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Hilda had calmed down from the initial flurry of anger that had entered her heart. She had almost been certain that she was going to die in a battle with this brute. He wasn’t like any man she had ever known. He was even taller than her father! He was quick as well, impossibly so for a man as big as him, and her blows didn’t seem to affect him at all. She wondered if anyone had managed to defeat him in battle, and she was just glad that he hadn’t given her the full brunt of his strength. He looked so mighty, he could well have been able to snap a tree trunk in two with his bare hands. The sword wasn’t like any other she had seen, either; it was so long it looked as though two had been forged together, and the blade was wide enough that it could block out the sun.

Maxwell jerked his head as he led her back to a camp he had made with his few men. His horse was there too, and he was a monster. His hide was black, his mane was flowing, and his eyes were like two lumps of coal. There were so many questions on Hilda’s mind, like who this man truly was and what he was doing hunting for the raiders. When he had been speaking to her about it, she had sensed some emotion behind his eyes, something gentle that seemed incongruous with the rest of him, although he wouldn’t give her specific details.

Part of her still wanted to run through the forest in pursuit of these villains that had killed Fiona, but if what Maxwell said was true, then it wasn’t going to be possible. She needed his help, but it certainly wouldn’t be a detriment to have an ally of his stature. She found herself tilting her neck back to look up at him, which she wasn’t used to doing for anyone but her father. Thanks to her Viking blood, she was taller than most anyone else in the clan, but this man was something else entirely. She didn’t know if he was Viking or not. He was as tall as what she imagined a god would be if they walked among mortals.

She waited by Blaze as Maxwell talked to his men. There were some general mutterings and curious glances tossed in Hilda’s direction, but then they started to get ready, gathering their bedrolls and supplies and following Maxwell’s lead. Hilda’s heart still burned with guilt for what had happened, but after encountering Maxwell, she felt a little better. At least she could return home with an ally in tow.

Hilda led them through the forest back toward the clan. As soon as she arrived, people saw the huge man riding a horse along with the others, and they started to pick up arms. Hilda had to speed up Blaze’s pace to ride in front of Maxwell and capture everyone’s attention, urging them to calm down.

“He’s nae the enemy!” she cried.

“Who is he, and why hae ye brought him here?” Angus called out.

Hilda slipped off Blaze and addressed the clan. “They’re willing tae help us track whoever attacked us. I found them in the woods. I think they can help.” As she said this, she noticed her father coming toward them. He didn’t have Fiona in his arms. His face was set in stone, his color pallid, and his eyes were solemn. Hilda still couldn’t bring herself to face him, so she hid behind Blaze, not wanting to meet Varrik’s eyes.

“My name is Varrik. I’m the leader of this clan,” Varrik said. She doubted Maxwell could tell because he had only just met Varrik, but Hilda could hear the tremor in his voice and knew that he was only just about managing to hold on to his grief.

“Maxwell Black, and these are my men. Seems as though ye’ve haed a wee bit of trouble here.”

“Indeed, and you seem like a formidable warrior. And you know of these men?” Varrik asked.

Maxwell stroked his beard. “I’ve haed dealings with them in the past. I would be happy tae help ye…for a price.”

Varrik pursed his lips. Hilda’s heart sank because Maxwell hadn’t made any mention of a price to her, although perhaps it had been naïve of her to think that he would have offered his help out of the kindness of his heart.

“And what kind of price are we talking?”

Maxwell looked back at his men and then named his price. Hilda almost groaned. Not only had she been responsible for the death of her mother, but now she had brought this man here to make money from their grief.

“I’ll have to see if we can manage that. For such a price, I hope you’re worth it.”

“I’m the best in the business,” Maxwell said.

Hilda glanced above Blaze’s flank and saw Varrik looking at her. He called Stephen to his side but didn’t make any motion to ask her to come with him. She felt as though she had disappointed him greatly and knew that he would never trust her again. After all, how could he?

While Varrik was discussing the matter with Stephen, the people of the clan came up, intrigued by the sheer size of the man. Hilda watched as children kept their distance and gazed up in awe at this man who was far taller than any they had seen before.

“Are ye a giant?” they asked.

Maxwell laughed. “Nae that I know of,” he said.

Word quickly spread as children ran and husbands ushered their wives to see this living marvel. Hilda wondered if Maxwell was greeted this way anywhere he went and if this went some way to explaining why he camped in the woods. The rest of his crew were normal, surly men, and all the attention was on Maxwell.

Some of the young warriors dared to approach him directly and worked up the courage to ask if they could see his sword. He smirked and drew it from its sheath. Gasps and murmurs rippled around the crowd as they had never seen a terrible weapon before. Now that she laid her eyes on it again, she was amazed at the fact she had gone into battle with this titan. She had always considered herself fearless, and she had clearly embraced this facet of her personality. She shuddered as she watched the young warriors slide their hands over the long blade, imagining how differently things might have gone had Maxwell been less inclined to hold back. She had no doubt that it would have split her in two.

It took three of the warriors to even hold up the sword, which was a testament to Maxwell’s major strength. Hilda became certain that there was something else in his blood as she couldn’t believe that he was born purely of the Highlands. It seemed as though others had the same line of thinking. Whispers rippled around about this man, about how impressive and fearsome he was. Some suggested that Varrik should pay the man’s weight in gold, which would have been a massive sum indeed, for Maxwell Black would surely be able to intimidate anyone who meant the clan any harm. Hilda could see the fear in their eyes as well. No doubt they were wondering what Maxwell would do if he didn’t get the payment he requested. Hilda had seen a glimpse of kindness in his eyes, but she also worried that she had introduced another threat into the clan.

As the murmurs rippled through the people of the clan, those who had Viking heritage started to whisper, calling this man Thor of the Highlands. It was an apt description, she thought, but she wondered how anyone who didn’t have a Viking background would react to being called this. She found herself reaching underneath her tunic, fondling the ornamental Mjolnir she wore as a necklace, intrigued by where this man had come from and what lingered in the background of his life.

Varrik returned, and the crowd dispelled. Hilda remained out of sight, and since Varrik didn’t make any effort to talk to her, she assumed that he was upset with her. She couldn’t blame him, of course, but she was determined to make it right. She would do whatever it took to avenge her mother and make up for her dishonor in her father’s eyes.

“I think we can just about stretch to your asking price if you can guarantee me you’ll find these people,” Varrik said.

“I’m a man of my word, and I never let any contract gae unfulfilled,” Maxwell said. “I’ll get started on it straight away,” he said.

It was at this point that Hilda knew she had to speak up. Even though she didn’t want to be in front of her father, for the shame was so great, she wasn’t about to let someone else go off on the quest to avenge her mother.