”We must prepare for Bleiker's revenge.” Karn paced around in her bedchamber and Mirian peered out the window. “Do we have a plan?” she wondered.

Karn looked like a man who had not slept for three days. His brown, long strands of hair stuck together and around his brown eyes ran thick, black rings. His beard was wild.

“Holmgang,” he said, sighing.

“Are you sure you can win?”

“No, but I have to try.” Karn sat down next to her on the bed. After a few silent moments, she placed her hand in his. So they sat still, until Karn finally stood up. He gave her a look, and Mirian didn't know herself how she felt about him. Her trust in Karn had grown over time and yes, he was nice to the eyes, but love? Love was something else entirely.

“I wish you a good night, Mirian of Norrtmark.” Karn gave her an elegant bow.

“I wish you a good night too, Sir Karn." Her bowing was magnificent, and when he left her, she went to bed, filled with thoughts. She wanted to sleep, hoping Sivra would lull her, weave good dreams. The goddess of sleep and dreams …

She dreamed of men and war and of the three men she saw in the forest that day, during the battle of Hymlegard. Three deserters it seemed. She had never blamed them.

*

The snow glittered around them, but the cold made her shiver.

“When the green soot fungus is mixed with water, it takes a day - the time it takes for the water to penetrate its hard outer shell – then the green clouds of smoke are emitted. They are deadly against gnolls, but not against us humans.” Gundir the Healer waited for Mirian's orders, and she thought before speaking her mind: “I will have the mushrooms everywhere in the Swamp. Grenni and Heiki: This quest is yours.”

Along with Karn, she left Gundir and the two hunters and headed to the large town square. Mirian smiled when she saw all the men and women with spears and shields that were gathered in the left corner of the square, near some of the houses.

“Eiron!” Karn hollered, and the centaur strode up to them. He wore a necklace with a centaur in carved cedar around his neck. Mirian wondered if she was his wife.

“How is it going?” Mirian met his gaze.

“Forward, Mirian. They learn the basics surprisingly quickly.”

Eiron lowered his voice to a whisper. “But I tell you: Keep them out of battle as much as possible, they are not warriors.”

A rush ran along her back, but Mirian knew that she in all situations must maintain morale, so she breathed in as if she was preparing to hold a speech. “We'll make it,” she said, raising her head. “Listen to me!” Mirian yelled at the townspeople with their old spears and shields.

“Your strength is that you move as one, do you understand? You must be united against the gnolls, no matter how scared you are.”

Some nodded but others still looked frightened, shaking, despondent, with slumped shoulders and flailing eyes.

“Today we will go through the most important formations. These can save your lives! Hold the spears alongside your shoulders when not in combat. Now stand in line … yes … stick out your spears with a howl … like that, good … Like one! Forward!”

After hours of hard training, Mirian left the town square and headed to the palisade. Karn followed her with quick steps while Eiron trotted in another direction. It was faster to repair the palisade now with the help of Karn's soldiers, those loyal to him. Bleiker’s men were nowhere to be seen, and Mirian got worried just thinking about them. They were Karn's concern, she told herself. Karn would sort it out, one way or another. Right now he was at her side, just like Maeghin. Mirian remembered her talk with her cousin two nights before and her thoughts gave her an idea. She gave Maeghin a nod.

Her cousin smiled a pale smile. “All will be done, I promise you.”

Karn’s mercenaries carried on, replacing the palisade’s old timber with new. Thick, pointed logs were brought up by means of ropes and lowered into the frozen earth. The mercenaries worked in the cold while the townspeople continued their weapons training with Eiron. Speaking of weapons training. Mirian sat down and whispered in her daughter's ear. Johanna rolled her eyes, but then she met Mirian's gaze and smiled.

*

The clash of swords echoed across the courtyard as the wooden swords crossed, binded and cut into each other.

“Good. Good, good!” Mirian shouted. She had never seen her daughter fight with such eagerness. “Step right while parrying so my slash falls away. Good! Now you take advantage of my confusion and cut me in the head. Good! And again!" Mirian attacked even faster this time, but Johanna managed to parry the blow to the head. It echoed in Mirian’s ears when her daughter's cut hit the training helmet. Sweat ran down their thick training clothes.

“And again!” Mirian shouted and slashed at full speed, but Johanna still succeeded. It rang in Mirian’s ears once again. The applause echoed in the sweaty helmet, and she gave her daughter a smile.

Mirian cut at Johanna's head. In a single sequence, her daughter parried and simultaneously danced to the right, swinging the sword at Mirian’s head. But this time Mirian ducked under her daughter's wooden sword and thrusted her own sword at her daughter’s throat. Mirian stopped shortly before the sword made contact. Johanna's throat was covered in wool and breastplate, but Mirian still didn't want to let the sword touch her.

“There I took you with surprise.”

Johanna was breathing heavily, and a wolf howled in the distance.

“Show her how to protect herself!” Maeghin shouted.

“Maeghin, come.” Mirian pointed to the ground and the cousin jogged there, like a dog about to play. Johanna bowed as she gave the wooden sword to the smiling knight that was Mirian’s cousin. Johanna took off her helmet, exhaled and pulled the sweat from her hair. Mirian attacked her cousin in the same way she attacked Johanna previously and he moved in the same way as Johanna in his defense. But when Mirian thrusted her sword towards his throat, he wasn't quick enough in his riposte. The wooden sword hit him so hard that he fell to the ground with a thud. Maeghin gasped despite his neck padding and chain mail.

“Sorry!”

Maeghin gasped and caught his breath in quick, rattling breaths. He sat still for a moment that felt unbearably long while Mirian wandered around. She twirled her sword and kicked the snow.

“We try again.”

Mirian turned around.

Maeghin stood in the Wolf. He stood poised, with his left foot a step in front of the right and the sword in front of him, he held it from the right side, pointing towards the center. A sword guard from Liechtenauer, one of the famed sword masters. He had the guards written down in his manual of knightly combat.

The wooden swords were crossed once more. Maeghin danced away and lashed at Mirian's head. She blocked and dodged his blade in a single motion. But when she thrust her sword at his neck, he turned around and swiped the sword away in one single movement; knocked her to the ground with the sword button. “The blade is not the only part of the sword,” he said with a playful smile.

Johanna nodded and Mirian smiled. Maeghin's hand. That warm smile and those equally warm grey eyes. She grabbed the bear fur covered hand and was lifted off the ground.

Raising her daughter to be a Lady of the Keep was no easy matter. Mirian shifted weight. Those who fought, those who prayed and those who worked. These three formed the social classes in Engsmark, kind of. The peasants and burghers – those who worked – did fight sometimes, when they were called to war. The peasants as fyrdmen or archers, the burghers as men-at-arms or crossbowmen. Regardless of what Mirian thought, both she, her daughter and her cousin belonged to those who fought. The warrior elite Mirian despised and wanted to escape. The chance of recovery lay in treating the lower classes with the respect they deserved. Unusual in Engsmark, but the only right choice.

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She winked at her daughter. “Do you want to try?”

Johanna swallowed, but then she nodded.

Mirian took off the training helmet. She breathed in deep gasps while she looked at her daughter. “Now that's enough for today, go with Karn. I want to talk to my cousin.”

Johanna froze when she understood that she would be left alone with the mercenary captain, but Mirian had no time to worry, and she trusted Karn, who led Johanna away from the courtyard.

“Have you seen her so eager for the sword art before?” Maeghin said.

“Never.”

“I wonder what made her change her mind.”

Maeghin smiled and they left the courtyard together, plodding through the snow. They went to a small hill by the palisade that surrounded and protected the entire city. “It is strong because of you.”

"I was just there to lead the whole thing."

Mirian put her hand on his shoulder. “Who would have led all the townspeople and mercenaries if not you? You transformed a rotten old wooden wall into a palisade of good timber.”

“You do me too much of an honor.”

“No more than you deserve.” Mirian looked out over the snowy meadow as dusk came. The sun went down, and the first stars appeared. "Do you miss them still?”

Tears streamed down his cheeks. Maeghin looked at the setting sun, at the stars, and when he finally met her gaze, it was with the look of a broken man. "Yes."

His grief must feel unbearable. Maeghin's wife and three children were taken by the Green Wrath three years ago. The plague that came across the sea and ravaged. It had claimed many lives and scarred the living with memories of death, terror and madness. As if the civil war two years earlier hadn’t been enough.

Since then Maeghin had lived alone with Mirian, Simon and Johanna as his only support. Until Simon was killed by the gnoll. Mirian stiffened as she looked away across the fields, away with her eyes set upon the beautiful, white meadow that was colored red by the sun here and there, where trees cast dark shadows upon the white canvas.

“We have to move on.” Maeghin scrutinized her with a scowl. “But you should know that they deserve their place in Saagard.”

Mirian nodded and gave him a long hug. After it they stood still, enjoyed the evening with its three moons and all the stars. There was a fairy tale that said the three moons were once beautiful maidens. Moon sisters. Mirian smiled as she thought back to her happy childhood. The best time in her life, before her mother died. She tilted her head at Maeghin's shoulder and sighed.

*

Screams.

Mirian looked at Maeghin who confirmed her own fears. They nodded and set off. Johanna. They hurried forward through the eastern outskirts of the town, across the long, wide main street. The alleys ran in all possible directions and directions but everything Mirian thought about was where her daughter could be. What’s happened? By all the gods, say that Johanna isn’t dead! This was Mirian's fault. She should have locked up her daughter in the keep for her own safety. She knew that Bleiker had been preparing something evil!

“I will kill that damned mercenary,” Maeghin swore.

“Unless I kill him first,” Mirian blurted out in between hard breaths. They continued running and arrived at the square. Miriam stopped.

“The town is more deserted than usual.” Maeghin looked around.

This year's understatement, for the square was completely empty of people. Twelve mercenaries laid on the cobblestones, pierced by arrows. Their empty eyes stared without seeing as blood gushed out of them.

“This is Bleikers work,” said Mirian, sitting down by one of the corpses. “But where is Johanna?”

“They must have kidnapped her.” Maeghin exhaled. Sweat ran down his face and his gray eyes reflected worry.

Footsteps.

Her heart lightened when she saw all the townspeople walking towards the square. They were clad in thick, woolen armors and helmets and brought weapons. Many of Karn’s mercenaries were with them. “We’ll have our revenge,” Mirian said while drawing her sword. She pointed it at Breire Forest where Bleiker’s men had their encampment. Bleiker would face wrath worse than he could possibly imagine. A mother’s wrath.

*

“You’ll never succeed.” Karn stood, proud of stature despite his captivity.

Mirian watched from her hiding place among the trees. She, her men, Karn’s men and Ure’s men, had neutralized most of Bleiker’s guards. Now only Bleiker and his most loyal grunts remained. Their tents stood in a circle in Breire Forest, and right beside the fireplace Karn was chained to Johanna. Ael, Johanna’s best friend, was also with them. My daughter, my sweet little wolf. Mirian nodded and Maki sent some men with crossbows to surround the mercenaries.

Bleiker smirked and Johanna shivered, for Bleiker’s teeth were brown, rotting, the few remaining. “I’ll think I succeed splendidly, Karn Strongarm.”

“I should’ve cut off your head.”

“It’s too late for that, little Karn.”

The stench from piss and beer was horrible from Bleiker and Mirian watched on. Silently she drew her sword, her men were soon in position.

“Ah, the beautiful little daughter,” Bleiker said. “So young and full of life.”

“Don’t touch her, you monster!” Mirian roared. She jumped out of the bushes, sword in hand.

As Bleiker turned around, confused, bolts from Mirian’s crossbowmen fell his men. Bleiker drew his sword and engaged Mirian in battle.

Mirian slashed and Bleiker blocked with his shield. His own cut came, and she dodged it, thrusting the shield into his armpit. The soldier danced to the side, swinging his sword. Mirian ducked and slashed.

“I'm going to kill you and when you're dead I'm gonna piss at your corpse.”

“When Helimner melts,” Mirian answered and cut him in the side of the waist, where his chain mail did not protect him.

Bleiker roared and thrusted one last time, but Mirian had predicted it. She caught his sword in the bind, a secret sword technique her father had taught her. Mirian jerked her wrist and Bleikers sword flung.

“Pride goes before the fall,” Mirian said, knocking Bleiker with her iron cladded fist. With sweat streaming down her face, she looked at Karn who made the Sign of the Faith. It was common among the Kyrrastanians, and Mirian understood the gesture, even though she did not worship their god. Mirian did her best to respect those with a different faith, as her father and her late husband had been Kyrrastanians, and grandpa Brose was one, although he had a very different view of the Kyrrastanian savior and his commandments.

“Ure, bind him.” Karn exhaled. Mirian had never seen him this relieved, and Ure nodded. “With joy,” he said, spitting straight at Bleiker.

“You are here. You are safe.” Mirian did not want to let go of her daughter.

Mirian cleared her throat and Johanna looked up at Mirian who was stroking her daughter's cheek. “I love you Johanna, never forget that I love you.”

The child sobbed and Mirian held her daughter tighter, kissed her hair and stroked away her tears.

*

While the hours passed and the prayers were said, Mirian sat with her daughter in bed. “I’m no good as a mother. I should have watched over you, not let go for a moment.”

“No, it's not your fault!”

“The world's sassiest daughter.” Mirian kissed Johanna on the forehead.

“I... I was wrong about Sir Karn...” Johanna looked as if she had turned into a shy and cautious version of herself.

Mirian tilted her head and smiled a crooked smile. “Is it Sir now?"

“Will you sleep with me tonight? I know I'm big now, but … I’m afraid.”

“I'll watch over you.”

Johanna yawned and Mirian sat next to her. The child fell asleep against her shoulder, and it wasn't long before she was fast asleep, but Mirian couldn't tear her eyes from the window. It was dark out there, and the snow winds howled outside the window. Blood and fire. The gnolls were on their way.

*

Bleiker was locked in the gallows and both townspeople and soldiers had fun practicing butt-throwing. They threw stones and snowballs at Bleiker’s frozen asshole. He had only himself to blame and no one got sympathy for him lamenting injustice and tyranny. Everyone from little lads to old people had fun with the game. They threw or watched, laughed and applauded.

Mirian scoffed; it was refreshing to see Bleiker suffer. Johanna beamed and even Karn nodded to himself. Those who previously supported Bleiker had sworn their allegiance to Karn, and no one seemed to mourn Bleiker's fate except for Bleiker himself.

Mirian left the large crowd and went with a wooden bucket to Bleiker in the gallows. Mirian knew that her wild hair and angry look silenced the crowd, and some held their breath.

Mirian peered down at Bleiker, her wrath rising. “For my daughter.”

“I plundered the villages and slaughtered the farmers! I raped their wives and daughters! Burned their sons! I am a fighter! I fear none and my spirit shall be avenged! I am Bleiker!”

“You're a piece of shit!” Mirian grabbed his hair and forced down his face into the wooden bucket. “And shit shall shit have.”

Bleiker screamed until he couldn't scream anymore. His body rattled until it became completely still. Only then did Mirian release her grip on both hair and bucket. The wooden bucket fell to the ground and the shit spilled out. Bleiker’s face was brown and disgusting.

“That's how Bleiker Peassantkiller meet his doom. A monster among men. Suffocated to death by his own shit.” Mirian was satisfied. They had good men to put one's sorrow on.

Ure made the Sign of the Faith and Eiron nodded. Karn gave Mirian a sideways glance

smiling.

*

Mirian joined the others in a silent procession. They arrived at the pyre and spread out, Mirian raised her right hand and threw out iron dust on the fire. The scouts had found the two hunters in the Swamp. At least Heiki had been whole, which his family was happy about.

With fists tightly clenched, Mirian thought of the horror the two families must have felt when their husbands came home. She guessed that the sadness was excruciating, especially for Grenni's wife and daughters. Grenni had had his whole belly cut open. The gnoll had only eaten some, left the rest to the crows, and wolves and ravens, but the worst was his head that was smashed.

Mirian shook away her tears. For Yrsa, the whole thing was particularly stressful. She is no more than thirteen... No child deserves to lose her father, especially not like that.

Mirian noticed Johanna's look. Her daughter cried and Mirian laid her hand on Johanna’s shoulder. The flames licked the bodies and rose towards the sun which was almost covered by the smoke.

The old woman threw in her husband's locket among the flames. “I hope you get as much use out of it in Saagard as here,” she said in a broken voice. Mirian wanted to hug her but forced herself to stay still. The poor ones at least got themselves a good death in battle. The Valkyries would bring them home to Saagard, the Land of the Gods with mountains and fords. The prunes that singled down from the pines and the wondrous halls where the brave were offered mead and frothy, lovely beer.

“May the Valkyries retrieve their souls,” Mirian proclaimed, throwing out iron dust over the crackling fire. She looked down and took one step back as the townspeople watched her. The towns first sacrifice, and they won't be the last. Mirian stared into the flames. Smoke rose towards the sky, blotted the sun. What have I done?