It was almost time for the sun to dip below the horizon, surrendering the sky to the moon and stars.

“Erik!” Venna called out as she waved for him to come over. She rolled her eyes in exasperation and tried again. “Erik!”

A Sudden booming voice broke through the general din, “Erik!” So much so that the entire square fell silent. Everyone looked towards Vylder in shock. Erik made his way to his parents, a mortified look on his face. Venna gave Vylder a reproachful look, to which he blushed a little, as he realised his gaff.

The villagers recovered from the initial shock and gave a wry chuckle as they returned to their celebration. Erik, after dragging his feet, a mortified expression on his face, stood before his mother. Vylder, off to Venna’s side, with a slight grimace mouthed to him, ‘Sorry’.

Venna cupped Erik’s face in her hands, leaned in on tiptoes to kiss his forehead, and then spoke in a low voice into his ear. “You haven’t asked Selti to dance yet.”

She grabbed his shoulder and turned him to face the direction where the slender girl with her red hair tied in a single braid. Erik’s heart skipped a beat as his eyes caught sight of her standing next to her mother, wearing a lovely yellow summer dress. They were looking towards the musicians and swaying with the rhythm. She then spoke into his ear. “Go on. You need only say something like ‘Would you like to dance?’ Nothing could be simpler.” Then she gave him a gentle push in that direction.

Venna watched him moving away, and then dramatically buried her face in her hands. She peered between her fingers, watching as her eldest son walked over to Selti, dragging his feet as though he were walking to the gallows. As she watched him stop most of the way over and pretend to be watching the musicians, she shook her head and chucked. She sighed and run her fingers through her hair, bewildered. “He’s so hopeless. Absolutely hopeless… Oh, thank the Gods!” He finally approached Selti and together they moved toward the other villagers already dancing.

Vylder grabbed Venna’s waist and pulled her into him. He then lifted her up and began dancing around. Venna squealed a little and, while gently thumping him about the shoulders, laughed. “Put me down, you lummox, and dance with me proper. I’m not a baby.” He lowered her, wrapped her in his arms, and danced with her close.

Orn returned from the food tables, holding a pork rib as he chewed the meat from it. He laughed as he noticed his brother being awkward while he asked for Selti to dance. Then he smiled, seeing his parents dancing together. He watched them for a few minutes and settled his gaze on Brenda.

In his chest, he felt a sudden pang of sympathy. Although she was smiling, he could see the pain in her eyes. He, as much as the rest of the village, was aware of her grief at her husband’s passing, and of her worry for her absent sons.

As a community, they had rallied around her to help her through it. Because of this, he decided he should cheer her up, if only for a moment. Walking to the fire, he tossed the rib bone into it, and went to the wash bucket to rinse off his hands. He then walked over to Brenda Sogard, and with a flourish, bowed and said, “May I have this dance, milady?”

Brenda laughed heartily at that and curtsied with equal aplomb as Orn succeeded in momentarily chasing away the sadness that was haunting her. With a hand on her heart and a charming smile she responded, “Why, good sir, I would be honoured.”

“Oh no, ma’am. The honour is mine.” Then Orn offered her the crook of his elbow, which she looped her arm through, and he led her into the square to dance. As they began dancing, she said to him jocularly, “Your brother could take a pointer or two from you Orn,” and then she laughed some more.

As Venna was dancing with Vylder, he leaned down and kissed her. She smiled up at him as she blushed slightly and turned, pressing her back against his chest, her arms reaching back over his shoulders with her hands clasped behind his neck. He leaned down to kiss her cheek, but she gently grasped his beard to point his face toward their sons dancing with the Sogards. She had a beatific smile on her face.

Vylder, realising what she was showing him, said into her ear, “We did good, didn’t we, love?”

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With a slight catch in her voice, as a tear of pride tumbled down her cheek, she replied, “We did, my love. We did.”

As the evening wore on, some of the elderly villagers and the parents with very young children began heading toward their homes to turn in. The music had tapered off, and some villagers arranged some chairs and benches around the fire pit. Although the flames had mostly died down, the coals were still giving off a cheery warmth.

The night began taking over the sky, and the village men were talking about different matters of various import. The remaining women were also chatting amongst themselves, with a few of them joining the men’s discussions.

Mead was being freely passed around in cups from a barrel set up a ways back from the fire pit. Eventually, most of the remaining womenfolk headed to their homes, including Venna, Brenda, and their children Erik, Orn, and Selti.

Vylder, Chief Bon and the priest Gelder were sitting close to the coals. Gelder was well into his cup as his eyes were half closed and his speech slurred. The Chief was also quite tipsy. Vylder could feel it, however, he didn’t get drunk easily because of his size. He downed the drink he was nursing, and said to the village chief, “All right Bon, let’s help Gelder here to his bed.”

The village chief chuckled at that, and muttered, “It’s the same every year. It gives me joy to remind him of these times when he delivers his sermon about avoiding excess.” Both men chuckled and helped Gelder to his feet.

Gelder stirred, and slurred, “Hey, my friendsh. Sush a good showing, donsha think? Wait, where are we going? Ooh! We should go fishing!”

Vylder responded, “Sure, friend. In a few days, once you recover from your mead sickness.”

“I’m not shick! I’ll have you know good Shir, I am the pishure of good health!” Vylder and Bon laughed as they half walked, half carried their village priest to his home, and placed him into his bed, where he passed out almost immediately. Out the front of Gelder’s house, Vylder and Chief Bon clasped forearms and bid each other goodnight, heading to their homes for the night.

ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ

Just off the south coast of the island of Sofjorland, as the stars began showing themselves in the sky, on the water, a large dark shape moved stealthily towards the pebbly shore.

The only sounds heard were the timbers of the ship creaking against each other as the waves rolled underneath them, the shoosh… shoosh… shoosh of the oars, and the slight groans of effort from those pulling them.

The slaver galley had faced stern to shore, reversing to make landfall. As it drew closer, the men could hear the sounds of the waves lapping gently against the shore. Soon enough, the ship’s stern ran aground, and several of the crew scaled down the side on ropes to pull the ship further into shore. A plank extended, and the landing party disembarked in earnest.

Gracchus unshielded his lantern so his party knew where he was. He grabbed an arrow from the signaller’s quiver and stuck it in the dead man’s ear. He then signalled them to follow him further inland to await the fire arrow signal at the edge of a copse of trees. Two of the men dragged the corpse of their former crewmate and dropped him near where the grass began.

As Vannur and his scouting party crept rapidly through the trees, they came upon a fence line and he signalled the men to get down. He passed the covered lantern to the scouting party’s archer, then moved along the fence line, in a running crouch, and spied the first residence.

A dog started barking, so he took off away from the fence line to circle around to check for more houses. As he did this, he made certain to take stock of where he was.

Moving on, he saw another house with a building out the back. He moved up and checked inside the outer hut-looking structure, and saw that it was a well-kept and tidy forge. The fire had not been lit that day, as there was no warmth coming off of it.

He carefully and quietly moved up to where he could see light coming out of a window. When he moved closer to peek inside, he froze, his eyes opening wide in amazement. His chest tightened so fast he felt momentarily paralysed. For inside that window had to be one of the most beautiful women he had ever seen.

She was tall, with long blonde hair, which flowed down her naked back, accentuated by a single braid running down the centre from two thick strands drawn from the front over her ears. Her body was shapely and well-defined, with a perfect curvature.

When she turned around, he caught but a glimpse before he ducked back out of sight. But that was all he needed, for that image etched itself into his mind. The only imperfection on that flawless visage was a vertical gap in her left eyebrow that didn’t at all detract from her beauty. If anything, it enhanced it.

Vannur whispered to himself, “She will be mine. Whatever it takes.” He moved around the outskirts of the now sleepy village, keeping to the shadows. As he approached the firepit that was now burning low, he almost swore out loud when he saw the largest man he had ever laid eyes on. He halted there and watched him saunter down the main path through the village, then continued his reconnoitre.

After seeing that there were no guards posted or patrols, just the one rather large man making his way home, he rushed to get back to where he left his men. After he re-joined them, he tapped them on the shoulders, signalling them to follow, and led them to where he would light and launch the signal arrow.