Category: Valkyrie

8.15 – A Slight Wrinkle

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Aye, sir,” the two men echoed.

“Now, this way, if you please.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“But what if…”

“What if?”

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

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

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

“Why are we only hearing about this now?”

Liupold hesitated.

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

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

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

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

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

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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading!

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

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

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

October 8, 2019
8.14 – Kettleness

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Of course.”

“What happened at Langavik?” Liupold asked.

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

“Survivors?”

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

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

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

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

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

It was worse.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading!

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

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

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

October 7, 2019
8.13 – Agreement

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Yes. How did you guess?”

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

“What of the massacred village?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading!

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

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

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

October 7, 2019
8.12 – A New Quest

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Einarr nodded and Eydri went to speak with Runa.

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

“Gladly. Valuable information, that.”

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, and good luck.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“The kitchen? Where food is prepared?”

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

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

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

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

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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading!

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

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

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

October 6, 2019
8.11 – Petition

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Hopeless,” Bollinn began.

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

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

Liupold’s brow creased. “The distaff?”

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

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

“What did Hrist say of me?”

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

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

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

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

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Hi everyone. Thanks for reading!

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

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

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

October 6, 2019
8.10 – Parley

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

In the morning, whether by excellent foresight or an excess of caution, Captain Kormund ordered that they continue rowing under sail, as the wind remained favorable. He also doubled the watch off their stern. No-one seemed surprised, and if there was grumbling about all the rowing, it was directed at the accursed Imperials who seemed intent on running the Eikthyrnir to ground.

Indeed, come midmorning, a shimmer on the horizon swiftly resolved itself into the all-too-familiar shape of an Imperial dromon under full sail. Another round of cursing traveled around the deck of the ship, and some of the men muttered darkly about effeminate Imperial magicians and enslaved spirits.

Captain Kormund had a whispered conference of rather fierce intensity, and then an order was given that really got the sailors talking.

They dropped the sea anchor and furled the sail. Evidently, the Captain intended to wait for the other ship and confront them directly.

The men readied for boarding. Some of the rasher of their number likely looked forward to taking the fight to their pursuers. Most of them, however, were not so angry as to forget what happened the last time they tried to fight this ship.

The dromon accepted the invitation. Over the next several hours, they watched the ship grow incrementally closer. As it did, two things became plain. First, the ship itself did shine, although in the full light of day it was harder to tell. Second, the nearer the ship drew the harder it was to be angry about it and the easier it was to admit, at least to oneself, that they were afraid of it. Like hiding in a hunting blind while a giant bear searched for berries above your head, as Vold had described it. Naudrek and Hrug looked at Einarr, and he could see in their faces the very thing he was thinking.

Finally, the dromon, too, dropped its sea anchor. They were within hailing distance, if only just. Captain Kormund strode to the bulwark and called across.

“Hail, enemy ship of the Order of the Valkyrie! You are within Clan waters, pursuing a vessel on peaceful errand. If you do not break off we will be forced to seek an alliance against you.”

Einarr tried to think who controlled this area, between the ruins of Langavik and the svartalfr stronghold. Did the thane over Langavik still care? Or had he ceded control to the cult?

“Hail, pirate scum!” Came the reply from the other ship, spoken just as coolly as Kromund’s initial call. Predictably, a dull roar of protest rose up off the deck of the Eikthyrnir.

“We have reason to believe that you will soon be in contact with those responsible for unleashing a curse of corruption upon the peoples of Langtoft and Southwaite, and that they have among their number those capable of ending this affliction.”

Einarr froze. None of the cultists had gotten away, that he knew of, so how…?

“Our information suggests that one of their number may be aboard your ship. If this is so, we will gladly accept him as a guest on the Arkona, but we must still ask that you guide us to those we seek.”

The Captain, to his credit, did not hesitate. “We refuse. I say again, return to your port and leave us be.”

“We refuse. We cannot and will not abandon these people to such a fate. Moreover, the Order holds that responsibility for this curse rests with the Clans, as its origin, which we have just yesterday visited, is within Clan waters.”

Einarr bit off a curse.

“Then it seems we are at an impasse. I had hoped to avoid fighting…”

“You are welcome to try.”

“Wait.” Einarr stepped forward. “I know only one way of ending that curse, and it is bloodshed. If you wish to stop it in its tracks, then burn Langtoft and Southwaite to the ground. Leave none alive, and pray you do not have one of the horrors in the region.”

“You are the one Hrist spoke of?”

“Perhaps. It is true that last summer my father’s ship pursued some kidnappers into the island we just left, and as we escaped we did battle with the svartalfr cultists who lived beneath it. Some of the elder Singers were able to cleanse us of the corruption, but only with the aid of a divine artifact.”

“Then we would ask you to finish what you started, and cleanse these islands of the plague you released upon them, and bring with you the artifact.”

“I cannot go with you.” So long as one of those horrific creatures that had escaped the cultists’ hulls was not in the area, burning it to the ground was still the surest way to ensure it did not spread. “I can warn you not to let the black blood touch you, and I can sincerely wish you the best of luck eradicating the corruption, but it is not me you need, nor any of the Vidofnings. Only the stomach to do what is needed, and the knowledge that those with the black blood are no longer men but monsters.”

There was a long pause from the dromon. “Hrist assures me that your presence will be necessary on the archipelago, and wishes me to mention a… black kraken.”

Now he blanched. “I had hoped that thing would die of its wounds. It was all we could do to keep it from destroying our ship.”

“We would follow you to speak with your father, whatever you say.”

Einarr sighed. “He will tell you what I have told you, and at that point you will be farther from the afflicted towns. But-” and he turned to Captain Kormund. “It is true that the horror of the black kraken would likely still be bound in the hull of a demon-ship called Grendel if we had not fought them there.”

The captain’s nostrils widened momentarily, then he nodded. “Very well. We will escort you as far as this man’s port. But if you do not wish to invite further attack, I recommend sailing in our wake. It may be wise to run up your white flag, if you have such a thing.”

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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.

October 5, 2019
8.8 – Cat and Mouse

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

“Explain.”

Einarr took a deep breath. Of everything that happened last year, this was the worst. “If these are the islands I think they are, there will be an entrance to a svartalfr fortress under that island.” He gestured, indicating the green-topped island with no apparent beaches. “We chased a ship of cultists here last summer after they kidnapped my bride. They were also responsible for the massacre of Langavik.”

Captain Kormund’s frown turned thoughtful. “It’s true, the svartalfs are unsavory types…”

Einarr shook his head. “No. They’re not… not alfs anymore, the ones who were in the first place. Some of the cultists used to be human, as well, and some were dwarves. But when we fought them, they were all corrupted monsters.”

“Corrupted how?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously.

“Black-blooded tentacled horrors wearing men like skinsuits, sir. And if they bled on you, the corruption spread. We dealt them a serious blow in our escape, I think, but… but even the ruins of Langavik would be a more auspicious hiding place.”

“If you had not declared yourself a cursebreaker, I might accuse you of making all this up.”

Einarr shuddered in thinking about the kind of mind that could invent what he had seen. “If anything, sir, I’ve underplayed what we saw here. It was directly responsible for me ending up in the Shrouded Village, half a world away from the Vidofnir.” That was perhaps not strictly true: there was little to do with runes here, after all, but the events led in a straight line.

The Captain paused to think for a moment, then shook his head. “I hear your warning. However, I also hear that the evil creatures which dwelled below were dealt a serious defeat last summer, by your own hand, and that there is an excellent place to hide beneath that island. I have no idea how that Order dromon is matching us knot for knot, but I know that continuing to run as we have will exhaust the men to no effect. Therefore, I believe I will take my chances.” He smiled at Einarr, and it was more the predatory grin of a wolf than anything stag-like.

Einarr straightened up stiffly. “I suppose even telling you that it was our ships that burned Langavik when we found it drenched in blood cannot change your mind?”

“That is correct, sailor. Return to your post.”

“Aye, sir.”

The worst part was not that the captain would not heed his warning. No, under the circumstances that was all too understandable, especially since the Captain hadn’t witnessed the horrors himself. No, the worst part was wondering how much of the cult’s taint still lingered. The storm had broken when they fought last summer – but what did that mean?

The cave waterway was right where Einarr expected it to be. Captain Kormund ordered a stop at the entrance. He hadn’t noticed it before, but on the cliffs outside the cave entrance were grassy ledges. They were small, and probably not terribly comfortable, but a man or maybe two could sit and look out over the ocean. Kormund left two men with a hunting horn and instructions to blow it once an hour if the coast was clear. One of them grabbed a pole and line before he got off the boat. Einarr wasn’t sure he would want to eat the fish from these waters, but ordinarily it would have been a good plan.

Once the lookouts were in place on their perches outside, the Eikthyrnir slipped into the cave where last summer the Vidofnir had once more come face to face with the ship that killed his stepmother.

Einarr fought against holding his breath, but the cave was more or less as they’d left it – at least as far in as Captain Kormund took his ship. The sea anchor was lowered just past where the shadow of the cave wall fell, so that the Eikthyrnir should be all but impossible to spot from the outside. Einarr would not be able to see what became of the city since their battle – but he wasn’t truly sure he wanted to, anyway.

The first time the horn sounded, everyone on board jumped. They hadn’t realized just how tense they were, waiting in the shadows, until it sounded. After that, they relaxed a little and settled in for a long wait. Four times the horn had sounded, then five, and they were beginning to think the dromon had finally turned aside.

At the sixth hour, as counted by Hraerek, there was no horn. The games of dice and other friendly diversions ceased.

Again at the seventh hour they waited for a sound that never came.

At the eighth hour, the dromon appeared in the mouth of the cave and stopped there. Einarr’s breath caught. What had happened to their lookouts? There was no shelter to speak of on their tiny ledges: the Valkyrians could hardly have missed seeing them.

Then he noticed something that almost wiped the thought of their lookouts from his mind: the dromon cast no shadow on the water. Indeed, it almost looked as though it cast its own light. Einarr glanced to his side and saw Vari standing there, also staring at the ship that had chased them all this way. “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

“It’s… real, right?”

“Sure looks real.”

“It’s beautiful.”

“So’s a jellyfish, under the right conditions. Doesn’t mean I want anything to do with one.”

“Nah, of course not. Only, why?”

“If we knew that, I don’t think we’d be here.”

Someone shushed them, but the dromon was already backing out of the mouth of the cave to continue on its way.

Once it was gone, it was another few hours before the horn sounded the all-clear again. The Eikthyrnir slipped from its hiding place and reclaimed its watchmen, who even after all these hours still seemed badly shaken.

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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.

October 4, 2019
8.7 – Gossip

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

Captain Kormund turned downright broody as the Eikthyrnir sailed away from their ill-fated ambush. It seemed he was also troubled by the other ship’s behavior.

No-one on board could explain why they had started to board and then simply disengaged. Some agreed with Einarr – plainly there was some sort of power struggle happening, as no rational captain would break off an attack at that moment. Others held with Vari, that the whole matter was an elaborate display of dominance.

What the Captain thought, no-one was sure. He ordered a double lookout, set them on course, and then retired to the stern of the ship, where he stared out over the water. No-one was willing to disturb him at this, at least not yet.

At dawn the next day, the dromon was once again visible behind them. It was plain when a sailor noticed its return by the moment they let out a curse entirely unrelated to what they had been about at the time. By breakfast there was not a soul aboard not speculating about the dromon save the Captain and his Mate.

The chatter became a dull roar of consternation and excitement as the day wore on, until there were some who forgot their duties as their speculations grew ever wilder.

“Enough!” Captain Kormund roared at this point, and chatter ceased.

“I don’t know any more than you, right now,” the Captain admitted. “About how they beat us at every turn, or why they let us go like they did, or why they’re after us in the first place. But they are unmistakeably after this ship.”

A brave voice piped up from among the sailors. “But why can’t we give ‘em the slip?”

The Captain shook his head. “I don’t know how they tracked us at night, and I don’t know how they found us again after they broke off yesterday. But what I do know is – we’re not licked yet.”

A cheer of agreement traveled around the deck.

“We’ve got a good wind now, although nought but empty seas for quite a distance. We’re bringing back the one hour rowing shifts, but I’m keeping us under full sail. If they can keep up with the Eikthyrnir with her at a full clip, I’m going to have to get clever.”

The cheer went around again, a bit more enthusiastic this time. Einarr nodded to himself. This was a very different ship than his father ran, but Kormund managed it masterfully. Einarr would be shocked if each and every one of these men weren’t as loyal to their captain as Erik or Tyr were to his father.

“That’s what I like to hear. Now, get to it! I want the first team manning their oars before the lookouts are back to their posts.”

They rowed under sail for as long as the wind was with them, but still the Valkyrian ship remained on their tail. Einarr began to wonder if they really were under the command of the Valkyrie that had nearly killed him last summer, and if so what reason she might have for coming after him. When he caught himself thinking this, he snorted. “That was a stupid jest, and you know it.”

He did, but he would have sounded more convincing, even to himself, if the other ship did anything other than gain on them, slowly but surely. And Einarr was not the only one beginning to fall prey to the more ludicrous theories.

Finally, though, the Captain turned them to the north after days of sailing, not knowing if or when the dromon would decide to attack in earnest. There would be another tiny archipelago, or shallows, or some other hazard that they could use to lose the dromon. Anything, he thought, to break the monotony of the chase.

The wind turned against them and they furled the sail. Even then, rowing against the wind, they only managed to gain a little on the other ship. Mutterings started again among the sailors, in spite of the confidence built from the Captain’s earlier speech. It should have been impossible for a dromon of that size, especially one with sea fire, to keep up with a longship built for speed over the open ocean. And yet, for more than a week now it had kept pace or gained on them. Dark mutters of black magic and captive vindstenger became more frequent around the deck of the ship.

Dark shapes were coming up on the horizon, somewhat larger than the rocky atoll they had played hide and seek in before. If they couldn’t lose the dromon here, Einarr thought they would have to hope for a storm – or they would have to catch the Order ship by surprise, which he felt less confident in since they had been trounced the other day.

The islands that rose into view as the Eikthyrnir scudded northward seemed somehow familiar to Einarr, in a way that left him feeling fainly queasy. He didn’t think he’d ever been near to Eskiborg, however.

One island in particular caught his eye. It rose tall out of the water, like the hand of a giant or a god. Dark cliffs fell toward water almost as dark, with no hope of a beach or a cove for shelter. Einarr’s breath caught in his throat: all this lacked to be the island where they had rescued Runa from the cult was a roiling storm above.

“Sir?” He hurried to where the Captain stood before the mast, his gaze continually scanning the horizon.

“What is it?”

“Where are we, exactly?”

“Somewhat north of where we wished to be, I’m afraid.”

“No, sir, this is important. Are we near Langavik?”

The captain’s mouth twisted in distaste. “What’s left of it, yes.”

A groan escaped from Einarr’s chest. “This is an evil place, sir. Please, even if it means we cannot shake our tail, do not tarry here.”

That got a furrowed brow and crossed arms from Captain Kormund. “Explain.”

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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.

October 4, 2019
8.6 – Ambush

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

“Maybe they want us to lead them somewhere?”

“That’s my thought. Only, where?”

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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.

October 3, 2019
8.5 – Pursuit

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

Captain Kormund froze a moment, staring at Einarr. He blinked, then swore quietly. “You. A Cursebreaker. How long?”

“Almost a year now.”

The Captain swore again. “So you’ve made it long enough to know you attract trouble. When were you intending to tell me about this?”

Einarr paused in his preparations. He hadn’t even thought about that: it felt like ages since it had come up, although in reality it was only late last summer. “You’re right. I should have mentioned that. My apologies: I was named Cursebreaker by an alfish Oracle early last spring. She recommended I learn the runes. By midsummer, I agreed.”

Captain Kormund looked at him flatly for a long moment, then sighed. “You’ve made it this far, and I suppose I can’t just strand you somewhere. Carry on.”

Einarr blanched. It was truly lucky that Kormund thought well of his father, he thought.

Neither Hrug nor Einarr saw the point in setting up the full divination ritual. Either the dromon was a Valkyrie, or it was not: either it was after them, or it was not. Even the more limited reading,though, would have been a problem to set up alone on deck.

At length, the circle was drawn and the runes were set Hrug gestured for the Captain to seat himself at its center.

“Excuse me?”

“The one in the center of the array recieves the revelations,” Einarr explained.

“Ah. Very well, then.” With no further hesitation, the Captain stepped into the ritual seat, taking care not to disturb the charcoal markings on his deck. “I am ready.”

Hrug nodded and sat at the edge of the circle. His brow furrowed as he focused his will, and then he reached out to touch the line.

Captain Kormund’s eyes grew wide momentarily before he closed them. The double vision caused by these visions could be quite disorienting otherwise.

The vision was a brief one: only a minute later, his eyes opened again and he exhaled sharply. Kormund looked directly at Einarr. “Damnit all. I appreciate you sounding the alarm about the ship early, but part of me is still inclined to blame you. Yes, they are of the Order of the Valkyrie, and yes, they are pursuing us. But, in that case, fine. I’ve outrun Order ships before.”

That evening, they lit no torches, and the hearth was extinguished immediately after dinner. Once the sunset had faded into full night, Captain Kormund gave the order to unfurl the sail. They would be sailing by starlight, as thankfully there was no moon: with luck, it would suffice.

The ship was almost eerily silent as it slipped off into the night: all Einarr could hear was the lapping of water against the side of the boat and the occasional rapping of knuckles against the hull in a set of signals unique to the Eikthyrnir.

Still, he kept a watchful eye behind them. He had no real hope that he would see them at that distance in the dark of night, but to not watch seemed the height of folly. And, perhaps, he would be able to catch their silhouette against the indigo sky. All night, he stared at the horizon behind them, never sure if he saw the other ship moving or not – certain, only, that they were too far to hear the sound of oars.

At some point he slept, and all the while refought his battle against the Order from nearly a year ago. At dawn he awoke with a groan.

“You’ve got that right,” Naudrek said from where he stood, leaning against the bulwark.

Einarr stood and went to look out over the water. He groaned again, lowering his forehead to the wood. There was the dromon, the wing-and-spear symbol of the Order plain on its sail. They had not lost it in the night: on the contrary, the ship appeared to have drawn closer in spite of their efforts. “Why does this not surprise me.”

“Because nothing is ever easy, my friend. Nothing is ever easy.”

“Especially not when the gods decide someone has to clean up all the black magic floating around, and you look like a good candidate.” He wished the Captain hadn’t reminded him of all the trouble his calling brought along with it. After the winter, he’d almost managed to put it behind him.

Naudrek laughed. “Yep, that’s a Cursebreaker all right. But based on what you said about last Season, I think we’ll be all right here.”

“You say that now. Just watch, it turns out they’re all possessed and under the control of that monster cult.”

“An Order ship? More likely they’ve got an actual Valkyrie giving them orders, and she wants a rematch.”

Now it was Einarr’s turn to laugh. “Nope. Not doing that again. She can have the feather back if that’s what she’s after.”

Naudrek smirked at Einarr. “That’s more like it. Last night can’t have been the only trick up the captain’s sleeve, so let’s not despair just yet, shall we?”

“Deal.”

As Naudrek expected, Captain Kormund had more tricks up his sleeve than the nighttime evasion. All that day they kept the sail furled and rowed. Every hour or so Hraerek would ring a bell and the rowers would change shift so that everyone stayed relatively fresh.

By all rights, they should have left the dromon in their wake this way. But all through that day they rowed, and they never seemed to put any distance at all between themselves and the Valkyrian ship. Einarr started to wonder if they really had bound a vindstang to the ship.

For his part, the captain seemed only mildly impressed. As the day wore on, Einarr noted that they had shifted course somewhat to the east. He wasn’t overly familiar with the waters in these parts, but he had to assume there was some sort of obstacle they were aiming for. Captain Kormund was a canny fellow, after all. Einarr did his best not to clench his fists around the oars, lest white knuckles betray his nerves.

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October 3, 2019