The starry night sky above held as usual, with the Vikings always following the constellation Ursa Major that guided them, where to, Ivarr did not know. A mysterious guide to an unknown destination, but one that the young captain was not afraid to pursue. The stars continuing their vigil before Midgard.

But he wouldn't stay that way for long, and Ivarr wanted to cover more distance this time, especially since he didn't want to have to face the shapes of the forest without first having some idea who he was dealing with.

"Captain," shouted Guthrum, who was wielding the wheel. "Which way do we go?"

Ivarr turned his head at the sound of his first mate, and turned to face his decision. There was a fork ahead, and the ship continued to accelerate, faster and faster with the current, which grew with a strength Ivarr had never seen. So strong was the current that the Vikings no longer needed the oars, just letting the river guide them forward.

Looking up, he searched for the constellation that guided them, which was increasingly difficult to do with the approaching dawn. It took a few moments for Ivarr to find her, almost surrendering to momentary despair, but there it was, a guide for travelers looking for their destination.

The fork ahead split into two paths, one to the left and one to the right. And the current continued to strengthen, pushing them forward with ever greater vigor. Ivarr glanced quickly at the fork, then at the starry sky, which was increasingly consumed by the dawn, and made a decision.

"We're going to the right!" Shouted the captain to his subordinates, who promptly began to organize so as to change course.

"Yes captain!" the crew shouted in unison, with the loudest responses being those of Olaf and Guthrum, who guided the wheel.

The rest of the crew stopped clinging and began to use the oars, coordinated by the drums, manned by Olaf, which kept at a fast pace, being repeated by the oarsmen. It was a team effort that demonstrated the trust these men had with each other.

"Wait for my command!", ordered Ivarr, who remained in the bow, waiting for the best moment.

Indeed, timing was of paramount importance to the maneuver Ivarr had calculated in his mind, a maneuver that would not only shift them to the new course but also ensure their safety from the current.

“Another 500 meters,” the captain calculated in his mind, his gaze always straight ahead and focused on the maneuver.

"400 meters"

"300 meters"

It was in that moment he saw them, out of the corner of his left eye, that Ivarr noticed a series of movement in the tree line. Which made the captain look away, before focused on the maneuver he would make, now surprised by the appearance of his mysterious hosts.

"They are back"

The figures that were now being seen began to appear after him and his men discovered that they were being followed. They always kept to the coast, inside the forest, almost as if they were part of it. But never before had they manifested near dawn, they always stayed at night, using the shadows to hide from the world, and from invaders.

But this time they were careless, or so it seemed, they let the rays of the rising sun uncover them from their cloak of shadows. And for a second one of the faces exchanged glances with the captain. His eyes seemed to penetrate Ivarr's very soul, like the village witch, but not with anger, as the old woman had, but with something else, which Ivarr did not immediately understand.

The brief contact caused the captain to be distracted from his task as his ship moved through the strong currents of the river, now without a captain to guide her in the manoeuvre.

For a few moments, which seemed like an eternity, to Ivarr there was only the forest, and the eyes that lived there.

"Captain!" He heard a voice in his ear "Captain wake up!"

The voice sounded familiar, but Ivarr didn't immediately recognize it, it was as if it were a distant noise, inconsequential to the here and now.

"Ivarr!" the voice now repeated, this time screaming his name "Ivarr!"

This time Ivarr felt something touch his shoulder, which snapped him out of his trance. He looked around to find the familiar face of Wiglaf the Hunter, staring at him with concern. He was shaking his captain in an attempt to wake him from his sudden reverie.

"We need orders captain!", shouted the young Viking, pointing forward, directing Ivarr back to his previous task.

Ivarr stared straight ahead, trying to take his eyes off the forest in his mind, trying to focus on what should be done so the ship doesn't run aground.

With his return to command of the ship, and back to reality, Ivarr sensed the danger. The ship had gone much further than his calculations, especially after his brief reverie. Which meant he had to do the necessary maneuver tightly, with less time for the executions of the ship movements.

And worse, the current only increased its intensity, as if the island itself did not want them there.

But he had an idea.

"Wiglaf, tell the left side to play the anchor!"

"Captain?", the young man's voice of disbelief was remarkable, "Are you sure what you say?"

"Just as Odin knows about Ragnarok, now I do as I have ordered!"

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The rising tone of voice made the young man's training take over, rather than his recent doubt, due to his commander's recent lapse. And he left to carry out his order.

"Guthrum!", shouted the captain, this time to his first mate, "Turn the wheel to starboard!"

"Yes captain!"

This simple answer was all Ivarr needed to save his crew, and it was a goal in which he intended to succeed. The left side of the ship, commanded by Olaf, stopped rowing and began using the oars as a brake for the ship, a risky but necessary maneuver. Meanwhile, Guthrum turned the wheel the other way.

With the speed at which they were, and at the short distance at which the bifurcation was, it would be impossible to make a turn, at least not without crashing on the shore. Therefore, he would use the ship as a brake, while turning to his chosen side, in a single maneuver.

The left-hand oarsmen, using their oars as brakes, held them in place, letting the current break into their sailor implements. With that, and with the rudder being turned to the opposite side, the Drakkar began to turn to starboard, with the hull being completely horizontal.

"Hold on!", shouted Ivarr to his crew, as a wave of water invaded the deck, wetting his entire body. "And be ready to untap!"

Ivarr held on to the bow, using all his strength, until his fingers began to turn white, so as not to be thrown overboard. With the force of the river, and after slowing down, the Drakkar began to follow the course of the current, starting to turn left. But Ivarr had already taken that into account.

"All rowing! Guthrum, turn the helm to port!"

His orders were clear and simple, but both were of vital importance so that they could get safely to the side they wanted to go, not a likely waterfall. With the efforts of his men, the ship began to overturn, and get into the original position for which it had been made.

A wave of the river lifted them at the same time they broke their improvised position, causing the Vikings to rise from their seats, losing their balance a little. Wiglaf, however, was thrown from his oar, leaving an empty position, which Ivarr quickly filled, keeping pace. The raging river made Ivarr's knuckles ache, whitening it with so much force it took to keep the ship on course, but he did.

Ivarr had to crane his neck to the left so he could see where he was going, so he could give instructions to his crew. The ship, now untapped and in its normal position, was facing the fork. Ivarr was sure that if they failed in their next step, the ship would run aground on land in the middle, being broken as hard as it went. Or sent to the wrong side and face to face with the unknown who was sure to be waiting for them on the other side.

"Hold on!", he shouted at the top of his lungs, while paddling, "For Thor, don't hesitate!"

"For Thor!", they responded in unison.

"To Valhalla!", shouted Ivarr again.

"To Valhalla!", answered his men.

With spirits high, the crew began rowing and rowing, aiming to turn the ship to go the way they wanted, not what the current wanted. It took a few seconds of fighting the river, the hardest fight Ivarr had ever fought, not even all the duels and battles he had participated in were so difficult. But with the united effort of everyone, the ship turned and crossed the fork.

And not a moment too soon, as the sun's rays had already begun to cover its starry, and the constellation Ursa Major was gradually replaced by the great Sun, which took its rightful place in the sky.

Ivarr breathed a sigh of relief, letting his muscles relax a little, though he knew they would be quite sore in a few hours. But he showed neither relief nor pain, just letting Wiglaf, no doubt ashamed of having failed in his rowing duties, take his place again.

As he rose, and went back once more to the bow, Ivarr's eyes were drawn to the forest, looking for the figures, looking for the eyes in the shadows. But neither was there, now only the trees and plants stared back at him, and nothing else.

Strange

That word again hovered over his mind, like an insect that insisted on staying, and no matter how much you shooed him, only to return moments later.

Ivarr pushed the thought out of his mind once more, trying to force himself somewhere to land and rest. They would have a long day ahead of them, and surely the figures would be watching them, hidden among the emerald foliage.

The ship continued for another hour, straight ahead, until they found a place to dock. The place was small so you couldn't put the entire ship inside, just the front, but Ivarr ordered them to tie the bow to the nearest trees, thus enabling a quick escape if necessary. He helped in the process himself, not because he didn't think his men were capable, but to try to forget.

forget the eyes

Those eyes that penetrated into his soul, and that still did when he wasn't there. But throughout the process, it was as if he still felt eyes on him, hostile gazes on him, gazes he couldn't seem to shake, even though every time he looked around, nothing was there.

Even so, the camp had been set up, though they had to go into the forest a little to be able to accommodate all fifty crew members. The sun was rising, and the rays of light that penetrated through the trees made it seem that the forest itself did not allow the great sun to enter without invitation, only small samples of itself could enter this forest of ill omens. Even so Ivarr stilled his mind, his men needed him lucid and watchful, not distracted, it could kill them all if it happened at the wrong time, as it almost did in the river.

Ivarr went to the riverbank with the purpose of thinking, thinking about his mission, thinking about how he would get out of here, and thinking about what awaited them, especially the eyes. Those eyes that still remained in her mind, fixed like a nightmare that insisted on being forgotten.

Thoughts of him were interrupted by a hand on his shoulder. Ivarr turned to face the switch, his hand instinctively going to the hilt of his sword.

the cursed sword

But there he found no enemy, only young Wiglaf, who looked apprehensive about something, though Ivarr already had an idea of what was bothering him.

"Captain, I came to ask your forgiveness for earlier."

“Why do you believe it is needed ?” Ivarr replied. “We all make mistakes, just give Thor thanks that nothing happened.

"But that's exactly it," replied Wiglaf, exacerbating himself, which made him immediately recoil, as if embarrassed. "What if there was no one to hold the oar in case I failed?"

"But there was, it doesn't matter with the “almosts” and the “what ifs”, the gods decided and so it was done, it is a lesson that the sooner you learn the better.

"I know my captain", replied the young man "But it wasn't just that, I…"

"Say it boy!"

This time it was Ivarr who exaggerated, raising his voice a little more than he would have liked, causing a few glances, including ones Ivarr recognized, such as Guthrum and Olaf, to be drawn into the discussion, which the captain did not miss. Composing himself, Ivarr put his right hand on the young crewman's shoulder, motioning for him to follow, leading him to a far corner.

"Tell me what happened then."

"I saw something, captain", replied the boy, still a little hesitant and speaking to the inside, looking around, as if someone was still listening to them. Looking down, still embarrassed.

"I saw something in the forest, sir."

As he said these words, Wiglaf looked up, staring at his captain, just as his eyes had stared at him for a second, an intense and uncomfortable second.

Did he see it too?

That was the thought that permeated Ivarr's mind now, a thought that hid a fear that might not have been his imagination after all. That there was someone in the forest was indisputable, there was plenty of proof of that, but he had no idea what those people might be. Instinctively, his hand went to his right pocket, which still held the Celtic talisman he had found.

"I saw someone in the forest, sir", the young man continued to explain, "And this thing looked at me in a way that, as if..."

"Could look into your soul." Ivarr finished the sentence.

"Yes, exactly like that, did you see them as well?"

"Exactly, and I tell you, they are nothing more than men, who bleed and die, do you understand me?"

"Yes sir!"

"Now, continue with the orders I gave you, follow them and report back to mw me with what you saw."

Wiglaf made the gesture of deference, his right fist over his breast, but the words escaped him, as if he didn't have the courage to agree to go after whatever it was that was following them. Ivarr couldn't blame him, but neither could he release him from his orders. So he took from his neck a necklace with Mjolnir, the hammer and symbol of Thor, which he always carried with him.

"Use this", said the captain handing the precious necklace to the young man. "So that Thor will know that you have his protection."

Wiglaf stared for a few seconds at the necklace his own captain had given him, as if it were made of pure gold and decorated with the most precious jewels. And then he wrapped it around his neck, lifting his head, determined not to let his superior and his peers down any longer.

"!Yes Captain, it will be done."

And with that, he went out into the forest, looking for his prey, disappearing among the leaves after a few seconds of walking. Ivarr greeted him on his way out, still looking at the spot where the hunter had disappeared, as if he expected him to come running back. But he turned away, heading back to the camp, and his other crew made as if nothing had happened, but everyone knew something was wrong.

Ivarr did not linger with such questions, just headed for the riverbank, intent on thinking, as he always did. But this time the thoughts were not of home, or of his past or future victories, but of Wiglaf's eyes and most of all. For that startled look could only say one thing: Whatever it was Ivarr had faced, it was real and not at all human. For how could he remember eyes so inhuman, even from a distance of thirty meters, but he had them burned into his memory, and those eyes would haunt him.

For those eyes not only conveyed hatred, as did the village witch, but also contempt, a contempt that only came from a place of natural superiority, as if Ivarr and his men were a colony of ants about to be crushed by a boot .

But what was most frightening was that the eyes weren't human, they were fire-red eyes, and of different shapes. But the irises were circles that formed a rough shape for the talisman's symbol. But for a second he swore it wasn't what he saw, Ivarr could swear he saw his wife Hild's eyes.

Which was impossible since his wife had been dead for two years.

"What's going on here?" and "what are these things?" it was the thoughts that covered his mind, preventing him from thinking about anything else.

Ivarr removed the talisman from his pocket, looking at its symbol. A triquetra was what his mother called this symbol. A sacred symbol for the ancient inhabitants of this island, before the Vikings, before the Christians. But it looked like they might be ancient, but not dead.