Tangled Threads Publishing

Tag: Einarr Stigandersen

  • Einarr Stigandersen and the Inflation Adjustment of 2025

    Einarr Stigandersen and the Inflation Adjustment of 2025

    As some of you may or may not have already been aware, Amazon has declared that, as of June 10, 2025, the royalty rate on paperbacks priced below $9.99 will go down from 60% to 50% – probably because of margins on their end, but their stated reasons were vague. This means that I will have to raise the price on my Einarr series.

    As this is the case, and since the paperbacks on other platforms (offered through Draft2Digital) are already priced at $9.99, I will be taking this opportunity to equalize the price across platforms.

    I anticipate changing the price within Amazon sometime after the first of June. So, if you want to pick up a copy of any of the first eight books, now is the time.

  • 14.38 – Denouement

    14.38 – Denouement

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this last chapter. Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design.

    Some months later, the remainder of the Fleet sailed into Breidelstein harbor, Bea’s Valkyrie ships integrated into their number and most of their dead laid to rest off the coast of the cursed isle. The charred bones of Arring and Thjofgrir rode in state, along with one or two others, to allow the people of Breidelstein the chance to pay their respects, as well.

    Someone must have ordered a lookout for the fleet, because as they sailed into port, the streets were lined with somber crowds. It looked as though the entire city had come out to welcome them back. They had sent no word ahead, so perhaps this – as well as the anxious mood of the crowd – was understandable.

    As they neared the piers, three ships moved out ahead of the rest: The Heidrun, the Lúmskulf, and, between them, the Vidofnir.

    When Stigander stepped to the gangplank and raised a fist high overhead, the crowd erupted into cheers. Soon, he was joined on the pier by Einarr, then by Kaldr, and then, after another moment, by Bea, who grinned at the crowd before her. Her appearance occasioned some little surprise, but not enough to dampen anyone’s enthusiasm.

    These four strode at the head of a long procession of warriors, Captains and crews together, up the cliff road to Raenshold. There, they were met at the gate by Uncle Gorgny, steward during Stigander’s absence, and Runa with Alfvin, flanked by what looked like everyone who lived in the Hold. Einarr blinked in surprise to see how much little Alfvin was grown in less than a year. He still managed to smile at everyone as Stigander accepted back the crown and sword of his office.

    Runa, their son on her hip, fell in beside him as the procession continued on toward the main hall, now larger by the residents of Raenshold. “Welcome home.”

    “I’m glad to be home. What did I miss?”

    “Other than me, I presume?”

    He glanced down, wary, but her expression was impish. He wrapped an arm around her waist, between her and Alfvin. “Of course.”

    “He’s not talking yet, but he can walk. Or, more accurately, he runs. Everywhere.”

    It was all Einarr could do not to laugh. He was pretty sure it wasn’t going to be funny for long. “That’s my boy, I guess.”

    Alfvin giggled and grabbed at Runa’s ear. When she had distracted him again – Einarr had no idea with what – she continued. “Still no sign of any trouble from our little adventure in Svartalfheimr, but we’re watching.”

    “Good.”

    The procession neared the doors of the Thane’s Hall now, and all fell silent. Stigander made a gesture, and the guards flanking the doors threw them open.

    It had not, in fact, been the entire population of the hold who had come to greet them at the gates, for the Hall, too, was packed with people. Certain familiar faces stood out to Einarr: there was his father-in-law, Jarl Hroaldr. His presence, at least, was no surprise: he had probably stayed to play with his grandson. There, the old men from the Althing before they left – Kjartan, and Geirleif, Tore and Olaf and Thorgnyr. Surely they had not stayed here the entire time? Or was the idea that they had returned ahead of the fleet more troubling?

    The Hall was eerily silent as the procession marched up the center of the Hall. When Stigander and Einarr took the first step up towards the dias, however, a low rumble began in the back of the room, and as the returning column filled the hall to bursting it grew into a full-throated cheer.

    Stigander raised his arms and, as though on command, the crowd fell silent once more. “And now,” he intoned, “for the second time in less than a year, the Althing is convened, so that all may know the results of our quest.”

    * * *

    Unlike in the spring, the Althing stretched on, long past what was customary and to the point where some wondered if Breidelstein would be required to host the entire fleet of ships over the winter. This would be no small feat for a country as prosperous as Breidelstein had been under Raen. As things were now, having only just escaped from Ulfr and the Weavess? It would be ruinous. Oh, there was glory to be shared, and honor to be gained, and there could be no doubt that the men who had joined the fleet would gain much face on their return home, but already it began to strain the thin coffers that they had hardly begun to rebuild. Einarr found his time more and more taken up with the daily running of Breidelstein and he stopped following the Althing.

    Runa caught Einarr worrying over it one night and suddenly discovered that she had business to attend to with the other Singers. Some hours later, when she returned, he was too tired from running after Alfvin to worry about much of anything.

    Rumors began to circulate, though, starting among the warriors of the fleet. Whispers that, with as well as the Fleet performed together, unified, perhaps there would be value to the Clans more generally from a similar joining. At first, he thought nothing of it. Truly, it would be a good idea, but he had missed most of a year of his son’s life, and there were precious few of those before Alfvin would have to leave to study under the Oracle. Then he saw an expression on Runa’s face, when two men were discussing it in his hearing, that suggested she was the cat who got the cream. His hackles immediately rose.

    Three days later, a servant came to inform him he was wanted for the discussions in the Hall.

    The doors of the Hall stood open when he arrived, and as he turned to face the Thanes and Jarls in the room before him he smoothed sweaty palms on his tunic. Inside, Runa offered him an encouraging smile.

    Ahead, Stigander stood on the step of the dais, beckoning him forward. Suddenly the expectant looks of the powerful men in the room seemed as heavy as all the stone over Nilthiad. He squared his shoulders and entered anyway. When he reached the dais, he stood shoulder to shoulder with his father and opened his mouth. Before he could ask what this was all about, however, Thane Thorgnyr rose from where he had been seated in deliberations.

    “Einarr son of Stigander son of Raen, you have brought great honor upon your head. Not only did you return at the head of the fleet after a successful quest, every man in this Hall recalls how you fought to bring that fleet together in the first place. In the months since you have left, word has reached our domains of other cities razed by these madmen… some in the time since you must have left their island stronghold.”

    Einarr bowed his head slightly – he was a prince and a war-leader, but Thorgnyr was Thane to his father-in-law. “Thank you, milord.”

    Thorgnyr smirked, and Einarr’s belly went cold. “It has been agreed among the Althing that one is needed whom we can all answer to. We would not have been caught so unawares by the mad cult had we been more trusting of one another. Therefore, for the first time in centuries, the Clans have agreed amongst themselves to acclaim an Althane.”

    The cold in Einarr’s belly turned to an iceberg. Surely they couldn’t mean him? He cleared his throat. “My lords. I have spent the first decade of my career at sea as a humble freeboater. I have claimed my birthright, but it still sits strangely on my shoulders. I do not think…”

    “You are too modest.” A woman’s voice rang out over the Hall, but not from the Singers conclave. Bea stood up and stepped forward. “Your native wit and wisdom – which, I might add, extends to your choosing of advisors – serve you well, such that even I find myself indebted to you. It is no small thing to earn the gratitude of a Gundahar.”

    Thorgnyr inclined his head to Beatrix as to an equal. Any other Imperial likely would have been mortally offended: thankfully, Beatrix was not so minded.

    “The Princess speaks what we all believe. Furthermore, she has suggested that such a joining could bring financial benefits to the Clans, as well as security. Furthermore, while you are currently heir to Breidelstein, you are also Lord over no lands. This is a rare combination. However, acclaiming an Althane against his will would, perhaps, be worse than acclaiming no Althane at all. Will you stand before the Althing and permit the vote?”

    Einarr gaped, aware that he probably looked rather like a fish. Finally, he managed to speak. “Might I have a word with my wife, first?”

    No-one raised any objection. Indeed, Stigander pulled aside a curtain behind the dais and motioned them both back.

    Out from under the watchful eyes of all the Clan leaders, Einarr breathed a sigh of relief. He looked at Runa. “Just to be clear, you didn’t… do anything to anyone, did you?”

    She blushed, but shook her head. “I didn’t even start the rumors. Those came from out among the men of the Fleet.” She couldn’t quite suppress a girlish laugh.

    “Aye,” said a voice from behind him. Einarr jumped: he hadn’t realized anyone else was back here.

    “Jorir? What are you doing here?”

    “Keeping my ears open for trouble, mostly. But ‘twas me who started putting bees in people’s ears about the matter. I… hope ye’ll forgive the indiscretion.”

    Einarr sighed and buried his face in his hand, trying desperately not to laugh in his friend’s face. “Of course. Well. I suppose, then, that I needn’t have worried how you would take it, Runa.”

    She nodded, biting her lower lip, and pushed him back towards the curtain. “We’ll work out the succession later.”

    Einarr pushed the curtain aside and stepped back out on the dais to stand beside his father. “Very well. I will stand for the vote.”

    One by one, the leaders of the Clans stood, and one by one they pledged to follow the lead of the Althane, Einarr the Cursebreaker.

    Previous
    Table of Contents
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    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.

  • 14.37 – Arrangements

    14.37 – Arrangements

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this chapter, and every day this week you will get another until we reach the end of the story (it’s not far off). Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design at some point in there.

    Eydri saw them coming. For a while she stood still, although she was as stiff as Einarr had ever seen. When they were most of the way over to the corner where she had been, however, she suddenly began to move – along the wall, toward the stairs they had just left. Einarr stopped and blinked, a little confused. Then he looked at Naudrek. “Is she mad at me for something?”

    Naudrek shook his head, his face unreadable. “No. Not angry. At least, not at you.”

    “You know something I don’t.”

    Naudrek smirked at him, one eyebrow rising up his forehead.

    “You also know what I meant.”

    “It’s not mine to tell. Are you going after her, or are you going to give her time to calm down?”

    “…I think that is no longer my decision to make.”

    Eydri had turned on her heel and now walked stiffly back toward the three of them. Einarr turned to face her and stood quietly. She stopped in front of them and met Einarr’s eyes with a challenging stare.

    Einarr sighed. “You are my Singer, but you are also my friend. What is wrong?”

    She shook her head violently and turned that same angry look back up at his face. Then she opened her mouth to talk, but all that came out was a croaking cough at first. When the cough died down, she tried again.

    “I am ruined.” Eydri’s voice, which had once been nearly as lovely as Runa’s, came out as a rasp. Einarr’s jaw dropped.

    “You mean, your voice?” Einarr asked stupidly. She nodded.

    “Won’t it heal, given time?”

    She shook her head violently once more. “It is gone. Hrug’s working just now proved it. I will never Sing again. What am I to do now?” Coughs racked her body again. Naudrek reached out as though to comfort her, but drew back.

    Einarr took a deep breath and nodded in understanding. “I swear to you, you will always have a place at my court, as a trusted advisor. I, of all people, know that a Singer’s worth is more than just her voice.”

    Strangely, this did not seem to be what she wanted to hear. “So I am to be an advisor only, left to pace the halls with your lady wife and only hear of your feats secondhand.” Eydri squeezed her eyes shut, and her knuckles turned white on her clenched fists. She turned her back on them. “That is not what I signed on for… but I knew the risk when I began that Song.”

    Einarr’s forehead wrinkled. What in the world had she wanted? He looked at Naudrek, about to ask what he advised, but stopped. The other man had a very peculiar look on his face – one Einarr remembered all too well. He smiled as the realization dawned. “Good luck,” he mouthed and clapped him on the shoulder with his good hand. But, when Einarr and Jorir turned to give them space, Naudrek stopped him.

    “It’s you she wants.”

    “And she knows I am always and only Runa’s. That’s why this is your chance. Good luck.”

    Naudrek turned back to face Eydri and straightened his tunic. Good man, Einarr thought, as he and Jorir left them alone as quickly as Einarr could manage.

    * * *

    While the ground team were setting up an impromptu camp within the fortress and tending to their wounded, a small fishing boat crewed by Troa and the other scouts led the fleet into the harbor.

    The damage was severe. About a third of the fleet was sunk. Of the surviving boats, most merely limped along and many took on water.

    The Vidofnir was no exception. Erik and Irding clasped elbows and clapped each other’s shoulders in greeting. Then Einarr saw Stigander and Bardr leaning on each other as they crossed the harbor and ran to join them.

    “Father! What news from the fleet?”

    Stigander lifted a haggard face to his son. The fighting had been fierce: the shoulder opposite Bardr was tied with bandages, and there were more than a few places blood had seeped through already. Bardr was in worse shape: one of his legs was just about shredded and tied off with a tourniquet.

    “What of the Singers?”

    Stigander offered a wan smile. “Rejoice, my boy. We’ve won – a resounding victory. The Singers? Exhausted to a one. They’ll be down once they’ve gathered themselves somewhat.”

    Einarr nodded, swallowing the worry that had threatened to choke him when he saw the state these two were in.

    “I don’t know what it was you did, son,” Stigander said, and Einarr could hear what almost sounded like admiration in his voice. “But even after Bea showed up that fight was theirs to lose. Right up until that shockwave rolled out from the tower. We lost a couple ships to the wave, I’m afraid, but nothing like we would have lost if things had kept on as they were. And you still came back to me, so… well done.”

    “Thank you, father.”

    Movement from the ships caught his eye, and Einarr looked up to see Reki’s white figure coming slowly down the plank to the shore, followed by several other women. They walked slowly, and a few of them limped, but they held themselves erect. Probably, if Einarr’s guess was correct, trying to keep the men from worrying over them.

    “It looks like the Singers are on their way down.”

    Stigander nodded. “They’ll not be much use for healing, remember.”

    “I’m afraid Hrug and I are about spent in terms of magic, as well. Let’s leave the wounded to Jorir and the scouts, then.”

    Bardr nodded in agreement. “I’ll see to it.”

    Einarr held up a hand, trying not to look at the man’s ruined leg. “Allow me. You two should find a place to rest. All of our wounded are just back that way.” He pointed.

    “I’ll do that, then.”

    Einarr turned to walk slowly back the way he had come, towards where he had last seen Jorir. It was no coincidence that he kept pace with the other two. “We will need to speak to Reki and the other Singers, however, as regards funeral arrangements.”

    Einarr was surprised to see that Stigander’s face could still become a shade or two paler as he blanched. “At least there are no shortages of ships for a proper burial.”

    Previous
    Table of Contents
    Next

    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.

  • 14.36 – Eydri

    14.36 – Eydri

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this chapter, and every day this week you will get another until we reach the end of the story (it’s not far off). Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design at some point in there.

    The light behind his allies was blindingly white, and growing larger. It already engulfed the form of Malùnion, and as it grew brighter the sickly greenish-black form grew thinner and fainter. At last, as the bones of the figure appeared to disappear into the light, there was a soundless boom. The light compressed, and then a shockwave traveled out across the temple. His friends, not entirely caught unaware, still stumbled forward. Their torches flickered.

    Eydri’s song ended with a croak.

    When Einarr’s eyes adjusted, the other four stood over him looking worried. He wrinkled his eyebrows and smiled at them but did not move. He was well aware that something was broken, and in no hurry to find out what. “Why so serious? We won.”

    Kaldr glanced over behind them to where the body of Malùnion lay in pieces like so much broken stone. “Aye, we did.”

    His voice sounded hoarse – but then again, every one among them was exhausted. Eydri had tears in her eyes when she nodded her agreement.

    Troa cleared his throat. “My Lord… can you move?”

    “What’s the hurry?”

    “The others are waiting, Einarr. They’ll have heard that thunder, and even if everything down here is still stable we should let them know we’ve made it.”

    Einarr sighed and nodded. It wasn’t his neck, anyway. “How’s your voice, Eydri?”

    She shook her head without saying anything. He certainly couldn’t fault her for wanting to rest it for a time.

    “All right, then.” He sat up, and suddenly he knew exactly what was broken: his left shoulder. “Hey Jorir? I could use a sling.”

    A wry, if tired, smile cracked the dvergr’s face. “And this time, if my patient dies, it’s the Lady Runa who’ll have my head.” Jorir produced a long piece of cloth from somewhere and moved up to Einarr’s side.

    “Heh.” It had been a long time since Einarr had thought of that. “I’m just glad it’s not my thigh – or my back.”

    “If I might make a suggestion, milord.” Jorir focused on arranging the arm as carefully as he could.

    “Mm?”

    “Even if this heals perfectly, you might find a two-handed blade serves you better than a shield in the future.”

    “Duly noted.”

    * * *

    Einarr’s team of seven were the last ones to rejoin the others on the upper floor. Kaldr carried the husk that had once been Thjofgrir, and Svarek and Troa had the grim, bloody task of bringing up the ruins of Arring’s body. Both men had died honorably and well: neither of them could be left to rot unburied in a place like this. Einarr leaned on Naudrek’s shoulder with his good arm, Jorir stumping along beside. No-one spoke: while they had won, it had been a hard-fought battle, and the costs had been high.

    As they passed through the upper basement, past the entrance to the underground port, the others in the underground force fell in behind them. They caught their leaders’ mood, however, and so when they all emerged from the stairway, blinking in the light of day, it was as though they were an honor guard – for both the living and the dead.

    Irding looked up from oiling his blade when the others staggered out, haggard and pale but proud in victory. He raised a fist into the air and gave a ragged cheer. This was picked up by the others who had gone upstairs to take the tower.

    Wounded lined the room, all given some measure of first aid, but all would plainly benefit from the attentions of a Singer. Eydri, though, made no offer of help. That strange Song had obviously been a strain, but this was unusual even so.

    Einarr directed Naudrek and Jorir over to where Irding rested, sitting on the stair, and he, too, sat. “How did it go up there?”

    “About as well as can be expected. We took our knocks… but the defenders didn’t know what to do with themselves. Looks like we should still have enough men to crew both boats, but it might be a little thin.”

    “Good. Could you see what was happening in the harbor?”

    Irding nodded, looking out across the room. Einarr followed his gaze, and saw Eydri standing very still while Hrug drew a rune circle around her. She was looking at her feet, and had her fists clenched: Einarr hoped Hrug would be able to undo whatever damage had been done.

    “They got pincered. Things were looking really grim until those Valkyrie ships showed up.”

    “So Beatrix did show up. Good.”

    “Beatrix, and something like half her order, it looked like. Their sea-fire was all that saved us.”

    Einarr nodded. He was glad, not only that they had won but also that he might get to see a friend again. On the other hand, ensuring that things stayed friendly might be tricky. The Clans and the Empire didn’t often get along, after all. So far as Einarr knew, this might be the first time. “I’m glad I sent for aid, then,” was all he said.

    Hrug was activating the circle. Einarr looked up to watch.

    There was a brief flash of light around the hem of her skirts. Eydri opened her mouth and said something – Einarr was too far away to hear what. Then her face screwed up as though she were trying not to cry. Her shoulders squared, although she looked at the ground again, and she nodded. Hrug set about crafting a rune circle that, if Einarr was any judge, would cover the entire floor. Meanwhile, Eydri took herself off to a corner, everything about her body language screaming ‘leave me alone.’

    Einarr glanced at Naudrek, who still stood by. “Did she say anything to you while I was out down there?”

    He shook his head. “I think that may be the problem.”

    Oh no. Einarr nodded. “All right. Help me over there.”

    Jorir cleared his throat. “Are you sure that’s wise, milord?”

    Einarr quirked his mouth in a wry smile. “Maybe not. But Eydri is my friend as much as my Singer. Let’s go see if there’s anything I can do for a friend, eh?”

    Naudrek muttered something mostly under his breath. Einarr thought he caught the words “more than you bargained for.”

    Previous
    Table of Contents
    Next

    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.

     

  • 14.35 – Frenzy

    14.35 – Frenzy

    Author’s Note: Mea Culpa, Mea Culpa, Mea Maxima Culpa. This should have been posted months ago. Between March and June of this year, we moved twice – once halfway around the world – and when I wasn’t actively involved in packing/unpacking, I suddenly had the Young Master at home all the time, rather than at Montessori school. None of this was conducive to writing. So, today you will get this chapter, and every day this week you will get another until we reach the end of the story (it’s not far off). Then, sometime next week or perhaps in the first part of the new year, there will be a definitive announcement as to my next project. And, at some point in there, this website will be getting rebuilt, as recent changes appear to have broken my old design at some point in there.

    The Song, as eerie and strange as it was to Einarr’s ear, got an immediate reaction from Malùnion. The kraken-like mass of energy surged, and for a moment it seemed to be moving twice as fast. Only a moment, though: it soon became clear it had gone into a frenzy.

    Not that that was better.

    It struck wildly left and right, and then, not bothering to check if it had actually knocked them out of the way or not, surged towards Eydri. Einarr ducked past a flailing tentacle to chop at the body between them and nearly got crushed as it pushed forward. He used the arm he had just cut at as a springboard, narrowly avoiding an ignominious death. Whatever this new Song was, Malùnion seemed to hate it.

    Nobody else needed any encouragement to defend Eydri, either, of course. Whether or not they realized what she was doing, “guarding the Singer” was ingrained in the very marrow of the Clan warriors. Naudrek and Arring both leapt for an eye at the same moment, and while it flinched Einarr wasn’t certain it actually used those eyes for seeing. It was, after all, not really flesh.

    No, never mind: it was definitely looking at things through those eyes: one each focused on those two, and a moment later it lashed out with crackling arms. Naudrek barely managed to spin free of its grasp, while Arring cut the tip off the arm. It recoiled, although the arm tip quickly grew back.

    Eydri’s voice was sustaining notes he had not often heard Runa hit – and Runa had the higher voice, generally speaking. Furthermore, she was doing so at a volume best described as piercing. How long can she keep this up?

    Troa had caught its flinch, too, and now reclaimed arrows flew for its eyes. Whatever Eydri was trying to do, they had to stall it long enough for her to break down its resistance. There was a reason, after all, that Song Magic was generally only applied to ones allies.

    It wasn’t trying to seduce him into despair any longer, at least, but Einarr thought its wordless rage in the back of his head might be worse. It was perhaps harder to resist when it bore such a strong resemblance to the Singer’s battle-fury. No matter: he slashed at the octopus arms as they flailed within reach, sometimes biting deep and sometimes doing nothing more than bouncing off the surface. The frenzy had one other irritating side effect: with all those arms, it was even more difficult to get near the main body than it had been before.

    Even with their best efforts, they had closed half the distance toward where Eydri stood, singing with all her might, her eyes closed. If they didn’t manage to stop this thing before it got her, they might not be able to stop it at all. A glance to the side, where Kaldr and Naudrek fought as desperately as Einarr showed the same thought on their minds. On his other side, Arring and Troa hacked gamely away. Arring’s face looked surprisingly peaceful, and Einarr had a sneaking suspicion he knew why.

    Malùnion’s main body jerked towards him, and as Einarr dodged he had no more time to check on his companions.

    His arms moved mechanically now. Eydri’s stamina was not the only one in question. This cut, he got lucky: Sinmora found an already-open wound ahead of him and cut deeply.

    Beside him, Arring roared and leapt up into the air, his blade held high overhead. Einarr blinked, startled, as the strong man landed atop one of the writhing arms and drove the bit of his axe deep enough into the body of the demigod that it was engulfed by flesh. Malùnion’s howl reverberated through the air and through Einarr’s mind at once.

    What happened next was almost too quick to comprehend. The arm Arring stood on whipped back toward the body and wrapped itself about his middle. There was a sucking sound, and a tearing, and then Arring was slammed against one of the pillars that held up the ceiling with a sickening crunch. His axe fell to the ground and his arms flopped bonelessly, but Malùnion didn’t seem to care whether he was dead or merely senseless. The enraged demigod continued to beat Arring’s body against the pillar.

    There was the opening. Grimly, Einarr charged forward: Arring’s sacrifice would not be in vain.

    No less than three of Troa’s arrows planted themselves in the new wound before Einarr reached it, but the eight-legged demigod was far from rational now: something about the combination of Eydri’s Song and the blow that had obviously hurt it had focused all its rage on the cause of the latter. That was good for Troa, and good for Einarr.

    Einarr drove Sinmora up to the hilt into the opening Arring had made, but this didn’t seem to cause any more reaction than Troa’s arrows had.

    He had one idea left: if it didn’t work, he didn’t know what they would do. He focused on the rhythm of Eydri’s Song. This was very different from the beat Sinmora usually resonated at: even if he could make it work, he had no idea what it would do.

    It was going to do something, anyway. He felt Sinmora begin to reverberate with Eydri’s eerie singing.

    The sound of Arring’s corpse being beaten against the wall stopped as a new alarm grew in the mental whispers that still emanated from the mind of Malùnion.

    Einarr opened his mouth and let loose a primal roar. He felt the thrumming in his hands and the bones of his arms as he forced Sinmora’s blade deeper into the body. The pulsation, strangely, grew faster. It was still in time with the song, but it seemed to be racing along at the same time.

    Deep within the body of Malùnion, Sinmora shattered. Einarr felt the moment the blade gave way.

    A moment later, there was a flash of light from inside the massive body before Einarr, and he was flung away, Sinmora’s hilt still clutched in his hand. His flight came to an abrupt end when he impacted the back of one of the stone pews, not far ahead of Eydri. Lightning danced around the edges of his vision: something had broken, but he had no idea what.

    The others were racing across the floor to where he landed: he saw that before he saw what was happening behind them.

    Previous
    Table of Contents
    Next
     

    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.

  • 14.34 – Before Dawn

    14.34 – Before Dawn

    Einarr dove into a column of benches and kept low, counting on their shelter to at least keep himself from being squeezed to death. It could still crush him, right along with the benches, of course, but some cover was better than no cover here.

    Naudrek was right behind him.

    “So once we get to Arring, then what?”

    Einarr hurried along, crouching low, and shook his head. “I don’t know. Yet.”

    A tentacle slammed down into the benches just behind them, hard enough that the shockwave nearly sent them both flying.

    The next one crashed down near enough to Einarr’s nose that he almost expected to feel blood trickling down the end of it. Einarr fought the urge to freeze in place: that would only lead to both he and Naudrek being crushed where they stood. Better, then, to run and hopefully shake its attention. He came to the end of a row and paused, taking his bearings, before he dashed across the aisle.

    The demigod – so monstrous, even Hel herself would not claim its minions – was waiting for him. One of the giant octopus arms shot forward like a spear.

    His shield broke clean in half. Had the blow come a half inch further up, his arm would have, too. He hit the ground at least twenty paces back from where he started and bounced. For a moment – but only a moment, he lay there, just trying to breathe again. Everything hurt, but he didn’t dare lay there and wallow in it.

    As soon as he had a breath of wind back, he rolled to his feet and scrambled forward into the next column of benches. There he did pause for a moment: hunched over as he was, his ribs and back spasmed at the strain. When he could move again, he peeked over the top of the benches: Naudrek had nearly reached Arring – good. Kaldr and Jorir were still further out than he was, but not by much – and that only because they had circled wide to spread out the thing’s attention. Einarr grit his teeth and moved on.

    A crash, very loud this time, caused Einarr to freeze once more and look up at the scene before him.

    Arring was, he thought, out of the creature’s reach – for now. Which made it all the more impressive that Malùnion had bodily lifted Troa and flung him at the strong man – who caught him without so much as a grunt. Either it hit harder than it threw, or it got lucky when it sent Arring flying. Or, perhaps, unlucky, as the case may be.

    He managed to avoid the monster’s attention as he dashed across the next aisle, but his ear told him his friends were not so lucky.

    The squawk of Malùnion’s presence in his mind turned to a sort of chuckling sound, as though it knew it was winning. As though the time it spent bound in the vines had been worth it. And then, disturbingly, those chuckles turned to whispers in Einarr’s ear. The tone was cajoling, but the words – when there were words – were horrific. A quick glance around told him he was not the only one who heard the mental jabbering. Was that an effect of the corruption, or was it simply the way Malùnion communicated to people?

    Did he really want to know?

    What are we going to do? The question echoed in his mind. Always before he had managed to pull everyone through on the power of his wits and his sword, but here those were rapidly proving inadequate. The runes had failed, Eydri had all she could do keeping them all standing, and Malùnion’s wounds closed almost as fast as they could make them.

    The crackling black octopus’ attacks seemed to have slackened. He once again looked around the room, this time trying to determine what had drawn its attention.

    Movement, it seemed to be. Eydri was not presently Singing, but she strode across the floor with purpose. Their time to plan was over before it began. Bruised and without a shield, Einarr took Sinmora in both hands. “Don’t let it near the sorcerers!”

    “Aye, sir!” Rang across the hallway from his comrades. With hardly a break in their step, lateral movement changed to forward, and all six of them raced inward, toward the foe that seemed likely to spell their doom.

    Their best success against the monstrosity had come at the expense of Thjofgrir’s life. He didn’t want to accept it, but if their lifeblood could stop this thing from wreaking its havoc on the world above, Einarr thought that might be a trade worth making.

    Still, the trouble remained. Thjofgrir’s death had bought them only a moment’s reprieve. How, then, did they ensure their own sacrifices would not be in vain?

    Jorir, who had been closest to its main body, closed to within its guard and leapt for the main body. He planted his axe, almost at head-height for Einarr. Jorir’s momentum carried him up and over the axe handle once before he wrenched it free to land on his feet again. The blood on the axe head hissed and sizzled, as though it intended to consume the steel itself in its corruption. Einarr swore: even that small victory, gained through such hard fighting, had now disappeared. What did they have to do in order to destroy this thing?

    The voice in his ear chittered at him again, whispering of how it would just be easier to accept their fate, and how Malùnion’s dominion would be a beneficent one, and there was no point in fighting a battle you knew you could not win.

    That was where it was wrong, though. Einarr might have let himself be talked down that way, if not for that one idea. Even a futile battle could have merit: what else the meaning of the prophecies of Ragnarok?

    A high, eerie note rose through the dark temple of the dark god before them. Einarr froze for a moment, and then his eyes sought Eydri.

    She had withdrawn from where Hrug fell back towards the door, but now she stood openly in the middle of an aisle there. Einarr had never seen such an expression on her face: it was fierce like a hawk’s, and as angry as a mother bear’s. He had never heard this song before.

     

     

    Previous

    Next

    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.

     

  • 14.33 – Shattered

    14.33 – Shattered

    As one, the six men rushed for the flesh puppet that had been the high priest of the demigod. In rapid succession their blades slashed through his body, and the flesh puppet fell to the vines beneath their feet, in enough pieces that it was hard to tell he had once been human. The energy form that hovered behind the body of the flesh puppet seemed to pulse, and Einarr had the mental impression of a bird of prey’s screech. He held his breath.

    With a sound like breaking glass, the rune circle shattered. The vines disappeared from beneath their feet. Even as he tumbled to the ground, Einarr heard Hrug scream. The sorcerer clutched his head in his hands and fell to the floor bleeding.

    Einarr rolled to his feet: he seemed to still be in one piece, anyway. The others in the melee had risen to their feet again, as well – all except Thjofgrir, whose face was as waxy and ashen as a draugr’s. A fresh wave of rage rolled across Kaldr’s face, but it was gone in a moment.

    A moment after that, they had no room to think about fallen comrades or even their next assault. The crackling black energy that had hovered behind the flesh-puppet like a massive octopus, freed of its binding, tossed Arring, Troa, and Naudrek across the hall in one sweep of one tentacle. A chittering sound echoed through the room: Einarr had the distinct sense that it was laughing at them.

    Then another tentacle swept his side of the room, and it was all he could do to brace before he, too, was thrown halfway across the room. His shield boss rang as it struck the wall, and even over the bell-like noise he heard the wood of the shield begin to splinter. He had been wrong – utterly wrong, about everything it seemed. Had Thjofgrir truly perished for only a momentary advantage? Einarr’s lip curled in rage. He couldn’t let it end this way.

    Even before the activation of the circle their blades had done something. Therefore, they just needed to hang on long enough for someone to figure out their next step.

    That was going to be easier said than done. His ribs ached already, and he was pretty sure dodging one of those tentacles would be well nigh impossible. On the other hand, there was Jorir, clinging to the tentacle by his axes, currently embedded in the mass of energy they fought.

    It’s not that we can’t hurt it – we have. So then…

    Jorir’s axe head lost its purchase in the flailing arm and the dvergr joined Einarr against the wall. “That could have gone better.”

    “Less complaining, more scheming, please!” Einarr resettled his shield and hefted Sinmora once again.

    “Heh. Yes, sir!” Then the two of them were charging back towards the main body of the creature known as Malùnion.

    Einarr heard Arring’s battle cry as he, too, rushed forward with his blade in hand, dashing with surprising nimbleness towards the central mass of the body.

    He got a good way across the floor before one of the tentacle ends came down on his head. The blow stunned him for just a moment, and then the demigod flicked him away again. This time Arring crashed into the back of one of the pews in the temple hall. Arring had ridiculous strength, but Einarr wondered how many more times his back could take that.

    Eydri’s song no longer carried through the Hall: Einarr risked a glance that direction as he hurried through a row of pews. She had crept forward and was checking on Hrug, bless her. Never mind that she was in the most danger from this thing now that it was free.

    We’ll just have to keep it too busy to focus on her, then. Already, though, he felt his fatigue creeping back into his legs. No matter: this was no duel, to be halted on a whim. If they faltered, they died – and very likely the world with them.

    Einarr and Jorir were still several yards distant when Naudrek and Troa reached the main body together. Naudrek’s sword found purchase and opened a gouge in the base of one of the legs, and then Troa plunged his blade deeper into the wound. It was a good idea, and they were well inside its guard.

    Somehow, though, that mattered less now that it wasn’t restrained by its meat puppet or the vines. The end of the tentacle curled inward and bashed both men against its rubbery flesh. Naudrek was still blinking and half-dazed when Einarr and Jorir decided to try the same thing. Jorir chopped at the wound they had opened – and that was rapidly closing now that their blades had fallen free – and Einarr followed up by plunging Sinmora in as deeply as he could.

    This seemed to annoy Malùnion, at least. The screech sounded in his head again.

    Rather than try for another cut, Einarr threw Naudrek’s arm over his shoulder. Movement in his peripheral vision confirmed what he expected. He dove forward, and neither of them were caught up in the tentacle that grabbed at them.

    Jorir and Troa, too, managed to evade being grabbed.

    Naudrek had his feet again, so Einarr freed his arm. “Join up with Arring! We need a plan.”

    His second after Jorir nodded mutely and began ducking and weaving toward where the strong man was still picking himself up off the floor. That last one must have winded him.Then Einarr gave Jorir the same instruction, and headed off himself. Dvergr and scout followed, not many paces behind. Not that they would have very long to plan: Eydri was quiet for the moment, but she was also working independently. If she determined she needed to Sing again, the rest of them would have to be ready to call its attention away again. Its acolytes actively hunted Singers, after all: why wouldn’t the thing itself?

     

     

    Previous

    Next

    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.

     

  • 14.32 – Fire on the Waves

    14.32 – Fire on the Waves

    Stigander stood in the center of the Vidofnir’s deck, his hands pressed against his knees, as he caught his breath. Behind him, Reki sang a Song of Healing, and although he was not terribly wounded he felt the innumberable cuts and strains of a hard-fought battle mending. He had fallen back with Bardr over his shoulder, keenly aware that he was growing too old to lead his men into combat this way. He would remain in back, guarding the Singers, until his strength returned to him.

    The fight on the demon ships was even uglier than he had feared: the Clans had already sent many a good warrior on to Valhalla today, and even now their success was far from certain – as was their survival. Sharks churned the red and black water below into a froth, whipped into a frenzy by the blood that continued to sluice off the decks of the clashing fleets. That frothing churn was the only reason the din of battle wasn’t deafening: it muted the water’s echo.

    Stigander straightened, surveying the lay of the battle around him. He had rested long enough, he thought: time to wade back out into the abyss. One small mercy: none of these crews had decided to sacrifice themselves to the beasties under their decks this time. Yet. He reset his shield and readied his sword.

    As he stepped up to the bulwark, though, one foot poised to race back across the boarding line, a plume of flame illuminated the raging storm behind the demon ships. This was followed by three more in rapid succession, one of them so far down the line of the fleet it looked like someone lighting a candle. He froze, the implications clear in his mind.

    Einarr had written Beatrix for help, he knew. If this meant she had come, this could change their relationship with the Empire for a generation or more.

    Princess Beatrix Maria Gundahar stood on the forecastle of Blackwing, her personal ship, and watched for their moment. All was as Einarr had led her to expect: the storm, the demon-prowed longships, and blood in the water. Her front runners would soon be in range for sea fire, and then the wicked would fall before the might of the Empire.

    She grinned. Convincing Father to let her take a fleet out for this had been easy: it would put the Clans in their debt for a generation, he thought. And, perhaps he was right – Beatrix had only been interested because it was Einarr, and Einarr had saved her life not that long ago.

    The din of battle grew loud in her ears. The demon ships were hard to see under the darkness of their stormclouds, and the sheeting rain would cut the range of their sea-fire. Her grin turned to a purse-lipped stare. “Ready the cannons!”

    “Aye-aye!” came the cry.

    The Blackwing crested another wave, and suddenly they were almost on top of the demon ships. On the far side of them, she could just make out the fleet Einarr had mentioned. “Loose sea-fire!”

    The Blackwing’s prow opened up and a gout of flame spouted forth, sweeping over the demon ship. Even the water below burned with the might of the sea-fire, and the deck of the demon ship could also not withstand its heat.

    Gouts of sea-fire traveled outward from the Blackwing in both directions as the rest of her fleet followed suit.

    Beatrix whooped. “Fire at will!”

    The tide of battle turned slowly. Stigander noticed that the defenders were breaking off by ones and twos just before he, too, smelled the acrid smoke of sea-fire. He gave a roar and raised his blade over head – a roar that was answered by every other man of the fleet in hearing range, it seemed. They surged forward, hacking and slashing their way towards the masts of the cultists ships.

    Now, of course, was when things were likely to get really dangerous – and with the number of men who had already fallen in battle today, that was saying a great deal. Should even one of the enemy crew decide it was better to sacrifice themselves so their dark god could improve his chance of victory, they might have trouble fighting it off this time – even with the assistance of the Valkyrian Knights and the Imperial Princess. “Don’t let them scuttle their ships!”

    Of course, the fire could unleash one of the beasts, too – he had seen as much – but it was a risk they would have to take.

    The Knights of the Valkyrie stopped spewing fire at the cultists’ ships and pulled up alongside. “Cast lines!”

    She hardly needed to bother: almost before the words were out of her mouth, men from the crew were tossing hooks across to catch the enemy bulwarks. As soon as the ropes were tight they tied them off, and a moment later her men were swarming over the deck to the enemy ships. For once, since she had met the Cursebreaker, Beatrix had absolutely no qualms about taking the fight to the Clans. In this case, though, she supposed she wasn’t really fighting a Clan. She raised her voice to shout over the wind and the waves and the sounds of battle. “Remember why we are here! We fight, today, not against the Northern Clans but against a group of heretics who would corrupt the entirety of us in the name of their own power. Forward!”

    “Forward!” Came the answering cry – and not just from her own ship.

    Beatrix joined in as well, swinging deftly up and running across the few feet of open, churning sea without so much as a breath of hesitation. They had taken the fight to their enemies, and the poor fools were so wrapped up in the battle at the harbor mouth they wouldn’t even realize until it was too late.

     

     

    Previous

    Next

    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.

     

  • 14.31 – Incision

    14.31 – Incision

    The sound of a great bell reverberated around the temple of Malùnion, loud enough that Einarr would have covered his ears if he hadn’t been holding on to Sinmora’s hilt for dear life.

    Einarr had no idea what this was going to do, but he already knew Sinmora was not going to devour the working on the ground: the vines still bound Malùnion’s meat-puppet after all.

    The vines beneath Einarr’s feet bucked wildly as their captive reeled. Sinmora had done something, anyway: the dark blood that slicked her blade as Einarr pulled it free no longer hissed and steamed, and the meat-puppet’s struggles had much of the wounded beast about them. Once more he fell to, hacking at the octopus arm in front of him, Sinmora’s power was unique, and it was powerful – powerful enough to destroy an artifact of Muspelheim, even – but he very much doubted that it was powerful enough to unravel a demigod.

    Arring, too, had made it up to the body of their foe finally, and Kaldr. All three of them chopped at the body of their enemy as it flailed about. They were inside its guard – one of the most dangerous places for your enemy to be – and either it needed to protect the body of its meat puppet or it simply could not see them.

    Jorir, however, was not yet inside its guard, nor was Naudrek or Troa, which meant those three received the brunt of its attack. Please let Hrug have fallen back from the edge of the circle. Between the vines and the writhing black presence of Malùnion, Einarr could not see the Rune Master. If Hrug fell, so did their working, and Einarr very much doubted there would be a chance to draw a second one.

    Jorir approached from Einarr’s left, using that same slow, dogged advance that he had been before. The resonance had done what it could: Einarr side-stepped and plunged Sinmora towards the tentacle that was beating at his liege man. Once, long ago when they first discovered the existence of this cult, they had freed the Vidofnir from a cursed kraken by hacking off a tentacle, much as one would fell a large tree. Now he tried to do the same here. He chopped wildly at the tentacle, but it was so large, and its flesh so strange, it was hard to tell if he was actually making progress.

    The next thing he was aware of, a second sword was swinging in rhythm with his own. Einarr glanced to the side, only to see Kaldr’s normally stoic face twisted in unaccustomed emotion as he, too, tried to spare Jorir Thjofgrir’s fate. There was nothing to be said: Einarr simply kept chopping.

    The arm they chopped at raised high overhead, well out of reach. Einarr rolled to come up on the other side of it. In so doing, he got a better look at the battlefield.

    Hrug stood well back of the circle that bound their foe. Naudrek, faster and nimbler than the dvergr, was chopping at an arm on the other side opposite the enraged Arring while Troa took advantage of the distraction to close the distance. Then the arm came crashing down again, and Jorir rolled to the right in order to avoid being crushed by its weight – if a mass of energy like Malùnion actually had weight. Two steps more and the dvergr was at Einarr’s side, his own axes digging into the arm that had been giving him so much trouble before.

    “Glad you could make it,” Einarr managed to say.

    Jorir merely grunted and chopped again.

    An idea occurred to Einarr. “Buy me some time.”

    With his shield hand he drew forth his chalk once more and sat to carefully draw a ᚷ on the sole of each boot – Gār, the spear rune. Then he willed the runes to life, and a tiny blade extended from the center of each rune. Einarr got unsteadily back to his feet and resettled his shield and his grip on Sinmora. “Jorir – sidestep!”

    Jorir threw himself two steps closer to the body of the beast, and Einarr charged straight at the tentacle that still lay on the vines that held them all up to battle it. When he reached the arm, he did not stop. Instead, he raised one foot and plunged the blade on its sole into the flesh before him like a piton. A heartbeat later, he slammed Sinmora’s blade into the arm and brought his other bladed shoe up.

    His momentum was not so great that it was akin to running – more like climbing a cliff with no good handholds. Still, he kept on, dragging Sinmora through the flesh as he went and carving a line through the massive arm that went all the way across the top.

    They were making decent progress and cutting the damn thing off, but not fast enough. They were all exhausted: the only reason they could fight so well was that Eydri’s magic masked their fatigue.

    As he neared the top of the arm, Malùnion jerked it back up into the air. Even with his blades it was all Einarr could do not to be thrown the way Arring and Kaldr had been earlier.

    Something else caught his eye, though. Just as they had before, the vines were trailing the line of blood all the way up, and into the deeper cuts that Kaldr and Jorir were working at. In fact, the area around Malùnion’s wounds seemed to be stiffening.

    As the shaking stopped, Einarr rose to his feet again. “Hrug! The vines can end this!”
    Then he continued on down the other side, raking Sinmora down into the wound he and Kaldr had been working on before.

    Einarr once again could not see to know if it was Hrug’s doing, but a thick tendril of vine could be seen crawling along the deepest part of the incision.

    Kaldr still hacked away, and his face was still raw. Einarr watched as the vines began to tighten in the wound he had cut and nodded. “We’re all inside. Make for the body of the priest,” he ordered.

    Kaldr spared him a glance and a nod. “As you wish.”

    Einarr didn’t wait to see what he would do: Kaldr knew his job, just as all the rest of them did. They would see to Thjofgrir once Malùnion had fallen.

     

     

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    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.

     

  • 14.30 – Bloodroot

    14.30 – Bloodroot

    Einarr set his mouth as he watched the vines twine over Thjofgrir’s still form. How long had he been Kaldr’s Mate? Likely not as long as Bardr had served Father, but certainly many years more than Jorir had served Einarr. That would be a hard blow for Kaldr and for their ship. He had no room to hesitate, though, and even in the man’s death Thjofgrir had spat in their foe’s eye: until his blood watered them, the vines had not grown.

    His sacrifice will not be in vain. Sinmora practically leapt out of her sheath as Einarr, too, rushed to join the fray now. As the vines grew, changing in the blink of an eye from tiny sprouts into creeping tendrils and then to prize beans and on, until they were as thick as rigging ropes, and still they grew. They quested inwards, towards the thing which should not be in their midst, and plucked at the meat-puppet’s robes and twined about its feet. Malùnion pulled it’s feet away in a strange sort of dance, trying to keep from being entwined. Einarr was abruptly reminded of the leshy, whom they had fought on the Isle of the Forgotten.

    The working seemed to be taking on a life of its own, but with Hrug’s look of intense concentration Einarr was sure they would not have to worry about the vines deciding they, too, were a threat. He rushed in, and the vines he stepped on actually seemed to speed him towards the dark vortex at the center of the circle.

    To his right, he saw Jorir also riding the wave of plants, looking as fiercely determined as when they’d fought back on Svartlauf, and across from him was Arring, his face contorted with the battle fury. Well, such was life.

    A moment later, Kaldr leapt over the edge of the formation, his own sword held low and back to slash upwards at the beast that had just killed his best friend.

    Malùnion, in spite of his best efforts, struggled against the binding of the vines now, and the face of the flesh puppet twisted even as the vines gripped his limbs more tightly.

    An arrow flew past Kaldr, and this time one of the energy tendrils grew a spine. Thick black energy began dripping from the wound like blood, and the vines reached for it hungrily.

    This was working, but Einarr hoped never to have to use this formation again. But his surmise had been right: evil cannot create, but it can be destroyed by creation. Now I just hope Hrug can keep control of our working. Especially since, while they still bent their wills to it, it was feeding on the blood that was shed within.

    Then followed a time where everything was flailing tentacles and chopping blades. Jorir hacked the sucker off one arm. Arring nearly cleaved a second in twain. When the blood spattered on his skin, it hissed and smoked like an ember – and the vines reached for that, as well, so that Arring’s flesh underneath was pink and new. For a wonder, even then they did not try to capture Arring. Einarr could no longer see Hrug’s face to know if that was his doing.

    Whether it was or not, it needed to keep happening or none of them were going to come out of this uncorrupted. Einarr, too, felt the burn of the black blood’s source – such a difference from what flowed in the veins of the cursed. This, though, was what they had gathered their fleet to do, and if they could not end the scourge here it would be a thousand years of torment on Midgardr.

    Troa had rushed up to join the fray as well, his bow slung over his shoulder and his quiver empty.

    Einarr felt a sudden drawing in, as though all the air had abruptly been sucked towards Malùnion. He froze. So did everyone else.

    A soundless boom hit Einarr like a yardarm swinging in a storm. It knocked him off his feet and sent him flying backwards into the wall of the temple. The others, too, all went flying.

    It took Einarr a moment to be able to see straight again, and when he finally blinked away the swimming picture before him he saw that the octopus arms all stood straight out from the body, as though forming some sort of perverse halo around the meat-puppet.

    It had thrown them off, and it had snapped countless vines, but it had not extricated itself from the circle. Indeed, the vines that remained were growing more aggressive. I sure hope we don’t have to fight the formation in order to destroy it.

    Arring loosed another battle yell and charged forward into the fray once more. One by one, the others all followed. It was visibly weakened, but not enough. Arring was batted aside once more when he came within reach. His back curled around the edge of one of the stone benches, but again the man rose to his feet.

    Kaldr and Jorir dashed in at the same moment, now, and both of them nearly made it back into the fight. Kaldr dodged the flailing arms quite nimbly until he had nearly reached the circle that held their nemesis. He jumped to the side when one of the arms was coming down from over his head, however, and sprang right into the path of a second arm that knocked him, too, into one of the numerous benches scattered about the room.

    Jorir was somewhat more staid in his approach. He tramped forward several steps and then stopped, bracing himself for the inevitable strike. When it came, if it did not look like he could take it and keep his feet, he would sidestep and take a swing at the flailing demigod. That looked to be working, except Einarr was afraid the dvergr would be next to feel the squeeze. That meant it was his turn.

    He exhaled through his nose and closed his eyes, just for a moment, focusing on Sinmora’s rhythm. When he could not just hear it, but feel it, he opened his eyes and dashed forward.

    He could never afterwards say how he did it, but as he ducked and dodged and whirled and ran, somehow his feet once again found purchase on the swell of vines created by the runes. He leapt.

    Einarr plunged Sinmora deep into one of the octopus’ arms and released the resonance. It rang, and for a moment Einarr’s ears rang with it, so loud was the sound of its resonance here.

     

     

    Previous

    Next

    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.