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It had been a long ride. Shine was about ready to collapse, as was Caoimhe. She had only stopped to ask for directions to the Viking village, knowing that people around here would know of it. She patted Shine’s neck and groaned as she alighted from the horse, staggering through the village, calling for Erik. Her words were shrill, and she was about ready to collapse. Her stomach ached, and fatigue made her arms heavy. It wasn’t long before she was faced with someone who resembled Egon.

“You called for me?” Erik asked, eyeing her with suspicion. She quickly introduced herself and told him everything that had happened and how Egon had been captured. Erik listened, and his mouth dropped open in shock. Then his brows knotted together, and she saw the same kind of intensity that had been in Egon’s face. There was no doubt that they were brothers.

Erik turned and ordered someone to bring Caoimhe some food and water to replenish her strength while he went to fetch the men. Before he left, he turned to Caoimhe and said that it was nice to meet her after hearing so much about her.

She was surprised that Egon had spoken about her at all, but then again, perhaps she shouldn’t have been.

She sat down and ate some food as she watched Erik gather the men together.

“Something terrible has happened. The Viking raids have only gotten worse, and now they have captured my brother as well. He is being held in a castle, and no doubt there are going to be powerful enemies waiting for us. But we cannot forsake him now. Who is with me?”

A powerful roar erupted in support of Egon, and Caoimhe’s heart was touched at the show of camaraderie. One man spoke louder than all the others.

“I’m looking forward to putting into practice all the lessons that Egon taught me.” There was a ripple of laughter as others shared similar sentiments, and then they all went to prepare for battle. Caoimhe felt her head getting lighter and lighter. She had done it. She had helped Egon and now…now she could finally just close her eyes for a little while...

Sven and Arne glowered as they gazed into the empty room. Sven rushed to the window.

“No, this isn’t possible. We had her. We had her! How could she escape our grasp now? Surely she wouldn’t have thrown herself from the window?” Arne asked.

“I wouldn’t put anything past her,” Sven said through gritted teeth. He pulled himself away from the window. “Some of the men said they thought they saw someone riding away.”

“Well, why didn’t they do anything? Useless, the lot of them, useless!” Arne snarled as he stormed out of the room and started smashing things on the way back to the main chamber, where Viking warriors lolled over tables and snored. Empty mugs of ale rested on tables in front of them, and bones were on their plates, all of which had been picked clean. Arne stormed into the room and swiped a hand across a table, sending the plates and bones and mugs clattering to the floor.

“Wake up, you useless mice!” he yelled, and the Vikings stirred. Arne looked as though he was on the warpath, not caring about anything that might have gotten in his way. His face was red and his nostrils were flared. He had only been this angry once before in his life—when he had learned that his son had been killed by some puny Highlander. Ever since then, Arne had waited and waited for his revenge, but even now, he wasn’t being given his due.

The Vikings stirred and moaned. Sven watched on with worry, wondering what Arne was going to do next. Unease settled in his stomach because he knew that it had been his duty to bring Caoimhe to him, and he was the one who had failed to keep her. Arne had never been shy with his blade, and Sven wondered if it was his blood that was going to be spilled.

“Bring me the prisoners! I want that Viking bastard and that murderer here in front of me!” he said, spittle flying from his mouth as he pointed to the floor.

For a moment, nobody moved, which was when Arne made it clear that he wasn’t prepared to wait. Sven let out a slow whistle and ordered the Vikings about like dogs. A few of them trooped out of the room. Arne paced around the chamber with his hands clasped behind his back and thunder etched upon his face. Sven slunk back into the shadows, hoping that if he remained quiet, Arne would not bring up his failure, and Sven would not have to pay the price.

It wasn’t long before the prisoners were brought to Arne. They were dumped unceremoniously to the floor. Sven was amused by the sight of these two men with their hands bound behind their backs. Caoimhe might have escaped, but at least she wasn’t going to be able to help Egon or her father. She would probably burrow herself away somewhere like a scared little rabbit.

“This isn’t how I planned things,” Arne Hagen began, speaking slowly as he paced before the two prisoners, who were on their knees. “But sometimes men need to adapt their plans. I have waited for this moment for a long time.” He looked directly at Cameron. “My son was my pride and joy. All my life, the only thing I ever wanted was a family. I came to this accursed land because I heard about the prospects, and I thought it was ripe for conquest. I thought it would be a gift I could give my son when he grew up. But then he was struck down before he even had a chance to live. His life was stolen from him, and for every moment since then, I have waited for the moment when I shall take my revenge.”

He spoke in a low whisper and clenched his hand into a fist, as if he was crushing Cameron’s heart.

“And you”—he turned to Egon—“how dare you come into my castle and brandish your sword. I’d have thought your father would have taught you better manners, but I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised given how he has forgotten the old ways and lives like one of them!” He almost spat the word, as though being a Highlander was the worst thing in the world. “Well, I want you to know that I’m not going to stop here. I’m going to make them all pay. This land should be conquered by us, not shared equally. These peasants are not our equals.”

Egon snarled and grunted, but he didn’t say anything in reply. Arne turned his attention back to Cameron.

“I did want this to be different. I wanted you to feel the same pain I felt. I wanted your daughter here so that I could slay her in front of your eyes and watch your world end, just as mine did all those years ago. But I tire of waiting. Know this, though... After your death, I will scour this land for her, and I will not rest until I have her in my grasp again, and then she is going to die slowly as revenge for my son. She is going to bear all the pain that I have suffered over the years, and you will not be alive to protect her.”

“You’re a madman, Arne,” Egon eventually spoke up. “And all of you who follow him are mad too. These are not the old ways. You don’t care about the Viking way. You just care about revenge. You—” He was interrupted by a swift strike across his face.

Arne glared at him. “You just sealed your fate first,” he said, and held out his hand for a sword. Sven fetched one from his throne, and Arne curled his mighty fist around it. There was a smirk of satisfaction as he lifted the blade, ready to strike clean through Egon’s neck. He could almost hear the sound of the head lolling to the floor, but just as he was about to strike, a few Vikings came rushing in and told them there was something they needed to see outside. There was such urgency in their voice that Arne could not brush away their request. He muttered to himself as he, Sven, and all the others walked to the entrance of the castle, and there he saw Erik, Caoimhe, and a group of sixty warriors—a mixture of Highlanders and Vikings—ready for battle.

“What are you doing here? How dare you come and trespass on my land!” Arne yelled.

“This isn’t your land, not by right!” Erik replied. “You stole this land!”

Arne waved a hand dismissively through the air. “I took it, and that makes it mine. If you want to take it from me, then you’re going to have to come inside,” he said, and returned to the chamber with Sven by his side, leaving a contingent of Vikings to guard the door. He took the prisoners with him.

Caoimhe had fought to convince Erik to let her come with him. He instructed her to stay close to him after it became clear that she wasn’t going to relent. Nerves fluttered in her stomach as she rode into battle, and when Arne appeared, she felt true fear. But then she saw her father again, and she rejoiced. His hands might have been bound, but he was still alive! Hope flickered, and then the army charged.

The Vikings at the entrance fought valiantly, but they were felled by the superior numbers. However, the castle interior was not wide, so the army had to be funneled through in a narrow line. Waiting at them at the end were enemies, who easily dispatched the first few warriors who made it through. But in time, the sheer numbers overwhelmed them, and Erik’s force was able to break through, spilling into the chamber. The air was hot, the chamber was narrow, and Caoimhe was pressed against the sweaty flesh of strange men. She was carried through almost more by impulse than by her own feet, but then she was in the chamber too.

The scene was one of chaos as warrior attacked warrior. A pile of bodies was left at the entrance; lifeless eyes stared at her in their eternal sleep, and she almost emptied her guts. She scanned the room as her allies poured in around her. Some Vikings leaped upon tables to give them a height advantage, but they were soon joined by enemies. Everything was being used as a battlefield. In the chaos, it was difficult to tell who was an ally and who was a friend, but she was looking for one man in particular: her father.

She saw him in the middle of the room, still with his hands bound, vulnerable and alone. He and Egon had managed to break free of the men guarding them and were shuffling away, but with their hands still tied, they were vulnerable to attack.

Caoimhe darted in a straight line toward her father. She had to run quickly and needed all of her agility to evade the slashing blows that came her way. Sparks flew as blades met, and the air soon became heavy and thick with the smell of blood and death. There were vicious curses and vows to the gods. All of these words were punctuated with the sickening crack of bone, and it took all of her willpower to ignore these things and focus on the task at hand.

It had felt like an eternity since she had seen her father last. In that time, she hadn’t known if he was alive or dead, and now his life still hung in the balance. She pushed through the blur of bodies and reached out to him, but she wasn’t the only one trying to find him. At the last moment, she realized that someone else had been wending their way across the battle as well, and before she could reach her father, she saw Sven raise his sword and attack Cameron. Caoimhe screamed as the sword gleamed, and for a moment, everything seemed to stand still.