Afternoon sunshine shone through the window of the bunkhouse. The sun lingered on Eirik's dirty face and warmed his skin. He opened one eye and immediately grimaced at the heavy throbbing pain in his head. His skin felt strange and he raised his hand to touch his cheek. A film of blood and water had dried on his skin, leaving it tight and crackling. He tried to sit up, but a tidal wave of pain washed over him and he fell back onto the mattress. Eirik closed his eyes and reached up to his forehead where he felt the woven texture of a bandage that had been wrapped around his head.

Memories came flooding back to him, memories of soot and smoke and roiling flames, and a memory of something that could not possibly have happened. Confusion swirled in his head and the sudden urge to vomit seized his guts. He didn't fight it. Rolling quickly to one side despite the pain in his head, he threw up a mix of water and bile onto the beaten earth floor. Ruefin immediately appeared as if summoned by the sound, and helped him lay back in bed.

"Thank the gods you're awake. Thought we were going to lose you for a while there," Ruefin said, carefully wiping Eirik's face with a wet cloth and wringing it out into a bowl. "Do you want some water?"

Eirik croaked an affirmative through cracked lips and savoured the cool water as it refreshed his dry and sticky mouth. Sounds of voices and activity filtered in through the window and he turned his head to face his friend.

"What's happening outside? And how long have I been out of it?" he asked, a little baffled by the position of the sun.

"Holgrim's just arrived back from the mine. He took a bunch of our guys up there to get the slaves out. Looks like he found some carts and oxen up there to bring them back down to town. He left just before dawn this morning. The fight was yesterday afternoon and you've been in here ever since."

Erik managed a smile and a sigh. "Looks like we did what we came here for, then."

Ruefin grunted. "We paid a bloody high price for it though. Only seventeen left standing and another half a dozen wounded. Including you."

Eirik touched the bandage again and winced. How bad is it? I don't remember much,"

"Much worse than it would have been if you'd bothered to wear a helmet. Holgrim's really pissed at you!"

"Don't like helmets. Can't see what I'm doing," Eirik replied, attempting to sit up again and succeeding this time. His vision blurred for a few seconds then cleared. Other than the throbbing pain in his head, he felt pretty good.

Carefully and deliberately he lowered his bare feet to the floor and sat on the edge of the bed. A glance up a Ruefin's face revealed his friend's disapproval.

"There's nothing for you to do outside," he said, "and Holgrim's keen to stay here for a few days until the wounded have had time to rest."

"I need some fresh air. All I can smell is smoke."

Unauthorized use of content: if you find this story on Amazon, report the violation.

Eirik slowly rose to his feet and rested his hand on Ruefin's shoulder until the room stopped swaying. The urge to vomit returned but he took a deep breath and resisted.

Bright sunlight dazzled him as he stumbled into the marketplace with a hand raised to shade his eyes. The sight that greeted him was a far cry from the mayhem of the previous day, although bloodstains remained in the dirt and scorch marks blemished the walls. Groups of townspeople clustered in the marketplace, many locked in tearful embraces with loved ones they thought they would never see again. Now and again he saw people approaching the soldiers to offer handshakes and heartfelt thanks, and the sight warmed him more than the sun.

"I'd say we broke even on this one," said a voice to his side. Eirik saw Haarlan Greenwood leaning against the wall of the bunkhouse with a mug of ale in his hand.

"What do you mean?"

"We managed to kill the smugglers and release the slaves, but nearly half our unit are dead. I prefer a higher survival rate, if I'm honest."

"It didn't help that we lost men on the way here," Eirik said, secretly gratified that Greenwood placed value on the lives of ordinary soldiers.

"Or that two units had been sent elsewhere. Had I known what we were facing I'd have insisted on bringing them here." At this point Eirik realised Greenwood's smile had vanished and he was staring into his ale disconsolately.

"You knew what we were facing but no-one believed you. Isn't that the real reason you only got one unit?" Eirik asked, remembering the general disbelief and mockery that had passed through the ranks after the briefing.

"I suspect that's so. That reminds me, may I have a look at one of those axes of yours?"

"Sure,"

Eirik wandered back inside and returned with his weapons and handed them to Greenwood. He watched as the agent turned them over in his hands to inspect the edges and traced his fingers over the patterns carved into the shafts.

"This is a very interesting alloy," he said, rubbing at a smudge of soot on one of the blades. "I can see it's a steel base, but I've never seen steel with this blue sheen to it. Where did you get them?"

"My father forged them. He gave them to me as a leaving gift when I joined the army."

"In that case your father is a talented man. Did he say anything about them when he gave them to you?"

Eirik frowned. "Not really. Only that they were meant to keep me safe, but isn't that the purpose of any weapon?"

Greenwood smiled and passed the axes back. "Of course, but most weapons I've seen don't do it quite the way these do. Do you remember what happened yesterday when you charged at Lorcan Astralis?"

Eirik put his head on one side and closed his eyes. His memories were a blur of blood and flames, and his encounter with the leader of the smugglers was hazy at best.

"I remember running at him, and him throwing a fireball at me and missing. I'm sure I got a few hits in before I blacked out. That's about it. I'm guessing he took a swipe at me judging by the size of this swaddling on my head."

"I see. Well, I can fill in a few details that you're missing. The fireball he threw at you didn't miss,"

Eirik's eyebrows shot up and he flinched in pain before gesturing at his unburned body.

"So why am I not crispy crackling now?"

"Because you swung one of those beautiful axes at it and sliced the damned thing in half. That's what those scorch marks are," Greenwood indicated two blackened areas on the town wall.

"How is that possible?"

"I have no idea, but I suspect it has something to do with the alloy the axes are made from. You really don't know what your father used to forge them?"

"No idea. He was always experimenting with various additives but he didn't tell me what they all were. All I ever worked on was plain iron and steel."

"Interesting. Perhaps, one day in the future, I'll pay him a visit and ask. In the meantime, you might want to get something to eat and take a rest. Both the captain and myself would like to head back to port soon as there's other business to deal with on the mainland."

"Great," muttered Eirik as Greenwood walked away, "another fucking boat-trip."