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Category: Einarr Stigandersen

  • 10.2 – Strategy

    10.2 – Strategy

    A note in Jorir’s voice caught Einarr’s ear. “Well, spit it out. What’s the matter?”

    “Only this. How many more skirmishes like that can we take?”

    Einarr frowned. “That probably depends on how many volleys we have to fire. You’re concerned about supplies, then.”

    “Aye. That, and manpower.”

    “You’re right, of course.” Movement caught Einarr’s eye from the deck of the Vidofnir. “That’s Bardr, signalling a conference. You, Tyr, and Eydri, and Vali with me.”

    “Not that I question your wisdom, but why the ghost?”

    “Same reason as Tyr. Experience.”

    Jorir harrumphed but said no more.

    Half an hour later, all three Captains were gathered on board the Vidofnir with their Mates and advisors. Einarr had brought the largest contingent, but neither Father nor Captain Kormund so much as batted an eye.

    Stigander locked eyes with Tyr and nodded in greeting. “Tyr.”

    “C- Stigander.”

    “You see anyone you know on those ships?”

    “One or two.”

    “Good.” Stigander turned his attention now to the other Captains. “How are your crews holding out.”

    “Well enough, Father, but…”

    Captain Kormund shook his head. “The men are getting tired, Stigander, and we’re going to need not just food and water but arrows and pitch and bandages before long.”

    Jorir made a rumbling noise that might have been a chuckle as Einarr nodded.

    “Exactly. Is there still a town near Afi’s old freehold?” It had been safe enough for him to summer there after Breidelstein fell, after all.

    Stigander frowned. “I haven’t heard if they recovered or not. But there’s not often a lot of news coming out of the smaller islands like that, so we might not have. And if they’re not terribly happy to see me, there were others nearby.”

    “Why would they have anything to hold against us?”

    Stigander raised his eyebrows. “You were there. You can’t tell me you didn’t know.”

    Einarr’s answer was to look at his father with greater confusion.

    The older man sighed. “Those raiders who burned the town and killed your grandparents? They were Ulfr’s men, under a false flag. Looking for us.”

    “Ah.”

    Nevertheless, Stigander nodded to Bardr, who stepped away to give their new heading to Arring at the tiller. That done, Stigander turned back to their conference. “Now then. Tyr, you said you caught sight of some familiar faces during the fighting?”

    “Oh, aye. And some of them men I’d never have expected to see live this long, let alone taking the helm.”

    Tyr settled himself on a barrel near the mast. “Let’s start with the dangerous one – the one our Singers warned us about.”

    Reki scowled. “Kaldr.”

    Einarr perked up. “You remember him? Was he as odd about magic before the Weaving?”

    “Oh, aye. But you see, I remember his pabbi, too. Man was always blaming his own mistakes on ‘bewitchment,’ and it seemed like he was always in some sort of trouble. But however weird he is about the Arts, that’s not what makes him dangerous.”

    Eydri nodded in agreement. “He’s devious as a snake, and just as bloodless.”

    “You say ‘devious,’ I say ‘clever,’ and he plainly has a good head for strategy. Is he still following us?”

    Einarr glanced back into the wake of their passage and pursed his lips. “Yes.”

    “I’d have been more surprised if he wasn’t,” Hraerek grumbled, and Captain Kormund nodded in agreement.

    “Plainly he intends to harry us into submission,” Stigander said, his arms crossed. “Just as plainly, we need time to rest the men and resupply our ships if we’re going to win back the Isles. But we’ve already set course to deal with just that. What of the others?”

    “Men who, I think, would have long since retired under you or Lord Raen, that I saw. None of whom would have gained their own ship in that circumstance. I suspect the Usurper chose his Captains based on toadying and biddability more than skill. If you can believe it, Stigander, it looks like little Frothing Urek has a commission.”

    Stigander snorted. “Him? The one who you could goad into a fight by disagreeing over the weather?”

    “The very same.” Tyr chuckled along with his old Captain.

    “I wonder if he ever grew out of that?”

    “If not,” Kormund mused. “We can use that. He’s also, presumably, the sort who can’t back down?”

    “If he’s the same as he used to be, yes.”

    Einarr shook his head. “And he’s a Captain? Well. If he’s working under Kaldr, he’s not going to tolerate this harrying strategy. That gives us something we can try, at least.”

    The conference continued in this way throughout the rest of the day as the three ships sailed for one of the outlying islands, tailed by three of the wolfling ships keeping just out of bow range. Eventually Einarr sent Vali back to the Heidrun with the plan as it existed.

    “And Vali? Ask Hrug to be ready to destroy those rugs when we make landfall.”

    The ghost gave a wry smile and a mocking salute before winking out of existence. Einarr shook his head and turned his attention back to their discussion.

    Captain Kormund and Hraerek, his Mate, stared, agog.

    “Did you… not know about him?”

    Kormund cleared his throat. “I had heard you had a ghost among your crew, but…”

    “But the sheer insolence of it!” Hraerek chuckled. Bardr smirked.

    “Far be it for me to tell you how to run your ship…” Kormund cleared his throat, plainly intending to do just that until Stigander raised a forestalling hand.

    “I’ve seen no sign since his return from Svartlauf that suggests discipline slips under his command.”

    “Thank you, Father.”

    Stigander nodded acknowledgement. “Be cautious, however. The friendlier you are with your crew, the worse it will be when you have to make the hard call.”

    Einarr swallowed, then inclined his head in return. He had thought of that, long and hard, after taking Hrug’s hand the previous fall. But, in the end, he knew he could be no other way.

    “There is one last thing we must consider, Father.”

    “Oh?”

    “Will our hunters strike at us in port?”

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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.

  • 10.1 – Dawn Assault

    10.1 – Dawn Assault

    With the tapestries in hand, Einarr had thought they might gain some time to breathe and regroup. For the space of a night, he thought he’d been right. They’d prayed the confusion in their enemies would continue and sailed all through the night, sleeping in shifts.

    Einarr wakened at the break of dawn and rose, stretching, his arms still aching with fatigue from the day before. “Damn them all to Hel.”

    Approaching from the East, nearly obscured by the light of the rising sun, were ships. Only a fool, at this point, would bet on these being anything other than part of the wolf fleet. Einarr cupped a hand to his mouth. “Draken incoming!

    With a series of groans and muttered curses, the men of his Heidrun roused themselves. Belatedly, someone sounded the warning bell. Moments later, it was taken up by the other two ships, and soon followed by the rattling of maille as the men armed themselves.

    Then it was as though meteors flew from the sun as the wolf fleet launched its first volley of fire arrows and combat was joined.

    “Will we be returning fire, my lord?” Jorir asked from beside him.

    Einarr frowned. It was risky, but he needed to be mindful of how many arrows they had already spent. “No, not this time.”

    The dwarf merely grunted, as though he agreed. “Hold your fire, men! Shields up, be ready for the assault!”

    Captain Kormund’s Eikthyrnir made the same call, veering south where Einarr veered north. In the middle, the Vidofnir plowed doggedly ahead, and she did return fire.

    Einarr nodded to himself. Father should draw their fire that way. Perhaps, if they had only a little good luck, the effect of that rug would be waning. Eydri had said the Weavess had plainly needed to maintain it, and now she couldn’t.

    Now came the test, though: boarding lines flew.

    “Keep them off us!” Einarr bellowed. He thought he knew what Father had in mind, but for it to work he and Kormund needed to be free to engage on their own terms.

    His oarsmen were nimble, and what few the shield wall could not block were handled readily by axe or by sword. Now Einarr grinned as the Wolfling ships, like their totem creature, focused their attention on the ship which decided to stand and fight.

    Kormund had already zipped most of the way around the wolves’ flank as though he intended to flee. Einarr knew better, but he hoped the enemy captain did not.

    As the Heidrun sailed out of the wolves’ encirclement, they passed near enough to the leader of the pack for Einarr to spot its captain, and as he did he was struck by an odd sense of unreality. The man barking orders on the deck of the other ship could be none other than the man who had stolen the women before! The Singers and Bea had all seemed to think him grounded, though. What was he doing out here? Einarr shook his head: now was not the time to worry over such matters.

    In just that moment, the enemy captain looked up and straight at Einarr. The two men locked eyes, and a predatory grin spread over the mouth of the man called Kaldr.

    A shiver ran along Einarr’s spine. That man knew exactly what they were trying. “Prepare to repel boarders!” Einarr ordered.

    He was too late, or they were too close for it to do any good. This time the lines caught fast.

    “Eydri!” At the sound of her name, the battle chanter began to Sing, and Einarr felt the familiar touch of the battle fury on his mind. With a deep breath, he forced himself to focus on the enemy ship. Giving in to the fury as a Captain was never wise. Against a man like Kaldr, he suspected it would be death.

    Still, he too drew his sword, and flanked by Jorir and Naudrek stalked toward the bulwark and the wolfling ship.

    In the moments their walk took, the first clash had already occurred on the ropes over the water, and then there were Wolflings on the Heidrun’s deck.

    Sinmora flashed and men fell. Einarr knew his father wished to minimize casualties, but he would not spend his crew here. Not when they were seemingly no closer to gaining the Hold.

    Then the smell of smoke filled the air and fire rained down on the deck of Kaldr’s ship. Now it was Einarr’s turn to grin as the wolves assaulting his ship turned in surprise.

    “Press them,” he ordered, and the call was echoed by both Jorir and Naudrek.

    Chaos followed as the wolflings tried to get back to their own ship in any way they could. Kormund was back with the Eikthyrnir, and whether or not Kaldr had forgotten about them, his men certainly had.

    As his men climbed on the bulwark to follow, though, Kaldr’s men began to cut the lines.

    “Hold,” Einarr called now. Whatever Kaldr had planned, the solution was not to charge headlong onto the man’s ship. The Singers had spoken of a man with ice in his veins, and so it might be that he would prove a harrier. If so, then the key was to pace themselves, as well.

    As quickly as they had closed, the Usurper’s ships withdrew again, back the way they had come but not out of sight. Einarr scowled over the water every time they crossed his field of view, just out of engagement range. The Vidofnir, the Heidrun, and the Eikthyrnir resumed their retreat under sail.

    “Still,” he mused aloud, “It seems Eydri was right about that so-called rug of ‘inevitable victory.’ We caught them by surprise there.”

    Jorir cleared his throat as though there was something caught in it. “Maybe so,” he grumbled. “But I’m not sure how much good it actually did us if we did.”

    “He pulled back rather than risk panic in his men when Kormund joined the fray. That helps us, I think.”

    “Maybe so. Maybe so.” The dwarf did not sound convinced.

    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.

  • Book 10: Einarr and the Ice Wolf

    Book 10: Einarr and the Ice Wolf

    Having captured a number of the Weavess’ tapestries, Einarr and his allies now must escape pursuit long enough to destroy them and clear a path inward. But their pursuer is none other than Kaldr, a man with ice in his veins who is all-too-loyal to the Usurper.

  • 9.32 – Food From the Mouth

    9.32 – Food From the Mouth

    Author’s Note: This marks the end of Book 9: Einarr and the Wolf’s Flame. Book 10 will pick up right where we left off on 3/10, at which point we should be finished with our move to Saipan.

    Kaldr hurried down the cliff road for the harbor where his ship waited. He should have been out there already, directing the attack, not stuck up in the Hold waiting on Lord Ulfr. Thjofgrir, his mate, trailed a half-pace behind, and as they moved Kaldr confirmed that all was in readiness.

    Ulfr hadn’t even wanted anything, so far as Kaldr could tell – at least, nothing worthwhile. He had been kept ashore, it seemed, only because the Lady Urdr wanted him punished for bringing all the Singers instead of just the half-trained one. Even now, though, he could not regret that. Hopefully Lord Ulfr would see soon what came of relying too much on the Arts. Even better if the Lady Urdr learned some humility: the woman was insufferable, and if she would only get out of her son’s way and be a proper matriarch Breidelstein could come back into its own.

    There was no time for such musings, though. Kaldr looked out over the harbor again, trying to judge how quickly they would have to move to join the blockade. The smell of smoke tickled his nose and the alarm bells rang, but his orders were clear – and issued after the alarm was sounded. If Lord Ulfr was confident in his ability to contain the fire, who was Kaldr to gainsay that?

    On the water, his sister ships had engaged the rebel vessels. It was hard to be sure, but Kaldr did not believe they had managed to board yet. He picked up his pace, in a hurry to join the hunt but unwilling to risk a tumble down the steep slope.

    The blockade tightened, drawing around in an attempt to encircle the rebels, but something was wrong. Now he stopped, his throat tightening as he looked out over the stair wall. The rebel ships appeared to be charging straight forward into the blockade, but it was not possible the rebels were that stupid. I need to send up a signal…

    He shook his head. In order to send a signal, he would have to climb back up to the tower and through the fire, and then hope that his smoke signal could be distinguished from the Singers’ handiwork. Not likely, that. Even if it could be, though, there was not time with the feint already in motion.

    Worse, the commander out there appeared to be taking the bait. The arms of the ships started to close around the three rebel vessels. Why was Captain Beir not using fire arrows? Captives were all well and good, but only if your victory was assured already. Unless it was more of Lord Ulfr’s foolishness. He was the rightful Thane, without a doubt, but the man had an unhealthy obsession with domination and subjugation.

    “We’re too late,” he said aloud, interrupting Thjofgrir’s running inventory. Now he looked up, as well.

    “Are you sure?”

    Out on the water, the rebel vessels changed course with an agility Kaldr had never before seen. The Eikthyrnir, he supposed, was renowned for its speed, but the Vidofnir and the Heidrun were ships after the same mold as the wolf fleet. They should not have been able to turn that quickly, nor pick up so much speed. Arrows flew from the arms of the blockade, so much wasted ammunition as they rained down on the water.

    “Just watch.”

    Watch they did. It was almost beautiful in its tragedy: the hind, the rooster, and the ram moved as though under a wind sent by the gods themselves, darting around and through the pack of the blockade as though they were barges. Soon – long before they could have cast off, let alone joined the fray – an answering volley shot from the decks of the retreating rebels. The jaws of the blockade snapped down on empty air, the prey escaped.

    Meanwhile, Captain Beir was proving himself incompetent once again. The ships of the blockade were getting in each others’ way as they tried to turn and sail in pursuit. Even from the stair Kaldr could see wolves colliding as they tried to turn themselves. Those on the edges, he wagered, would soon leave off pursuit to untangle the mess in the center. That was none of his business, he supposed, and perhaps he was being unfair to Captain Beir. He could not help but think, though, that had he been out there where he belonged, the rebels would have been brought properly to heel.

    For a long moment, Kaldr stood on the mountain path, watching as his prey escaped the net Ulfr had set. He could not deny that their escape had been beautifully executed. And they would not go far, he wagered. Come sunup, they would still be in Lord Ulfr’s waters. Likely close by, in some sheltered cove. Probably they would take a day or two, secure in the knowledge of their escape, to rest and regroup before they tried again. Two or three likely options came immediately to mind. His charts, though, were down on his ship still.

    A small smile curled the corner of his mouth, almost involuntarily. “Come, Thjofgrir. It seems the hunt is on.”

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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.

  • 9.31 – Reunion

    9.31 – Reunion

    Reki swallowed hard as Beatrix helped the battered Jarl to sit on a nearby rock before limbering her sword. The others fanned out behind Reki, ready to follow her lead. Soon she could hear the gentle swish of the oars through the water.

    Soon after, hushed voices carried to her ear. Familiar ones. She blinked.

    “Is that… Jorir?”

    “Jorir is the dwarf, right?” Bea asked, not taking her eyes from the approaching boat. “It may well be. I’m certain the other is -”

    “Einarr!” Runa started forward, half running to the bank and peering ahead. Reki could hardly blame her, under the circumstances.

    Before long, they could all see the occupants of the boat. Einarr and Jorir looked just as tense as the women all felt, even as they went over their own plans between themselves. Perhaps, Reki corrected, because of what those plans were.

    Einarr gave a visible start when his eyes passed over their group, and his face brightened. “Runa! …Jorir, quickly now! It’s the Singers.”

    Bea frowned at that description, but said nothing as the nearly-empty boat came aground in front of them.

    Einarr hardly waited for the hull to scrape to a halt before he vaulted over the bulwark. His boots splashed in the shallow water, and half a moment later he embraced his betrothed. Reki allowed herself a wry half-smile.

    “It seems the Norns really do smile upon our work,” she said.

    Einarr pulled back from his embrace to grin at Runa, his hands still on her shoulders. “Sivid likes to say that they always correct their weave.”

    Eydri nodded. “Based on what we’ve seen, Urdr is overdue for a ‘correction.’ Even still, how did you get through?”

    “A hope and a prayer, Eydri. A hope and a prayer.”

    What is that supposed to mean? “More importantly, why are you here? You can’t have known we were in need of a boat.”

    Einarr shrugged. “I thought to work some sabotage… but it looks like you may have done more already than we could.” His eyes lit on Jarl Hroaldr. “I’m glad to see you’re safe. Father will be, as well.”

    The old man nodded from his perch on a rock. “It’s good to see the sun again.”

    Before the greetings could draw out any further, Reki broke in. “Did you bring the Örlögnir?”

    Einarr blinked, then shook his head. “Truth be told, I’m a little afraid to touch it. What if I only get to use it once?”

    “It’s a chance we’re going to have to take. One of these cloths is something she called a Weaving of Inevitable Victory.”

    Einarr cursed. “So that’s why we’ve been having so much trouble.”

    “Exactly. It’s protected somehow, or we’d have wrecked it ourselves.”

    Jorir grumbled. “So what happens if Wotan shows up to claim the bloody thing after we undo this Certain Victory rug?”

    “Then we hope that’s what it was needed for, and our dear Cursebreaker can find a different means of breaking the binding itself. What else can we do? The Vidofnir will never break through with this thing in effect.”

    Aema cleared her throat. “Even so, we should be going. I don’t know how long that fire will serve to keep them from looking for us.”

    A look of worry flashed over Einarr’s face, but he shook it off. “You’re right. Climb aboard, and let’s all get back to the ships.”

    Einarr was dismayed to see that the ships were still – or, perhaps, again – locked in combat with Ulfr’s wolf fleet. Einarr could not be certain which, not least because each and every one of the ships was marked the same way.

    With great care, the boat carrying all nine of them circled wide around the pack of wolves that beset the Vidofnir, the Heidrun, and the Eikthyrnir, looking for a gap in the line. Their only hope was to slip unnoticed past the attackers, just as they had on their way out.

    This time, though, they had the Singers and an additional sword hand, should things come to fighting.

    Einarr whispered a prayer that things not come to fighting. There was almost no room to maneuver on their deck with so many aboard, especially with the condition the Jarl was in.

    Einarr directed them closer in. Their allies were not circled: that suggested that they were not truly surrounded. If that was the case…

    “Jorir, do you see what I see?”

    “I believe I do, Lord.”

    “Bring us closer. We’ve got to get to the Heidrun.”

    The dwarf harrumphed as though that were obvious, but he and Beatrix both put their backs into the oars and turned the boat.

    The sounds of pitched battle from the decks of their ships soon drowned out the noise of their oars in the water, even for them; they rowed faster. Before long, the hull of their landing skiff bumped against the hull of the Heidrun.

    “Oy!” Einarr called up, cupping a hand by his mouth. “Someone throw us a rope!”

    He had to repeat this call twice, and was about to a third time, before a knotted rope twisted through the air to fall within reach. Einarr paused a moment, surveying his crew, trying to decide who to send up first.

    “Just go,” Bea said. “They need you and your dwarf friend first. I can carry a few stragglers if I need to.”

    “Thanks, Bea.”

    Without another moment’s hesitation, Einarr started up the rope hand-over-hand, Jorir right behind him.

    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.

  • 9.30 – Search

    9.30 – Search

    Author’s Note: My apologies for the long delay. I got about 3 hours sleep on our redeye flight from Pago Pago, and then couldn’t stay awake well enough to finish while we were in Honolulu. We’re safely ensconced in Portland now, so Thursday’s chapter should be more or less on time. My hope is to have book 9 finished before we fly to Saipan in the middle of February.

    Reki threw open the door to Urdr’s workroom with a bang, just in time to see the old woman disappearing through the door they had seen earlier. She raced across the floor, the others hard on her heels, but even if the room had not been littered with baskets of thread they would not have made it in time. Halfway there, she heard the sound of a key turning in a lock.

    Reki stopped and swore. Bea continued on, heedless, and slammed the hilt of her sword into the door as though she intended to break it down.

    “Bea. We don’t have time for that.”

    She took another swing at the door, leaving a pommel-shaped divot in the wood. “What are you talking about? We can’t just let her get away!”

    “Bea! We do not have time for that. How long do you really think we have before more guards show up? You yourself said your fight in the stairwell was not quiet.” Reki took a deep breath. “The important thing right now is to get the tapestry. Even if we can’t destroy it, Einarr has the distaff.”

    Eydri had already moved to the nearest of the cupboards that lined the walls and was glancing over the smaller tapestries stored inside. “Don’t we already know which one we really need?”

    “You mean the one on the loom, that looks like it shows what already happened this morning?” Aema answered, tossing a cloth over her arm even as she unrolled another. Urdr had been nothing if not prolific.

    Reki surveyed the cloths hanging from the wall, searching for images she was reasonably sure she didn’t want to leave in the crone’s possession. “I’d assumed that was part of the trap.”

    “Why would it be?”

    “Because it would be too easy otherwise. And because everything else we saw when we walked in was.”

    Runa hummed. “She was pretty confident her toughs could capture us, though. And if that’s the case, and she has to work on that weaving regularly – which I expect she would – then why would she put a fake tapestry on her loom? It seems like an awful lot of work for not much benefit.”

    Reki shrugged one shoulder. “It can’t hurt to take it. Bea, would you?”

    “Gladly.”

    The warrior princess straightened her tunic as she stepped away from the locked door and toward the loom that was the centerpiece of the room. As she moved, she brought her sword around and down. The last few steps she ran, bringing the blade up into an overhand chop.

    It struck the center of the tapestry with a clang, as though she were striking steel. Bea frowned.

    Svana hummed. “And here I thought it was probably bravado when she said we couldn’t damage the thing.”

    “Evidently not,” Reki mused. “All right. In that case… Runa, Svana, give Bea a hand getting that down.” It was gratifying that none of them questioned her. Even Eydri, and Reki’d had some worries about working with her.

    There was one other thing they needed to do before they absconded down to the harbor, however. Reki turned her attention from the tapestries hanging on the walls to the sconces between them. The room seemed to be lit by lamps, however, and an oil-soaked wick would never do what she wanted.

    Before she could venture out into the hallway behind them, though, she heard voices. Grimacing, she pulled it mostly closed behind her and watched through the crack to see what they would have to deal with.

    The tromp of boots came, and went, and the two men in the hall wagered over whether the godawful shriek they’d heard earlier had been someone named Frotti tripping over a rat or a cat in heat. Worst guards ever? …No. Listen. Watch. Wait.

    The footsteps tromped on, though, and soon enough she could not hear them anymore. Cautiously, Reki poked her head outside the door. The men were nowhere to be seen. She snatched the torch from the sconce by the door and disappeared back into the workroom.

    “You have it?” She demanded.

    “Nearly there,” Svana answered, undoing a knot.

    “Good. We’re going to have company soon.”

    “There! That should do it.” Runa unhooked another thread and the whole thing collapsed like a sail with no wind. The three women bringing it down crumpled it into a rough tube and tossed it over Bea’s shoulders.

    Reki stalked forward, her torch in hand, as she heard noises of alarm from the hall behind them. Someone, she would wager, had spotted the blood. She raised the torch and laid the flame to the wood of Urdr’s loom.

    Unlike the Oracle’s, this loom was not magical in and of itself. Before long, the aged timber began to blacken and smoke. As flames rose from the loom, Reki lit each of the cabinets, then tossed the torch into a basket of thread. “Run.”

    Reki had led her circle of women down into the dugeons below the tower by the time she heard the clangor of alarm bells. She made a mental note to never try to manipulate fate. If this was any indication, when a Weaver’s misdeeds unravel it happens all at once. A Singer’s misdeeds, though….

    She shook her head. Focus. “Runa! Lead on. Get us out of here!”

    The apprentice took the lead, and it was good she did. Reki was not certain, in her circumstances, whether she could have. They pelted through twisting dungeon corridors, panting under the weight of their stolen tapestries. Runa only had to pause a handful of times to remember her route.

    At one point Runa hesitated. A man’s groans could be heard echoing down the hallway, and the smell of smoke tickled her nostrils. Her father? Reki took a deep breath. “Go ahead. I’m not sure I trust them to remember the prisoners anyway.”

    The man who emerged from the cell Runa opened bore little resemblance to the man Reki had met, briefly, the previous spring. Though dirty, haggard, and as wan as though he had been the victim of Urdr’s ministrations, Jarl Hroaldr retained his proud bearing.

    “Can you run?” Runa asked, anxious. When her father shook his head, she turned pleading eyes to Bea.

    “Of course I’ll help.”

    There was some shifting of loads, but when they’d finished Bea carried the Jarl on her back, his arms slung over her shoulders, and Runa led the way out into the bright light of day.

    When they emerged from the dimness of the tunnels they found themselves halfway down the cliff, on a tiny trail that might sometimes see use by wild animals. Their progress slowed now, as they picked their way down the rocky path, sometimes pressing their backs against the rock wall for balance.

    Finally they made it to the bottom of the cliff. Just ahead was a small river, or perhaps a large creek, flowing out towards the harbor. Runa stopped at the water’s edge and looked about anxiously.

    “There’s no boat, though.”

    “Maybe if we walk downstream?” Eydri ventured.

    “I’m not sure anyone knew about this place other than those two….”

    Reki cleared her throat. “Look again.”

    There, rowing quietly up the waterway, a boat approached.

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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.

  • 9.29 – Regrouping

    9.29 – Regrouping

    Author Note: On Monday night, we will be flying out of Pago Pago headed for Portland and, ultimately, Saipan. Due to the vagaries of moving and airport/hotel internet, Tuesday’s post may be somewhat delayed. My apologies, and thank you for understanding

    Bea stood on guard, two steps up from the last of Urdr’s guards. Her opponent watched her, cautious. Like his fellows, he’d seen her struggle before. Unlike his fellows, he’d just watched her break a man’s nose before taking his head. And… there was something else.

    “You’re not bad,” he muttered. “But why are you here? You’re not from the North.”

    “Thanks,” she answered, just as quietly. “I’ve decided the climate does wonders for my complexion, though.”

    The man snorted, still studying her. She was not as good with a sword as with a spear, not by a long shot, but with the high ground and a narrow space she didn’t need to be.

    “If you give me your word you will not alert the tower, I will let you see to your friend there.” She looked over his shoulder toward the man whose arm she had taken.

    “You think that’s an option? Even if I could betray the Lady’s trust, he already alerted the tower.”

    Tcheh. I was afraid of that. “That so? Unfortunate.”

    Without giving him a chance to respond, she feinted for his sword arm. When he twisted away to avoid the blow, Bea brought the flat of her blade up and across, clocking him on the jaw.

    He hardly seemed to notice, striking upwards when she expected him to be reeling back and drawing a line of blood across her thigh. Yes, Einarr – or at least his father – would definitely want this one left alive. She could do that. Probably.

    Bea backed up another step, not really expecting the man to drop his guard. He kept pace, adjusting his grip on the hilt of his blade. Can’t drag this out too long, either. The others will start to worry. Her opponent, though, was proving difficult to bait.

    She made another testing feint, this time at his forward leg, which he swatted away easily.

    “Tsk, tsk. I know you’re a better warrior than that.”

    “Sorry. I’ve got more important things to do than keep some nobody entertained here.”

    He twitched. He regained his mask of calm quickly, but he definitely twitched. Finally, something she could use.

    “You’re an awfully skillful warrior to be stuck guarding the false Thane’s mother, of all people, when there are enemies at the gate. They question your loyalty, don’t they? They think you’ll betray them, so they keep you stuck at home. Home, where you can’t gain any glory at all.”

    “So long as we follow the Lady Urdr’s commands, Breidelsteinn will never fall,” he said through clenched teeth. “It is… an honor… to be made one of her guards.”

    Maybe it was, but not to him. Not if Bea was reading him right. “That’s all well and good – for the Usurper and his Black Arts mother. If it weren’t for them, you’d be a Captain by now.”

    The man paled, then shook his head. “Let us end this.”

    Bea smirked even as the man lashed wildly towards her with his sword. She dodged easily, the steel barely brushing her own shirt of maille. Before he could regain his balance, Bea struck out. As with the man whose arm she’d taken, she struck with the hilt to the back of the neck. The man crumpled to the ground.

    “About time,” she muttered, taking a moment to catch her breath.

    The Usurper Wolf was not happy.

    Reki wished she could be more pleased about that knowledge, but at present she didn’t see how it could help them. For five minutes she had pressed her ear to the door where he sat, berating Captain Kaldr for things outside of his control – such as allowing the ships into port at all, when he had plainly been grounded since he brought them in. The others had already closeted themselves on the other side of the hallway.

    Reki turned to find the door, and saw Bea emerge out of the staircase. The young woman trotted toward her, somewhat bloody.

    “Tell me -”

    Reki put a finger to her puckered lips in the universal sign for ‘shush.’ Obligingly, Bea lowered her voice.

    “Tell me you have good news.”

    Reki shrugged. “The stair is clear?”

    “Of everything but bodies. One of them might wake up in a bit, although I doubt he’ll be a threat once he does.”

    She moved two doors down the hall and rapped lightly in a prearranged signal. “Good enough.”

    “But what about…?” She gestured toward the main door.

    “If we had some way to bar it, we could set it and, probably, the whole tower ablaze, and likely end this. But it opens inward, and Lord Stigander would never forgive me.”

    “Ah.”

    If she was honest, it was that last she cared about. That, and that damnable Victory Weaving the crone had bragged about.

    “Besides,” Bea supplied, looking at her askance. “We do that before we wreck that loom, and the Usurper’s just going to find a way to wriggle out of it.”

    Reki gave her a wry smile as the door opened. “Exactly. Come on, ladies, let’s go. We have a Weaving to steal.”

    The other Singers, as they left their momentary hiding place, were by turns grim and eager. Good. They understand what we have ahead of us.

    Reki let Bea lead them back down the stair. It was, after all, the site of her victory – and she was the one who knew where to step around the bodies, at least presumably. She herself brought up the rear. When the others had all disappeared down the stair, she took one last look down the hallway towards the room where her enemy sat.

    The door was open. Kaldr stepped out into the hall, his eyes downcast but not defeated. He looked annoyed, she thought. Quickly Reki, too, slipped into the stairwell and pulled the door closed as silently as she could. That had been entirely too close.

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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.

  • 9.28 – A Single Blade

    9.28 – A Single Blade

    Beatrix lunged, taking a mighty swipe with her sword around the curve of the stair at the guards who pursued them up it. The dull thud of a blade striking home was followed by the clattering of maille dropping to the floor as the man wearing it fell. She turned her head just enough to glance over her shoulder. “Keep going! I can hold the stair.”

    The Singers all exchanged worried glances. Eydri opened her mouth to protest, but Runa cut her off.

    “No. She’s right. She can hold this stair by herself, probably for a good long time… although I’d be happier if we could lend support.”

    “What, with that barbaric battle chant? No, thanks. Clear us a path.”

    The second of the guards had made his way up to his partner’s body. A longsword swung clumsily up around the curve, as though he was having trouble with his footing. He might well be, between the blood and the bulk of the body itself. Bea swatted it handily away.

    “Go!”

    Reki gave a quick nod of acknowledgement before dashing up the stairs after her fellow Singers. Runa lingered a moment longer, meeting the other girl’s eyes, before she, too, nodded and hurried up the stairs.

    Bea, meanwhile, tightened her grip on her sword, wishing she hadn’t left her spear on the Arkona even as she was glad she had. The sword, after all, had only come with her by chance. A spear would not have, and she’d have been as disarmed as the others.

    Hurry, she mentally urged. If the guards below were thinking, one of them would have alerted the tower. She did not hear alarm bells, though, which suggested that had not been the case. Therefore, if the others could find them an escape…

    The second guard seemed to have found his footing again. Once more his longsword flashed around the corner. This time, Bea slammed her sword down on his elbow. Subtle. She let out an exasperated sigh as the man screamed in pain. Not that she could blame him, really – but who needs alarm bells when your guards will scream to wake the dead? She took two steps forward and clubbed the back of his head with her hilt.

    The other two were hard on his heels. Bea sliced at the knees of the one in front before scrambling back up the steps to just past the landing. They had seen her, which was no bad thing. Now she needed to give a little ground. So long as they still thought they could catch her themselves, they would not call for help. And if they called for help, things would get very bad, very fast.

    The sound of a heavy boot on the stair behind her made her turn, her first foot on the stair after the landing, to see the first of the remaining pair rounding the bend. She took two steps up backwards, her blade held steady before her.

    Urdr’s guard leered at her as he prowled forward. Amazing, the confidence he still had after seeing his friends defeated so handily. He must be discounting the advantage of the stairway because of how much trouble she’d had in his mistress’ workroom.

    The man made a testing swipe at her feet. Bea raised her foot and brought it down on the flat of the blade before meeting his eyes with a savage grin.

    Before he could react, she shifted all her weight to the foot that pinned his sword and kicked him in the nose, hard enough she could hear the bone snap.

    Now rage burned in his eyes, even as he clapped one hand over his broken and suddenly bleeding nose. He stood there, reeling, for only a moment, but that was long enough. He wasn’t out of the fight, not by a long shot: Bea brought her sword around in a two-handed grip to take the man’s head and his hand all at once.

    The body had not hit the ground before she was backing farther up the stairs, her attention already locked on the one remaining guard. This one seemed a little smarter – or at the very least, less cocksure. It amounted to the same thing.

    Above, she heard a door swing shut. Good.

    The sound of fighting echoed up the stairway behind them. Truth be told, Reki still hesitated to leave Bea by herself… but Runa was quite right about the stairs, and those who had seen all agreed the princess was a formidable fighter. Don’t worry. Just go.

    There was no real landing at the top of the stairs, merely a door. Why there should have been a landing in the center of the flight, Reki could not guess, but now she was left standing a step below the door she had to get through, with no way of knowing what waited on the other side. She frowned.

    The lower levels of this tower held the dungeon: of that, she was reasonably certain. The third floor had the Weavess’ grisly workroom: would the floor above that be storage, or a war room? She carefully rested her ear against the wood, hoping for some glimmer of answer, and heard nothing.

    With a deep breath, prepared to launch the Raptor Method again if she had to, Reki pushed open the door to the next floor.

    The staircase opened into a long, broad hallway, with a single door along the right hand side, and several smaller doors along the left. For the moment, she saw no people, so she stepped up onto the rugs of the hallway. Motioning behind her towards the left, Reki moved towards that single door on the right. They needed a place to regroup – briefly – before they could make another attempt on the ‘Weaving of Inevitable Victory.’ But there was no reason they shouldn’t try to learn a little more while they were at it.

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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.

  • 9.27 – Harbor Assault

    9.27 – Harbor Assault

    The decks of the Vidofnir and her allies had finally been sluiced clean of the blood of their countrymen. The inscribed runes on the yardarms had evidently had some effect, as they were no longer stymied at every turn. But breaking through always came at a cost, and Einarr mourned those that fell every time. If Einarr’s mood was grim as they neared Breidelsteinn harbor and Raenshold, his father’s was moreso. Some of these had likely been men he’d known, after all, and they had not chosen their bewitchment.

    That ensorcellment would end soon, one way or another. Ahead, he could see now the graceful inward sweep of the harbor’s arms around a city huddled at the water’s edge. Looming above stood his grandfather’s Hold. From the water he could see nothing, of course, save the tower at the front gate and the stone walls curving back from it.

    That tower was, as father had explained it, the biggest challenge they would face in retaking their home. Now that he was finally seeing it, for the first time since he was a small boy, he understood why. Whatever else anyone wanted to say about Grandfather Raen, the man in his prime had plainly been a superb strategist. Not only had he united the clans of their archipelago under his own banner, he had built that. Either accomplishment would have landed most men a place in the histories.

    That made what had happened with the Weavess and the Usurper even more of a disgrace, to Einarr’s mind. His grandfather should be remembered for his feats on the battlefield, dammit! Not one ill-chosen dalliance in his youth.

    Einarr shook his head. The harbor was a choke point: they could not avoid facing more of Ulfr’s ships here. Now was not the time for idle musings. He looked around at his crew and nodded. It was that time, however. “Arm yourselves, men!”

    A jangle of maille filled the near-silence that followed his orders. There were those of his crew who had come from the Vidofnir – newer men, mostly, and thus mostly those who had never been to these shores before. One man stood out, however: in quiet conference before they left Kjell, Stigander had asked Tyr to serve as Einarr’s advisor, and Tyr had agreed without hesitation. Thus, the oldest salt on the Vidofnir had now sailed under three generations of the same line. Einarr only hoped he could do as well by the man as Stigander had.

    They were nearing the harbor mouth now, and no fewer than five wolf’s-head ships had emerged to try to block their path. Einarr once again regretted Eydri’s absence: having a Singer allowed men to fight harder and longer. Well: they had not rescued their captives yet, and thus they would just have to fight smarter.

    From the deck of the Vidofnir, in the center, Bardr waved a torch as a signal to the other ships.

    “Archers – draw!” The enemy ships seemed a bit far away yet for a volley, but there was sure to be a reason for that. Knowing that if it came to boarding he would have to stay on the Heidrun, Einarr, too, took up his bow and drew. Please, lady Fates, be true.

    The Wolf’s ships did not take the defensive posture Einarr had expected them to. Rather, they rushed forward as though desperate. Einarr furrowed his brow: there was a natural narrowing in the harbor mouth not far behind the enemy ships. Why had they not formed a line there?

    He shook his head. Perhaps this was the Norn’s work, after all. At any rate his enemy’s tactical misstep was his gain, and Father and Bardr seemed to have anticipated it. They were nearly in range…

    “Fire!”

    Bowstrings sang as a flock of arrows rose from the decks of the rooster and the ram and the roebuck to strike at the approaching pack of wolves.

    No few of them overshot their mark, raining down on the water on the other side of the defending boats. Einarr blinked: he had known of very few boats that fast, and none of them that bore a wolf.

    “Ready volley!” Even with the speed of their adversaries, they should have time for at least one more shot. “Fire!”

    This time the volley struck true. After a moment’s consideration, Einarr nodded to himself. “Fire at will!”

    Einarr sent three more arrows flying before the next signal came: others loosed more. “Prepare for boarding!”

    Einarr resettled Sinmora’s baldric as Jorir took his place by Einarr’s side. The dwarf, normally indefatigable, looked tired. Even getting this far had been a long slog: if Jorir was worn out, so were the rest of his men. They would have to end this rapidly. Even so, to leave these ships behind them was to cut off their only means of escape.

    He glanced down at Jorir again, weighing his options. They had to either send these dogs back to port with their tails between their legs, or disable them completely. He wasn’t sure which his crew was more capable of, but he had an idea. “Jorir,” he whispered. “You and I have a special operation to take care of.”

    “Oh? And what might this be?” The dwarf kept his voice as low as Einarr’s.

    “Sabotage.” Einarr offered his leige-man a feral grin. “We can’t fight too long: we’re all exhausted, and there’s still more to come. So we need to give these curs some reason to break off.”

    Jorir nodded slowly. “I see your plan, my Lord, and it is sound. But might I suggest you send others? Your place is here, and mine is by your side.”

    “Thank you, Jorir, but most of my crew is so wet behind the ears they could swim in the water there. It needs to be you and me if we’re all to get out of this.”

    To his credit, the dwarf merely shrugged. “Let’s have it, then.”

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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.

  • 9.26 – Flight

    9.26 – Flight

    Bea hopped backward two paces, placing herself near her companions as her eyes cast desperately about the room. Reki knew what she must be thinking: why, oh why, was she the only warrior of the bunch? Einarr seemed to think highly of the woman’s fighting skills, however, so when Bea pivoted and shouldered her way through the group Reki kept her face towards the other pair of guards. She pursed her lips, though, and motioned behind her for the other Singers to stay close to the Princess. Carefully, she, too, backed that direction.

    The sound of steel clashing on steel rang through the room as Beatrix clashed against the men standing shoulder-to-shoulder in the doorway. Glancing over her shoulder, Reki winced. Bea was holding steady, so far, but these were full-grown men she fought, and the Princess could not be much older than Runa.

    Bea seemed to know this, too. She lunged to slash at legs and arms time and again, but every time her blade was parried with almost scornful ease. More than once she had to turn her attack to avoid losing an arm. Beatrix risked a glance over her shoulder and caught Reki’s eye with a desperate look.

    “Tell me,” she grunted, shoving back the blow of one of their assailants. “Tell me there’s something you can do. Anything?”

    Reki pursed her lips again, her eyes scanning the room. Yes, it was unfair to expect a young woman to break a path through four full-grown guardsmen. There was, of course, an option available, although she wasn’t entirely keen on revealing it to an Imperial. Still, if they were caught, they would face more unspeakable things than Runa had dared to contemplate before. With a sigh that came out more like a puff of air, she nodded to herself.

    Reki turned her head and met the eyes of Eydri, of Aema, and of Svana in turn. Each of them nodded agreement. The other pair of guards would be on them soon, after all.

    “Very well. It is true, we are not helpless in extremity.” Reki turned back to face the center of the room and stare levelly at Urdr, but the old crone had ceased to pay attention to her would-be captives. So much the better.

    Reki took a deep breath and began, as her voice was the lowest. Lowest, but still the note she produced was high and piercing, almost like a scream if the note of a scream could be pure. Runa winced. Urdr turned halfway around on her bench: that got her attention.

    Then Aema joined in, her smooth mezzo taking on a note even more shrill than Reki’s.

    When Eydri took up her note the guards began to flinch. Urdr raised her hands toward her ears, but did not clap them shut. Yet. The notes they sang corresponded to no chord used in Clan music: even Reki felt the skin on her shoulders start to crawl. And they weren’t done yet.

    It was Svana’s turn. The usually quiet singer, whose high soprano tended to the soft and gentle, rang forth with a note that harmonized discordantly with the other three. The piercing shriek of the Raptor Method filled the weaving room. Urdr plastered herself against her loom, and it was as though the guards before Reki were flung back by the onslaught as they clapped hands against their ears in a futile attempt to shut out the sound. Were Runa fully trained, they could have truly pierced eardrums. As it was, the men would only wish they had been deafened.

    The two guards at the door staggered backward, almost tripping over themselves in their attempt to escape the noise that was threatening their consciousness.

    Bea, her own eyes wide, stumbled forward but did not drop her blade. The two men who had been holding her off so handily staggered back into the hall, but she was in no condition to dash for the gap.

    As one, the Singers ceased their notes and hurried out the door. Reki caught Bea’s arm and threw it over her shoulder, half-dragging the girl out into the hallway with her. Aema did the same for Runa.

    They hurried down the hallway toward the stairs. Before long, Bea shook her head as she came back to herself.. “What was that?”

    “Secret,” Reki almost snapped, pointing down the hall toward the stairs. “Talk later, escape now.”

    The Princess groaned and shook her head again. “Down is no good. We need to go up.”

    What did she mean, down was no good? “Where else are we supposed to go, but down to the harbor?”

    “They’re going to be after us again before long. If we have to fight them again, with them above me on the stairs, we’re all done for. I think there’s another floor above this one, though, and we still have to do something about that Weaving.”

    The guards were already beginning to recover. Before they had gone a quarter-circle around the tower Reki heard the heavy footfalls of pursuing warriors. Finally, though, less than another quarter-turn around, they passed a small door. Bea ripped it open, then gestured for her companions to enter.

    Inside, a narrow stairway spiralled up to the next level. There was no choice: Reki hurried up as fast as she could without slipping, the others hard on her heels.

    Midway between floors the staircase leveled out for a breath. At its edge, Bea stopped and turned to face the oncoming warriors. “There any way you can do that again?” she asked without turning her head.

    “Best not,” Reki said. They could, if they absolutely had to, but she had to remember that, however nice of a girl she was, and however willing to work together, Bea was ultimately an enemy of all the Clans.

    The girl grunted. “Fine.”

    Footsteps rang in the stairwell below them. Bea shifted her stance, firming her grip on her sword. Reki cast about, looking for anything she could do to help them escape. They were out of time.

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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.