Elizabeth Larson

Prologue

The boy’s eyes looked around, scanning through the dark forest. He checked down at the sapphire blue device in his hand, frowning. The brown bear he rode upon sniffed the air, trying to pick up the trail. Despite the night air’s clarity, the scent he was searching for was not in its breeze.

“It’s no good,” said the bear. “The scent is all but gone.”

“It must be out of the province by now,” muttered the boy, closing the device and gripping it tightly. “Danu’s mane, I should’ve chased the dullahan when I had the chance.”

“You know we have more important business here. We saved Alvdis, and that’s what's important. Besides, you know Fate isn’t done here. I’m sure that the dullahan is a diversion.”

“I do. But there are still those out there vulnerable to the dullahan.”

“Then let us hope we pick up the trail again soon, or that you receive another vision.”

“Yes,” whispered the boy before putting his device in his belt pouch. He then patted the bear’s side. “Let us return to the Hollow.”

The bear glanced back at his rider, sharing in his weary soul.

Then, the boy stiffened. The bear watched as a thin band of gold began to spread over his silver irises. For a moment, the boy stared straight ahead, not blinking once. Then, the gold began to shrink back to the pupil. The boy shut his eyes and rubbed them. He shivered and breathed heavily. He opened his mouth to speak.

And then suddenly, something large came bounding out of the forest!

The boy turned, but it was too late!

A massive paw swiped him off the bear, and he cried out in pain!

He slammed to the ground, his head knocking against a large rock!

“KYLE!” the bear roared.

The boy didn’t respond.

The bear turned to face the assailant. It was a monstrous creature. A massive, black, mangy dog that looked more dead than alive. Its loose jaw hung open, and its only blood red, was locked right onto the bear.

The bear stood up, roaring, and swiped at the dog, striking it across the face. It accomplished little damage, but it made it stagger. That was enough.

The bear seized the opportunity and grabbed the boy by his hood. Throwing him on his back, he raced into the forest. The dog was after him.

The bear transformed into a large timber wolf and sprinted, its smaller size allowing him more speed and agility. He weaved through the maze of trees, hoping to lose the monster behind him. He could feel the boy’s blood seeping onto his back, and he could feel pain in his own torso. The pain of three gashes from the dog’s claws.

His rider has been hurt.

Badly hurt.

He needed help.

The closest place was…

“The village,” the wolf said. “I must get to the village. Hold on, Kyle. You’re going to be alright.”

Chapter 1

She ducked under his sword swipe. With lightning quickness, she thrust her wooden sword forward. The stocky youth parried her attack. A cry of excitement came from the teen boys and girls watching from the sidelines.

All of her senses were on high alert. It was pure exhilaration. The feeling of evading attacks and looking for an opening, of facing a friend in a mutual rivalry, of putting all of her skills to the test; it was something she lived for.

She felt alive.

He jabbed at her. She gracefully dodged it with a simple sidestep, but he swung up, the flat of the plank bashing her left hand.

She gritted her teeth and winced. The only thing that escaped her mouth was a painful gasp of air. Her left hand went numb and limp. The wood hit the bone underneath her skin, sending a horrible shockwave through her hand and up her wrist.

She wanted to press it close to her body to ease the pain, but the fight was still underway. She was determined to win, injured or not.

Just as he lunged forward to jab at her side again, she gathered her senses and swiftly raised her wooden sword in time to block, the tip of his sword clashing with her hilt. Having the advantage, she pushed him back with all her might. He stepped back, off balanced.

Now was her chance!

She ducked to the ground, stuck out her right leg, and swung it against his ankles.

Hard.

He fell to the dirt floor with a painful crunch.

She swiftly rose and pointed the tip of her wooden sword at his throat. The two locked eyes, and she smirked.

At that moment, a man who had been observing the fight raised his hand into the air and stepped forward.

“Finished!” he shouted. “Skjaldmær Alvdis Drakadotter is the winner!”

Bjorn Einarson, a tall muscular man, walked into the sparring arena and grabbed Alvdis’ sword hand, raising it high into the air, nearly lifting her off her feet. She quickly regained her balance and turned to her fellow trainees with a proud smile.

All the other students shot to their feet and applauded, giving loud cheers and whistles. Some even punched the air with their fists.

Bjorn let go of Alvdis’ wrist, and she turned toward her partner, who was sitting up and rubbing his bruised shoulder.

“Good match, Irwin,” said Alvdis, breathing heavily. “You almost got me a couple times.”

“Yeah, right,” replied Irwin Jarlson, looking up at her with a sarcastic expression. “One of these days, I’ll avoid that leg sweep of yours.”

“Heh, good luck with that.”

Alvdis stuck her sword in the ground and offered a hand to Irwin. He gave a shrug before taking it.

“Though it should be illegal,” he grumbled.

With some effort, Alvdis helped pull Irwin to his feet. The two friends then shook hands.

“Great job all the same,” Alvdis said, flicking her bangs. “Kept me on my toes, as usual.”

“You, too.”

Irwin grinned. But it was a forced grin, and Alvdis knew it. Irwin wasn’t the type to just accept defeat. But since their instructor was watching, he had to at least pretend to be humble about his loss.

“Nice work today, everyone,” said Bjorn to the class. “That’s enough for today. See you all at the storytelling tonight.”

After the trainees gave their teacher a respectful salute, they hustled over to a chest in a corner on the other side of the room.

“Great job today everyone,” said a chestnut-haired girl named Runa Koperdotter as she put her sword away. “And nice work in that last match, Alvdis.”

“Thanks, Runa.” Alvdis smiled.

“You don’t have to keep rubbing it in, you know,” Irwin grunted, tossing his sword into the box.

“C’mon, Irwin, don’t be a sore loser,” said a boy named Steiner, giving the redheaded boy a light punch on his good shoulder. “Besides, you both put up a good fight, as usual.”

“Whatever,” said Irwin, rolling his eyes, “I won’t be so easily beaten next time.”

“Well, a rematch will have to wait,” Alvdis said, putting her sword away and wiping some dirt off her sleeves. “I promised my dad I’d help in the shop after practice today. He still has some weapons to make before he leaves on the trading route next month, and Mom’s busy with the fishing boats. He needs all the help he can get.”

Irwin looked away sourly. Alvdis made a quick face in response before turning back to the rest of the group with a smile.

“See you all at the storytelling.”

Alvdis waved good-bye, and the teen boys and girls responded in kind. She headed for the doors and stepped out into the fresh air.

The midday sun shone down on the small village as Alvdis ran from the training hall to the blacksmith shop.

Alvdis’ home was a small village named Ægirbjarg. It was nestled in the far northwestern Province of the Odin Continent, known as Jötunheim, on a cliff that cropped over the Selkie Ocean at the base of a mountain.

The weather was freezing cold in the winter, pleasantly warm in the summer, and anywhere in between during spring and autumn. On this late-spring day, it was rather warm. The sun was out in the pale blue sky, and there wasn’t a cloud in sight.

Alvdis took a deep breath of salty sea air as she walked down the hill from the training hall, soaking up the rays of the sun shining on her face. Alvdis had lived in this village her whole life. It might not seem like much to some, but it was just right to her. It had everything she needed: family, friends, a sea to sail on and swim in, forests to explore, mountains to climb, and little caves in which to hide in.

This was her home and she loved it.

Still, she often wondered what great adventures laid beyond this little village. She knew there was a bigger world out there, full of wonders beyond her sight.

Some days she ached to explore it all. Other days, she hoped she’d never have to leave her home.

Alvdis came to the center of town. It had the look of any normal day, with villagers selling their goods, showing off their livestock, or just out for a stroll. As Alvdis walked past them, they greeted her with a simple wave and “hello,” to which she responded with the same greeting. Every so often, the farm cats and dogs came up to greet her, rubbing up against her legs or jumping up to lick her face. She laughed and petted each of them before moving on.

At last, she came upon her father’s blacksmith shop. Smoke billowed out of the chimney, and the clanging sounds of hammer against metal came from inside.

He was here.

The moment Alvdis walked inside the forge, the temperature changed immediately. A smoldering, hot wave of heat caused her to take a deep breath of mild distress and wince. This happened a lot when she entered the forge. It was especially jarring in winter, when it would go from brutally cold to blazing hot in a heartbeat.

Alvdis rolled up her sleeves and took off her leather vest. She went over to a series of pegs sticking out of the wall on the far side of the forge and threw her vest onto one of them. She reached over and grabbed a tan, smoke-stained apron, and hastily put it on.

“Dad, I’m here!” Alvdis called.

“Alvdis?” called back a voice above the commotion of the forge.

The girl walked around to the back of the forge and found her father hammering on a red-hot piece of metal. His name was Gunner Drakason.

He was tall, muscular man. He had short, ruffled brown hair and firm brown eyes. The sleeves of his tunic were rolled up to reveal his hefty, hairy arms. Like Alvdis, he wore a large tan apron that was stained with smoke marks.

He was currently in the middle of shaping the blade of a dagger. He paused when his daughter came around the corner.

“Well, how was practice today?” he asked, wiping some sweat off his forehead.

“Great,” replied Alvdis. “I fought Irwin today. I managed to beat him thanks to my ‘special move’.”

As Alvdis said the last part, she couldn’t help but grin and lift her eyebrows in a cocky manner. Her father chuckled.

“Well, congratulations,” he said proudly. “The blood of the Drakas does flow strongly in you.”

Alvdis winked and put her hands on her hips. “Of course.”

Alvdis suddenly flinched and sucked in air through her teeth. She grabbed her left hand and started to gingerly rub it.

“Alvdis?” Gunner said, concerned.

“Oh, it’s just my hand. Irwin smacked me a good one during our fight. It’s not broken, just a bruise.”

“Here, let me take a look.”

Gunner put the dagger into the burning coals before taking off his gloves. He reached out for his daughter’s hand. He held it gently as he examined the injury. A large bluish-purple bruise on the side of Alvdis’ palm stretched from her wrist to the base of her pinky finger.

Gunner winced. “That looks painful.”

Alvdis shrugged. “Yeah, a little bit. But I’ve had worse than this. I work in a blacksmith shop, after all.”

“You should give it some time to heal.”

“But you said you needed my help today. At least let me do something.”

“Well, I do have several deliveries to make before the end of the day,” said Gunner, stretching his arms. “Could you do those for me? The list is on the table next to the weapon rack.”

Alvdis nodded.

There was a knock on a wooden pole near the entrance. It was immediately followed by a young boy’s voice.

“Alvdis?”

“Endre?” Alvdis called out. “That you? Come on in.”

Endre Haukrson entered the forge. He was a small, skinny boy with short, shaggy raven-black hair and bright forest green eyes.

“Hello, Endre,” said Gunner with a welcoming nod. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to pick up my father’s sword,” Endre replied. “He gave it to you to sharpen the other day.”

Gunner snapped his fingers. “Ah, yes. It’s over on that rack.”

“I’ll get it,” Alvdis volunteered.

She headed to a rack where a bunch of weapons hung. As soon as she saw it, she took in a deep breath of frustration and tensed her shoulders.The weapons were supposed to be in neat, even rows hanging on pegs. Swords, daggers, axes, maces, and spears, with the largest in the back and the smallest in the front. But now, it was an untidy mess of weapons placed haphazardly in mismatched rows.