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

by John Gwynne

There was wealth to be had in death-dealing.

Or more accurately to Varg, a man and a tree were fighting.

“Because I do not know the reason for a thing, does not mean that a dragon-god did it,” Elvar said. “This is why you have no friends,” Grend huffed and shook his head.

“Holmganga,”

“Shut up, you strutting peacock,” Røkia said, her eyes still fixed on Varg.

“I’m never sleeping again,” Sighvat said.

“Did he have good teeth?” Vesli squeaked.

They all stared at the little tennúr. “The dead do not need their teeth,” Vesli shrugged, looking at the floor, a ripple in her paper-thin wings.

“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.”

Wherever we are together, that is home to me.”

“We are the wolves that protect the sheep.” “I thought wolves ate sheep,” Varg said. Svik smiled at him. “Sometimes we do.” He shrugged. “But not sheep that are paying us.”

Their eyes met and Varg took an involuntary step backwards. He had expected arrogance, a cold, fierce haughtiness, but what he saw in the warrior’s eyes shocked him. Misery.

“Now, get comfortable. Your arse and that chest are about to become the best of friends.”

A problem that is eating her people.

have not always been this fine, healthy and successful example of a man you see before you this morning.”

She could see the candle-light flickering to life in his thought-cage.

“You will stop your bleating,” he said quietly, “or you will leave.”

thought-cage.

leuk woord

He sighed, shoulders slumped, then sucked in a deep breath and straightened. Might as well get on with it. Getting beaten up by Røkia is the only path to food.

Varg. “You got wet, but I see that you are already dry. Me, I can count your teeth by their imprints in my leg, and will be able to do so for all the years of my life.”

Everything is a choice, her father had said to her once. Truth or lie, fight or flight, love or hate.

She pulled away, startled, and he smiled at her.

Die dude gaat iets uitsteken

“There are worse things than cold porridge in this world.” Svik smiled up at him. “You will most likely be meeting some of them soon.”

I will be their death.

screeched.

niet echt stoer voor een prins

He lifted his axe in a salute, a promise, and then Orka was plunging into the shadows.

“I had it under control,” Orka muttered. “Ha,” Mord laughed. “I would hate to see what out of control looks like to you.”

As he sat and stared at Torvik he knew that this lad before him meant what he said.

That’s comforting, Varg thought. He felt the strong urge to empty his bladder.

Stresspiske

“That is why we fight so hard for each other. We do not abandon the living. We do not abandon those we have sworn oaths to.”

Then he saw her. “Following you into the Battle-Plain,” he breathed, “may not have been the wisest of decisions.”

“Feared what?” Grend mumbled. “A life without you in it,” Elvar said.

“Well, it is,” Elvar said fiercely. “Men die, women die, all creatures of flesh and blood die, but battle-fame survives. To become a song, a saga-tale told from generation to generation. That way we will live for ever. That is what I want, what all of us want.” “I know,” Uspa said, “which is why I pity you, Elvar Störrsdottir.”

And there is a chamber full of hundreds of straw mattresses, but only big enough for bairns.” He shook his head.

“What is this?” Vörn said as she stood over Sighvat’s form. “I wait three hundred years and see no one, and then you humans all come at once.”

Ilska the Cruel had come.

“Frost-spiders,” Orka said. “Berser’s hairy arse,” Mord

“Too many for my first plan, which was to walk in and kill them all, except one.” “I am starting to think that this is always your first plan,” Mord said, shaking his head. “It is what you did in Fellur, when you broke into Jarl Sigrún’s chamber, and back at the inn in Darl.” Orka shrugged. “It is a plan I like,” she said. “Not overflowing with deep-cunning, though,” Mord pointed out.

“Just don’t let one of them bite you,” she added. “That’s unnecessary advice,” Mord said.

“A battle? Excellent,” Vörn said as she sat and made herself comfortable from her vantage point. “You have no idea how boring the last three hundred years have been.”

Drekr,

There he is

Biórr raised his spear and stabbed it down, into Agnar’s open mouth, down into his throat, and ripped it out. Blood sprayed, Agnar swaying, falling backwards. Elvar screamed.

I knew it ROTTA