Waverider Expedition - Draknir
The wind off the fjord was sharp and cold as the Waverider’s crew walked into Stormvik. Smoke curled from turf-roofed halls, and the clang of a blacksmith’s hammer echoed across the snow-dusted street.
Then a voice cut through the noise. “Ulfar Strongaxe!”
Ulfar stopped. His shoulders stiffened. From the crowd came a broad man with a scarred jaw and fury in his eyes. “Your brother,” the man shouted, “killed my wife. I challenge you to holmgang!”
Ulfar’s gaze was steady. “I am not my brother.”
The man spat in the snow. “Then fight for his sins, or be branded a coward!”
The square fell silent.
Ulfar sighed, rolling his shoulders. “Fine,” he said. “But you won’t like the ending.”
A circle was drawn in the packed snow, marked with spears. The villagers gathered around, their breath misting in the cold air. Virellus watched from the edge, arms crossed, while Eira stood beside him, her axe resting on her shoulder, eyes narrow.
The duel began.
Steel rang, boots crunched, breath hissed. The challenger was strong, wild, but untrained. Ulfar met him with the patience of a man who’d seen too many fights already. When the opening came, it was quick and brutal. Ulfar’s axe slammed into the man’s shield, shattering it, and his follow-through sent the man sprawling onto the frozen ground.
The man’s sword flew from his grip.
Ulfar stepped over him, pressing the flat of his axe lightly against the man’s head. “I am not my brother,” he said, voice deep and steady. He gave the man’s helmet a soft tap with the haft. “And that is why you still live.”
He turned and walked out of the circle.
The crowd murmured their approval. A fair win, clean and honorable.
But behind him, the man rose, snatched up his sword, and charged.
Before anyone could shout a warning, Eira stepped forward. Her axe came down in a clean arc. The blade split skull and spine alike. The body crumpled to the snow at Ulfar’s feet.
For a moment, there was only silence, then a grizzled elder nodded. “He cheated. She did right.”
Ulfar turned to Eira, then burst out laughing, a deep, rough laugh that shook the tension from the air. He pulled her into a hug that lifted her clear off her feet. She didn’t let go quickly, nesting her face in his big beard.
When he finally set her down, he shook his head. “And that,” he muttered, “is why I don’t talk about my family name.”
The crowd laughed. The tension broke. Somewhere, a cock crowed, and the snow began to fall again, soft and silent over the blood in the ring.