CHAPTER ONE
Vrogul
“Ye kenthis would be easier if we attacked at night?”
The murmured comment from my brother—and second-in-command—made my lips twitch. He stood next to me at the bow of my ship as the rowers plowed us through the waves of the Little Minch.
“Aye, I ken it. But no’ as sporting.”
“Sporting,” Maardok grunted. “I’d rather be consideredunsportingthan dead.”
I raised one brow mockingly as I tipped my head toward him.
“Ye think a wee group of human miners might make ye dead? Brother, ye owe me some time on thesparring grounds.”
Maardok merely snorted as he fingered the scar which marred his cheek. He was younger than me by two years and taller by half a foot. I was nae weakling, but Maardok was the largest male born to our clan in a generation, and a fine warrior beside.
But as his elder brother, I was morally obligated to tease him.
Now, he clapped me on my shoulder with one hand while he scooped up his gigantic war hammer with the other.
“Dinnae die, Stormseeker. I’d hate to have to explain to our sister that yer sense of honor got ye killed. And Sevren’s songs would mock ye for eternity.”
“I’m no’ going to die, and neither are ye.”
Scowling, I shrugged off his hand and focused on the coastline—and the human village nestled against the mouth of the river growing closer. Smoke from the fires darkened the sky.
“I just…dinnae like attacking in the dark. We deserve the chance for a real battle. And timing at the stones willnae work if we wait until dark.”
“It willnae be arealbattle—no’ against weak humans,” Maardok rumbled scornfully as he hefted his hammer over his head. His voice rose when he bellowed our battle cry.
“Battleborn!”
Behind us, our men at the oars roared their response.
“Battleborn!”
Auld Garran at the rudder called out, “Ship the oars, lads!”
I didn’t have to turn about to know my warriors were moving in unison, pulling in the oars, hefting their weapons, moving toward the gunwales. As the breakers caught the bow of my birlinn, I felt Auld Garran lean on the rudder, turning us toward the beach. The humans had spotted us, and already their males spilled across the sand, hefting weapons and mining tools, grimly determined to defend their property.
“Fools,” I whispered, and at my side, my brother grunted in agreement.
Then the bow of our ship plowed into the sand.
Humans surged forward with a wordless roar. Despite my distaste for this raid, the familiar battle lust flooded my chest, and deep inside me, myKteerhowled for blood.
Battle-hungry Maardok was the first to vault over the side of the ship and hit the sand, but I wasn’t far behind. My men hit the water and stomped with us toward the beach, our clan name on their lips.
“Battleborn! Battleborn!”
The familiar cry, and the sounds of metal meeting metal, caused my lips to curl as I met the first human’s blade.
“Battleborn!” I roared in the male’s face, knocking aside his sword and slamming my fist into the side of his head.
“Battleborn!”
I met the next defender head-on.
