Tis Thursday night, and time once more for Ragnar and his pack to prowl the pages of my blog.
This is my weekly serial. Here is the first post.
Watch to catch up with last week’s post first? here it is.
Finally, here is a useful guide.
“Renoit?” I asked, fearing the worst.
“Don’t be so melodramatic, Ragnar,” said Murith, rolling her eyes. “Renoit is fine. I put a bolt in the back of that big brute’s head while our fencing friend was distracting him. It didn’t put him down, mind you, but Renoit made short work of him after that. I take it you did not rescue Madame Glorianna.”
“Don’t be glib Murith, I have a headache,” I said, groaning as I sat up. “Lord Torvul commands some impressive magic. Like being caught in a hurricane, really. I suppose I should be glad he was in too much of a hurry to kill me. Where are the others?”
“Sildus and Git went after Lord Torvul,” said Murith. “Renoit is finishing the last of the Devout in the building. Shan’t take him long.”
I shook my head. While Lord Torvul’s minions were to true Devout as a cub is to a wolf, they were still capable fighters. I looked at Kitirix, the one who had stayed behind to take my head, lying in a pool of his own blood. I felt suddenly tired.
“Murith, how easily can we rejoin Sildus and Git?” I asked.
“Easily enough,” said Murith. “Torvul has to travel underground, which is slowing them down.”
“Good, it is time that I kept a promise to a countryman,” I said.
“So you say the assassin did not kill my son?” said Harald Magnison, called Ironmast, a mountainous man, the peak of his head capped in red hair. “Why should I believe you, exile?”
“I don’t care if you do, Sea Wolf,” I said. I was speaking to Harald in front of his ship, with his sons and brother watching over us. They all looked useful in a fight. “The assassin will be there as well. Once we stop the Devout you can bury your axe in whichever man you think is responsible.”
“Watch your tone, exile,” growled one of Harald’s burly sons, a younger version of his father in surly temperament as well as looks.
“I think you’re telling tales, exile,” said Harald, his eyes narrowing. Obviously he considered this a trap.
“We don’t have time for this Ragnar,” said Murith. “Lord Torvul has to act soon or the whole city will come down on him.”
“Very well,” I said. “I have done as you asked Harald Magnison. I do so out of respect for your family and your fallen son. I know that I am an exile and you have no reason to trust my word, but I speak the truth. I swear an oath to all the gods of the north, and on my clan, the shadow wolves that your son was killed as part of this plot of the Devout.”
“He may not believe you, Ragnar Grimfang, but I do,” said a voice from behind me.
My blood turned to ice at the sound.