk of Kettleness. That was actually rather impressive, especially since Einarr was not aware of any special preparations. The fire hardly seemed to spread at all from the confines of the village.

    He paused. Was that impressive, or was that sinister? He had seen the results of enough raids to know it wasn’t normal. “Eydri? Tell me there’s some natural reason the fire didn’t spread.”

    She shook her head, though. “If we were looking at a particularly dense, wet forest, or if the land was sodden with recent rain, maybe, but there didn’t seem to be any trouble lighting the pyre.”

    And the first was obviously untrue. That’s what he’d been afraid of. “So the ground itself is tainted.”

    “Most likely.”

    “Do you hear that, Liupold?”

    “Aye.” The man’s voice was as grim as the news. “Any idea how to purify it?”

    “Not yet.” Vague ideas, of the sorts of things that usually would purify: fire, water, time. Blood was likely the cause and so could not be a cure. “We should avoid combat as much as we can.”

    “Because of the black blood?”

    “…Yes.” Einarr didn’t know that uncorrupted blood would feed the blackness, but based on what he saw when he rescued Runa… “And because I can only see two reasons they would want captives. Turning them, or as sacrifices.”

    A shudder rippled through his companions. Good: they should have some idea, at least, of the horror they were about to put themselves through.

    Rambert stopped at the interior edge of Kettleness. Behind them, everything that remained was black with char, and piles of ash littered the ground where the wind had blown them. Ahead of them, what had once been farmland stood, empty of animals and wild.

    “What are you waiting for?” Liupold demanded.

    “Sorry sir. It’s just, well… look.”

    Liupold furrowed his brow and was just about to order his man forward when Einarr spotted what he had seen.

    “Wait.”

    A faint shimmer hung in the air ahead of them – not white or gold, as he would expect of a mirage, but purple like a bruise and gray like the smoke from burning tar. He frowned, focusing on it: what would happen if one of them just walked into that?

    A faint rasp sounded as he drew Sinmora from her sheath.

    “What are you doing?”

    “Dealing with the problem.” Einarr focused his will and Sinmora began to thrum in the familiar way. He had practiced, over the winter, but this would be a little different. I really hope you can just destroy this magic…

    When the thrum felt right, he raised his sword overhead and cut down as though he were fighting a man. The shimmering dissipated and a whirling darkness moved over Sinmora’s blade.

    Einarr swallowed hard: his throat felt thick. But, in the end, the darkness found no purchase on Sinmora’s blade and the metal returned to its usual color. He let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

    Liupold blinked. “What just happened?”

    At almost the same moment, Burkhart exclaimed “That was amazing!”

    In his relief, Einarr found a smile. “Good eye, Rambert.”

    The oarsman grinned, perhaps also overly impressed by the sword’s performance.

    Einarr sheathed his blade again. “You have no idea how surprised I was the first time this sword did that.”

    The three who had joined him on Eskiborg nodded agreement. The Arkonites all looked at him expectantly, and Einarr sighed.

    “I don’t know why, and I don’t really understand how, but under the right circumstances Sinmora eats magic.”

    Rambert and Burkhart looked even more impressed, for some reason. Liupold, though, drew down his brows. “And there was some sort of magic hanging in the air ahead of us? Is it really all right that your sword ate magic from this island?”

    “It seems to be. Wouldn’t want to test it too often, though.” All he was basing that on was the way the blade refused to change color, though, and he didn’t really want to try explaining that to Liupold. “We should get moving. The longer we tarry, the worse it is for the captives.”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
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    Table of Contents

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.15 – A Slight Wrinkle

    8.15 – A Slight Wrinkle

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    The landing party returned to the ship after setting Kettleness ablaze. Even had they not worried about attracting the attention of the heart of the cult, and they did, not one of them had the sort of attachment to place or resident that would have permitted them to stand vigil over the entire thing.

    No sooner had Liupold climbed back aboard the Arkona than his Mate accosted him. He asked through gritted teeth, “Already you let them set fire to the island? Are you half savage yourself?”

    “Calm yourself, Walter. Yes, we did burn the remains in the village when it became clear that the priests had failed in their task. The funeral rites of the Clans are different from ours, but they still bring peace to the dead. Or would you prefer for this to become a cursed isle of the dead?”

    “What do you mean, the priests failed? How does that even happen?”

    Einarr, already over the bulwark and giving Eydri a hand for balance, broke in. “The same way any other man fails at their task, I wager. It’s not like being ‘ordained’ suddenly gives a man superhuman ability.” There were priests among the Clans, but not many, and most of their duties revolved around the major holy days.

    Walter apparently did not like that answer, however. “Watch your mouth, bar-!”

    “Enough!” Liupold cut off his Mate. “These people are guests aboard our ship, whose presence we requested to assist in dealing with a problem within Imperial waters. If you provoke this man into a duel, I will not help you.”

    Walter visibly restrained himself, although not enough to keep Einarr from seeing the look of anger directed at Liupold – or the look of hatred he cast at the four from the Clans.

    “My people prepared the way, and Eydri Sang them to the gods. Your own Captain lit the first spark of their pyre, and it was well done.”

    Liupold inclined his head toward Einarr. “Now. No matter what we might think of each other, the problem of the corruption is not yet resolved, not even in the slightest. Walter, send for a cask of my good Eisbock and plenty of bread. We will be in my cabin. Burkhart, Rambert, go about your duties. We may send for you again.”

    “Aye, sir,” the two men echoed.

    “Now, this way, if you please.”

    Liupold led them all belowdecks once more, and as they clambered off the ladder he spoke again. “My apologies for Walter’s behavior…”

    Einarr shook his head and held out a hand to forestall him. “For now, it is enough that you corrected him. It is not as though it is any secret what our people think of one another. I do not intend to let myself be drawn into a duel while I am in your waters.” He did not add – aloud – that if he needed to put a yapping dog in its place, he was fully capable of doing so without a duel. Either way, the Captain seemed mollified.

    “Very good. …On the beach, earlier, I saw your sorceror working some spell?”

    “Hrug seems to have a plan to trap the kraken: he was laying the foundation of that.” If he understood what the other man was doing properly, it would do more than just trap it, but it would definitely do at least that.

    Liupold’s face grew blank as he opened the door to his cabin and welcomed them in. “Runes, you say? There are still people who work those?”

    “Not many, and most of them alfs to judge by our teachers. But yes.”

    “Ah, I see.” Liupold shook his head, as though there were something about the idea of runes he disliked. “Carry on then, I suppose. But while he’s working on that, what are we supposed to do about the villagers?”

    Einarr raised an eyebrow. “Do? Can’t your sorcerors call up winds, or create lightning from a clear sky? If you encourage the fire in Kettleness just a little, no-one has to set foot on that island again.”

    “But what if…”

    “What if?”

    The Captain sighed. “No what if involved. They have captives – maybe more, now that the priests have fallen.”

    Now Einarr cursed, loudly and long. “You’re sure they’re captive, and not new members?” He couldn’t quite repress a shudder at that, thinking of what must have to happen to grow their numbers.

    “As sure as we can be. So, no, we can’t just put the whole island to the torch. There are young women and children imprisoned on that island. Sacrifices, we think.”

    “Why are we only hearing about this now?”

    Liupold hesitated.

    Einarr narrowed his eyes. “What do you think of the Clans, that you would just assume that would make no difference to me?”

    “It is well-known that you take slaves from among the Imperial villages you raid. It is also well-known that a man’s slaves will often be murdered as part of his funeral rites. How is that different from human sacrifice?”

    While Einarr was still spluttering with anger, Eydri answered. Her voice, so enchanting before, was cool as ice. “In the first place, a man may earn his way free of thralldom. In the second, no thrall is required to attend to his master in death. Only the most favored are given the option, and of those only the loyallest and most devoted ever accept.”

    “Is that so.” Liupold sounded skeptical, but just then a knock came on the door. It was a deckhand, bearing the cask of ale the captain had requested and five cups. “Well, whatever the case may be, we have a handful of young women to save before they find themselves on the altar. Sit down, sip a cup – sip, mind, this is stronger than you expect – and let us determine our course of action.”

    “Agreed,” Einarr answered, only somewhat mollified. “Have you a map of the island?”

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.14 – Kettleness

    8.14 – Kettleness

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    Hohenwerth island looked like the island of the cult in miniature in many ways, although for the moment it lacked the blackness of that bigger, more northerly island. Steep shale slopes rose from the surface of the water, topped by the green of good farmland and orchards. A sinister silence hung over the area, though, and it didn’t take Einarr long to realize why. There were no fishing boats out on the water, despite the time and the weather.

    All eyes on deck were glued to the shore as an inlet came into view and, behind it, a village.

    Even from here it was plain the village was a husk. Deserted, Einarr would have said, if not for Liupold’s story. Dead.

    “That,” Captain Liupold confirmed, “is all that remains of Kettleness.”

    Einarr hated to have to ask it, but: “Have the dead been properly buried?”

    “The priests were arriving to deal with them when we left.”

    “I do not know Imperial burial practices. But if so much as one body remains in the village, you will do for them as we did for Langavik. Eydri, would you be willing to assist in this?”

    “Of course.”

    “What happened at Langavik?” Liupold asked.

    “While we were tracking the ship that kidnapped Runa, we put into port there. Hoping for information. Well, we got some… although not exactly the way we hoped. The entire city was painted with blood. Men hung from meat hooks. Some of them were disemboweled…”

    “Survivors?”

    “None. The city became their pyre, and we sailed on. Then we picked up the storm they rode and it led us to the island where all of this started.” The horror remained, although not so visceral as at the time. Still his eyes remained glued to the husk of a village he could see on shore. Had the priests done their job, or had they been corrupted in turn?

    “Drop anchor,” Liupold ordered. “Ready the landing boat: I’ll be taking our guests ashore.”

    His Mate protested, but the Captain was having none of it. “We’ve both been ashore here already. You have the Arkona, I have responsibility for what happens here.”

    An almost eerie feeling of oppression hung heavy over the landing party as they stepped ashore. Liupold was the only one who had been here before, but Einarr was certain he knew what he was about to see. Naudrek, Hrug, Eydri, and Burkhart and Rambert from the Arkona followed. The two Arkonites tried to put on a brave face for the outsiders in their midst, but the four from the Clans merely plunged grimly ahead.

    Einarr had thought, based on relative sizes and that someone had already come through here, that Kettleness couldn’t possibly be as disturbing as Langavik had been. And, in a way, he was right.

    It was worse.

    As soon as they entered the circle of huts the smell of rotting flesh assailed his nose. Blood stained the ground dark and painted the walls of the huts, and though it appeared black Einarr suspected that was due to time, not corruption. After all, he had not known the cultists to murder their own like this.

    Bodies hung by the neck from tree branches, although they may not have died from the hanging. Flies buzzed about their bloated faces that still showed evidence of brutal beatings. Some of them also showed open wounds in their sides. Einarr wanted to retch.

    Liupold, too, had turned a sickly shade of green. He motioned for them to leave the ruined village, and their companions gladly followed.

    Once they had caught their breath, back on the beach by their landing boat, Einarr turned an angry look on the Order Captain. “What became of your vaunted priests, eh, knight? The gods need no intercessors: that could have been avoided if you and your crew had simply given them rites yourself.”

    Burkhart looked especially shaken. “There were priests… among the bodies.”

    “Aye,” Liupold agreed. “But not all of them. So where are the rest?”

    “My guess? Southwaite. I could be wrong, they could be using Langtoft as their stronghold, but I suspect they want some distance from the open ocean to prepare.” Einarr did not try to keep the venom from his voice. “We will perform rites for the villagers in the way of our people, so that this will not become an isle of the dead, but you must light the pyre yourselves.”

    Liupold hesitated a moment, but eventually nodded. “Yes, that is fair. Funeral pyres are not our way… but I do not expect the survivors will allow us time to dig proper graves here.”

    Inwardly, Einarr breathed a sigh of relief. That the village, at least, and probably the entire island must be put to flame was unquestioned. But if Einarr or any of his companions lit the fire, the Empire could later twist that to their own ends to make war on the north, and that he could not allow.

    Eydri took over from here, setting Einarr and Naudrek to preparing the ground while Hrug, with a nod of approval from Einarr, began inscribing runes on the beach.

    Finally it was ready. Liupold stood in front of Eydri, lit torches in hand, while Einarr and Naudrek formed an honor guard behind her. Then she opened her mouth to sing the dirge.

    It ranked among the most beautiful tunes Einarr had ever heard. He had known, from hearing her perform in Eskiborg, that she was a skilled Singer. He had not imagined, however, that a funeral dirge could transport the living as well as the dead.

    As the flames consumed the village, licking the afternoon sky and traveling up the village trees, Einarr imagined he could see the spirits of the dead within the purifying white smoke of the pyre.

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.13 – Agreement

    8.13 – Agreement

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    The Arkona moved more swiftly than it had any right to. In fact, once the Eikthyrnir split off to head for Breidhaugr, it swiftly became evident that the ship had been holding itself back as it trailed Kormund’s longship across the sea. This, in spite of its deeper draft, its extra deck and increased storage space, its sea fire, and the mud wall in its kitchen.

    There was no other answer, at this point. At least some of the ships of the Order were magically enhanced. Not that there should have been any way for a Singer or a Painter to do that. Perhaps they embraced curse weaving? Or perhaps their shipwrights were superlative Runemasters? Neither of those quite made sense to him, but if Hrug had any better ideas he didn’t bother to share them. And, somehow, asking one of the crew seemed like a poor decision.

    Whatever the reason, the Arkona fairly flew over the waves toward the unfortunate southlanders as it sailed across Clan waters. As near as Einarr could tell, they moved in a straight line, although the weather was considerably warmer before he saw so much as a hint of land on the horizon. That, perhaps unsurprisingly, was also when the ship was allowed to slow. Not long thereafter, Einarr, Naudrek and Eydri were invited to the Captain’s cabin to discuss their quest.

    “So now that we’re outside Clan waters, are you finally going to tell us how big of an outbreak we’re looking at?”

    Liupold sighed. “The locals have no name for the island we’re headed for – they just call it ‘Land.’ Among the Order, we refer to it as Hohenwerth, since its coast is almost entirely steep cliffs. They access the sea by means of the river flowing through Langtoft, and another through Kettleness.”

    Einarr frowned. “So it all started with the fishermen, then.”

    “Yes. How did you guess?”

    “Awfully hard to make contact with a kraken on land.” It wasn’t something one ordinarily expected to meet on the water, either, of course, and this was hardly the usual giant squid. It seemed to make sense to Liupold, at least.

    “What of the massacred village?”

    Eydri interrupted. “There are three separate villages? Based on what you describe, Hohenwerth can’t be a large island. How can it support three different settlements?”

    “Poorly,” Liupold admitted. “When I was given charge over the area, I was told it was the result of a family feud and to leave it alone. This seemed prudent, and so I have as much as possible. ‘Twas Kettleness destroyed, and the bodies left to rot.”

    This was beginning to sound all too familiar. Einarr shook his head. “Okay. So you still haven’t explained why it is you think you need us. Sure, I’m the Cursebreaker. But I’ve already told you how to keep this from spreading. It doesn’t even sound like it would be a problem on an island like that. You’ve got sea-fire, for crying out loud.”

    “The Lady Hrist was adamant that the Cursebreaker was required if we were to put an end to the source of the corruption.”

    Einarr stared at the man for a long moment, processing what he had just told them.

    “You want to fight and kill a giant, corrupted kraken. In your own boat. And you want my help to do it. Am I hearing this right?”

    Liupold lowered his eyes. When he spoke, his voice was thick with emotion. “If we do not destroy the monster, the corruption will spread. To the heart of the Empire, Hrist tells me. Now. I recognize that the Clans and the Empire are never likely to be friends, so let me put it this way: would you rather fight us as men, or as corrupted beasts?”

    That was enough to make Einarr pause and think. After a long moment, he swallowed. “We cannot fight this in the ordinary way. We have to lure it up, somehow, and keep it on the surface long enough to kill it from a distance. I’ve been doused with the thing’s blood before: once is more than enough.”

    Naudrek and Eydri both turned to stare at him, plainly not comprehending why he had suddenly changed his mind.

    “The black kraken is not the only horror that escaped those islands that day. We fought for our lives just to escape, but in the process three of their abominations were set loose. I cannot tell you if or for how much longer the cult would have kept them contained within their longships, only that they used the confusion of our battle to break free. The black kraken was the first released, and the only one injured on that day. It was all the Vidofnir could do to injure it, and that fight cost us a great deal.”

    The wheels were turning, but Einarr could tell they hadn’t quite reached the same conclusion he had. “It’s a tragedy, what has happened to these villages, but a containable one. If we fail to contain these horrors, though, and the corruption spreads to, say, the Order of the Valkyrie and the Imperial Navy, there will be hundreds of fanatically loyal super soldiers capable of descending on any known Clan port.”

    Eydri blinked. “You’re right. But your father has the Örlögnir, and I cannot fault our captain for wanting to skip Breidhaugr, at least for the time being. So how does one kill a kraken, corrupted or otherwise, without getting covered in its blood and guts?”

    The room fell silent for a long moment, until Einarr finally decided no-one else was going to offer the obvious answer. “With sea fire, and with ordinary fire, and with spear throwers. Any way we can. We limped away last time without making sure this thing was dead. This time, that’s not an option.”

    Hrug made a hand motion that looked very like a gesture of confidence. “Hrug, you have a plan?”

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.12 – A New Quest

    8.12 – A New Quest

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    “Of course not.” Einarr paused. “Father. I’m glad that you recognize I’ve met your requirements, and look forward to formalizing the terms of our engagement upon my return.”

    Jarl Hroaldr fell silent for a long moment, studying Einarr. It had been a gamble, but the way Einarr saw it he won either way. Either the Jarl corrected him, in which case he didn’t have to go fight the kraken. Or he didn’t, in which case all he had to do was make it back and their engagement could proceed.

    The Jarl opened his mouth to speak, but the man from the Order cut him off.

    “Excellent! I am glad to hear you have such faith in your future son-in-law, and look forward to working with him to eradicate this menace.”

    Well, that was that. Einarr watched as the tendons in the Jarl’s neck shifted as he swallowed whatever it was he’d been about to say. He couldn’t take it back now.

    Of course, neither could Einarr. But all that meant was he had to come back alive and uncorrupted. He gave Liupold a slightly wan smile. “I’ll do what I can. If you’ll excuse me, I need to go speak with my companions.”

    As he rose and walked away from their circle, he felt someone watching him. Glancing surreptitiously over his shoulder, he saw the Jarl glaring daggers at him. Einarr rolled his other shoulder in half a shrug.

    The four friends he had brought from Eskiborg reacted to the news with surprising equanimity – a sure sign, Einarr thought, that they did not truly understand what they would be facing. Still, what could he say but ‘thank you’?

    “Eydri, will you work with Runa and see if the two of you can figure anything out about these creatures or the corruption or what have you? She’s quite a good scholar, despite being ‘only’ an apprentice.”

    “I don’t mind. I’d like to make her acquaintance anyway, if I’m going to be working with you for any length of time.”

    Einarr nodded and Eydri went to speak with Runa.

    “Naudrek, Liupold seems like a personable fellow. See if you can’t get on his good side, would you?” He lowered his voice. “It struck me, just a bit ago, how this could be some sort of Imperial trick. Do what you can to make sure we’re not walking into a noose, would you?”

    “Gladly. Valuable information, that.”

    “Excellent. Hrug, I want you to help me figure out a way to trap the thing, like the Village used to imprison the Shroud, sort of. Are you up for that?”

    The other man grunted and flashed half a smile. Good: it wouldn’t be easy, but at least it should be interesting, and a good use of the man’s newfound expertise.

    Liupold was, of course, in a hurry to be on their way, but the Arkona and the Eikthyrnir both needed to be resupplied, and after Captain Kormund’s tale when they arrived at port the two ships needed to leave together, as well.

    Kormund, for his part, readily agreed to take a message to Stigander at Breidhaugr. Considering that the last contact he’d had with the Vidofnings had been before he traveled the elven roads to study in the Shrouded Village, this took a considerable load off of Einarr’s shoulders.

    “Thank you, and good luck.”

    “I believe I should be saying that to you, don’t you think?” Kormund raised an eyebrow even as the two shook hands. “Stay sharp. There’s something about this whole situation that smells fishy to me.”

    “I will, and me, too. Thank you for all your help so far.”

    “My pleasure. I look forward to having an ale with you and your father in Raenshold.”

    Then Kormund climbed aboard the Eikthyrnir and Einarr strode up the plank to the deck of the Arkona.

    Einarr’s first impression of the dromon was of luxury and spaciousness. No-one’s bedroll sat on the deck: it looked like, no-one’s had to. He saw a ladder heading down to a lower deck. Is that why dromon were so much taller than longships?

    Evidently so. Liupold, still chatting in a friendly manner, led the four of them down the ladder to a room that seemed somewhat smaller than the deck above. A door let out on the far end, and the room was lined with mats laid out on the floor and hammocks strung from the walls. “This is where most of the crew sleeps, in shifts. Out that door is the lower tier of oars, but we shouldn’t need to use them while you’re aboard.”

    Einarr grunted. On the one hand, no-one would have to sleep out in the rain. On the other hand, even with no-one else in it the air in here was close and stifling.

    “There’s also a galley on this deck, and a few small separate rooms. I have one, and I have prepared a second one for the lady Eydri. This is also the deck where the galley is.”

    “I’m sorry,” Naudrek interrupted. “Galley?”

    “The kitchen? Where food is prepared?”

    Einarr wrinkled his nose: no wonder the steerage room felt so hot. He had gone from being impressed to being once more convinced of the longship’s superiority rather more rapidly than expected. “So the men sleeping off-duty are the first ones to burn if there’s a fire?”

    “Not at all. There’s a fire wall of clay between the two rooms.”

    Einarr nodded his understanding. If he’d tryed to say anything, he would have insulted his host’s ship, and that would have been poor form. Still, he was getting some ideas for how to fight off the black kraken that was supposedly waiting for them. The Arkona might even still be able to fight afterwards.

    Einarr did not dislike Liupold. He seemed like an honorable fellow, for all that he was a Conehead. But the Konneul Empire was not above trickery, and the Order worked hand in hand with the Empire. It would be acceptable if the Arkona was not in fighting shape, so long as she could still sail.

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.

  • 8.11 – Petition

    8.11 – Petition

    Hi, Everyone! Allene here. We’re going to try something special with book 8, assuming I don’t exhaust myself in the process. In an effort to get my rankings higher on TWF and RRL, I’m aiming to post two chapters/day for the next two weeks (so, 28 chapters in 2 weeks, or what will probably be most of the book), and then go straight into book 9 when it’s done. Wish me luck!

    The only way Einarr could have been more glad to see a shore, he thought, would be if it were Breidelstein, and their victory complete. As it was, Kjell had begun to feel almost like a home itself, and Einarr could not quite disguise his pleasure at seeing it again.

    The only shadow on the whole affair came from the dromon sailing in their wake. Their captain had acceeded to the escort and the flag of surrender easily enough, which said to Einarr that the problem might actually be more serious than they had let on. So far as that went, he was torn. On the one hand, if one were to assign blame for the release of those horrors, it would fall to the crews of the Vidofnir and the Skudbrun. On the other hand, they were creatures which should not exist in the first place, and the fault of their existence could be laid squarely at the feet of the svartalfr cult.

    Well. Soon they would be able to put the matter before Father, Bollinn, and Jarl Hroaldr. In the meantime, the Eikthyrnir sailed around to find a berth in town.

    The harbormaster in Kjellvic was quite put out, in fact, by the presence of the dromon, even after Captain Kormund claimed it was his prize – over the objections of the Valkyrian captain, of course.

    The Vidofnir was not docked in the harbor, although it was entirely possible Stigander had beached her in the inlet near the hall instead. He did get a glimpse, however, of the rams-head prow Father had commissioned for him last year.

    It was with a spring in his step that Einarr led his new companions, as well as Captains Kormund and Liupold, down the road to Kjell Hall, where he expected to find Runa as well as the Vidofnings.

    He was, unfortunately, disappointed. Runa was there, and while they were permitted to greet each other the Jarl kept her close to hand for the entirety of his visit. The Vidofnir, he learned, had set out on the equinox headed for Breidhaugr in hopes of finding some clue as to Einarr’s whereabouts. Still, however, Bollinn of the Skudbrun was expected back any day now. When Liupold of the Arkona requested consultation with them, the Jarl also sent for the retired Kragnir at Einarr’s suggestion.

    On the third day after their arrival at the Hall, Bollinn arrived. All of the captains, Einarr, and the Jarl seated themselves near the fire pit to hear Liupold’s petition.

    “One of the islands that the Arkona defends from attack,” he began, much more diplomatically than before. “Suddenly went silent. We went in to investigate. The village… the village was dead. Massacred. We wondered, at first, if one of the Clan ships had turned rogue…”

    He never finished that thought, as everyone else in the circle shook their heads vehemently ‘no.’ Such behavior was unthinkable among the Clans.

    “We learned soon enough not. We left the village and sent a squad’s worth of priests in to see to last rights and purification. Not long thereafter, a Valkyrie appeared before me.” His tale went on in that vein, and was either the truth or a remarkably well-practiced lie, for Einarr could detect no meaningful difference between what he had been told when they finally confronted their tail and now.

    “Captain Liupold wished to convince my father and I to travel south and deal with the issue, under the theory that they would not be loose were it not for our rescue of Runa.” Einarr left it there: he could see the same answer he had given on Bollinn’s and Kragnir’s faces already. The Jarl schooled his expression somewhat more, however, and Einarr found he could not tell what he was thinking.

    “Hopeless,” Bollinn began.

    “Pointless,” Kragnir continued. “If you had any idea how many men we lost, fighting the cultists and those helbeasts in the first place, you wouldn’t ask. You want to blame someone, blame the cult. They might even have someone left you could hold responsible.”

    Bollinn crossed his arms. “Bleed the villagers. Anyone with black blood has to die – they’re too far gone. As for the rest… I suppose it’s possible they could be saved, depending. You might be able to convince the Matrons on Breidhaugr to share the formula for their medicine, but my understanding is that it only delays the effects. Stigander has the distaff.”

    Liupold’s brow creased. “The distaff?”

    “The Matrons required Frigg’s distaff in order to fully cleanse us of the corruption. I was sent to retrieve it from the Tower of Ravens, where I encountered a Valkyrie. When I went to study with the alfs, I left it with Father. We will have need of it.”

    Liupold nodded. “That fits with what Hrist said of you. I’d wondered how she knew the Clans had produced another Cursebreaker.”

    “What did Hrist say of me?”

    “Enough that I knew you on sight. But it’s really not important right now. What I need to know is, will you come?”

    “We’ve already told you how to deal with this curse. You don’t need me, just the stones to do it.” Unless they would then turn around and use this as a pretext for war against the Clans. Einarr had to bite his tongue to keep from saying that aloud, and hope this ‘Hrist’ wasn’t spying on him right now.

    Jarl Hroaldr smiled, and the expression sent shivers down Einarr’s spine. “They are right, I’m afraid. However… I believe an agreement may be reached. I will not be sending the Skudbrun with you. But I expect my future son-in-law may have some insights that will prove useful to you in dealing with the outbreak, especially since he’s fought this great black squid before. Surely you have no objection to that, do you, son?”

    Well, it seemed like the Jarl was still against Einarr marrying Runa. His mouth felt suddenly dry. “Of course not.”

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    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

    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 ebook 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.