The Shadow of the Gods (Bloodsworn Saga, #1)

by John Gwynne

“But what they did,” Breca said. “Virk won, and then they killed him. It is not fair.” “No,” Thorkel agreed, “it is not. But Vigrið is not fair. All that can make the world fair is this.” Thorkel leaned forward in his chair and put a finger to Breca’s temple. “Your thought-cage. The choices you make. Choose to treat others fairly: you’ll sleep better for it.”

“Fear is no bad thing,” Orka said. “How can you be brave if you do not feel fear?” “I don’t understand,” Breca said, frowning. “Courage is being scared of a task and doing it anyway.”

Elvar stopped with a sigh and turned, dimly aware that Grend was turning beside her, Agnar’s crew coming to a halt. Elvar put her hands to her hood and pulled it back. “Hello, Father,” she said.

“I need some rings and rivets,” she said. “And a hammer and tongs.” Lif and Mord frowned at her. “What for?” Mord asked. “I don’t want a hole in my brynja if we are going to go back into Darl and try to kill them,” Orka said. “Kill who?” Lif said. “All of them.”

“You said he was going to be free,” Lif breathed. “Aye, free of this life,” Orka grated. “Why did you kill him, when he answered everything?” Mord pressed. “Because a cleaved head no longer plots,” Orka growled.

“Orka,” Mord hissed. She glanced at him, saw fear in his eyes. “It sounds… dangerous.” “This is Vigrið,” she answered. “Living is dangerous.”

Elvar whispered a prayer, though there were no gods left to pray to. Except for the dragon beneath her feet.