Hail, gather close, and hear my cry,

Of Einar bold who touched the sky.

With ten fierce warriors by his side,

They faced the beasts no man could ride.

Leuca Angos, serpent-birds of dread,

Two houses wide, their wings outspread.

Scales of iron, hard as stone,

Their cries could freeze the very bone.

Upon the stormy sky they soared,

Like death itself with talons bored.

But Einar stood, with heart of steel,

And raised his spear, with fury real.

“By Odin’s will, by Thor’s might,

We strike this day in endless fight.”

With spells of flame and spears of light,

They brought the first beast down in flight.

It screeched and writhed, the skies did tear,

But Einar’s warriors did not despair.

They drove it low, its wings ablaze,

And cast it down in fire’s haze.

Yet one remained, a terror fierce,

Its iron scales no blade could pierce.

It dove to earth, with fury loud,

But Einar’s strength would not be cowed.

With mighty leaps, the gods would envy,

The warriors grasped its back so deadly.

Upon its scales they stood as one,

Riding the beast across the sun.

Their blades sang bright, as winds did howl,

They carved the beast with mighty scowl.

Each strike was death, each cut was flame,

Until they split its iron frame.

With final crash, the heavens wept,

As Einar and his warriors leapt.

The beast did fall, torn in two,

Its life snuffed out by warriors true.

But with its death, they fell from high,

To crash and burn where gods would die.

In final breath, their task was done,

They’d cleaved the beast and earned the sun.

So raise your horns for Einar’s kin,

For though they died, they died to win.

In Valhalla’s halls, their tale is sung,

Of how they rode the beast with iron tongue.

The skies will mourn, the earth will shake,

For warriors like these no gods could make.

Einar’s name, forever strong,

In skaldic song shall live so long.

Laughter and cheers came as Selekai sang the favorite song of so many of the Vikings.

Einar was forced to take a bow as Thorodd and the others motioned to him, sitting beside the Jarl at the table set up in the training field.

Over two hundred and fifty warriors were there, celebrating as the three packs prepared to leave tomorrow, already betting on the kind of songs that might be sung the next time they returned.

When the men and women settled down, Bior rose from his chair and motioned for silence, an eerie hush falling upon the torch-lit area

“Tonight we share one last drink and dinner with these thirty as they prepare to do what we all wish we could join them on!”

The sound of thunder broke out as Vikings stomped their feet and banged their hands and cups on the table.

When silence came again, he smiled.

“How I wish I were not burdened sometimes by the mantle of responsibility I wear. Perhaps one day, when everything is safe, Einar will allow me to join him and his Warband, seeing the realms, all under the careful watch of his men and women who keep Ragnarok at bay!”

Laughter came as everyone knew the truth of the Jarl’s words.

“So let us raise our cup to Odin and the other gods! May they watch over our brothers and sisters and bring them back safely! And may they return with enough loot we can all have runes for every part of our body!”

Skol! Skol! Skol!

The chant echoed so loud that Einar wondered how far into the city it might be heard.

In less than a year… so much has happened. Even now, I’m only nineteen, and six years have passed since Odin sent me here. How much can we do before time runs out?

“Smile,” Avitue whispered in his ear over the noise. “They are looking to you for hope.”

Laughing, he nodded and downed his drink, smiling as she had told him, knowing the truth of her words.

Odin, you gave me one heck of a woman.

***

“Is everything ready?”

“Eight wagons full, not counting what our helpers are riding in or the other three wagons which carry their supplies and weapons,” Osvif replied. “Tell me, Einar, do you think this is going to work?”

Stolen novel; please report.

Giving the wagon he was standing by a slap with his hand, he nodded.

“Everything we have learned and heard points to this being our best weapon against the giants. Only time will tell if we are correct and the harpoons actually work.”

“And those spears… I pray to Odin that the men do not kill themselves with them.”

Chuckling, he nodded and slapped his friend on the back.

“Just be glad you’re not given Skardi’s task.”

Rolling his eyes, Osvif shook his head.

“You really are getting back at him for trying to kill me, aren’t you?”

“No… he earned this reward himself by trying to bed three shield maidens simultaneously. Avitue came up with this, not me, and he will learn quickly that they talk.”

The look he saw on his friend's face as he stared up into the sky, made him smile.

“Still thinking of Lyeneru?”

Only the slightest hint of red appeared on Osvif’s cheeks and he grinned.

“Soon, I hope that I can return to see her. While I know it’s not considered okay for most Vikings, Freyr did say I was an elf, so none of her people saw a problem with it.”

“And every man in the pack thought you were a king for such a feat.”

Shrugging, he grinned and pointed a thumb at the carts lined up on the road.

“I got stuff to do, oh great Viking leader. Perhaps you should go and see what Bior wants.”

Clearing his throat, Einar spat on the ground, knowing that what was coming next wasn’t going to be a fun goodbye.

***

“You need to be careful in Bradmannes and not spend more time there than required. If at all possible, do not enter the city and keep the men from going inside.”

“Because you fear something bad would happen?”

“No… time… if you enter the city, there will be too much time spent there and word has reached me that King Erik is being swayed to stop this trip. Someone has shared with his council that you are seeking to raise a Warband, and after outfitting them all with eight runes, you may come for the throne.”

“You and I both know who that someone is. All this is according to plan.”

“A dangerous plan,” the Jarl replied. “Still, I understand the tactic but also know you must be careful. How many of your men now have eight runes?”

“Thorodd, Hallad, Thorlief, Starkard, Ospak and Geir. The others chose to replace a rune instead of going for the eight. Even with Odin’s and Freyr’s blessing, the ones they had were dangerously close to breaking and none wanted to risk that.”

“Such is the life of a Viking warrior. Earn money for runes and hope to save up enough for the advanced ones while replacing the weaker ones before they break and you suffer. The experience loss is hard, especially when some of them are maxed out.”

I cannot imagine giving up some of my runes. The amount of stats I get from them being fully leveled… how painful that must be.

“True. Still, with those six Vikings having those eight runes and the bonus it gives, I have noticed a change in their abilities. Just like you, yourself are now much stronger.”

Bior chuckled and nodded.

“I owe Arngrim for what he has done. The power I feel inside me has made me want to join you more than you could imagine. Now then, go and be safe and return with much loot. Just remember my warning. Time is not your friend.”

***

Seven days of traveling with eighteen wagons created a lot of traffic and buzz on the road. With thirty warriors all ready for battle plus the entourage of workers, a large dust trail rose up behind them, making those who were regulated to the end of the column not happy each day.

When Bradmannes came into view, and the farms were all around them, Einar sent Thorodd, Skardi, and Ospak ahead to inform the Jarl of their plan to stay outside of the city.

***

“I cannot say I am excited about having to come out here and join you, but I also understand its wisdom,” Unnulf declared as he sat in one of the five chairs under the tent that had been set up. “My city is dying for you and your warriors to come inside, tell of your journey, and spend some coin. Though in which order, I’m not certain.”

Grinning, Einar nodded and motioned to Avitue.

“She would no doubt enjoy going inside, but we do not have the luxury of time. No doubt that letter proved the reason.”

“Which is why I have brought the leader of the pack for you to join you. Einar meet Jepi Snagason.”

He gave the Viking a nod, having already looked him over a few times, noticing that his armor did not hide the tattoos on at all.

Jepi wants me to know he has eight tattoos…

“It is an honor to travel with you and your warriors,” The red-haired Viking declared, rising from the seat he had been resting in. “Know that we are here to give you anything you require.”

“You should be careful with that offer, as those who have been at the back of the caravan have begged me each day to not be made to do that again.”

Vidar couldn’t help but chuckle and bob his head.

“Our leader is right. He was kind enough to make me and my pack cover the first three days of this trek, and I had forgotten how much dust is made from a line of carts this long.”

Both men had been appraising the other, each leader of a pack, both with eight tattoos. While Jepi was slightly taller than the brown-haired Viking, Vidar didn’t seem concerned about the size difference.

“Tell me, is my son causing any problems?” Unnulf asked, changing the mood he had picked up on.

“Beyond eating too much and getting in trouble with the shield maidens? No, he has been no problem at all,” Einar replied.

Roaring with laughter, the Jarl rubbed his chin and grinned.

“That boy has a way of getting into problems… but I am grateful for you taking him. He has changed from everything I have seen and heard. Now, then, I have one last gift to give, and then I will allow you and the others to get set up so that tomorrow you can leave.”

Motioning with his hand, a robed Viking emerged from the edge of the tent, protected by the sun as the wind blew through the open-air covering.

“This is Ragna, the caster I promised to provide.”

“It is an honor,” the bald rune caster said as he came close, taking a knee beside the Jarl, who was still sitting in his seat.

“Please, stand, I do not feel worthy of such a sign,” Einar said.

Nodding once, the man rose and it was easy to see in his eyes the age that wasn’t conveyed by his skin. A tattoo that Einar thought he recognized on his face pointed to having the fire aspect in it.

“You are gifted with fire?”

“I am,” replied Ragna.

“Good. I am interested in learning more about controlling the flames from someone with more experience than I do. Surely you must be willing to teach my friend Osvif and me how to wield the power Odin has granted us.”

Both of the caster's brown eyes grew as his mouth started to move.

“There is another one in your pack with the ability to use magic?!”

“He recently just got his before we left and I have been training him to increase his wyrd. A shipmaster showed me the art of poses a year ago, which has helped me tremendously.”

Scowling, Ragna shook his head.

“That is good for those who use wind, but for one who controls fire, there is a much better way to improve their control. Surely she told you this.”

“How did you know it was a woman?” Einar asked with a grin.

“Only a woman could control wind well enough to power a ship and have her own. For men, it is like trying to hold water in their hands. Most will never be able to truly master it, and if they did, they would be so old, they might not have teeth left to eat with.”

Avitue smiled and leaned forward in her seat.

“But those exercises she taught him would work well for me, correct?”

“Uh…”

Their newest caster stood there, looking dumbfounded, glancing at Avitue and then at Einar, who nodded.

Peering intently at Avitue’s facial tattoo, the man started to shake his head and snort.

“Jarl Unnulf, you did not tell me they also had a wind caster.”

“I didn’t know about it until now,” the giant replied. “It seems that Bior did not tell me everything in his letter.”

“Why ruin the surprise,” Einar asked as he picked up the cup on the table beside him. Lifting it up, he paused inches from his lips.

“Vidar. Is this servant one of yours?”

Everyone’s eyes focused on the unassuming Viking holding a jug, shifting only so slightly when Einar had picked up his drink, now practically shaking.

“Guards!” Unnulf shouted before chaos broke out in the tent.