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Prologue

It was supposed to be a simple day, a simple mission. Douglas McAlister had been standing on the prow of the ship as it sailed away from Scotland toward Norway, toward the country of the man he had pledged his sword to. Erik Hoffstad had proven himself to be a loyal, honorable man, despite having Viking blood in his veins. The Highlands had changed a lot in his lifetime. Douglas’s father was old enough to remember a time when the thought of Vikings brought fear and terror with them. Even now there were still some that were as close to evil as demons themselves, but Douglas had seen good Vikings too. Erik had taken it upon himself to travel to Norway to speak with other Viking leaders about the foray into Highland territory. Too many Vikings sought to spread mistrust and violence. A man called Arne Hagen had already been responsible for much distress in the Highlands, and nothing was ever going to stop until peace was made.

“Dae ye truly think they will listen tae ye?” Douglas asked as he walked up to Erik. There were clear skies around them, and the bountiful, beautiful land of Scotland receded as they sailed toward strange shores.

“They will have to,” Erik said in his somber, wise way. Erik was shorter than Douglas, who stood at six feet four. When he was younger people had called him Douglas the Mountain because he had towered over the other children, and at one point he wasn’t sure he would ever stop growing. But now he was about to enter his thirtieth decade. His muscles were well hewn, and his skill with the sword was a match for the Vikings. He had grown up calling them brothers, and he found it difficult to understand the suspicion that some of the elders had.

“If they don’t,” Erik continued, “then there will be war, and they will find that the shores of Scotland will not be as easy to conquer as they think. I am not going to let people like Arne Hagen think that they can come over to our land and do as they please.”

Douglas smirked. “They might nae understand ye when ye speak of Scotland as yer land. Are ye sure ye arenae longing for Norway?”

Erik flashed a reassuring smile. “You don’t have to worry about my loyalties. I have always known where my destiny rests. The Highlands are my home, and I am proud of that. I do not want to see them destroyed.”

“Being in Norway might change yer mind, though. Maybe ye will even meet a bonny Viking lass who will steal yer heart away,” Douglas smirked.

“I don’t think there’s any chance of that happening. I’m here to do my duty. The sooner we meet these Viking chiefs, the better. Then we can return home, and I can take part in my father’s celebration.”

“Aye, he was as happy as the sun. I dinnae think I’ve ever seen him smile sae much.”

Erik chuckled. “There’s nothing like a fair maiden to cheer the spirits of a warrior. Frankly, I’m surprised that you haven’t been married yet.”

“I could say the same about ye,” Douglas replied, stiffening somewhat at Erik’s words.

“I’m sure I’ll meet someone eventually. Most likely, I’ll have a marriage arranged for me to strengthen an alliance in the Highlands. I will have to talk to Father about it when we return. But you’re free to marry whomever you choose, Douglas. Don’t you get lonely?”

Douglas shrugged. “Lasses and I hae never…well…we’ve never seen eye tae eye really. Sometimes I think they speak a different language. I know what I’m daeing with a sword, but with a lass, well, it begins well, and then I never know what tae say next.”

“Maybe you’re just waiting for the right one who speaks your language,” Erik said.

“Perhaps,” Douglas replied.

They had been sailing for a while. Douglas was in his cabin stealing a few moments of precious rest when he heard the alarm sound. He threw off his blanket and ran toward the deck as the ship lurched. When he looked outside, he saw a grim shadow, another boat that was hunting them like a predator. There was chaos on the ship as fiery arrows hailed from the sky and came crashing down, spreading across the ship with ease. Dead bodies littered the deck, and the ship lurched again. Douglas only just managed to retain his balance as he drew his sword. The other ship sailed close to them and mocked them with cheers and cries.

They were Vikings, bloodthirsty and savage, the kind that he had been told stories about when he was younger, the kind that had left the Highlands in terror. They wielded bone axes and sharp swords. They wore thick hides and heavy helms, only showing their bared teeth and their furious eyes. Douglas braced himself as they poured onto the ship. The air around him was filled with furious cries. He tried making his way to Erik, who was barking out orders. Fire took hold of the ship, and there were Vikings everywhere, pouring onto the ship like a swarm of rats. Douglas tried his best to fight.

The more Vikings there are, the easier it will be to strike them, he thought to himself as he threw himself into battle. His feet slipped on the wet deck, and his hands were damp with sweat. His wrists twisted, and the impact of sword on sword reverberated up his arm. His vision was a blur. He called out to Erik and the others, but there were so many noises he couldn’t tell if any of them were replying. Darkness closed in as the Vikings surrounded him. The sun winked out, and he knew the odds were against him. The butt of a sword cracked against his skull, and he slumped to the deck, fearing that it was the last thing he would remember.

Douglas awoke with a throbbing in his head. His throat was dry, and his stomach grumbled terribly. He tried to blink away the uncomfortable feelings and swung himself into a sitting position, but this only made his head spin even more dramatically.

“Ah, you are awake,” a tall, thin woman said. Douglas backed away, looking at her with suspicion.

“Who are ye? Where am I?” he barked, his voice harsh. He went to reach for his sword out of instinct, only to find that it wasn’t by his side. Memories came flooding back, of the ship and the battle, of the mission gone awry. He doubted he was among friends, even though this lass didn’t seem threatening at all.

“My name is Kari. You were brought here injured. You spent so long recovering that we thought you might have died. You had a fever, but we nursed you back to health. Here, have this,” she said, and reached behind her to give him a bowl of broth. Douglas took it and was suspicious, but he was too hungry to refuse the offer. He brought the bowl to his lips and sipped it before his hunger overwhelmed him, and he gulped it down. Chunks of vegetables fell against his chin, and liquid sloshed through his beard as he tipped the bowl vertically and gulped it all down. He set the bowl aside, wiped his mouth with his arm, and let out a hearty belch. Kari furrowed her brow and winced at this display of masculine brutishness as she took the bowl away.

“What am I daeing here? Where are my companions?”

“I…believe you should speak to my brother,” she said. “I am sorry.”

She backed away toward the door of the small hut. Douglas rose and called her back, but she was gone before he could reach her. He tried the door, but it was locked from the outside. He could do nothing but stew in the thought of his own demise. The only thing that bade well for him was that they had not let him die. If they wanted him dead, then they could have let the fever take him, although he wondered if the fate they had in store for him might have been worse than death. He stared at the door with a baleful gaze, thinking about the companions he had lost, thinking about Erik. For all Douglas knew, he might have been the last one alive.

Eventually, the door opened again. The throbbing pain in Douglas’s head had decreased, although his hunger was still there. This time it was a man who entered. He looked young, but he had an arrogant smile, and he clearly lacked nothing in strength. A huge weapon rested against his thigh. Douglas took the measure of him, wondering if he could surprise the man enough to escape. If he moved quickly and luck was with them, then perhaps he could overpower the man and steal his weapon, but what then? There were going to be more Vikings than had overpowered him on the ship, and he was only one man.

What good could one man do?

“Ah, I’m good to see that you are finally awake.”

“Who are ye? What dae ye want with me?”