The hour was grown late. The feasting and festivities had begun to die down, with most of the attention now focused on the drummers and the ever-larger circle of men that shuffled and danced around the flame, lost in private visions fueled by mead and delirium

The bonfires were dying down. Most of the older warriors had already retired to their tents. Others sat around smaller campfires sipping on the last of their ale, reminiscing of days long gone. Some lay tossed here and there, snoring loudly, their fronts fouled by vomit, their bodies strangely innocent, their expressions unguarded.

Skadi stole through the Baugr encampment, her hood lowered, her path always between tents and away from the knots of firelight. Almost she triggered the woodland spirit’s gift to leave no trace or track, but who could detect her passage where so many hundreds had already trod?

There were guards, but few; any jarl who set too many would have insulted the others with their suspicion, and which bandit group or troll-folk would dare attack so massive an encampment of warriors?

So it was with ease that Skadi approached one of the larger tents in the center of Baugr’s camp. The most massive dwarfed even her uncle’s; it was a splendid affair, seemed to be partitioned into various rooms, and hosted several gatherings within its rambling confines.

What if Snarfari was with his father, what if he stayed there until late? Skadi scouted the other tents. One was filled with raucous laughter, and the shrill, scandalized cries and mock-screaming of women. Peering through a gap Skadi saw a large, open space, lit by soapstone lanterns, the Stórhǫggvi unabashedly naked, a whip in his hand, his body oiled, three naked thralls at his feet, one a man, the other two women.

Someone touched her shoulder and Skadi recoiled, hand dropping to Natthrafn. It was the scarred shieldmaiden, her wound almost lost to the shadows, her eyes gleaming in the darkness.

“What do you do here, Styrbjörnsdóttir?” she asked, voice low.

Skadi grimaced. “How did you know it was me?”

“Few carry a splendid seax and worthless halfspear.” The shieldmaiden canted her head to one side. “It’s a memorable combination.”

“Snarfari invited me to come speak with him. I chose to take him up on his invitation.”

Was that disappointment in the other woman’s face? Between the wicked scar and the darkness, it was impossible to tell.

“He drinks with his father. But I could relay a message. Whatever business they had to conduct must surely be over by now.”

“I’d be most grateful. Could you simply tell him he has a visitor? I’d rather Jarl Baugr not know I was here.”

“I can imagine not.” There was an awkward pause. “But yes. I’ll be discrete. After all, if you planned anything malicious, you’d now have to kill me, too, to keep it secret.”

“Then it’s fortunate for us both that I don’t.”

“Indeed. A word of warning, though…”

“Yes?”

The other woman hesitated. “Never mind. You wouldn’t be here if you were the cautious type. That’s his tent, there. Wait for him within.”

Skadi bowed her head gratefully and slid through the darkness toward the back of the large tent. It was a simple matter to unfasten enough of one seam to slip inside.

Snarfari’s tent was well appointed. Cow hides were laid out over the grass so that all was soft luxury underfoot, and his bed was smothered in rich furs. A large, iron-bound chest was set at the foot of his bed, and a table boasted cups, bottles, leather-wrapped bundles, whetstones, and other camp gear.

A woman had been seated on the chest, her shoulders slumped, but as Skadi straightened she stood, her eyes wide, a wild flash of emotions pouring across her face. Long golden hair spilled out from the bottom of a white head wrap, and she wore a blue apron with silver embroidery over a white, long-sleeved tunic. She was young, perhaps Skadi’s own age or a year younger, but her bold good looks were underdone by dark shadows under her blue eyes and lines of exhaustion.

“Did my father send you?” she whispered as Skadi drew her hood back. “Are you from Skegness?”

“Ah,” said Skadi. “You are the jarl’s daughter.”

The other woman’s hopes died visibly before Skadi’s eyes; her shoulders slumped and she sank back to sit on the chest. “I am.”

“I was not sent by your father. I’m sorry.” Skadi took a few steps forward to study the girl’s profile. “Are you expecting a rescue?”

“No, not really,” said the girl, and laughed bitterly. “But you surprised me. I thought, for a second…”

And for a second Skadi entertained the idea of stealing the girl away. Through the camp, down to the black sanded shore, to a boat, she could pay a few men, maybe Bósi, to row her away, to find passage somehow back home…

The thought foundered on the innumerable impossibilities it would face.

“I’m sorry,” was all Skadi could say again.

“Then…” The girl raised her gaze once more, brow furrowed. “Why are you… oh.”

Skadi snorted. “Don’t leap to conclusions. I want a word with Snarfari, no more.”

“That’s what they all say.”

“All who?”

“The women who come to visit him. Of course the thralls don’t say much, they just feign delight. The others? They… but what does it matter.”

“He entertains them with you in the room?”

The corner of the woman’s lip curled in derision. “Entertains them? More like entertains himself. He’s not a considerate man, Snarfari.”

“Oh.” Skadi let that sink in.

“It amuses him to make me watch,” said the woman quietly. “He’ll look over at me and hold my gaze. If I look away, he punishes me, after. So I watch.”

Skadi pulled a face. “I didn’t think I could dislike him more, but clearly I was naive.”

This drew the girl’s eyes once more. “You don’t sound like the others. Why are you here, then? Are you one of his shieldmaidens? Did you come to talk about the Thing? No. Otherwise, why would you have snuck in with a hood?”

“What if I told you I’m an assassin?” asked Skadi. “Come to kill him when he returns.”

“Then I’d tell you to hide under the bed. But you’re not. I can tell.”

“You can? You’ve known many?”

Again the girl laughed bitterly. “It turns out I knew nothing at all. But no. You’re not tense enough. You’re standing there chatting with me instead of knocking me out and hiding me under the bed, dousing the lanterns, moving beside the tent flap in anticipation of his arrival. Or whatever else it is that assassins do.”

“You’re wiser than you give yourself credit.” Skadi moved over to the table to study the objects. “You’re right. I’m not here to kill him.”

“Then what needs to be discussed at this hour?” The girl shifted on the chest. “You aren’t enamored of him, you don’t mean to kill him. Are you an old friend? Do you bring a secret message?”

“Neither. What’s your name?”

The girl hesitated. “What’s yours?”

“Skadi Styrbjörnsdóttir.”

Her blue eyes widened. “You’re Skadi Styrbjörnsdóttir?”

Skadi set down an arrowhead and looked at her sidelong. “You’ve heard of me?”

“You’re the cause of this entire Thing. Of course I have. Snarfari and the others won’t stop speaking about you.”

“I’d be flattered if I didn’t know him better.”

“Why are you here? To try and force him to help you against Jarl Afastr?”

“You’re well informed.” Skadi crossed her arms and leaned back against the table. She prayed Snarfari wouldn’t arrive just yet. “He speaks freely before you.”

“He does. Just as he humps in my presence, shits in my presence, does whatever he pleases in my presence.”

Skadi frowned. “Why does he treat you so poorly?”

“Because he can?”

Skadi remained silent and eventually, the girl lowered her eyes. “It amuses him. I was fool enough to… to love him, once. Not too long ago.” She inhaled sharply, the sound somewhere between a sob and a laugh. “Has it only been two months? The gods save me.”

“So he enjoys profaning your love?” Skadi’s smile grew hard. “He’s a true hero, our Snarfari.”

“I thought him so, once. I won’t deny it. But those days are long gone.” She stared at her hands. “Now I loathe him with an even greater passion. Which would impress you if you knew how much I worshipped him at first.”

“You never told me your name.”

A hesitant glance. “It’s common knowledge. Little more than a joke, now. Valka.”

“Well, Valka, I’ll tell you this.” Skadi moved forward to crouch before the other woman, who tensed apprehensively. “You’re not why I came to this tent, but now that I’ve met you, I can’t ignore your plight. I don’t know how, not yet, but I will find a way to help you.”

Valka’s eyes widened and her knuckles whitened where she clutched her hands in her lap. “You’re saying that so that you can use me.”

“No, but I can understand your suspicion. I am a völva, Valka, and dedicated to Freyja, who saw fit to spare my life when the Archeans torched Kalbaek to the ground. It is in her name that I swear this to you: I, Skadi Styrbjörnsdóttir, will do my utmost to rescue you from this situation, and send you home to your father. On Freyja, I do swear it.”

Tears brimmed in Valka’s eyes. She rubbed them angrily away and sniffed harshly. “Nobody’s shown me any concern since Skegness. Those men who pretended to feel for my plight did so that they could take advantage of me. It’s been so long since I could trust anybody.”

Skadi placed her hand over the other girl’s own. “You can trust me. I can’t guarantee anything, but I will not forget you. And if I fail to free you here at the Giant’s Rest, then I will come for you in Havaklif. You have my word.”

“But… why? I know what you face. You’re as good as dead.” Skadi flinched. “Why do you concern yourself with me?”

Skadi sat back on her heels. “Because it’s the right thing to do? Because I dislike Snarfari more and more with each passing moment? Because I can? Because like me you are a jarl’s daughter in desperate straits, and I would wish for a friend if our roles were reversed?”

Valka clutched Skadi’s hand tightly. “Then I shall be a friend to you. Jarl Baugr sent word to Jarl Afastr of this meeting, and invited him as one of the Draugr Coast’s jarls to attend and state his case. Afastr agreed, and arrives tomorrow with his ships.”

Skadi couldn’t breathe. Her chest clamped tight, her throat thickened, and the whole world narrowed down to just Valka’s face. “You’re sure. You’re sure of this?”

The other woman nodded fiercely. “Oh yes. Snarfari has spent hours gloating over how shocked you will all be, how foolish you will all look. His father believes it only fair that this matter be debated by all sides, but Snarfari just yearns to see your and your uncle’s face when Afastr appears.”

Skadi stood, her knees weak, her chest tremulous, her thoughts spinning. “I’d best go before Snarfari finds me here.”

Valka nodded, though her face took on a desperate, yearning cast.

Skadi dropped to a crouch once more and seized Valka’s hands in her own. “I will find a means to free you. You have my oath. A thousand times over I swear it.”

Laughter sounded from outside, voices slurred by drink, men calling out their farewells to each other.

“Go,” hissed Valka. “Go!”

Skadi rushed to the back of the tent and slipped out through the unseamed corner just as the front tent flap was parted.

“What’s this?” she heard Snarfari say. “No surprise visitor? Unless you’re hiding her under the bed?”

“No, my lord.”

A pause. “Was it you, then, that sent Úrœkja to summon me?”

“It was, my lord.”

Skadi clutched Natthrafn’s hilt tightly. She knew she should leave, but couldn’t tear herself away.

“What temerity is this? Playing coy to arouse my sympathies?” Snarfari’s tone was falsely amused; Skadi could hear the anger smoldering under his words. “Interrupting me at counsel? It seems you haven’t learned your lessons. Well, the night is young.”

Skadi heard the sound of a slap, but Valka didn’t cry out. Skadi’s stomach knotted up like a basket of black snakes, her pulse pounded in her head, and she half drew Natthrafn from its sheath. Ten steps and she could cut the man’s throat. His wyrd was no match for hers.

Just ten steps.

“Time to teach you again,” breathed Snarfari hoarsely, and Skadi heard the sound of clothing tearing. “I haven’t heard you beg in too long—”

Skadi couldn’t do it.

Couldn’t walk away.

She ducked back inside the tent, her pulse pounding, pounding, pounding.

Snarfari stood over Valka, who had fallen back on the bed, the front of her apron and tunic torn away to reveal her breasts. He was loosening his belt when he saw Skadi and froze.

“Don’t mind me,” said Skadi sweetly. “I heard the fun and thought I’d join in.”

“You…you what?”

Valka lay frozen, fists raised to her shoulders, her blue eyes impossibly wide with shock.

Skadi smiled seductively, her whole body coursing with fury. “What, my lord, have you never played with two women at once?”

A fatuous grin spread across the man’s handsome face. “I must say I’m delighted, Skadi.” He gripped his hard member inside his drawstring pants. “Why don’t you—”

Skadi stepped right up to him and slammed her brow into the bridge of his nose.

Snarfari cried out, a high-pitched squeal, and staggered back.

Snarling, Skadi leaped after him and slammed her elbow with every ounce of her strength into his temple.

Snarfari spun about and fell as if poleaxed.

Skadi stood over him, fists clenched, glaring at his fluttering eyelids, hoping he’d wake up, struggle to sit.

Hoping he’d give her another reason to beat him back down.

With a sigh, he relaxed and lay still.

“What have you done?” hissed Valka, sitting up and pulling her torn tunic back over her chest.

Skadi touched her own throbbing forehead and stepped back. “What someone should have done years ago.”

“But your negotiations, he’ll be furious—”

To which Skadi only laughed darkly. “Let him complain to the All-Thing that I knocked him out in his own tent while his hands were wrapped around his cock. I’d love to see it.”

Valka paused, considered, then laughed behind her hand, only to freeze again as the immensity of what had happened struck her anew.

“You’ll be all right?” asked Skadi. “Will this endanger you?”

“He’ll beat me,” said Valka, “but that’s nothing new. For all that’s happened, I am a Northwoman. If I know you’re working to free me, I can take his abuse. And something tells me he’ll have to work himself up to hitting me again after tonight. I’ll have time.”

“Good.” Skadi resisted the urge to bury her toe in the man’s side and stalked back to the open seam. “I’ll not forget my oath.”

Valka glanced at Snarfari, then back to her. “I know.”

“Till I see you next, then.” And Skadi ducked out of the tent.

This time she did activate the woodland spirit’s charm so that she left no mark of her passage anywhere. Slipping through the shadowed tents, the brutal satisfaction of downing Snarfari was soon swallowed by the rising horror of another thought:

Afastr was coming.