As Venna raced towards the coast, she was running on pure adrenaline. Without having a moment’s sleep since the previous morning, she knew that soon her fatigue would catch up with her. However, she could not afford to concern herself with that, for she needed to capture that man and question him. She wanted answers.

Orn was a young and fit boy, but he was struggling to keep up. He was almost as tall as his mother, at just under six feet, but he hadn’t had her years of conditioning and battle-hardened experience. She had the most important knowledge a warrior could know besides her weapons- knowing her limits. And the fact she hadn’t yet reached them bred in him a new profound respect for her.

Looking out to sea, Orn could see a square, black sail in the distance. He scanned the shoreline, spotting a short man with his hands held to his shaved head in despair. The man watched the receding ship with a stricken look etched into his face. Orn looked past the man to his slight left and saw his mother, prowling like a hungry wolf, moving into the best position whence to strike her prey.

Trying to emulate his mother’s movement, he started manoeuvring himself to the opposite side of the man from Venna. They both prowled towards him.

Vannur was done.‘Shit, shit, shit, SHIT!’ was all he could think. He did not understand their language, nor where he might find decent shelter to wait them out. He was, in a sense, marooned. This made him acutely aware of the inevitability they would soon find him. Death or capture. Deep within himself, he knew those were his only two fates now.

He heard the skittering sound of pebbles shifting and looked to his right. At that instant, his eyes met Orn’s. Vannur turned slow and deliberate. ‘This man is big!’ he thought to himself, as he eyed the figure holding a large, two-handed war hammer. However, upon looking more closely, he realised, ‘No, not a man. A boy! What sort of people are these?’

He didn’t get the chance to ponder his thought. His world suddenly distorted and blurred as he fell into darkness. Venna had crept behind him and, with a well-practised hand, delivered a precise blow, cold-cocking him much as she had Orn the previous night. Venna leaned down to check on him, only to hear his soft snores. She gave a curt, satisfied nod to herself, and looked up at Orn. “Do you think you could carry this one?”

“I guess. But for what?”

“We’re taking him to Bosberg with us.”

“Oh.”

Venna dropped into a ready crouch and froze. Orn made a noise about to ask her what was wrong when she emphatically shushed him and signalled him to be quiet.

In the calm air, he strained his ears, and then he heard it- a soft sobbing that sounded like a child about a hundred feet to their right. Venna pointed to the unconscious man with a curtness that brooked no debate. “Grab him and start back towards the square. I’ll be right behind you.”

With that, she dashed over to where the sound had come from. Orn secured his father’s hammer to his belt, bent down, and swept up the small man. He grunted with the effort, as he was heavier than Orn was expecting. Orn slung the man over his shoulder and started making his way toward the village. He heard his mother’s hurried footfalls behind him, moving steadily closer. He craned his head to see her.

She had her round shield strapped to her back, her sword sheathed on her belt, and she was cradling a young boy who had an arrow protruding from his right shoulder.

The arrow had entered high on his right upper back and was protruding out of his chest. Orn could hear Turrin’s ragged breath and noted a look of rage mixed with anguish on his mother’s face. As they quickened their pace, they prayed for Gelder to be all right. This child needed healing, or he wouldn’t survive. It was miraculous that he had held on as long as he did, lying in a field all alone, impaled by an arrow.

The trip back to the village seemed to take forever. Orn’s legs were burning in protest, and his headache had begun to re-surge with a vengeance from his exertion. Orn felt a giant wave of relief as he saw they were approaching the fence line of Mr Hagen’s place. A little further on, they could see the remaining villagers had gathered.

As they looked towards Orn and Venna, the persistent woman from earlier screamed, “Turrin!” and began sobbing as she ran towards them, arms outstretched. The child’s mother suddenly halted and her face lost all colour when she saw her son’s greyish pallor and the arrow protruding from him. She dropped to her knees, her shaky hands, one outstretched, the other held to her mouth, in a gesture of grief and anguish that matched her expression.

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Venna’s eyes softened as she said to his mother, “He’s alive, but we need to act quickly if he’s to stay that way.”

The mother took a moment as that sunk in and did her best to compose herself. She stood up and moved to walk beside Venna as she took the child to one of the flatbed wagons. They wrapped him in sheep skins and placed him as best they could to keep him comfortable. His mother climbed up to sit by his side, and whispered softly to him as she gently stroked his head. For the child’s sake, she forced a wan smile that lacked conviction on a face creased with worry.

Orn dumped his burden unceremoniously onto the ground while this went on. Some among villagers, upon seeing one of the raiders that had so ravaged their peaceful village, began moving menacingly towards him. They were especially angry after seeing the little boy.

Orn held up his hands and said, “Woah, woah, woah. Mother said we need him. We are taking him with us to as a prisoner. We need to find out who these men were.”

The villagers, still justifiably enraged, ceased moving towards him. Mr Hagen, his expression displaying his contempt and distaste, said, “I’ll grab some rope to tie him with.”

Venna asked, “Has anyone seen Gelder?”

One of the elder women wearing a dark red dress gestured to Venna to come with her. Covering her exposed skin were angry purple bruises, and she had cuts on her face. Her arm was in a sling from where the raiders broke it as they beat her senseless.

Venna followed, and there was Gelder, lying in the bottom of a wagon. Naked from the waist up. His abdomen, wrapped heavily in cloth bandages, was seeping blood through them that pooled on the wagon’s flatbed underneath him. His skin, covered in a sheen of cold sweat, had that unhealthy greyish hue of someone whose life had all but spilled out.The old woman said to Venna, “One of those bastards ran him through when he was trying to stop them from….” There was a catch in her voice as she struggled to continue. Venna touched her shoulder to reassure her, in a gesture that said with no need for words that it was ok, she understood.

Venna unstrapped her shield from her back and leaned it against the wagon. She then climbed into the back and leaned over the priest. As she looked at him, she could not hide the awareness in her eyes as to the man’s condition. The wound was a mortal one. She tried to force a smile and jokingly said, “Gelder, you look well.”

She tried to keep the smile in place, even as the tears began falling from her eyes, try as she might to hold them back. Everything was finally beginning to catch up with her, seeing her oldest and dearest friend, their priest and healer, slowly dying before her. It was the crack that started breaking the dam of all that she was holding at bay.

Gelder, in a raspy, soft voice, said to her between gasps, “Hey, hey. It’ll... be all right Venna... It’s not… often a priest such… such as me is blessed… to dine in Everrin’s… great hall… It is a good thing.”

He reached up to touch her face and started coughing, a tearing, rattling sound. She lifted his head and helped him turn to his side. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand and smeared some of the blood he had just coughed up across his cheek as he settled back down.

Gelder looked dazed momentarily, as his breathing became shallow. His eyes, however, suddenly became focused. He half wheezed, half-whispered to Venna, “What... what was… the commotion… before?”

Venna, through her tears, almost sobbed, “Don’t you worry. You rest now.”

Gelder struggled to sit up as though a sudden surge of strength returned to him. His voice came stronger, even as he struggled with the bleeding in his lungs. “What… was it?”

Venna relented and said to him in a breaking voice, “We found Turrin by the water. They shot him through the shoulder with an arrow. It doesn’t look good.”

“Bring… him… to me.”

“Gelder…”

“Bring… him! There… is… no time!”

Venna looked to Orn and caught his eye. She didn’t need to say anything, he just knew. He went to the flat deck wagon and scooped up the boy. He hastened to his mother’s side and unwrapped the boy from the sheepskins.

Gelder took some ragged breaths as he focused on the child. “Take… it out.”

Venna snapped the shaft protruding from the boy’s back, clenched her teeth and eyes, and pulled the arrow through. As she did so, blood started flowing from the two holes.

As she did that, there was a golden, glowing light emanating from the priest’s hands. He placed his hands over the two wounds, and as they all looked on, the wounds stopped bleeding and closed. The only evidence of the wounds were two small white circles where the arrow had been.

As the glow in the priest’s hands faded and then flickered out, he exhaled for the last time, his hands falling lifelessly back down by his sides. Venna closed Gelder’s eyes with her hand and pulled him to herself. She cradled the man who, once a long time guiding hand and friend to all, was no more.

The little boy stirred and weakly murmured, “Mumma?”

Orn was moving to return the now-healed boy to his mother when he saw that Erik and the Sogards had returned. They could hear their mother’s muffled, broken-hearted sobs as she hugged Gelder tightly to herself and rocked him gently. All the strain of the previous night - the taking of Vylder, the anger at seeing the aftermath, the wounded boy, and now the grief she felt, had finally overwhelmed her.

At that moment, she ceased being the staunch Halder warrior and returned to being a woman. Orn’s vision clouded as his own tears filled his vision. He passed the boy back to his mother, and both he and Erik went to Venna’s side. With some coaxing, he released her hold on Gelder and laid him back down gently, as Erik pulled her into his embrace while she continued weeping.