And here we are at the end of the first tale of Ragnar Grimfang, twiceborn and exile.
This is my weekly, serial, now over a year old: here is the first post.
If you want to catch up, here is last week’s post.
And here is a helpful guide.
I lit a pyre for Sildus on that hill. I grumbled at him while I did it. I honoured him because he had fought at my side against the Devout, but I cursed him for playing me for a fool. Perhaps I was angry at myself for falling for the assassin’s ploys.
It was midday before his corpse was ash. The sky was bright and blue, seeming endless. I sat down on the hill, looking down to the shore to the North where a half dozen longships were putting out to sea. I saw familiar banners and familiar architecture. I thought I could hear the Nordan tongue on the wind. My heart ached to be home again.
But I was an exile.
I was not the type to sneak into my homeland either. A man must honour his oaths, or he is no man at all.
“One day I will return in triumph,” I said. Then I turned away from the village, struck camp, and headed back to my new home.
I arrived at the city some days later, as the sun was setting. I waited on a distant hill, watching as each island lit up for the night. My heart was still melancholy, but I was eager to be reunited with friends. As the sky blackened and the streets of Myrrhn became rivers of stars, I headed toward the gates. the city was dangerous at night, but I was not afraid.
Somewhere behind me, distant, but clear, I heard a howl like that of a wolf.
Thanks for reading! this concludes the first of the Shadow Wolf Sagas. It as been fun to write, and hopefully enjoyable to read. In the fall I will be collecting it, actually editing it, and then publishing it. Meanwhile expect another saga to begin in a week or two.