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“I know,” Varg said. “I am sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry; be better.” She gave him a hard look

“Are you Guðvarr?” the man asked him.
How do you know that? As if I would tell you, you snivelling oaf.
The man’s eyes bored into him with a fierce intensity.
“Yes,” he rasped.
The man nodded to himself.
“A friend asked me not to kill you. But he sent you a message. To say that Lif is coming for you.”

Will I ever get used to this?

“It is normal before a fight, brother,” he said.

Brother. How have I had such good fortune to find these people, after so many years of loneliness and pain?

“Good scrap,” he said as he slurped a mouthful.
She said nothing, but did eat a mouthful of porridge.
“Good to fight with you again, Skullsplitter,” he added. “You’ve been
missed.” He looked at her. “Thorkel was a good man. A good friend.”

“I would thank you for that, if I were free to do so, but a wolf is not meant to be chained,” Ulfrir snarled. “And the lamb is not made to rule the wolf.”


OMG WOLF BARS

“Well,” Lik-Rifa frowned. “What are you waiting for?” She looked at all those gathered in the glade, staring at her. “Do I need to eat someone else to teach you the meaning of haste?”

The camp exploded into movement

How is he going to slay a dragon?

How is hegoing to slay a dragon?

Daughter of Orna and Ulfrir Elvar thought. Daughter of two gods, eagle and wolf. And she is my thrall. A knot of fear clenched in her gut. Can I control a god?

A fresh pulse of rage and strength swept her as she glowered at them all,
both the dead and the living. At these people who would keep her from her child.

Cut them, tear them, rend them, she thought.

“Kill this arseling,” she whispered. “We have a saga-tale to make.”

Too many for me to kill.
“Well?” Mord said. “What now?”
“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.”

There was another roar from the Bloodsworn, but this one filled with malice and threat. Varg joined his voice to theirs.

Skalk, the Bloodsworn are coming for you.

“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.

Torvik calling him brother reminded him of her, and sent
conflicting emotions swirling through him. Part of him felt guilt at the
reminder of his sister and his unfulfilled oath. Another part of him liked it. It made him feel as if he were no longer alone in this hard world.

I want to do this? Bind myself to the fate of a Tainted child? Go up
against Ilska the Cruel and her Raven-Feeders?
She could see Bjarn’s face: remembered when he had been hurled from the Wave-Jarl into the sea, how she had leaped after him.

I am bound to him already

Words and deed together, you hálfviti idiot.

fun

“He smiled at her. “You are my second; should you not be giving me advice on how to win?”

“Put your axe in his skull,” Orka said.”

You are Berak Bjornasson, and the blood of the dead god Berser flows
in your veins. You are Tainted, you are Berserkir, and you are wanted by
three jarls for murder, blood-debt and weregild. And now you are mine,”
Agnar said, and smiled. “You will fetch a fine price.

You are Berak Bjornasson, and the blood of the dead god Berser flows
in your veins. You are Tainted, you are Berserkir, and you are wanted by
three jarls for murder, blood-debt and weregild. And now you are mine,”
Agnar said, and smiled. “You will fetch a fine price.”

Glokta felt his eye twitching. 'It would seem so.'
'I have lost some of my teeth.'
'I see that, and can sympathise. Soup, I find…' I find utterly disgusting.
'I am… scarcely able to walk.'
'I sympathise with that also. Your cane will be your best friend.' As it soon be mine, I think.
'I am a pitiable shell of what I was.'
'I truly feel your pain.'

'I don't care whether you like me, fool.' He ground Jezal's face into the vomit-spattered floor with his boot.
'I care that you obey. And you will. Yes?'

'Yes,' Jezal slobbered through his squashed mouth.

'Then, your Majesty, I take my leave. Pray that you never give me cause
to return.'

That would have been the realistic thing. But it was just the way
that Logen's father had always said…He'd never been that realistic.

That would have been the realistic thing. But it was just the way
that Logen's father had always said…He'd never been that realistic.