The man standing front and center wears the pelt of a bear.
He won’t be the one with ultimate power in the clan, but he will have the most power of the men on the wall.
I raise my hands out from my sides, leaving my sword at my back, and continue along the path with my arms raised.
It will be no fun to shoot me with an arrow this way. Too easy to kill me, which would be shameful.
I can tell how much it annoys them from the snarls on their lips, easily audible to me even across the distance.
From within the village, I make out the sounds of life: crackling fires, laughter, a faint cheer every now and then.
According to my father, an Einherjar village works during the day but comes alive at night.
“Identify yourself!”
The shout comes from the central man wearing the bearskin. He isn’t the tallest of the men guarding the wall, and he certainly isn’t the oldest, but the scar down the side of his face tells me he’s seen serious battle.
Also, the others wouldn’t let him speak first if he didn’t have status among them.
I stop in the middle of the path, now thirty paces from the gate. I leave my hood up, concealing most of my face while I keep my arms raised from my sides.
“I am Erik, son of Bjarne Haakonsson,” I call, keeping any hint of a wolf’s growl from my voice. “I request an audience with your chieftain.”
The man laughs. “You areBjarnesson? You do not look like the son of abear.” He peers at me. “You look more like a stray dog.”
He looks to his men, who all snort and guffaw.
I let them laugh, maintaining a steady focus on the central man beneath the shadow of my hood. “You will tell your chieftain that I have returned.”
“Returned?” The central man’s mirth vanishes, and his eyes narrow. “Returning implies that you were once here. But that could not be true. A runt such as yourself would not have been allowed in here.”
“Friend,” I say, lifting my hands a little higher, a little closer to my hood, “you would be wise to do as I ask.”
“Why,stray?” he asks, smiling down at me.
He isn’t being thickheaded. He was never going to let me simply wander inside.
He’s keeping me talking.
I sense movement behind the wall. At some point, one of the men on the wall must have signaled for reinforcements. I’m impressed I didn’t notice them do it. But this isn’t the dominant clan for no reason.
I slowly slide back my hood. “I’ve come for what’s mine.”
The central man’s smile grows, and his eyes become brighter. The barest hint of sapphire light—undoubtedly his deep light—gleams around his fingertips as he forms a fist and thumps it to his heart. “So you have, wolf.”
At that, the gate creaks open, both doors opening inward.
A hush has fallen over the village. In the distance, multiple fires still crackle, but there’s no longer any laughter.
When the gates open all the way, it becomes apparent that there’s a line of men standing on either side of the path leading into the heart of the village. Each line has twenty men.
I will have to walk between them—and survive whatever beating they give me along the way.
From the ramparts, the central man shrugs down at me. “Of course, you will have to survive first.”
With that, he takes a step backward, moving right off the back of the rampart before he drops from view.
A moment later, I hear the softthudas he lands. He reappears, shrugging off his fur as he heads all the way to the end of the two rows, where he takes up position, blocking the gap between them.
