Tangled Threads Publishing

Tag: Eydri

  • 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?”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 8.12 – 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.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 8.6 – Ambush

    8.6 – Ambush

    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!

    For a day and a half they rowed in short shifts, although by the morning of that second day Einarr could see what the captain was leading the Valkyrian ship toward. Just ahead in their path stood a collection of tiny, rocky islands not unlike the ones where Einarr had fought off a flock of kalalintu with Erik and Tyr the year before. The sort of waters one typically tries to avoid – unless, of course, he idea is to lose a tail, or to lay in wait.

    “Half speed,” Captain Kormund ordered. With a gesture, he personally relieved the man at the tiller.

    All that afternoon they wove in and out of the rocks, sometimes moving deliberately into full view of the Valkyrian ship before ducking back into hiding behind one of the larger rocks. The Eikthyrnir had the sleekness and swiftness of the deer on her figurehead, but that did not make her prey.

    That night, the sea anchor was dropped near the center of the grouping in a place sheltered by the rocks. Come morning, no-one should still be fatigued from rowing.

    As the sun rose, with the dromon now also approaching the rocks, the Eikthyrnir crept out of the grouping to lay in wait behind one of the larger exterior masses – one large enough to be thought a small island.

    Einarr and Naudrek prepared to board. Eydri conferred with the regular Singer aboard, coordinating to ensure they harmonized properly. For hours they held like this.

    A sound like a rushing waterfall came suddenly from their stern. Einarr turned in time to see the last of the gout of flame dying, far short of the Eikthyrnir’s hull, let alone her mast. Now flames flickered on the surface of the water itself.

    They had sea-fire. And that was plainly a warning shot. But, how did they know where the Eikthyrnir hid? Or even that the ship was hiding, rather than fled? Those thoughts were quickly tamped down as Einarr raced for the stern. Battle was at hand, and thus there would be no time for pondering why.

    More questions arose, though, when he reached the stern. The two watchers had been felled by a single arrow apiece – one in the throat, the other, more impressively, through an eye. If they could do that, why had there not been a volley of arrows?

    “To oars!” The order came in the moment Einarr stood staring dumb at the two fallen men. About half the crew took up oars. The rest took up position to repel boarders with Einarr. Hrug, he saw, was strapping a shield to his stump. Did he intend to fight with his off hand? Einarr checked his grip on his shield and drew Sinmora.

    Still he wondered why they had not yet launched a proper volley. The Eikthyrnir had been caught unawares in her own ambush: had the dromon wished, the battle could be already over, the ship ablaze and half her crew dead to arrow fire – especially if they had the sort of archers aboard who could take a man in the eye like that. What was going on? Why risk boarding?

    He was out of time for wondering. The other ship, too, had been coming about, and now boarding lines flew in both directions.

    Two voices raised in harmony and Einarr felt the battle fury begin to build. If the Valkyrian ship wanted a fight, a fight they would have. He hacked through an enemy line that tried to find puchase just ahead of him, and then their own lines drew taut.

    He was not among the first across the lines, out of long habit more than anything else. On the Vidofnir, his father had forbidden it: he was the only heir, and likely to remain so. He was, however, among the first of the second wave, after the initial clash over open water. No sooner had he leapt up to the bulwark, however, than the lines fell slack again, tumbling a good number of sailors from both sides into the water.

    Einarr braced himself, but something stopped the boats before they could collide and crush their sailors between them. They had hardly even crossed swords, and already this was one of the strangest battles Einarr could remember. What was going on?

    He was not to have his answer then, as the boarding lines were cast off of both ships and lowered to allow sailors to climb back aboard. Another gout of flame issued from the bow of the dromon, as though warning them against trying to board again, and the other ship unfurled her sail and turned for open ocean.

    The battle chant stopped before the fury could take full hold – thank the gods for perceptive Singers – and leaving the boat in confusion.

    Mate Hraerek’s voice cut across the noise on the deck, encapsulating the moment. “What in Hel’s name just happened?”

    “That’s the Order. Not only did they force that fight, they broke it off, too.” Einarr said to no-one in particular. He remembered Naudrek’s jest from the other day. Actual Valkyrie or not, it did look like someone’s orders got countermanded. “So who ordered the attack, and who ordered the belay?”

    “Was it belayed, or was the whole action just a warning?” Vari wondered from just behind Einarr.

    “What do you mean?”

    “Their Captain obviously figured out that we were trying to drive them off with an ambush. Really, I’ve never seen the Captain outmaneuvered like that before. If the Order has leaders like that…” He trailed off, then shook his head. “Anyway, like I was saying. Neither shot of sea-fire came anywhere near us. They released no volleys. That whole thing looked like a warning to me, like they wanted us to know they could crush us whenever they wanted. So if that’s the case, why are they following us?”

    “Maybe they want us to lead them somewhere?”

    “That’s my thought. Only, where?”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 8.4 – Setting Sail

    8.4 – Setting Sail

    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 Eikthyrnir was not due to leave port for several more days. Einarr chafed at the delay, but preferred not to take his chances on searching out another boat. Especially given that Captain Kormund only brought them on board out of half-remembered friendship for Stigander. Einarr was well aware of how tenuous that made their position on board, and so advised his companions to work twice as hard as they had before. Accusations of favoritism were pure poison on the open sea, and Einarr had no desire to bring that down on his head.

    Finally, though, the day dawned when the Eikthyrnir was scheduled to leave port. The weather was clear and cool, as Einarr had come to expect from this island, and his new shipmates did not seem to begrudge him their Captain’s regard. If anything, they seemed to pity him for it. But if there was one thing Einarr was growing used to, it was meeting unreasonably high expectations. If the Captain expected him to live up to his memories of Stigander, well, at least he wasn’t trying to steal from Wotan or escape the forgotten island.

    The ship slipped out of the harbor as silently as she had entered it. Had Einarr not been on an oar, he might not have believed they were rowing out, she moved so swiftly and silently. There was barely a ripple as the oars dipped in and out of the sea, and while he could hear the waves lapping at the sides of the Eikthyrnir, it was rather akin to hearing them lap against a sandy shore. Even more than most raiders she was built for speed and for stealth, and Einarr soon discovered that everyone from the lowest deckhand to Hraerek, the ship’s Mate, were quick to boast of it.

    Unlike the Vidofnir, there were no post-sailing rituals among the Eikthyrnings. It felt odd to leave port without hearing the Lay of Raen, but neither Eydri nor her senior Singer on board was familiar with it. He shrugged, and that first night out on the water he took some time in his watch to recite the lay to himself. He’d heard it often enough, after all: he’d had it memorized by the time he was 14.

    Four days out of port, before they had yet turned north to head towards Kjell but well outside the territory claimed by the Coneheads, Einarr happened to glance toward the stern during supper.

    A dromon sat on the horizon, plain as the nose on his face. For an hour, and then two, Einarr watched and waited. The ship seemed, if anything, to be gaining on them. He pursed his lips, thinking. “Excuse me,” he muttered to the men he was eating with.

    The men patrolling on watch seemed unconcerned, though, when he pointed the dromon out to them.

    “I see him. Nothing to fear,” said Vari, a tall, slender man who nonetheless looked like he would be a terror with the blades at his belt. “We’ve outrun dromon before.”

    Einarr looked back out at the dromon, then again at Vari from the corner of his eye. That may be so, but something about this gave him a bad feeling. But, he swallowed his protest and nodded. He was never likely to become anything other than ‘new’ on this ship. Still, he kept his eyes astern.

    His turn for watch came around. He gave it half a candle-mark, or so, before he reported the vessel. He definitely thought it was gaining on them.

    “Mate Hraerek, I’ve something to report.”

    “The dromon off our stern?”

    “Aye.”

    “Good work. Spotted it hours ago.”

    A swell of relief washed over Einarr. “Does it look like it’s gaining to you, sir?”

    “Unlikely. I expect it will turn aside eventually. It has no proof we’re raiders, after all.”

    “If it’s a Valkyrie ship, that might not matter.”

    “What do you mean?”

    “Last spring, in the waters between Kjell and Apalvik, the Vidofnir was attacked by one of their hunting ships – and I can tell you from experience that there’s nothing to raid in those waters.”

    The Mate furrowed his brow. “Apalvik? Why in the world were you headed there?”

    Einarr snorted. “We weren’t, until we had a hold full of Valkyrian treasure to sell.”

    That got a laugh out of the man, at least. “Keep an eye on it if it makes you feel better. I assure you, you won’t be the only one. But I wager it will turn aside soon enough. There’s not a lot between Eskiborg and Kjell, either, and our business in Eskiborg was peaceful.”

    “Thank you, sir.” While not exactly reassuring, at least the Mate knew about it. He returned to his watch, all the while keeping one eye on the mysterious dromon to their south.

    Matters continued like that for another day, and another, during which Einarr became increasingly sure that not only was the ship gaining, it was tailing them. He could see, now, the all-too-familiar wing-and-spear of the Order of the Valkyrie when the wind was right. But if he could, so could the Mate and so could the Captain.

    On the seventh day out of port, Captain Kormund called on the skills of Hrug.

    “All right, fortune teller. We’re far off the normal trade routes by now, and well out of anything the Coneheads even try to claim. Divine for me who mans that ship and why they follow us.”

    Hrug made an exaggerated bow, even going so far as to flourish with his stump. The request had sounded more than a little pompous, although at this point he had come to expect that from this captain. Then the mute looked at Einarr and raised an eyebrow.

    “Of course I’ll help.”

    “What, you’re a fortune-teller to?”

    “Not exactly.”

    “Then how is it he asks you for help?”

    “Oh, I’ve received the same training. At the same time, even. But he’s better at it. I’m just a Cursebreaker.”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 8.3 – Captain Kormund

    8.3 – Captain Kormund

    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 planned, Einarr, Eydri, Naudrek and Hrug came to breakfast looking more presentable than Einarr thought he had ever seen the other two men, and tidier than he had felt since leaving Kjell for Svartlauf last spring. He had even taken the time to braid his own hair and moustache, and those hung down farther than the beard he’d allowed to grow over the winter. He still wasn’t sure he was going to keep that, although there were definite advantages now that it no longer came in patchy.

    As they walked down the broad main avenue that led from the Archer straight to the docks, Einarr thought they made a striking figure – especially for a group of sailors come seeking work. He heard the beginnings of a fight stirring like the first signs of a storm.

    A crowd had already gathered ahead of them, and Einarr could hear raised voices, although he could not tell why they were arguing. He shouldered his way through the crowd.

    On the docks, two men built like Arring argued. A small stack of barrels sat next to the blond man, whose back was to the ship. The other man, swarthy enough to make Jorir look pale, gesticulated wildly as he held forth. It had been his voice Einarr had heard, primarily.

    Above, at the top of the gangplank, a well-dressed man stood with his arms crossed, frowning down at the scene below. Braids tamed hair that was redder than Einarr’s, and what sections were not tied still made a bushy mane. Einarr pointed the man out to Hrug, one eyebrow raised in question. The other man nodded.

    Right. Time to make a good impression, then. I hope. This looked like your garden-variety trade argument, and ordinarily he would leave it alone. Ordinarily, though, he wouldn’t be trying to get on the good side of the Captain involved – a man who looked, to Einarr’s eye, not just fastidious but also stern. Einarr stepped forward into the open space around the two men, his hands held out placatingly. “Gentlemen, gentlemen, what seems to be the issue here?”

    “This two-faced worm’s trying to pass off sour cider as good Imperial wine!” The swarthy man’s face, Einarr thought, could not ordinarily be this red.

    The blond man, meanwhile, had remained remarkably cool under the onslaught. “I had thought, when you introduced yourself as a wine seller, that you had some idea what you sold. It is not my fault you cannot tell an Imperial auslese from vinagered cider.”

    Einarr stopped to stare at the two men. This was why involving yourself in someone else’s bickering was a poor decision. With a sigh, he turned back to the crowd. “Eydri? I’m afraid wine was never to my taste.”

    With a laugh, the Singer came forward. “All right then. Draw a taste and we will see who is true and who is false.”

    The blond man shrugged and turned to the tapped cask on top of the stack.

    The swarthy man, though, started to bluster. “Now wait just a second! Who do you think you are, interfering with our business?”

    Einarr shrugged, tamping down on the smirk that threatened to give him away. “Just a passing sailor. You’re interfering with everyone else’s business, though.”

    “Oh, so I’m just supposed to let them cheat me so I don’t inconvenience anyone else? Is that it?”

    “Not at all. If they’re actually cheating you. My friend Eydri happens to know a thing or two about wine. If it’s as bad as you say it is, why not let her taste it?”

    “Wait. You’re calling me a liar, aren’t you?”

    “Not at all. I’m offering impartial judgement. The only one accusing anyone of lying is you.”

    The swarthy man’s blustering turned to an angry stammer. Finally he glared at Einarr and Eydri before declaring to all on the docks that they “hadn’t heard the last of this” and storming off.

    Einarr could not quite suppress a chuckle as he turned back around to face the men of the stag ship. They looked… somewhat put out, and he wasn’t sure if it was because of the obnoxious merchant or because Einarr had just spoiled a deal. He put on his best princely demeanor. “Sorry – should I not have poked my nose in?”

    The blond man snorted and started picking up the casks, but the man on the gangplank stepped forward.

    “Not at all,” he said. His voice sounded like it would be more at home in a thane’s hall than the deck of a ship. “I was here because we expected him to try to cheat us like that. You defused that nicely.”

    “Happy to be of service.” Einarr bowed slightly, as one does when about to introduce themselves. Eydri, Naudrek, and Hrug started forward to join him at the base of the gangplank.

    “What can I do for you?” Evidently, the red-haired man saw through Einarr.

    He cleared his throat. “I am Einarr Stigandersen, of the longship Vidofnir. My companions and I need to reach Kjell, where we can rejoin my father’s ship. I was hoping you might be willing to take us on, even if only partway.”

    The red-haired man studied them all for a long moment. “Stigander… Vidofnir… I believe I knew your father, once upon a time. Certainly you remind me of a man I used to know. What will your companions bring to my Eikthyrnir?”

    “Eydri is a battle chanter and a scholar. It has been my experience that such people are always of value to a ship. Naudrek and I are both good sword-arms and strong at an oar at need. Hrug can predict the weather and… other things, given sufficient time to prepare.”

    The red-haired man raised an eyebrow. “A human weathervane, eh? No, I’ll not ask how. But I believe we can work something out, for the son of an old friend. Come aboard and we will speak further. I am Kormund Arnesen, Captain. But I imagine you already knew that.”

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 8.2 – Berth Hunt

    8.2 – Berth Hunt

    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 last time Einarr had been in Eskiborg, he had compared it in size and hustle to Kem. He now thought that might be underselling Eskiborg somewhat. Not only was it a warm water port, at least as the Clans reckoned such matters, it was a major shipbuilding port, and one where longships and knarr far outnumbered the dromon favored by the Coneheads.*

    On the first night, they took beds at the Bronze Archer and split up to canvas the docks – Naudrek with Hrug, Eydri with Einarr. In all that bounty, among all those ships, Einarr was certain they could find berths for the four of them. He had not anticipated, however, the difficulty in finding a temporary berth for a Singer – did not, in fact, fully grasp it until no fewer than four captains asked if she was Einarr’s lover.

    He was more than a little taken aback by the assumption, in fact, and it did not take long for worry to begin nibbling away at his brain: was Runa going to make that same assumption?

    “It’s a matter of protection,” Eydri finally explained. “We run into similar issues as apprentices, actually.”

    “You… do.” Einarr’s spirits drooped. Mentally, he began totting up their resources once more. “If you’re saying we should try to buy a boat, tell me now. The longer we wait, the harder it will be.”

    She shook her head. “It will be tricky, but not impossible. Most sailors know better than to assault a Singer, even an apprentice one, but no captain wants to risk one of his men turning out to be that idiot. So they want me to be under someone’s protection. And if I’m your paramour, that makes it even less likely for someone to get drunk and do something truly stupid.”

    “I…” Einarr thought about it: he knew that his father had always married their Singers, right up until Reki, but there had never been any doubt in his mind why. Now he wondered. “But Father is the only Captain I know who is typically married to his Battle Chanter.”

    Eydri frowned at him, then smirked. “Somehow, I suspect that has more to do with your father. At any rate, you will need to give assurances that I am under your protection, and that you can enforce as much. …Perhaps it would be best if we had not split up.”

    Einarr thought it over a moment, but shook his head. “Tomorrow, if Naudrek has not found something, we will all four go together. But I suspect if we try to find them now we will waste the rest of the day.”

    On the second day in Eskiborg, they also returned to their beds empty-handed, their spirits low. It seemed that those who were sailing in the right direction were more than a little spooked by the idea of taking on both an “unprotected” Singer (despite the presence of not one but three companions) and a male sorceror.

    “If we find nothing tomorrow, I will check what might be for sale. With a fishing skiff, the four of us can manage.” With a fishing skiff and a little luck, anyway.

    “I thought you said you couldn’t afford one?”

    “Not properly, no. But if we can find one that doesn’t take on too much water, and the three of you can pitch in for water barrels and fishing gear, I can honestly say I’ve sailed in worse.”

    The other three shared a look, then Hrug shook his head and tapped at the tabletop. The rattle of runesticks followed, but instead of casting them down he began to lay them carefully. Will… Not… Need he spelled out.

    “You’ve seen something?”

    He hesitated, then nodded.

    Remembering the divination Melja had worked that led him to these two in the first place, Einarr sat forward eagerly. “What should I look for?”

    Hrug looked to Naudrek, who nodded. “After that first day, when we split up, he did his thing. We need a ship with a stag’s head on the prow.”

    “A stag.” Not like that was a common ornament at all. He could think of six he’d seen just that afternoon.

    Hrug grunted affirmative, and Naudrek continued. “The sail of the ship is blue and yellow striped, and there was a red-headed man with neat braids in his hair and beard. We think he’s the captain.”

    “And according to the vision, this ship will have us?”

    “I think so. Hrug says so, anyway, and he’s the expert on these sorts of things.”

    “Good enough for me.”

    Einarr kept his impatience in check over the third day’s fruitless search, albeit with difficulty. Afternoon was waning on their fourth day of searching when a longship slipped into the harbor, sleek and abviously built for speed. The blue-and-gold sail told Einarr their goal had arrived.

    As the ship drew up to the dock, Einarr came close enough to note their berth and confirm what he thought to be true: the figurehead was an ornate stag’s head, carved to look as though water ran down the antlers. Einarr nodded, then slipped back into the crowd. He knew well enough that their captain was unlikely to have time for new sailors before morning.

    That night, while the four of them sat at table at the Bronze Archer, Einarr laid out their plan for the morning. “Get a good night’s sleep. We’ll breakfast at a normal hour, but then head straight for the docks. We want to arrive a little before mid-morning, I think. Hrug, how ‘neat’ did this captain look?”

    The tongueless man sighed and glanced at Naudrek. Sooner or later Einarr would learn to actually communicate with him, but Elder Melja had kept them both far too busy over the winter.

    “You might call him fastidious,” Naudrek answered after conferring with his old friend for a moment.

    Einarr nodded. “In that case, make sure you come to breakfast bathed and tidy. Just because the divination said we can get berths doesn’t mean we should take them for granted.”

    * Conehead: An inhabitant of the Konneul Empire, which occupies the best land and warmest water in this world.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 8.1 – Dawn of Spring

    8.1 – Dawn of Spring

    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 winter’s ice was not so thick around the Shrouded Village, and while he was never short of work to do Einarr found that the winter passed quickly – dare he say, even pleasantly. Almost before he realized it the first day of Spring arrived.

    Naudrek had made himself useful about the village as he could over the winter, but showed neither interest nor aptitude with the runes. For that reason he spent far more time than he liked with nothing to do save spar with Einarr.

    Hrug, on the other hand, saw for himself a way to reclaim his life in the study of runes and threw himself at it with gusto. Einarr could hardly blame the man, although it stung a bit that Hrug seemed to be the better student. Still, no matter. ‘Ystäva’ was expected on the equinox, and Einarr had made his preparations to leave with Naudrek, Hrug, and Eydri, the Singer who had wintered in Eskiborg in reliance on his own assurances.

    The day of the equinox was unseasonably stormy and cold, and Melja’s mood grew as foul as the weather as the day stretched on.

    Noon passed, and then midafternoon. As the day waned to evening, Melja called the four of them aside.

    “It is as I feared. Something has rendered the High Roads impassable, or he would already be here.”

    Einarr let loose a low growl of frustration. “So now what do we do?”

    Melja drew himself up to his full height. “There is much you could yet learn, if you were willing to stay and wait on the High Road to stabilize…” Here he paused, gauging Einarr’s reaction. “But you have been anxious to return to your crew for half the winter at least, and there is no telling how long the Roads will be unusable.”

    Einarr nodded. “I don’t wish to seem ungrateful, of course, but a part of me fears I have already tarried too long.”

    “Then I suggest you get yourselves a boat. You’ve the start of a good crew here, if a little unorthodox. You should be able to make your way north to Kjell, at the very least.”

    Einarr ran over the options in his head before answering. “I can’t afford the sort of boat we’d need,” he admitted. A little skiff like the Gufuskalam would do it, but he suspected even that would run too high. “Which means we need to find ourselves berths with someone headed that way.”

    He glanced around at his newfound companions. Eydri was a Singer: she would be easy. He and Naudrek were a pair of good sword-arms: that also shouldn’t be an issue. But then there was Hrug…

    “All right, everyone. How do we sell a superstitious Captain on taking along a new-minted Runemage?”

    Eydri cleared her throat. “Two new-minted Runemages, I believe you mean.”

    “I don’t have to be anything more than a swordsman for whatever berth we find. Honestly, I’d prefer that. Fewer questions to answer. But for all his valor and skill as a sailor, Hrug is a one-armed mute. I’ve never met a Captain who would take a warrior or an oarsmen in that condition. Sorry, Hrug.”

    The man in question gave a grunt and a shrug, which Einarr took to mean he wasn’t bothered.

    “But just because he can’t fight physically doesn’t mean he’s not valuable to the right crew. Especially since he’s a fair sight better with the runes than I will probably ever be. But we need the right Captain and the right crew, or there will be no end of trouble.” There was a certain strain of thinking among some of the Clans that made magic use out to be unmanly. Ending up on board a ship with someone like last fall’s thief, for example, could be disastrous.

    “You’re pretty good with divinations, right?” Naudrek nudged his friend’s arm. “Imagine it’d get boring, but you’d be the best weathercock a ship could ask for.”

    Hrug made a face, but nodded agreement.

    “Good. Actually, that is an excellent idea, Naudrek. Let’s plan on starting there, and then if the Captain needs further convincing we can mention that Rune magic can do more than just predict the weather, if necessary.”

    Melja cleared his throat at that. “Be very careful with that. Changing the weather can lead to… unfortunate and unexpected consequences that might not be immediately obvious.”

    Hrug nodded impatiently, as though this were a lecture he’d had more than once. Well, that would hardly be surprising. Melja was nothing if not thorough.

    “Of course,” Einarr said for his own part, even though he had not had that lecture drummed into his skull. “But the ability to raise the wind or quiet a wave is one I think every seaman has dreamed of, at some point or another. Being able to offer that to a Captain, even if only in extremity, is valuable.”

    Melja grunted, not apparently satisfied but willing to leave it at that.

    “Are we decided, then?” Nods of assent traveled around the little circle. “Good. Eydri, when you left, what sort of ships were in port?”

    The four set out for Eskiborg from the Shrouded Village the next morning, if not precisely in good cheer then in high spirits to be moving again. Not one of them was accustomed to long stretches in the same place, so the prospect of movement appealed to all of them.

    The weather had improved from the day before, somewhat; the storm had passed, at least, although the air was still unusually chill for this far south. Einarr breathed deeply of the newly-cleaned air as he passed the last farmhouse of the Village. The forest stretched out ahead of him to all sides, the trees seeming to line themselves up into rows upon rows of good timber. With a nod, he set off again, and the scrape of his boots on the ground was one of the most satisfying sounds he had heard in what felt like a very long time.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous
    Next

    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.

  • 7.33 – Leaving Eskiborg

    7.33 – Leaving Eskiborg

    “Ah. Right.” With a thought, Einarr withdrew his will and the deck of the Bjorn ceased glowing. “But we cannot leave yet. As much as it pains me, I do need to make arrangements with your Captain for the damage we caused.”

    “Fine, but right now is not the best time for that.”

    “It has been my experience that delay in these matters tends to worsen things, not improve them.”

    “Don’t say I didn’t warn you…” Naudrek stepped quietly back from Einarr, toward the dock, but did not turn his back on the Captain’s awning.

    Einarr turned to face that direction, his face cool and composed in the face of the tawny bear of a man approaching like a squall. “You have my apolo-”

    The man, self-evidently the Captain, did not give Einarr a chance to finish his statement before his fist embedded itself in Einarr’s stomach. “That was for coming aboard without my say-so.”

    Einarr doubled over, momentarily winded. Of all the reactions he had been expecting, immediate violence was not one of them.

    Before Einarr could catch his breath, the man growled in his ear. “Now. You going to tell me why you came on board and vandalized my newly repaired deck, or am I going to turn you two into new deck boards?”

    “Had… to… destroy… Shroud,” Einarr managed to gasp out.

    The captain took a step back and crossed his arms: evidently he was willing to give Einarr a moment to breathe.

    Once he got a deep breath, he introduced himself and told how he had come to follow Naudrek out to the Bjorn.

    The captain glowered at Einarr and snorted. That was all the warning Einarr had before the man pulled back and planted a second fist in his gut. “Fine. Now we’re even. Don’t let me see you here again.”

    “Wouldn’t dream of it,” Einarr choked out. As he staggered back toward the docks, the Captain called past him.

    “That goes for you, too, Naudrek! What were you thinking, bringing a stranger aboard?”

    The man swallowed before he answered. “I was thinking that thing got Hrug’s arm, sir. But I’ll be going, just as you asked.”

    The Captain grunted. “Hrug was a good sailor. Sorry to see the two of ye go.”

    “Me, too, sir.”

    Once they were a good ways up the docks, Naudrek breathed a sigh. “That was why I’d wanted to wait for morning. Captain’s got a temper, and he sticks with whatever he decides when it’s up. Guess it’s time to find me a new ship.”

    “I just might be able to help with that…”

    Day was dawning as the two men returned to the Pewter Pot, and it seemed a pale and wan thing after the night’s exertions. Einarr disliked that he had gotten the man thrown off his ship, even if Naudrek denied that he was to blame.

    Hrug’s face was as wan as the morning light, but he slept peacefully in one of the Pewter Pot’s few bed closets. It was perhaps for the best that he had not awakened yet: better to face reality in the light of day, with friends on hand. And, on the subject of misplaced blame, Naudrek hovered over his former crewmate like a mother bird over its nest.

    The mute finally awakened around midday, although the cast of his eyes said he wished he had not. By supper, though, color had come back to the man’s face, and he sat up and acted lively again. Einarr brought his bowl of greasy stew with its slab of dark bread over then.

    “The two of you helped me in my quest, and it cost you. But I bet if you come back to the Shrouded Village with me, there will be some sort of reward to be had.”

    Hrug only shrugged, but Naudrek urged him to go. “After all,” he said, “if the blessed alfs can’t help you, who can?”

    Thus it was decided, and on the first day of autumn the three men set off from Eskiborg, with only a brief stop at the Bronze Archer. Einarr wanted to let Eydri know she’d been right about Sinmora – and to remind her that, if she was still in want of a ship come spring, he would likely still be in need of a Singer.

    Business in the city concluded, they set back out on the main road leading into the interior of the island. It struck Einarr that he still had no clear idea where in the seas they were, other than near waters claimed by the Konneul Empire, nor did he know the name of the island, or even if it was a lone island or an archipelago. Mentally, he shrugged. He could always ask the alfrs, before they sent him back to Breidhaugr and the Vidofnir.

    As their feet carried them down the road, only half-remembered but impossible to miss at this stage, and Einarr regaled his two new companions with tales of his adventures on his father’s ship, it occurred to him that something was different now, not in him but in the world around him. He fell quiet a moment as it struck him: not once during this elf-quest had he cursed his Calling as Cursebreaker.

    “Einarr? Everything all right?” Naudrek asked.

    Einarr shook his head, unsure for how long he’d lapsed into silence and unwilling to ask. “Right as rain, Naudrek. Right as rain.” Here he paused again, finally deciding against telling them that right this instant. “Just thinking how surprised master Melja will be when he hears how we did it.” And that was true, too. Now they just needed to get back to the village.

    Vote for Vikings on Top Web Fiction!

    Previous

    Next

    Table of Contents

    Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! This marks the second-to-last chapter of Book 7: Einarr and the Crimson Shroud. Book 8 will begin on October 8, 2019.

    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.