PROLOGUE

Off the coast of the Dark Forest

The cold spray broke over the bow of the single mast drakkar, her red sail snapping in the wind like a clash of thunder. Knut Leofric smiled as he watched the water drip from the jaws of the dragon’s head seated above the prow as it soared once again above the waves.

“Hungry my friend? You will feed soon I promise.”

“Knut!”

He turned to the stern. Eric One-Eye waived with one hand while keeping the other on the steering board. He pointed larboard and Knut scanned the shoreline of the nearing coast. Seeing nothing new he worked his way back to his helmsman.

“What see you, old man?”

Eric smiled and adjusted the leather patch over his left eye. “I may have but one eye, Jarl, but it sees what needs to be seen. Near the shore lie four vessels.”

Knut stared and as the ship rose on a swell, he saw them.

“Found you.” He turned to Eric and slapped him on the shoulder. “As usual, a true tracker of the seas. Thank you, my friend. Now it is time for retribution.”

Knute called to the men sitting on their sea chests in the belly of the longboat. “Drop sail. Steep the mast.” He turned to Eric. “Signal the others to come alongside”

Knut stood with his legs spread wide rocking with the movement of the boat as he waited for the other dragon ships. He looked down at the activity taking place on the deck of Serpents Breath, his father’s flagship. Eighty warriors opened the hole covers in preparation for pushing the eighteen-foot oars in place. Each man adjusted his sea chest to be used as a rowing bench.

As the other five ships came alongside Knut looked at his boat captains. Sibbe Brodirsson, Leif Sijvidottir, Kaetil Hjarrandissan, Magnus Skulidottir, and the youngest, Ulf Firesoul. Skilled warriors all. Handpicked by the king himself to seek out the cowards that had killed so many of their people and taken their children.

“Their vessels lie offshore of the Dark Forest,” he called out. “Four massive ships. I don’t know how many are aboard. We take them first.

“Magnus, Sibbe, you take the two to port. Ulf, you and Kaetil, take those that lie starboard. Clear their decks with your archers if you can then board. Look for the children. Lief and I will wait in case you should require aid.”

“What do we do if they yield?” Ulf asked.

Knut stared at the young man for a moment. Then shook his head. “Make sure they don’t. Any other questions?”

“Do we burn them?” Magnus asked.

“The ships or their crews?” came the voice of a young woman from Ulf’s crew.

Knut laughed. “Frigg Daggerblood, do what makes you most happy. Far be it from me to try to tell you what to do.”

Laughter from all the crews accompanied by several comments agreeing that trying to tell Frigg to do anything that did not suit her was tantamount to suicide.

“Signal when they are secure. If you need help push off and we will come. If all goes well, I will see you all on the beach.” Knut turned towards his crew as the other boats moved away.

“Prepare for battle, my friends.” He pointed to the beach. “There lies our quarry.”

There was no cheer as the warriors of Serpents Breath readied themselves, opening their chests and withdrawing the sleeveless chain mail shirts favored by raiders. When he felt all were ready, he shouted,” Oars out!”

Twenty-five of the long oars were pushed out through the holes on each side of the longboat. Thirty men kneeled between them ready to cover the rowers with shields if needs be or to take an oar if a man should fall or tire.

Leif Sijvidottir brought the Devilfish and her crew of sixty to a safe distance on the starboard side of Long Serpent. Knut was pleased to see that he had placed four archers in the bow.

“Nickolas, call the pace if you will.”

The man Nickolas, one of the thirty kneeling between rowers, climbed to his feet and began to chant, slamming the hilt of a spear to keep the beat while his long mustachios braided and tied swung in cadence as he called out.

“Dip those oars then raise them high,”

The rowers cried out, “Dip, pull. Dip, pull.”

“Draw them back and make us fly,”

 “Dip, pull. Dip, pull.”

“From bow to stern above the waves,”

“Dip, pull. Dip, pull.”

“Let them see what comes their way.”

Eric’s voice was heard above the chant as they worked their way closer to the beach.

“Hold!”

The rowers dropped their oars into the sea and held them steady. The boat ceased its forward movement two hundred yards from where the waves broke upon the black sand. Knut turned to his helmsman.

“Eric, keep us steady. We wait for the others. If the children are not there we head for the beach.”

The big man nodded and called to the ships' boys, “prepare the lines.”

The drakkar bobbed in the uneasy water as Knut and the others watched while more than two hundred raiders threw grappling lines and worked their way up the sides of the massive ships. He turned at the twang of a bowstring. Leif shrugged his shoulders.

“Someone looked over the rail.”

Knut smiled then returned his attention to the enemy vessels. They were massive things. Near as tall as the defensive wall of a steading. Three tall masts aligned evenly along the deck; their sails tied to long crossbeams sitting near thirty feet above the deck. No steering board but a massive rudder similar to the ones he had seen on some of the Lantusian traders. The hull was painted in bright colors depicting strange sea creatures.

Nickolas approached and whistled. “No hiding that. Seems like they want to be seen.”

Knut laughed. “Not too good for raiding.”

“Look,” Nickolas said pointing to the nearest boat. Sibbie was along the rail waving his arms. He cupped his hands to his mouth and called out.

“The ships are abandoned. No one is aboard.”

“And the children?” Knute inquired.

Sibbie shook his head.

“They must have taken them ashore. Signal the others to meet us on the beach.”

Sibbe nodded and turned away.

“Let’s get underway, Nickolas.”

The big man resumed his position in the belly of the boat.

Knut called to Leif. “We head to the beach. Be careful. No crew aboard and ships this size could carry a lot of men.”

“Then let us go get them,” Leif laughed. He turned to his men. “It is time to show the prince what the Dragonfish can do. Up oars.”

Eric chuckled. “I do believe he intends to beat you to the beach, Jarl.”

“Nickolas,” Knute shouted. “Do not allow that to happen.”

“Aye, Jarl. All right you sea rats, it is time we put that pup in his place.”

The men cheered. The oars came up and were pushed towards the bow.

“Now dip and pull, you bastards. Put your backs into it. You let that boy and his children beat us to the beach and you will walk home.”

Instantly fifty oars were dropped into the sea and the boat began to move. Nickolas started banging his spear on the deck.

“Attack speed!”

As the boat picked up speed Knut moved forward. He leaned his hand on the neck of the carved figurehead and watched the beach.

“Where are you?”

He scanned the shoreline and then the forest less than a hundred yards from the serf. Nothing.

“How did they get to shore?”

Knut did not see when they passed Dragonfish, focused on the shore ahead.

“Prepare to come about.” He heard Eric call.

As Eric closely watched the dragon head on the bow waiting for the right moment to give the command.

Knut picked up his round shield and drew his sword. “Scouts, to the stern.”

“Now! Portside dip and hold. Starboard up oars,” Eric commanded and leaned into the steering board until the ship swung around then he lifted the steering board as the stern gently ground to a halt in the sand. Ten men jumped into the surf and worked their way to the shore. The ship's boys leaped over the side, ran up the beach, and pounded long metal stakes deep into the sand. Removing the ropes wrapped around their torsos, their ends attached to the boats, they cinched them tight securing the ships to the shore.

“Oars in,” Nickolas called.

The starboard side oars were pulled in.

“Raise oars.”

Fifty oars were raised looking like an orchard of leafless trees.

“Down.”

The oars were carefully lowered and stacked on the deck next to the mast. The men recovered their shields from the outside of the gunwale.

“Over the side,” Knut yelled as he lept over the stern onto dry land. “Scouts out.”

He turned when he heard Devilfish beach itself. The men of both boats rushed forward of their prince and waited, shields and weapons ready.

Leif walked up beside him. “Someday I will get to shore before you.”

“Someday, cousin,” Knut said slapping him on the shoulder and sporting an affectionate grin.

“Now what?” Leif asked

“We wait for the other boats and the scouts to tell us what lies beyond those trees.”

“How did they come ashore?” Leif asked.

“Look there.” He nodded towards the trees where several small boats rested covered with branches.”

Leif shook his head. “Piss poor job hiding them.” He turned and looked at the massive ships resting offshore. “I have never seen anything like them. They are so damn tall it is a wonder they don’t tip over. And three masts.”

“I admit they are strange,” Knut said. He stood and watched as his people began to drop down into their boats.

“Trouble?” Leif asked.

“I don’t think so. Wait, smoke. They have fired the ships.”

“That was fast.”

“Sibbe said they found no one aboard.”

“And the children?” Leif asked.

“Not there. Get your men organized and join me here. Quickly.”

“You see something?”

“No. I feel something.”

“Have you ever landed here before?”

Knute stared at the forest. “I know of no man that has landed on this cursed shore. None that have ever returned.”

Leif looked towards the trees. “What do you think lies within that forest?”

“I do not know. And have no desire to venture in to find out.”

One hundred and thirty men formed a loose arch around their prince and waited for the other boats.

When the captains arrived Knut asked, “What did you find?”

Sibbe looked at the others and shrugged. “Nothing. Only one guard and he was in the sea with an arrow in his chest before we climbed aboard.”

Knut looked to the trees. “We wait for the scouts then move inland. I intend to find these bastards before we lose the sun.”

A shout made them all turn in time to see two of the scouts burst from the trees. One tripped and as he regained his feet looked back at the forest in terror. He started to run when he was thrown forward, a long spear in his back.

“Run! Back to the boats!” the other scout screamed. He stumbled and started to crawl. Three of Knut’s warriors rushed to his aid. All three fell to the sand as a storm of long arrows fell upon them.

“Shield wall!” Knut yelled and the warriors rushed together creating a wall of wood a hundred warriors wide.

Minutes went by and no one appeared from the forest.

“What are they waiting for?” Frigg asked twisting the handle of her ax nervously.”

Leif adjusted his shield as he turned to her. “You in a hurry?”

“My ax is hungry.”

“Quiet, you two,” Knut said. “Listen.”

From the trees came a sound reminiscent of a stampede of cattle.

“What’s that?” Björn Arnbidsonson asked.

“I don’t know,” Knut said.

While the second rank lifted their shields over those of the first rank tightening the wall the others lifted theirs over their heads.

The sound of movement stopped. Then a strange yell echoed from the dark woods and a wave of warriors appeared sprinting towards them at an unnatural pace.

“Oden save us,” Frigg said. “There must be thousands of them.”

Knut Grabbed Leif by the shoulder. “Take your crew and get to your boat. We will hold them as long as we can. Take Ulf and the ship boys with you.”

“I will not leave you.”

“You will do as I say. Tell my father what has happened.”

“But...”

Knut smiled. “No buts, cousin. If we all run, they will kill us all before we cast off. Maybe we can slow them long enough for you to get to sea. My father must know.”

Leif stared at him for a moment then grabbed Knut’s forearm. He turned and began to push his way back through the lines.

“Devilfish to me! Ulf, you go too.”

“What?” The young man said.

Knut turned to him. “Go with Leif.”

Ulf stared at him for a moment then returned his attention to what was racing towards them. “I stay with my crew.”

Knut looked at him then smiled. “I am sorry for suggesting otherwise.

“Leif, go. Ulf stays.”

Leif Sijvidottir nodded and started to move towards his boat. As the warriors of the Devilfish fought their way out of the wall to join him.

Knut felt someone push a shield into his back. He turned.

“Frigg, what are you doing?”

She smiled. “Did you really think I would leave my Jarl? What would my mother say?”

Before he could answer the enemy struck the wall of wood. The force of their attack was such that the defenders were pushed back, their feet digging deep into the sand back nearly two feet. But the wall held, and the slaughter began.

Leif looked back and seeing the hoard strike the wall of shields realized that his crew was in danger of being overrun as the enemy began to encircle the defenders.

“Run! To the boat!”

Seeing what was happening his helmsman had already cut the anchoring ropes and pushed the boat off the beach. Twice he lost sight of the crew as they were engulfed in the bodies of the enemy. Each time they broke through there were fewer of them.

He called to the boys in the other boats. “Grab your bows and join me here. Quickly!”

He picked up a bow and started to launch arrow after arrow into the enemy doing what he could to help the crew reach the boat. The boys from the other boats joined him as they climbed aboard.

Finally, Leif tumbled over the side. Twenty of the crew followed. Only twelve were able to recover oars and began to pull. The boys tended to those too badly injured to man an oar. When it was too deep to follow the enemy ceased their pursuit.

The helmsman realizing, they were far enough from the shore called, “hold! Get the mast up and raise the sail.”

Leif grabbed him by the arm. Blood flowing from several wounds. “We wait,” he gasped.

He stood at the gunwale and watched the drama unfolding on the beach. It did not take long. He dropped his head, his chin on his chest as tears flowed down his cheeks.

“Take us home.”

Ten miles north of the Valley of Storms

The day was warm, the power of the sun unopposed by any cloud. The rolling fields of rich grass were devoid of trees or bushes which worked well for the sheep, ut not so much for those that tended them.

Eight-year-old Nathanial Treecher worked his way under a small outcropping of moss-covered rock. He smiled as he crawled into the shallow hollow knowing that his brother was too big to seek the shade of the granite shelf. Sometimes being small had its advantages. He leaned back and closed his eyes. It did not take long before he began to doze.

His slumber was interrupted by a frantic shout from his brother. He jolted awake banging his head. Rolling out from under the rock and climbing to his feet Nathanial rubbed the quickly growing knot on his head. He squinted as his eyes adjusted to the light. Fearing wolves were at the sheep, he reached for the sling hanging from the rope he used to keep his ragged britches from falling. Picking up one of the round stones from the pile he had collected he placed it in the sling. Although young, his aim was steady and the power of the sling deadly.

“Forget that!” His brother called as he drew near. “Run!”

“From what?” Nathanial asked looking around.

“Daemons!” Matthew gasped catching his breath. He grabbed his young brother by the sleeve. “From the valley. We need to warn the village.”

“Daemons? What do you mean daemons? There is no such thing.”

“They're real, Nate. I’ve seen them. Daemons, creatures from nightmares. Just like the ones Gran told us about.”

Matthew looked behind him quickly then pushed his younger brother. “Come on, Nate. Run!”

Never had Nathanial seen his brother show any kind of fear. Even when they encountered one of the big silver wolves that occasionally ventured from the forest. Four years his senior Matthew had always been his protector. Whether a bully in town or a wolf in the meadow, Matthew was there. The idea that he was frightened terrified Nathanial.

“Come on, you need to run. As fast as you can.” Matthew took a breath and seeing the fear in his brother's eyes did his best to calm himself.

“Tell you what, I’ll race you.” He pushed him. “I bet I can beat you. Now, go!”

Nathanial began to race towards home. He was no fool. He knew what Matthew was doing. So he ran, faster than he had ever run before.

The older boy lagged a few feet behind acting as a buffer between him and whatever it was that followed. Down the slope, across the lea, and up the next hill, they ran. As they reached the apex of the hill Nathanial was relieved to see the village not more than a half-mile below and stopped to catch his breath.

“We’re almost there, Matty.”

“Nate!” Matthew called out grunting in pain.

Nathanial turned and was shocked to see his brother on his knees, a very long arrow protruding from between his shoulder blades.

“No!” he screamed as he ran to him. He stared at the arrow not knowing what to do. Catching movement from the corner of his eye he saw several figures crossing the lea towards the hill.

“They’re coming. Get up, Matty, I’ll help you. We need to go. We need to get help.”

Grabbing him by his shirt Nathanial pulled and tried to lift the bigger boy to his feet. Matthew cried out in pain and Nathanial let go.

“What do I do, Matty? Tell me what to do.”

Matthew grasped his brother’s arm and as a trickle of blood seeped from the corner of his mouth he whispered, “Leave me, Nate. You need to run. Warn Ma. Please. Save them.”

“No, Matty. I won’t leave you.”

“You have to. I’ll be okay. Da will come back for me.”

He smiled, then arching his back he took a deep breath and looked up at the clear sky. A long sigh escaped his lips, his fingers released their grip, and he fell onto his side, his eyes staring at nothing.

“Matty?” Nathanial said as tears streamed down his face. “Don’t go! Please. I need you!”

Nathanial looked down the slope. Six men stood at the base of the hill watching him. Each was armed with a longbow. No, not men, something different, something not right. Mathew’s daemons. One notched an arrow while they began to climb. He could hear them speaking casually to one another as if nothing had happened.

Scrambling to his feet Nathanial began to run. Halfway down the hill, he could see people moving about in the village below and he began to shout even though he knew he was still too far away to be heard. An arrow suddenly found purchase in the ground ahead of him. He veered to his left. Another landed in his path, and he changed direction once more. Arrow after arrow fell until he could go no farther. He stopped, stooping over while catching his breath. He stared at the things in a combination of hate and fear as they casually walked towards him.

When only a few yards away they stopped. One of them pointed at him. They began to speak to each other using words that had no meaning to the boy.

“You killed my brother!” Nathanial screamed through his tears. “Why would you do that?”

He reached for his sling and realized he had dropped it when Mathew had grabbed him back at the rock shelf.

The things stared at him as if surprised he had spoken. One of them handed his bow to another and approached pulling the shafts from the ground and tossing them aside as he worked his way closer. When only a foot separated them, the not quite-a-man stopped. It was so close Nathanial could smell its breath. It reeked of death.

He wiped the tears from his eyes. Straightening to his full height, he looked up and screamed. “He was my brother! And you killed him!”

Balling his fist, he suddenly swung with all the power his small body could generate striking the thing. It was like driving one's fist into a tree.

“You killed him! You killed him!” He screamed over and again as he plummeted the monster with his fists. Out of breath and with his knuckles bleeding he fell to his knees and sobbed. “Why?”

The daemon looked down at him and then, seeming almost amused, it raised its hand and struck.