Einarr had to believe that the group who ventured up the tower was having an easier time of it. At the very least they hadn’t requested backup before he judged his team ready to press on.

Similarly, he could not spare a thought for the pincered fleet out past the harbor. That there had been no word would have to be taken as hard fighting, no more. So, when Eydri and Hrug had seen to their healing and purification, and Einarr’s head had stopped throbbing quite so badly, he surveyed his men.

Some handful who had been healed needed more time to recuperate – they had been gravely injured, mostly, and the Song Magic could only speed the process so much. Those, and some other handful who were less worn down, were detailed to hold this floor and keep a watchful eye on the harbor. If anyone, friend or foe, came into the harbor they were to send a runner down after Einarr’s team. The fact that he intended to press on did not please Eydri, but even had she not healed his leg quite expertly, Einarr was their war leader. He could not lead from the back – that was not his way.

Einarr, Jorir, and Kaldr stood at the head of the expedition further into the depths. Naudrek, Thjofgrir, and Troa followed close behind. All told, they took a team of perhaps twenty down the broad ramp leading deeper into the earth.

Jorir grumbled as they rounded the first corner of the ramp. “I mislike this passage.”

Kaldr glanced down at the svartdvergr, and there was an edge of humor when he spoke. “It rather reminds me of the Paths of Stone, though. Right before we started falling into pits.”

“My point exactly.” Jorir harrumphed. “And the parts used by dvergr were cut smooth to allow for carts. What do they keep down here that can’t handle stairs?”

“I’m sure we’ll find out, probably sooner than we’d like. Be on the lookout for traps, everyone.”

A chorus of ‘aye’s echoed from behind, but it was really no louder than the tramp of twenty pairs of boots and the clink of twenty sets of maille. Still they went on. Neither Einarr nor Kaldr were happy about giving up the initiative before, so by unspoken agreement they made as much haste as they dared. Einarr strained his eyes trying to peer beyond the watery blue torchlight.

A little further down, with still no sign of a side passage – or even a room – mutters began to carry forward to his ears. The long, gloomy passage was starting to unnerve the men.

“Keep your wits about you, men. Whatever is waiting for us down below, it’s nothing we can’t deal with.” He hoped. Unfortunately, he couldn’t really do much more to lift their spirits than that.

Finally, after what felt like hours, the ramp leveled off into a broad, open cave. The floor was smooth like planed wood, but the walls and ceiling were rough like a natural cave. Three passages branched off from here – right, left, and center. “All right men, take a break. Someone mark the door we just came from. You three–” he pointed at random. “How would you like sentry duty here?”

The three shared an uneasy look, but nodded their agreement.

“Excellent, because someone needs to. Everyone else, split into teams of six. I’ll take center…” Glancing over the men stretching their shoulders and swigging water, he realized something. With a smile, he turned to Arkja. “Looks to me like your whole crew from the Island is here. Why don’t you take the right, while Kaldr and Thjofgrir take the left… Assuming, of course, that Jorir and Naudrek prefer to stick with me?”

The dvergr harrumphed as though that were obvious. Naudrek also agreed. “Indeed, I’d have insisted,” he added.

“Right. That means three more can come with me, and four go with Kaldr. When everyone’s formed up, we’ll continue.


Troa, Svarek, and Arring rounded out Einarr’s team, and he was reasonably sure as they started down the central path the only way their team could be more stalwart was if he’d taken Kaldr and Thjofgrir. Their passage wound about, and Einarr was reasonably certain they were headed generally downwards. When they were a little ways away from the central room, Jorir glanced up at him as they walked. “So, why center?”

“A hunch? Mostly based on the temple in Nilthiad, honestly.”

He grunted. “Thought so. Let’s see how this pans out, then.”

Not much further on, they came to a long gallery of carved and planed pillars. The inner path through the gallery was lit, but nothing past it, so that as you walked through the pillars all you could see was the road ahead of you. To either side, all that was visible beyond the pillars was inky blackness.

“Begging your pardon, sir,” Svarek started. “But, do you think your head could handle giving us one of your glowing runes? This blue flame has me on my last nerve.”

Einarr frowned. Using to create light took very little concentration. By the same token, however, he knew he was near his limits already. Would a beacon of proper light be worth the risk that he would be forced to call on the runes again? Hesitantly, he nodded. “Yes, I can manage that much, at least. I’m not sure how much more we’ll be able to see, mind you.”

“That’s fine, milord. Just so it looks a little more natural.”

Einarr drew out his piece of chalk, but Arring held up a hand. “I think we might be better off just lighting one of our ordinary torches. That way we get something to counteract the cold look of the cultists’ flames.”

Einarr nodded his assent, and Troa drew a torch from the pack he carried everywhere. Arring lit it with practiced ease, and as it flared to life the light did, somehow, start to look less watery and cold and more natural to a surface dweller.

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

Einarr surveyed the landing below and frowned. That would have been a brutal fight even without everything that came before. They had, in the end, put the cursed warriors down and their knights to rout, but the toll had been heavy. “Jorir.”

“Here, my lord.”

“We hold the fortress town and the first floor, and the men are exhausted. Detail a team, as energetic as you can manage, to fetch Kaldr and the others. Meanwhile, the rest of us who can move will see to the wounded and secure this level.”

“As you wish, milord!”

Einarr nodded, already seeking out the next face he needed – Troa. They would have to divide up the work yet further, and roughly half the men down here underground were out of action.

The scout had a bloody rag tied around his arm when Einarr found him, and he looked pale. Still, though, he was both upright and active. “Troa!”

“Yes, sir!” It was a credit to the man that he was still sharp.

“I’ve sent Jorir and a few others out to bring Kaldr’s team. You take some men and gather up the wounded… over there, I think.” Einarr pointed to what looked like a defensible spot. “We’re fortifying here, for now.”

Troa’s shoulders sagged with relief. “Aye, sir!”

Truth be told, Einarr didn’t like giving up the initiative this way – but if he didn’t give his men at least a little time to rest here none of them were going to make it out alive. Now that that was dealt with, Einarr began grabbing people more or less at random. Two men he posted on the stairs up, and another two at the door to a ramp leading down – and Einarr was certain he didn’t like the look of that. Then, he took Svarek, Arkja, Naudrek and Hakon down a wide, level passage.

Before long, he heard the lapping of the sea, and the smell of brine was in the air. “I’ll lay odds that we find a harbor at the end of this,” he muttered.

Arkja chuckled. “No bet.”

“Let’s just hope its already empty?” Hakon said. “I don’t fancy taking on a whole harbor with just the five of us.”

That earned him a sharp look from Arkja, but Einarr held up his hand for peace. “There’s no cowardice in accepting your limits. That’s why we’re retrenching in the first place.”

“As you say, my lord.” Arkja’s voice was tight, but Einarr decided to let it pass. Up ahead, the watery light from the blue torches grew more intense, if not exactly brighter, and the sea-smell was definitely stronger. Einarr pressed himself against a wall and crept forward. The others followed his lead.

They needn’t have bothered creeping. What they saw would have looked very like an ordinary harbor, save for two things. First, there was no sign of daylight out over the water. Even on the svartalfr island there had been a lighter blackness marking the harbor mouth. Second, there was nothing larger than a two-man skiff still docked, and not a soul in sight.

Naudrek whistled, and in the emptiness the sound was far louder than he could have intended. “Lord Stigander must be having a rough time of it,” he said.

“You’re probably right,” Einarr agreed. “Only, where are all the dock workers?”

“I imagine that’s who we fought on the landing. Some of them, anyway,” Arkja suggested.

“You think they’d waste their knights on the docks?” Naudrek asked, surprised but sincere.

“They wouldn’t have had to, unless the cursed needed to be closely watched. “ Einarr pressed his lips in thought. “They saw us coming, and they had plenty of time to station those knights on the landing. Probably the knights brought the cursed from the harbor once they launched their fleet… I don’t think we need to worry about enemies from the harbor unless Father fails.”

That was a line of thought he didn’t care to pursue under the circumstances. No-one else seemed interested, either, and silence fell for a heavy moment. “Split up,” he ordered eventually. “I’ll take Naudrek right. The rest of you go left. We’ll meet back here.”


Jorir’s team arrived only moments before Einarr’s returned from their investigation of the harbor – which had been just as empty, and just as ordinary, as it first appeared. Experience told him they would have something terrible, and they would keep it underground.

Eydri and Hrug looked tired, but as well as could be expected. Kaldr and Naudrek looked like they had seen better days, and Thjofgrir as well, but slung across Thjofgrir’s back was the unconscious Arring. He still breathed, at least: Einarr could see that much as he hurried up to greet them.

“What happened?”

“Those blasted cats is what happened,” Kaldr grumbled. “Two of them this time – two real ones, so it felt like four. Right as we were about to signal the fleet. Hrug got it off while we were fighting them, but…”

Einarr nodded understanding. “I’m glad you all made it in one piece, at least. Arring… Arring seeks to be reunited with his family.”

Kaldr raised an eyebrow. “I thought he was a bachelor.”

“Widower, I’m afraid. When the Usurper was taking over Breidelstein, his family was killed.”

Kaldr looked pained, but Einarr shook his head. “You’re not so much older than me that you had any hand in it, and it’s not really relevant just this moment. How was the situation at sea?”

“Difficult to say for sure, except that they were laying in wait for the fleet, too. I’m afraid our plan led them right onto the cultist’s anvil. The storms from the demon ships made it hard to tell what was happening, but I know they managed to clear out the ships inside the harbor.”

Einarr groaned. Fortune favor you, Father. He had no more energy he could afford to spend on that, however. He shook his head and turned to Eydri. “How is your voice? Think you can handle some healing? Hrug and I can see to purifying everyone.”

“Yes, I’ll be fine.” She looked at him, and wrinkled her brows as she studied his face. “You look pale. What has happened?”

“It’s nothing. Just an arrow in the leg and too much rune working.”

She pursed her lips. “That’s not nothing. Sit down on the step and I can at least do something about that leg.”

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

Einarr ignored the throbbing in his temples as the last of his men gathered together around the now-silent tower. They had lost two or three handfulls of men out of the crews of two ships – more than Einarr liked, after his years wandering, but acceptable under the circumstances.

The arrows had ceased to fall some time ago: Einarr guessed that the captain of the archers had given it up for futile. That was good, because the quaking earth had begun to cause problems for Einarr’s men, as well. It was also bad, though, because those archers would almost certainly be waiting on the other side of the tower door. Because he expected an ambush inside, Einarr had inscribed a on the door, and another on the flagstones below it.

Irding took the fore, flanked by Arkja and Troa. Jorir stayed at the back with Einarr: he had made it plain his intention was to guard his liege lord. For his part, Einarr was grateful. He could not see the wound in his leg well enough to heal it properly, and healed poorly was often worse than not healed at all.

“Shields up, on my mark,” Einarr said. He took a deep breath. “Three, two one — now.”

His men brought their shields up into a wall. A heartbeat after the last rattle, he used his configuration to blast open the door ahead of them. Irding led the charge through the haze of the blast and into the tower.

The door opened into an empty antechamber. One set of stairs followed the wall up to the next floor, and across the room another led down – into what horrors, Einarr did not care to speculate.

Empty was unexpected, but the men knew what to do. About half split off to take the heights of the tower, while Einarr and Jorir went with the rest down into the depths. Probably the men heading up would get the glory of taking the leader’s head, but practically speaking Einarr would more likely be needed to deal with whatever horrors they had called into being.

As soon as the door to the second floor was opened the fighting began again, but the defenders had missed an opportunity: they hadn’t been holding the stairs here. Irding bowled over the lone archer in the door while he was still sighting his shot, and the upstairs team began pouring through.

The door heading down was barred from below. Jorir hefted his axe to begin chopping at it, but Einarr raised a hand to stop him. “The longer this takes, the more time they have to prepare a trap. Let me.”

Drawing a pair of thorns took almost no time at all, and though the thrumming in his head spiked it did not remain high after he had blown away this second door, and the front runners rushed once more through the gap.

Below, the stairway was lined with torches burning in a familiar blue flame. If Einarr had needed any further confirmation that this was the same cult that had killed Astrid and kidnapped Runa just a few short years ago, this was it.

They were vulnerable going down the stairs: there was no barrier separating the outside of the stair from the open air and the long drop to the next floor, and they were perhaps halfway down it when that floor lit up in the poisonous blue of the torchlight. “Shields up and keep moving!”

The order was likely unnecessary, but Einarr intended to spend the lives of his men dearly if he had to at all.

A moment later and the volley of arrows from below flew across empty space, burying their heads in shields and the cracks of stone. He did not hear anyone cry out: he hoped that meant no-one else had been taken in a leg.

The lighting in here was dim, and the footing on the stairway was bad, but all they had to do was weather the arrows until they reached the bottom – except that from the top of the stairs Einarr could already see that the base of the stairs was mobbed with cursed warriors. They would get in each other’s way, certainly, but they would also prevent the invaders from breaching the floor.

This time, though, he would let his men push through. He could think of nothing he could do that would not also risk them, and he was well aware that he was pushing his magic in ways he never had before. Not since Elder Melja’s winter training, and probably not then. For the moment, he slipped his chalk back into his pouch and limbered the bow he had acquired on the field above.


Serk of Sweindalr, aboard his own Björtstag, had hacked his way across to the enemy ship. As Captain, ordinarily he would hang back, but after what had happened at Kaldreik he knew he could not. It was not merely atrocities the Björtstag had witnessed there, after all – otherwise, Halla would still be with them, and still require his protection.

A gang of cursed warriors was clustering around the mast: that didn’t look good. With a roar of borrowed fury, he charged into them and struck about with his sword. The cursed warriors, with their sickly gray skin and their mad eyes, scattered under the onslaught. Einarr of Breidelstein had alluded to monsters aboard these ships, and Serk intended to see that they had no chance to free such a creature.

A screech sounded from the deck behind him, and one of the mad-eyed warriors ceased even to appear human. In place of his arms he grew squid tentacles, and his head became a massive beak still somehow covered in eyes. Serk’s mouth curled into a rictus grin: had it been one of those, then, that did for his Halla? He charged again, and in one mighty blow he severed its transformed head from its once-human body.

He would have vengeance for his bride on the cultists of Malúnion.

 

 

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

The fiery arrow was not, by itself, enough to finish off the abomination, but the way that fire spread over its body Einarr didn’t think it would last much longer, and its flailing was very shortly going to put his team in danger. He raised his voice and cupped a hand to his mouth. “Jorir! Everyone to me!”

Then he turned his attention back to the field. Whether the team fighting at the edges of the field heard him or not, they were not trying to fall back – which was good. He was about to send some reinforcements. With five teams on the field, they still only had twenty men – counting himself – and at least that many cursed warriors. That wasn’t even counting their Talon Knight handlers.

One of the teams of the cursed was hurrying across the field directly toward him, heedless of the arrows that still stubbornly fell like rain in spite of the tower’s instability.

There’s one thing I can do, anyway. Einarr quickly drew and called lightning down on their heads. That stopped the knights in their metal armor and most of the cursed warriors. Between holding the half-burned abomination in place and shaking up the tower archers, all this magic was starting to give Einarr a headache – not enough to stop him, yet, but he was definitely not used to fighting this way.

Jorir and the eleven remaining men who had been trying to take down the monstrosity surrounded Einarr and Irding now, forming a circle of steel around them. Irding looked grateful not to have to block arrows for the moment. A moment later they were joined by the late-come team on the field.

Jorir glanced over his shoulder to his liege lord. “Now what?”

Einarr glanced his men over and nodded to himself. Down five men was probably the best he could hope for, under the circumstances. “I want one, or maybe two men to cover me. Until I can get some proper healing on my leg, I’ll only be a hindrance in hand to hand, but I can still use runes. The rest of you divide up: one group goes for the fight on the edge of the field, the other one takes on those guys.”

He pointed across the field at the group of enemies that was picking its way across the field toward them. “I’ll back everyone up as best I can. Mind the tower: I don’t know how much more shaking it can take, and whoever they have up there is damnably determined.”

“Aye, sir!” several of the men answered at once. Arkja already led about five of them over to the struggling team on the side: with the three they had left, that should suffice.

Jorir set his feet and looked at Irding. “I’ll cover Lord Einarr. You’re better on the offense.”

That earned the dvergr a rakish grin. “You’re right about that. Thanks for the breather, though.”

Einarr glanced around at the field of battle: the arrowfall from the tower had nearly ceased, but Einarr didn’t dare let up on his earth circle yet. Then he looked at Jorir: the dvergr was spattered all over with the abomination’s black blood.

“We have a moment. Let me do something about that.”

Jorir harrumphed. “Get us both, then. This spot won’t stay calm for long, I don’t think.”

“Would we really want it to?” Einarr dashed off the purification inscription he and Hrug had come up with after they landed. A moment later, he felt he could breathe easier at least.

The larger group under Irding was clashing with the Talon Knight team half-way across the field now. But, by the same token, more of Einarr’s men were arriving, in good order – and significantly faster than the enemy knights could replenish their number. Very soon, he thought, they would be able to push into the tower and take the fortress itself.


Water sluiced over the deck of the Vidofnir, washing away the black blood of the cultists and the red blood of Stigander’s raiders almost as fast as they could spill it. This was no raid like the one that took his Astrid – oh, no. Neither was it a hastily assembled chase, where the cult ships had been caught off-guard as Vidofnir and Skudbrun fled their stronghold. No, the leadership of the city had seen this battle well enough in advance that they had ships and crews at the ready, so that the trap they thought they had laid for the corrupting priests of Malúnion became instead a trap for them. Stigander, part of the circle guarding Reki from the onslaught of those who hated the clean magics of song and word and art, chopped with his own sword against the cursed. For all that the fleet was beset he could tell that they gave as good as they got. He could worry about the source of their knowledge later.

The anvil, within the harbor, had been neatly smashed, although the burning wreckage still prevented the fleet from entering the harbor en masse. That was fine: it meant that the fleet could focus on the real threat – the demon ships, with their merged, swirling squall above and their black horrors beneath the decks.

Another warrior with the gray pallor of the cursed charged at his circle, trying to break free to end Reki’s battle-fury. Calmly, Stigander raised his shield and caught the blade on its boss, then ran the warrior cleanly through with his own sword. Yet more black blood spurted out on his feet: he was glad he had left Astrid’s rabbit-skin boots at home for this journey. These would have to be burned when all was said and done.

A moment of quiet aboard the Vidofnir gave him enough time to take a breath and assess. They had cleared the cursed from their decks, and the spear-wielding elites, as well, but outside of those who guarded their Singer his own crew had already boarded the enemy ship. That was a perilous place to be, true, but it was also exactly where they belonged. Stigander raised his horn to his lips and blew. All up and down the line, he heard answers from those Captains as were in a position to give one. About half, he judged. Not good enough yet.

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

The monstrosity croaked, loud enough to make Einarr’s ears ring. It had been the right call to leave Hrug above – indeed, it had been by far the best way to signal the fleet – but Einarr was not half the sorcerer the mute was. His men leapt at the winged blob again. He heard a whumpf, followed by the crack of stone and a thud. Another man down.

The formation before him, he thought, would work. Or, he hoped it would buy them enough time to destroy the abomination, anyway. He placed his fingers on the edge of the circle and willed it to capture the creature before them.

He could see, although he didn’t think anyone else could, the threads of energy racing along the ground, pooling under the creature’s feet that currently hovered about five inches off the ground. Einarr bit his lip, intent on the goal. If the abomination touched the ground with so much as a toe or a wingtip, they had it.

The pool of magic grew larger, and as it did Einarr noticed a pillar of ice beginning to form in its center. Unusual, but I’ll take it.

The monster-bird bobbed down just a hair farther than it usually did. The ice brushed its claw, and the freezing threads of the magic began climbing up its body.

Hastily, the abomination rose, but the cold that had a hold of its foot continued to spread over its body. It was caught now, no matter how much it struggled. Sinmora practically leaped into Einarr’s hand as he rushed to join the fray.

The creature fought mightily against the forces trying to pin it to the earth. It might have managed to break free, too, if not for the twelve men it also had to fend off if it wanted to survive this. The soothing rune didn’t seem to be having much of an effect: perhaps calm was contrary to its nature? Or, perhaps, the fact that it was under attack prevented the rune from fully taking hold.

A fourth team was running into the killing field, now, in a fighting retreat from a squad of cursed warriors and their knightly commander. Godsdammit.

He still had control of his formation, but if he divided his mind that way he risked loosing the abomination. On the other hand, it was already weakened. If they brought it down, they could turn their full attention to other matters. The challenge was in finding its actual vitals.

He plunged Sinmora deep into the body of the beast, between a wing and an eye. It shrieked – a sound just as hideous as its croak – and stabbed back at him with a beak.

Einarr dodged, using the momentum of a turn to extract his blade. A gout of black blood spurted forth, hissing where it came in contact with the pool of magic.

He felt that like a buzzing in his brain. Oops. Einarr put a stop in the flow. It was either that, cutting off the amount of will he could feed into the seal, or risk exposing his mind directly to the corruption.

Jorir planted an axe behind the wing he had just chopped at, and it fell twitching to the ground. Now Einarr found himself faced with a deep wound, and while it bled profusely it was not spurting at either of them. Once more he plunged Sinmora into the beast’s side, and once more it shrieked and writhed.

Someone on its other side drove home his own mighty blow, and the abomination flapped harder. The ward still held, however, and its struggles seemed to be faltering.

That was when flaming arrows began raining down into the killing field from the arrow slits in the fortress tower.


War drums beat in time from every ship in the fleet, now, and the water below rippled in time with the rhythm calling the sailors to fight. Erik knew even a seasoned warrior should be anxious about a battle like this, with enemies both before and behind and each one of them a match for any ship of the fleet, but it was not fear that made his heart pump and his blood race. The defiled would attempt to swarm them under, and the defiled would be destroyed, he was sure. Any who fell today earned their place in Valhalla.

Not that he intended to fall. And he truly hoped that between the Singers and their two Rune masters they could avoid losing anyone to the corruption. But today – today would be a battle the skalds would sing of for ages upon ages.

Sivid’s boat floated next to the Vidofnir. Erik looked in that direction and grinned, certain that his friend would be too busy to see and not caring. His shield was set, and the weight of his axe in his hand felt good, and that was what mattered.

“Archers! Ready!” Bardr’s voice rang over the deck, echoed by the Mates up and down their line.

The fwoosh of fire went up in a line behind Erik as one of the deckhands lit the arrowheads. This, too, was done all up and down the line.

“Aim!”

From the corner of his eye, Erik could see the line of archers amidships on the other boats, all raise their bows in a wave.

“Fire!”

The archers loosed, and a wave of flaming arrows flew forward into the black storm approaching from the open sea. Perhaps a third as many flew towards the harbor – the surer shot, but also the less critical one. The black storm ships were the more fearsome by far. Erik remembered well what they kept belowdecks in those ships. Of the arrows that flew into the storm, perhaps half found their target. He was gratified to see more than one sail go up in flames: that would ease their load somewhat.

He found himself bouncing on his toes, waiting for the toss of boarding lines. Well, fine: he hadn’t been in a proper sea battle since they re-took Breidelstein. Fighting on land didn’t have quite the same thrill to it.

Then he looked up and abruptly realized the enemy was returning fire. The answering wave of flame was hard to look away from.

Bardr noticed at the same moment he did. “Shields!”

Almost as one, they raised their shields into a wall, protecting not only themselves but the archers behind as well. Getting close, now.

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

Stigander lowered his glass and sighed. The fortress was burning, and he hadn’t seen a signal yet. That was very shortly going to become moot, however, judging by the commotion on the docks. At least the blockade was already set up. He didn’t even look over his shoulder before he gave the order, certain that Bardr was where Stigander expected. “We can’t wait any longer. Something must have happened to the lookout. Signal the others.”

“Aye, sir.”

Before long the crack of sails could be heard over the fleet once more as the longships closed their circle, trapping the squiddies in their own jar. Or, at least, that was the idea. They hadn’t seen any of the black storm clouds that had marked the monsters in the svartlalfr ships’ holds – not yet, anyway. That might change when they actually put out to sea.

He raised his glass again. Something was off, but he couldn’t quite put his finger on what.


A wide open field was all that stood between Einarr’s team and the keep at the center of the fortress. It looked empty, but when Troa rose to begin their dash across the open space Einarr put a hand on his shoulder. “Something’s wrong.”

Movement caught his eye from partway around the killing field. It was another team – and Einarr had no way to stop them. He bit his tongue to keep from crying out. That would not help them, and it would give away their position. Then, he let out a long breath. “Be prepared to move on my mark,” he whispered.

“But you just said -” Irding protested. That earned him a sharp look.

“I know what I said. Situation changed.”

The other team stopped and threw up their arms, as though they were suddenly being buffeted by wind – a wind which Einarr soon felt, too. An unearthly screech filled the air, like the unholy fusion of a raven and a whale. He looked up.

A chill ran down his spine. It was like a hundred birds all sharing one body, with eyes and beaks and wings and legs jutting out at impossible angles and improbable locations. There was no earthly reason it should have been able to fly. And Einarr had seen it before.

It was the beast whose crew had willingly sacrificed themselves to its appetite when it became clear they had lost. It had crawled forth from the wreckage of their hold, a writhing and bubbling blob, and taken on the shape Einarr still could not fully grasp now that it was before him again.

“Oh. Hel.”


Stigander frowned as he stared at the ships now running across the waves toward the blockade, bristling with oars and, he was certain, both blades and arrows to match. This all looked as he expected it to, but there was an insistent tug on his heart whispering that something was about to go very wrong.

A black shadow passed overhead. He looked up to see a massive, multi-winged bird tearing through the sky toward the fortress. Alarm rose in his belly, but not enough to drown out the nagging anxiety. What am I missing?

A crack of thunder from out at sea made him jump. When he turned around, suddenly he understood.

The open sea behind them roiled with the heavy winds stirred up by the black clouds overhead – black as the clouds that bore the Grendel, what felt like ages ago, and her sister ships on the svartalfr island. And there, between storm clouds and churning sea, were twice as many ships as sailed from the harbor. Now he understood what his instincts had been trying to tell him.

They had sailed the entire fleet into a trap, and now they were caught between the hammer and the anvil. Part of him wished he had Kaldr to hand, but the man’s genius was more suited for the laying of traps like these, rather than escaping them. Indeed, that is almost exactly what they had been trying to do.

“Bardr, do you see what I see?”

“I’m afraid so, sir.”

“Good. Sound the horns: battle is joined.” This was not the day he intended to die, but if it came it would be an acceptable one.


Irding cursed a blue streak. It seemed he recognized the monster, too. Troa, grim-faced, limbered his bow.

“I’m down to about ten arrows.”

Einarr nodded. “Irding, Arkja, Jorir, do what you can to divide its attention. Troa, take your shots, but don’t waste them. I’ll see if I can’t pin it down somehow.” Damned if I know how, though.

Jorir cleared his throat. “With all due respect, milord, if you will be doing a working, I will be covering you.”

Einarr nodded at the dvergr. “Thank you. Now let’s go. That’s going to be too much for five men alone.”

The other team had the bright idea to scatter: Einarr approved. No matter how big it was, it only had one body and it was blessedly free of tentacles. He was dimly aware of an arrow flying towards the monstrosity, and of one eye closing, but Einarr’s attention was focused inward. As he ran, he drew his chalk from his pouch.

Someone from the other team charged forward and grabbed hold of one of its taloned legs. That… could be brilliant, or it could be his end, or both.

When he was about halfway across the field, Einarr stopped. This should be close enough without making Jorir’s job any harder. Movement caught his eye: a third team had reached the field and was running in to assist. Good. It took a whole ship just to drive one of these things off last time… I wish I could leave this to Hrug.

He started to draw his rune circle on the paving stones. He would need Isa, he was certain, but he very much doubted he had the will to turn the monster into a block of ice, even with the binding circle. An upside-down Yr would turn a ward inward, to keep whatever was inside from getting out, although if he wasn’t careful he would keep his men from dealing with it that way. Wynn could be used to calm it – that would definitely be useful.

Someone from one of the other teams screamed, and when the sound abruptly cut off Einarr knew it had been his death scream. He nearly activated the circle right then, but bit his lip. He had to think carefully, even now: there would only be one chance at this, so he had to do it right.

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

The five men hurried through the fortress town at Troa’s lead, keeping to small side streets and alleys as much as they could. Still, they could not avoid all combat, and they were not the only team that ran into trouble, based on the sound of things.

The clang of battle could be distantly heard in every direction save one – the coast – and at any given intersection it could jump out at them from any direction. I’m not sure what you’re waiting on, Kaldr, but I think they’re distracted.

They cut down another pair of men in leather jerkins carrying spears and hurried on their way. It seemed as though they might cut through everyone in the fortress in their race to the center.


Kaldr, Arring, and Thjofgrir encircled Eydri and Hrug as best they could. Kaldr had moved past cursing himself for underestimating their enemy and on to the serious work of keeping the sorcerers from being eaten by the pair of doubled cats toying with them.

Eydri sang, of course – that was her function, and in another circumstance her voice might have even been pleasant. Arring and Thjofgrir accepted her aid, and Kaldr could admit he was sorely tempted. Still, he was just as glad to be accustomed to shrugging it off. Someone other than Hrug needed a clear head, after all.

One of the two cats tried to pounce on him. Kaldr scrambled out of the way even as Arring, a feral snarl fixed on his face, launched himself at its paws. The cat and its double shrieked as the strong man buried his axe in its toe up to the haft. A smaller creature would have lost the toe, or even the paw, to a blow like that, but not this one.

Arring had, however, caught its full attention, and Kaldr was grateful. He stepped up between the cat and its double.

Maybe Arring didn’t quite have its full attention. One of the tentacles lashed out toward him – which was fine. Actually, it simplified things. Kaldr sidestepped again, pivoting on one foot and wrapping his arms around the tentacle, just below the wider paw at its tip.

The tentacle thrashed about in the air, and for a moment it was all Kaldr could do to hang on. He needed to get down to the cat’s back, but if he loosened his grip now he would just go flying – probably into a tree. For just a moment the tentacle stopped more or less upright, and Kaldr got a look at the city below: smoke rose from multiple locations. Their land raiders had encountered resistance earlier than they’d hoped… and substantial resistance, at that. He loosened his grip just enough to start sliding down the tentacle. “Hrug! Light it up!”

The cat thrashed its tentacle madly and Kaldr nearly lost his hold before he could stop his slide. This isn’t working. He pressed himself against the clammy flesh and risked letting go with one hand. So far, so good, although momentum was not his ally at the moment.

Somehow, Kaldr managed to get his free hand to the knife they all carried at their belts – usually used for eating. He suspected this one would need a good long time in a fire before he’d be willing to trust it with food again. When his hand closed on the hilt, he jerked it free of its sheath and plunged it into the tentacle. Greasy black blood welled up around the blade — the cat yowled and thrashed harder. Abruptly it brought its other tentacle into play, scraping the injured one along the bottom of the other tentacle. Trying to scrape Kaldr off.

That slowed the thrashing enough, however. Glancing down, Kaldr confirmed that he was dangling above its shoulders. He pulled his knife free and sheathed it, allowing the black blood to flow faster, and hung on for dear life with only his legs. Only for a moment, however. As soon as his sword was free of its scabbard, he let go.

Kaldr fell, sword-first, ten feet down to land on the creature’s back, between its shoulder blades. A third time it screamed as the longsword plunged deep into its vitals. It reeled, and Kaldr was now faced with the problem of staying on. The signal still hadn’t gone up: he risked a glance toward the others.

Arring still divided this one’s attention, although unless Kaldr missed his guess the strong man was wounded now. Thjofgrir was also fighting hard, trying to keep the other beast from getting past him and to the sorcerers. He, too, looked as though he had seen better days. The real trouble was, Thjofgrir by himself was not enough to keep the other cat away from Eydri and Hrug. It was damnably intelligent, too. It had noticed that they were defending the woman and the one-handed man, and had begun more or less ignoring Thjofgrir.

Hrug, bless the man, had become a sorcerer because it was the option least offensive to his pride. He remained a warrior at heart, even if his weapons now were symbols traced on the ground. The signal had not gone up because all his attention was focused on the barrier he had erected around the two of them – hastily, Kaldr expected, as they had been taken completely unawares by the beasts. That was why the signal had not yet gone up. Well. Let’s see if I can do something about that.

Kaldr wrenched his blade free of the cat’s back and plunged it deep once more at the same moment Arring buried his axe in its jaw.

It swayed again, and lifted its head as though to yowl to the heavens. Then all the strength seemed to go out of its mighty legs and it collapsed to the ground. It didn’t even twitch. I must have pierced its heart.

He was covered in the black blood, but for the moment that didn’t matter. He pulled his sword free and ran down the head toward the sorcerers. “Arring! Help Thjofgrir! I’ll cover them.”

The man’s answering growl was more animal than human. Once Eydri had sung them down out of the rage, he would have to have a talk with the man.

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

The knight drew back his spear and lowered himself into a guard mirroring Einarr’s. “How dare you!”

“What, don’t believe me? I’ll prove it with steel.”

Einarr could see the madness in his opponent’s eyes now. If he pushed any harder, he might go over the edge – and really, who would want that? He shut his mouth, and he and the knight circled, each looking for a weakness in the other’s guard.

Arkja was proving himself more than capable. It may have been two against one, but it was rather akin to a rat playing two cats off against each other.

Irding, too, seemed to be holding up well, keeping his opponents on their back feet by ferocity rivaling that of an actual berserker.

With Troa’s help, and the narrow passage, it was plain Einarr didn’t need to worry about Jorir, either. Einarr’s mouth curled up in a wolf’s grin.

Before the knight could take advantage of his wandering attention, Einarr shifted up out of his guard and onto the offense. He dashed forward, and even as he raised Sinmora for an overhand blow the enemy took the bait. As his shoulders tensed and twitched forward, Einarr slammed his shield down and its rim clashed loudly against the hilt of the spear. The weapon itself plowed into the ground at Einarr’s feet, and as the knight stumbled forward Einarr brought his knee up into his opponent’s nose at the same moment he brought Sinmora’s hilt down on the back of his neck. There was a dull crack and the knight fell limply to the ground.

Arkja glanced over as he saw the leader of the knights fall. Unless Einarr was mistaken, this was beginning to wear on him – and he was well aware of Irding’s endurance. He took one step more and pivoted so that he was aimed at one of the two Arkja toyed with before thrusting himself forward once more. Here, Einarr was lucky: the man had his spear arm upraised – likely trying to pin Arkja’s foot to the ground. Sinmora’s tip found the hollow under the knight’s shoulder and nearly severed the arm.

The knight screamed, but it was cut abruptly off by a slice of Arkja’s blade. Interestingly, the knights’ blood was still vibrantly red. Corrupted or not, they have affirmed themselves servants of Malúnion.

Now Einarr pointed himself in Irding’s direction: the other one Arkja fought wouldn’t last long. He charged forward once more, and just as his shield was knocking one of Irding’s two off-balance Irding buried his axe in the other’s throat. Now there was only one left, and just as he could see madness in their leader’s eye before, now Einarr could see fear. The question was if he feared their assault more than accusations of cowardice.

Apparently, the word “knight” meant something to this one: the set of his jaw changed, and he took a firmer grip on his weapon as he stared down Irding, who very deliberately did not look at Einarr.

“Be quick about it, then,” Einarr said. They had nearly won their way free of the fortress walls. The last thing they wanted to do was get bogged down here. He sheathed Sinmora and then moved to stand behind Jorir and next to Troa. “What can I do?”

“Can ye seal what we just blasted open?” Jorir asked, taking another chop at the cursed warrior currently trying to force its way through.

“Give me just a moment.” Einarr was certain that he could, at least well enough to stop their enemies. Just as he was about to begin with again, it struck him Ice wouldn’t really add anything. What he needed here was Ár, to shape the earth under the wall, and Yr to harden it into a shield. Then the only real question was how long he could maintain it, especially given how often they were calling on the runes for this assault. Just do what you can, he reminded himself, and he drew ᛃᛉ in the ground at Jorir’s feet.

“On my mark, move away from the hole. Ready? Now!”

Jorir jumped back. Einarr activated his inscription.

Immediately there was a sound like a falling boulder and the earth beneath the wall burst up to fill the hole – and froze there. Einarr released his breath and the runes, and they stayed where they were supposed to be. He nodded. “Simple inscriptions are the best.”

Jorir chuckled and looked about to speak, but then a groaning sound came from behind them.

Einarr turned and saw, from the middle of a road strewn with the bodies of the knights, that one of them wasn’t quite dead yet.

“You… worthless… infidel,” it growled. The voice was lower and raspier than before, Einarr thought. “Did you really think one such as I would fall to such trickery?”

“I had hoped as much, yes.” Einarr’s hand moved once again to Sinmora’s hilt, but he did not yet draw. Something was off. “You’ve lost – you, and all your men, and your pets.”

“We have lost, yes. These frail bodies could not stand before your treachery. But we are merely tools of the great god of the deeps, and he will never fall before the likes of you.”

Einarr knew with sudden, sick certainty where this was going, and if the half-dead (or, perhaps, all dead?) body before them stopped talking it would be because it no longer needed to stall. “Take it down, now!”

Already the flesh was beginning to turn gray as a draugr’s, and the shoulders began to twitch unnaturally. His team never hesitated, thank the gods, and almost as one all five of them descended on the transforming body. Not long thereafter, it lay in bloody pieces strewn across the wall road.

“Let’s go. We don’t have any time to lose.” Einarr wiped his sword on the pant leg of one of the fallen knights and trotted off, deeper into the city. The others were not far behind. None of them knew which would last longer, after all: the plug in the wall, or the attention span of the monsters outside.

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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

 

Jorir shouldered his way forward as Einarr slipped back into the open space behind their line. I wonder how the other teams are getting on? He shook his head: there was no way to find out, and he had more important matters to hand.

In one smooth motion he slid Sinmora back into her sheath and drew a piece of chalk from his belt pouch. The simplest way to crack rock is with Isa – ice. One single downward stroke accomplished that – but then he hesitated. Isa was stasis, so by itself it wouldn’t do much. He needed something else to actually sunder the block.

Then another thought occurred to him: if they were under assault from this side, wasn’t it likely there would be more enemies on the other side of the wall? In that case…

Einarr activated first, and cold began to radiate off the stone. He could actually see the cold air falling away from it. Then he drew a and put the full force of his will into it, directing it like a hammer blow away and into the fortress.

The stone shattered like a thunderclap.

The cursed warriors pressing his team froze as though stunned by the noise. From the other side of the wall, Einarr heard shouts of surprise and pain as whoever waited there was pelted by the shattered block.

“Let’s move!” Einarr traded his chalk for his sword once again and ducked into the opening Jorir had cut before the dust had begun to clear.

When he emerged from the cloud he saw five or six men – ordinary men, so far as he could tell – sporting well-tended maille and shields made entirely of steel. If these men had the black blood, they had not yet succumbed to it. Einarr dropped into a wary guard as his companions dashed through behind him. Jorir came last and stood facing their impromptu gate, taking out the cursed ones as they tried to follow.

“Who do you serve?” Einarr demanded.

One of the men they faced laughed, but didn’t lower his guard. “I’ll ask the questions here.”

Einarr was well aware of the absurdity. “If those black-blooded men and the tentacled cats are your allies, then we are foes. But your squad appears to be in their right mind. Who do you serve?”

Now the man sneered back. “How dare you compare my men and me to animals such as those! We are of the Talon Knights, elite guard of the Holy City Cresurgh!”

“Holy – to whom?” Troa’s usual calm felt unusually tight to Einarr.

The spokesman went on as though they hadn’t said anything. “Those cats, and the animals pressing at the gates, are as pets to our order.”

Why am I not surprised? Einarr tensed, ready to strike the moment he saw a weakness.

Irding made an opening. He let loose a war cry and charged, both axes held behind himself. He chopped at the spokesman’s knees.

The knight jumped back to avoid the blow. Irding smoothly pivoted to bury one axe in the leg of a different knight.

Meanwhile, the talkative one had taken his eyes off of Einarr. Now! Einarr lunged, shield first, to shove him off-balance. As the knight stumbled, Einarr brought Sinmora down to chop at his opponent’s elbow.

Sinmora clanged off the shield. Somehow, he had the presence of mind to catch himself with one hand and bring the shield around, even with the surprise attack.

The knight, crouched over backwards, sneered at Einarr. Then there was a flash of silver, and before Einarr could react his opponent was upright again, if still crouching, and the breeze cooled a trickle of blood through a new slice in Einarr’s trousers.

“Tsk. You might almost be as good as you think you are.” A drop of blood dripped from the knight’s spear. Einarr had not realized that was what the man wielded until just that second.

“Thanks. I try.” Einarr did not take his eyes off the rising knight. That was faster than he’d ever heard of a man being. Was it Malúnion’s power, or was he just that good? Arkja had drawn his blade, as well, and he and Irding each fought two of these Talon Knights while Einarr dueled their leader. Meanwhile, Jorir and Troa were still busy trying to keep the cursed warriors from coming through and overwhelming them. I need to end this quickly. “Holy City, huh? So, is everyone here a damn Squiddie?”

The semi-permanent sneer on the man’s face twisted into a snarl. “Watch your tongue!”

Einarr had to fend off three strikes in quick succession. He turned the spear on the first one and side-stepped the second, but the third put a second tear in his pant leg. Still, Einarr was satisfied. The knight was an excellent warrior, but he was easily nettled. He thought he saw how to break past his guard, too, but he wanted to test it again before he committed.

“Talon knights? Don’t you mean tentacle knights?”

As hoped, that provoked another flurry of stabs from the knight’s spear. And, as Einarr thought, when in the middle of one of those flurries, the man dropped his shield. Not very far, and not for very long, but it would be enough. He dropped into a low stance, Sinmora held up and back, as though he were going to try his shield charge again. “Real question, though, Squid knight. How many of those cursed warriors used to be knights like you?”

The knight’s face reddened at the appellation of ‘squid knight.’ He might not even have heard the question. This time he abandoned defense entirely and stabbed for Einarr’s belly.

Einarr sidestepped. The tip of his spear caught in the brokkrsteel maille and snapped. The knight stumbled forward, and Einarr brought Sinmora down. The knight had been moving just a little too quickly, though, and so rather than striking the knight’s head from his shoulders it clashed against the back of his silvered armor. Some of the silvering flaked off: underneath, it was black as coal.

“Holy City, my foot. Malúnion is nothing more than a minion of Hel, and before this day is through you will know it personally!”

Hi everyone. Thanks for reading! 

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

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

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

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