I found a bench nearby and sat down, tilting my head toward the ground. With my boot, I traced patterns in the dirt, shaping imaginary maps. The rock was my clan's longhouse. The yellow patch of soil was the western side, where autumn leaves would fall. A small stick—a bridge I had helped build. The bridge I would never cross again.
A sudden chill snapped me back. It was late. I had lingered longer than intended. Exhaling, I stood up.
"They say King Ælla seemed upset today," a woman muttered to her friend. "Wonder why…"
"Who knows?" the other replied. "The raids have likely worn him down."
"Damn Ragnar and his yellow dogs. God take them."
"Animals..."
I passed by without a glance, heading toward the city gates. Outside, Mielda waited where I had left her, tied to a low-hanging branch. Taking up her reins, I swung into the saddle and urged her into a slow trot. There was a cave not far from here, enough shelter for the night. Staying in the city would only invite trouble.
The horse seemed uneasy, shifting nervously on her hooves. I patted her gently after hopping off, holding the reins in one hand as I tried to calm her down. She was the most troublesome horse in the settlement, yet I'd chosen her. I didn't know why. Maybe it was fate... or maybe my taste in horses was nonexistent.
"Easy, girl. Calm down now," I murmured, stroking her mane.
As she settled slightly, I mounted her again, steering her toward the side, away from the city. I had no idea what had set her off, but I wasn't interested in finding out. I just needed to leave now—before things got ugly.
"Calm down, girl. Easy," I repeated, patting her again. "I know you're tired. We'll rest soon, friend."
She shook her head but then calmed. I was exhausted like Mielda, and needed a good night's sleep before deciding what to do next. My vision blurred, and sleep became a necessity; if I ignored it any longer, I might collapse. The scuffle in that village had drained the last bit of strength I had.
With my hood concealing my face and cloak blending me into the background, I moved away from the city, my half-lidded eyes fixed on the road, struggling to stay awake.
"Come on, Valrik," I whispered to myself. "Don't sleep now."
I took to the forest, avoiding any potential patrols, making my way toward the cave. With each hoofbeat kicking up dust, the sky above darkened, promising rain. I was used to bad weather, but England's was something else—unpredictable. One morning would bring snow, and by nightfall, the sun would shine as if winter had never arrived.
I tugged on the reins, slowing Mielda when I spotted a figure in the forest. A father, teaching his son how to hunt. The boy aimed his bow at a rabbit but hesitated.
The father caught a glimpse of my hood as the wind lifted it slightly. His grip on his son tightened, and with cautious eyes, he led him away, allowing the rabbit to escape.
I exhaled. "Hope they won't alert the guards."
I trudged along the forest path, passing countless trees. After some time, I reached a small clearing, where a hill rose with the cave I sought. A pond lay in front of the entrance, its still water reflecting the dimming sky. To reach the cave, I had to climb the rock face and squeeze through a narrow opening in the stone.
I dismounted, tied Mielda to a sturdy tree, and approached the climb. Gripping a protruding ledge, I hoisted myself up, planting my foot firmly before leaping to grab another handhold. Carefully, I edged along a narrow ledge until I reached the slit-like entrance. Pressing myself against the rock, I slipped inside.
"Okay," I muttered, sinking onto the ground and shaking my head. "Looks like I'll be staying here tonight."
I curled up, resting my head on my arm, and shut my eyes. Sleep was all I needed. Tomorrow—Valhalla. I still couldn't believe what I had seen in that village… Odin himself, watching over me.
"What a sight it was…"
Sleep came sooner than expected. Normally, I struggled, but the soothing sounds of the night and the gentle patter of rain dulled my senses. I let myself drift—only for a nightmare to take hold.
I was back at the raid, fighting alongside Ragnar's men, cutting down guards and plundering the village. Blood stained my axe, a grin stretched across my face as I led seven warriors toward a church. My face was smeared with dirt and blood, ready to cut down my enemies. However, as I walked toward the church, I halted when a scream echoed from a nearby house.
I turned, gripping my axe, expecting danger. But what I saw instead made my stomach twist.
One of Ragnar's men was inside, forcing himself onto a child, no older than eight. The girl's mother lay on the floor, her clothes torn, her body trembling.
"It's your turn, slut!" the man snarled. "Come here!"
"Friend!" I barked, stepping inside. "The raid is still on! There's plunder to take. Do not do heinous things like this."
"Or what?" he sneered, tearing at the girl's clothes, then forcing a kiss upon her while locking eyes with me. "What will you do?"
"Let the girl go," I said, gripping my axes tightly. "She is but a child."
"Don't act all high and righteous, boy." He slapped the child, sending her to the floor. "Your clan licks our boots to be our allies. You little weasel!"
"Do not speak ill of my clan, friend," I said, my voice dangerously calm. "Or you will face the consequences."
"Oh?" He grabbed his axe from the table. "What will you do? You think you can take me on?"
"Calm down, drengr," I warned. "Join the raid. You don't want to—"
He hurled his axe at me. I sidestepped.
Anger flashed through me. As he reached for a second weapon, I surged forward with thunderous speed, seizing him by the throat and hurling him through the weakened wall of the burning house. The wall, already crumbling under the heat, gave way easily, and he crashed to the ground outside.
I stepped out and circled him as he struggled to rise, shaking off the daze. Fury took hold of him. He snatched a handful of dirt and flung it into my face before lunging, tackling me to the ground.
"Lick my boot, or I'll tell Ragnar what you did!"
"Are you a child?" I snapped, punching him to shove him off me before standing. "Stop this nonsense! Join the raid!"
"I'll raid your asshole when I slay you, fucker!"
I exhaled, forcing myself to stay calm. "Stop, friend."
He lunged, swinging his axe at me. I dodged, seized his wrist, and drove my boot into his knee, forcing him down. Grabbing the back of his head, I slammed it against the house wall, the weakened wood cracking under the impact.
Dazed, he barely had time to react before I pressed my axe to his throat and slashed sideways. Metal tore through flesh. He collapsed, gasping for air.
As he crawled toward his axe, desperate to die with a weapon in hand, I denied him that honor. I kicked the axe away and planted my foot on his shoulder, leaning in with my elbow resting on my knee. He had always been pathetic. Now, he was even more so. Scum.
"Helheim is where you go," I sneered, my voice eerily calm. "Odin's winged women will not take you today."
"You…" was all he could choke out before death took him.
Suddenly, a chill washed over me, and I felt smaller than ever. I turned around and saw him—the one above all. Odin. He shook his head, his eyes fixed on me. He was saying something, but his words slipped away, lost in the haze of the dream. A deep sense of dread gripped me. I dropped my axes, desperate to understand him. Just as I thought I might catch a word, everything went dark.