Björn looked at the chest-deep water where a raft was floating and turned towards his son.

“We will practice there. It will help you learn how to better your balance on a moving ship. After that, you will be swimming upwards the river for a good hour or so as well.”

“What for?” The young giant couldn’t stop himself from asking.

“Your ship might sink, or they might order you to swim over to the enemy. You must learn how to swim even with your armour on. Come on, the sun is rising.”

The two climbed up on the tied-out raft, drawing their weapons. In the following hours Einar was sent into the river several times, his father easily besting him despite the difference in their strength.

“Alright,” Björn said after his son finally managed to scratch the man’s armour. “You finally got the hang of it. Now sheathe your sword and get into the water.”

“Swimming?”

“Like your life depended on it.” His father nodded.

The youth got off the raft and began to swim, moving forward at a slow pace against the roiling river.

“Give it your all,” Björn yelled after him. “You will never catch up with even a fishing boat if you keep swimming like that.”

Einar stopped for a few moments, floating down the river before he started swimming again, pushing himself as much as possible to move faster. Again and again, he swam up the river and then floated down to start again. He only stopped to rest for a few minutes, his muscles burning from the exertion.

“That’s about enough,” Björn called out to his son after watching him swim for a good hour. “You will have to continue training while on the sea. Come on lad, your mother has already been here to call us home.”

“I’m starving.” Einar stated as he left the river.

“I bet you are.”

The two headed home, the young giant squelching with every step as his soaked clothes kept dripping water along the way. As soon as they entered the house, his mother called out to him.

“Go and dry yourself before you get sick.”

“Come now, Astrid. He’s a God-marked.”

“Those can get sick too.” The woman retorted before shooing her son away.

After a short fight with a towel, the young giant donned a set of dry and warm clothes before joining his family at the table. Plenty of roasted meat from the forest and fresh fish from the sea filled the table along with fresh bread and a bowl of still steaming soup. Einar ate from everything he could get his hands on, but the sound of a distant horn made him stop.

“That’s the coast watcher’s horn,” Björn remarked. “Something happened at the harbour.”

“The king’s ship?” His son guessed.

“Most likely. Finish your food. We should go and see what’s going on.”

No one had to say it twice as the youth quickly wolfed down the rest of his plate’s contents in a minute.

“Let’s go.” Björn said, still awed by his son’s appetite.

Astrid put away the empty plates before joining her husband and son, taking the younger children along for the walk. They could see several other families heading towards the harbour where the village’s ships were moored. An imposing vessel could be seen nearing the harbour, gliding across the sea with ease. A crowned wolf’s head decorated its sails while a large iron hull breaker was fastened to the front of the ship.

By the time the Arnessen family reached the port a sizeable crowd gathered to greet the arriving ship. Gunnar stood at the forefront with his men, several elders and Helga joining him. As the ship neared the dock, its sails were pulled up and a long rope was thrown forward. The ship got tied out and nearly a dozen armour-clad warriors got off, led by a man whose sharp gaze commanded respect.

“Thorwald,” Gunnar greeted the man with open arms.” Welcome to...”

“I appreciate the effort,” the man cut into the jarl’s greeting. “But I’m not here for a friendly visit. Did you receive my message?”

“About our God-marked? Yes. Is the king preparing for a raid against the Eastern Isles again?”

“No,” the man stated as he walked by the jarl, giving a slight bow to Helga and the elders. “Gather the God-marked in front of the great hall and I shall tell you our reason for coming here.”

With that, Thorwald offered his arm to the priestess and they headed out towards the great hall.

“You heard him,” Gunnar turned to his right-hand man awkwardly. “Get everyone.”

The man nodded and hurried away, stopping in the crowd of villagers before continuing.

“Get to the great hall!” Einar heard the man call out to him, earning a scoffing noise from Björn.

“So that’s the infamous Thorwald. I thought he’d be taller,” Astrid remarked. “Let’s go. We don’t want to make the king’s hunting wolf wait.”

Most of the villagers headed over to the great hall, crowding the area in front of the longhouse. When Einar and his family arrived, the youth was waved closer by the jarl’s men. He joined the line of God-marked that stood in the open area between the longhouse and the crowd. The warriors from the ship appeared as well, their leader walking on the front with the priestess. He slowed down as he neared the line of youths, eyeing up each one carefully. When it came to Einar, the man stopped to take a better look at him.

“An Arnessen,” he said to no one in particular. “I thought none of the banished were born as God-marked here.”

“He earned the favour of the gods in the ritual of the Proving,” Helga explained. “He fought and killed a black bear using only his seax.”

“It looks like the apple doesn’t fall far from the clan’s tree. I bet your father was grinning like a madman.”

Einar only nodded as an answer, earning a slight chortle from the man.

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“What’s his calling?” Thorwald asked the priestess, earning a smile from her.

“He’s a seeker.”

“Really,” the warrior looked back at Einar with a newfound fondness, patting him on the shoulder. “Welcome to the fold, lad.”

Thorwald then continued on taking a look at the rest of the God-marked. After reaching the end of the small line, he turned towards Helga and the villagers.

“Near two weeks ago the seers of the High King all had the same vision on the same night,” he began his speech. “The ring of storms will ease up soon and the Isles of the Torn Serpent will reveal themselves to the world once more.”

“The isles of the gods,” Helga blurted out in surprise. “When?”

“In about a month,” the man answered honestly. “Just enough time for us to gather all we can send. The seers communed with the gods and received an important revelation.”

Here Thorwald looked at the line of youths, letting out a somewhat envious sigh.

“They have foreseen that any God-marked older than twenty-three will be struck dead as they sail through the storm. Only ordinary mortals below the age of thirty-five and the younger God-marked can reach the Torn Serpent Isles.”

“Then I cannot go with you.” One of the young men stepped out of the line.

“Are you not under twenty-three?” The warrior asked him, earning a slight head shake.

“I will turn twenty-five next week, sir.”

Thorwald turned towards the priestess, seeing her nod.

“In that case, you shall stay. The High King does not want you to die a needless death. Anyone else turning twenty-four or more in the next month or so?”

When only one more man stepped forward from the line of over a dozen, he let out a relieved sigh.

“Good. Gather your belongings and prepare yourselves. We’ll sail out tomorrow at sunrise.”

“You heard him,” Helga raised her voice. “Go and prepare. Tonight we’ll hold a farewell celebration and tomorrow you’ll embark on a journey to glory!”

The stunned crowd of villagers broke into a loud cheering as the news sank in. The famed isles of the gods would reveal themselves after centuries and the youngsters from their remote settlement get to join the expedition sailing towards it. This was indeed worthy of celebration. Einar returned to his family, finding his mother fighting with her tears. As soon as he got close enough, Astrid pretty much leapt towards him, hugging the young giant with all her strength.

“Mother...” He tried to say something, but couldn’t find the right words.

“Let’s go back home.” Astrid said, almost whispering.

The journey home was silent and gloomy, neither of the youth’s parents saying a word. That changed the moment they got home and the door got closed behind them.

“That miserable fable mulling whoreson!” Astrid said with enough venom that her words could kill a lesser man.

“Calm down,” her husband sighed. “It’s not that...”

“Of course it’s bad,” the woman cut him off. “We’re not talking about something as simple as a raid or some small battle against another kingdom. It’s the bloody isles of the gods. Even if they get through the storm, who knows what horror awaits them there!”

“It can’t be so terrible if the gods asked for the young ones. And besides. We can’t keep him here after the gathering was announced.”

“I... I’m going to Wolfhold?” Einar finally spoke. “I’m finally going to see the capital.”

“You will,” his father patted him on the shoulder. “Although it will be a short visit. At least you’ll get to...”

Björn’s speech was interrupted by a heavy knock on the entrance door. Astrid opened the door, finding one of the local guards on the other side.

“Gunnar wanted you to know that we’ll hold the farewell celebration for the God-marked at sundown. Your son is required to attend.”

“And the rest of us?” Björn asked.

“The families are welcomed, but the God-marked are required.”

“We’ll be there.” Astrid promised before closing the door.

“Looks like tonight’s going to be a busy one. You should pack whatever you need for the journey and get some rest while you can.” His father said with his wife nodding in agreement.

Einar headed over to his room, looking through his belongings. ‘What should I bring along? Clothes first.’ He thought as he shoved some simple clothes into the ‘world eater’ pouch which always surprised him with its seemingly bottomless space. His second choice fell on his coin pouch, all of his wealth summed up in twelve gold and forty-seven silver. Hunting was always a well-paid endeavour, though he would never say no to more coins.

A fire striker, a water skin, some rope and other small things along with some cloth used for a tent and a fur bedroll to sleep on. Those were the things that came to his mind, although his mother also brought along a small cauldron he could hang above a campfire along with a deep wooden bowl, a plate and a few utensils.

“Thank you, mother.” He said, earning a firm hug from the woman.

Einar could feel his mother shaking, her eyes red from the tears she shed. She never felt so tiny. So frail.

“Everything will be fine, mother. I... I will be fine.”

“You better be,” the woman said after wiping her tears. “I didn’t raise you, just to lose you to some madman’s thirst for godly recognition. Whatever you find on those islands, you better conquer it or we’ll be having words.”

“I will.” The young giant agreed, already fearing the truth of him never being able to return.

“Get some rest.” Astrid reminded him after she finally let go.

The woman left the room, closing the door behind herself. Einar let out a sigh before sprawling out on his bed. The tiredness caused by the hard training and the other events made him fall asleep easily, only waking up when his father knocked on the door.

“It’s almost nightfall,” the man said from the other side of the door. “We shouldn’t keep the others waiting.”

Einar woke up with a grumble, his movement somewhat sluggish from the interrupted sleep. As he joined the others waiting at their home’s entrance, he saw that his mother’s eyes lightened up somewhat.

“Are you ready?” She asked, earning a firm nod from the young giant.

“Let us go then.” Björn said as he locked the door and the five of them headed towards the village’s ancestral hall.

Even from afar, the sound of music and cheerful laughter filled the air along the way and as they neared the large longhouse, they were greeted by several familiar faces. Inside the great hall, Einar was led to the main table to sit with the rest of the God-marked.

“I see our young seeker made it in time,” Helga remarked from the table. “Since you managed to arrive earlier than expected, why don’t you join the others for the ceremonial braiding?”

“The what?” Einar asked back confused.

“You are about to leave on an expedition with a chance of not coming back. Don’t you want to leave a keepsake for your family?” She asked as she pointed at his hair.

It was at that moment that the young seeker remembered his father’s stories about warriors leaving a braided lock of hair behind with their families to be remembered by in case they didn’t return.

“I guess I should,” he nodded. “One for my parents and one...”

“For Kari?” The priestess asked back, earning a slight nod. “Go. My helpers are waiting in a room to the left.”

Einar stood back up and went on to find the room Helga mentioned. He soon found it when another God-marked left it, waving him closer. “Are you here for the braiding too?” The other young man asked, leaving the door open for him.

Inside the room, he found some of the others still sitting on wooden stools as Helga's helpers surrounded them. They were braiding locks of hair before tying them off at both ends and cutting them off.

“Welcome, young seeker,” one of the women said as she pointed at the stool before her. “How many braids do you wish to leave behind?”

“Two.”

“Then sit. We shall take care of the rest.”