And the wind began to howl

The room fell silent after William and Ormskirk's exchange. Obvious tension hung in the air, broken only by Oliver's curiosity.

"Holmgang?" Oliver asked.

"A duel between two men. William believes this request important enough to risk his life." Ormskirk explained.

"Surely there is some other way?" Oliver said incredulously

"Not one they would honour," William answered sternly.

"And you would risk your life on this?" Oliver challenged him

William ignored him and turned back to the Jarl. "Name your champion."

Ormskirk turned to one of his Huscarls in the room. "Digbar."

A tall broadman with a braided ginger beard stood up and attended Ormskirk. Like many of his fellow Ragnars, his arms were covered in tattoos. Intricate designs of serpents decorated both arms. He looked over at Kent and Oliver with a look of contempt on his face.

Ormskirk conversed with Digbar in their native tongue. While he could not understand what was being said, he found their tone and body language conveyed the meaning of the conversation. He saw that William was following what was being said easily enough, however.

"There is a reason that Digbar bears the name the Loyal. He will stand for me in this matter. I can give until tomorrow to prepare or perhaps spend your last moments in the company of friends, " Ormskirk taunted.

"I see little reason to delay," William replied.

Digbar uttered something in his native tongue.

"Digbar admires your spirit. We will commence. Your man can be a shield bearer. " Ormskirk translated for them.

"A shield bearer?" Oliver queried.

"The Jarl's men will stand in a circle surrounding us. One of us either dies or submits that is the only way out of the circle." William explained.

They were led out of the Jarl's hall and to an enclosed area behind it. Despite William's request for this to take place as soon as possible, there was still some time required for preparation. The men who were gathered in Ormskirk's hall were provided with circular wooden shields. Oliver was loaned a shield so he could be part of the circle. William, lacking appropriate weapons for the duel, was provided with a handaxe, seax and a small shield. He was provided a sleeveless leather tunic to wear instead of his naval longcoat. Torches were lit as the men gathered to form the circle. The Jarl stood next to Oliver. The young aide looked on nervously as William and Digbar squared up against each other. William was tall, but Digbar still towered over him.

Digbar screamed and charged at William. He swung the axe several times, and William fended off each blow with the shield. William found himself struggling to hold the shield due to the impact of the blows. Digbar came forward for another round of attacks this time, William ducked backwards out of his reach. William noted that Digbar's attacks felt somewhat clumsy and uncoordinated, he realised the man was slightly drunk but also was relying on strength over precision.

When Digbar came at him again, William sidestepped him and slashed across his left arm with his axe. Digbar's tunic protected him from much of the slash, but he still howled in anger as William cut into him. Digbar dropped his shield and gripped the axe in both hands. He roared and charged at William, holding the axe aloft and swinging at down at his foe in a broad arc. William ducked under his swing and slashed at Digbar's legs. William caught him across both legs and cut him deeply, he was pleased to see the Ragnar warrior was now bleeding. This caused Digbar to stumble and drop to one knee. William attempted to follow it up and attack him again, but Digbar noticed his approach and cut across William's side with his axe.

William grunted and stepped back. He watched Digbar get back on his feet and come towards him for another attack. He swung the axe with heavy blows; William caught each one with the shield but felt it starting to crack and splinter with each heavy blow. Digbar followed up the axe blows with kicking William square in the chest, knocking him backwards onto the ground. He had to roll really quickly to get out of the way, Digbar slamming his axe into the ground. William managed to swing his axe across Digbar's legs and catch him with it on one calf. Digbar stepped back, which gave William time to get back on his feet.

William pressed the offensive and slashed at Digbar. He caught him across one arm and cut him deeply. He tried to follow it up with another attack, but Digbar met it with his axe. The edges caught against each other, and William instread smashed his opponent in the face with his shield. He heard a crunch as Digbar's nose broke. The attack dazed the tall Ragnar, and he staggered backwards. William knew this was his moment, and he brought his axe back down hard on the arm in which Digbar was holding the axe. The cut was nasty and went in deep which caused Digbar to drop the weapon.

Digbar sneered in contempt and came for William. He grabbed hold of William's shield and wrenched it out of his hands. William tried to swing the axe, but Digbar grabbed him by the tunic and pulled him upwards. William saw him pulling his head back to attempt to headbutt him. William reached for the seax and drove it deeply into Digbar's throat, he felt it sever something. The large warrior dropped William as he started coughing up blood. He tried in vain to staunch the bleeding with his hands. He failed to notice William swing the axe at him one last time he cut through one of Digbar's hands, severing it. The old sailor dropped the axe and simply grabbed Digbar by the throat and squeezed until he heard the huscarl breath his last.

William wasn't aware of how long he had been standing there over Digbar's corpse. The man had fought bravely and savagely. William owed him his respect and stood vigil over him for a time. He eventually realised Oliver and the Jarl were speaking to him.

"Well fought, William. I honestly thought Digbar would best you." Ormskirk advised.

"I never thought I would witness something like that," Oliver told him.

William looked at the former governor's aide and saw he had an ashen look to him. He was not surprised he likely had never witnessed another man being killed before him. Sadly, he knew with the journey they were on, it would almost certainly not be the last.

"Your man fought with ferocity and honour," William said to Ormskirk.

"He earned his place in Hrafnhall. I will honour your request, William. I grant you passage to the Midden. "

"Two horses, if you can spare them." William requested.

"Aye. I will make them available to you on the morrow. Tonight you will drink with us and honor Digbar with us.

The men who had made up the circle disbanded and returned to the Jarl's hall. Ormskirk had several men take away Digbar's body. Oliver watched this grimly before he had to return to the hall with William and the Jarl. Both of them were given seats at one of the long tables and poured drinks of mead. The Jarl joined them instead of sitting on his throne. A skald started singing a ballad in honour of Digbar's life. Oliver was encouraged to join in and was quickly singing along and drinking mead. He found it strange they were sharing drinks with the people who had been responsible for the man's death, but he sort of understood. Digbar had died in honourable combat, which for these people was the highest honor.

Ormskirk was sat across from William at the table. The pair of them were solemn and not joining in with the merriment.

"You cannot simply wish to visit a grave, William. There is more to this than you are telling me."

"Aye. A name from my past I had hoped was dead. Thorvenhold and I were part of a voyage some twenty years ago. I took something, which I am now being pursued for." William explained.

"And who is this man?" Ormskirk asked, genuinely curious.

"Another member of our expedition. A madness took him near the end and wounded and killed other members of our expedition. Thorvenhold was wounded gravely and did so to protect me. I brought him home as his final request."

"It was good he was allowed to be buried in his homeland at least," Ormskirk replied.

"I knew he was troubled, but I found him to be a good man. I hoped that when he was with me he regained some of his honour."

"Your young ward is in high spirits. I can arrange for lodgings for you."

"I thank you for your hospitality. Perhaps we should turn in before Oliver is too soused."

Ormskirk had a messenger sent to an inn within the city to prepare rooms for Kent and Oliver. The two of them departed from Ormskirk's halls to turn in for the night. Kent rose first in the morning and headed downstairs for what was being served for breakfast. He was provided with some bacon and mushrooms along with a herbal tea of some sort. He had almost finished when Oliver appeared looking bleary-eyed.

William couldn't help but laugh at the state of his companion. "Their mead is stronger than you think."

"I had perhaps a little too much," Oliver replied.

Oliver couldn't face eating anything and asked for some water. He drank as he watched Kent finish his breakfast. Oliver was pleased to discover the inn had a washroom where he could take a cold bath. He found it relaxing and sobering to immerse himself in the water for a while. The first moment he had felt at peace on their journey so far. William had not mentioned when he had wanted to leave, so he stayed for a while before getting dressed again. He found William outside with the horses that Ormskirk had provided.

They were two piebald stallions. One of them was entirely white, and the other had a coat of black and white. Both of them were already saddled.

"Are you as bad with horses as you are with ships, Master Kelham?" William joked.

"My father used to breed horses. I spent a lot of my childhood around them." Oliver answered.

Oliver patted the manes of both and found the white horse had the sweeter temprament. He swung himself up in the saddle of the pale horse and watched William get up on the other. They both set off and made their way to the outskirts of the city bordering on the Midden.

William explained that the Midden was an expanse of farmland, wild forests and caves. A lot of it was untamed and home to dangerous creatures. Oliver remembered the men who had greeted their boat mentioning something called the Vargr.

"How far until this farmstead?" Oliver asked.

"A few hours at a decent pace on these horses," William answered.

The two set off at a decent pace. Oliver enjoyed being back on a horse. He remembered racing them against his brother years ago, a rare point when he actually beat his brother at something. After a few hours, they approached what appeared to be the remains of a farmstead. It looked like it had been abandoned for many years. There was the crumbling remains of a farmhouse and a stone cairn in a flat expanse of land. It was early evening when they arrived.

They tied up the horses a short distance from the farm and crossed the remaining distance on foot. William stopped some distance from the cairn. He took off his hat in respect. He simply stood there in silence, paying respect to his former friend.

"I don't mean to intrude, but what now?" Oliver questioned.

"We wait. Tonight is a new moon." Kent advised without further explanation.

Kent had secured them some food from the inn for the journey. The pair of them shared a meal while they waited. Oliver had recovered and devoured his food quickly as he was famished. Oliver took a moment to investigate the ruined farmhouse, but it was empty apart from some decaying robes. Out of boredom, he returned to William.

"Was it empty when you came before?" Oliver asked

"I think his family moved on in fear of reprisal over Thorvenhold's killing," William told him.

They sat in silence and waited for night to fall.

Oliver built a small fire as it got colder. William simply sat and stared at the cairn. He kept his thoughts to himself for the moment and was not interested in conversation. As it reached midnight, he stood and approached the cairn. Oliver noticed the wind beginning to pick up and thought he could hear something approaching the farmstead. He looked around but in the gloom was unable to see anything. He looked up and saw a new moon hung low in the sky.

Oliver watched William as he stood next to the cairn. As he had told Ormskirk, he poured a horn of mead over the cairn. Oliver saw William take something out of his coat, he only saw it for a moment and it looked to be some small gem, which he smashed on the ground. There was a brief flash of light and after which William started to speak.

"You were my brother. We swore oaths to each other in life, which endured beyond death. Death may have claimed your flesh, but not your soul. I stand here and call for your aid. I stand on the precipice, and your name will ring out across the seas once more." William shouted into the wind.

Oliver heard the wind rising, howling. He saw stood at the edge of the farmstead were three grey wolves. One was far larger than any of the others. He noticed they were simply waiting as if they knew something was about to happen. William stepped back from the cairn as lightning struck it, causing the stones to scatter. Oliver held up his hands in reflex to protect his face. The winds rose further, screaming and circling where they were standing, and then simply nothing. There was a stillness surrounding them, and then he saw the arm punch upwards through the earth.

He was rooted to the spot, fascinated and horrified in equal measure at what was unfolding in front of him. He heard scratching as something dug its way out from under the remains of the cairn. As the earth moved more, he could make out a figure. He was tall and broad, his upper torso was covered in tattoos. He was entirely naked. Devoid of any hair and covered in dirt from the ground he had just dug himself out of. He turned to face the two men watching him, and Oliver saw that his eyes were mismatched one of them was a deep blue and the other was a piercing green. The green eye appeared to stare through him, and Oliver found it unsettling. The man stood up and then bent over as he coughed up a mixture of earth, bile and blood.

"Welcome back, brother," William told him.

"I remember bleeding out on the deck of the Albion. Ravenhill shot me." Thorvenhold recalled.

"He did. You died in my arms and asked me to bury you here." William told him.

"And you called me back," Thorvenhold commented.

"Aye, Ravenhill pursues me and seeks what I took from him. Your oath allowed me to call you back, and the veil was weak enough to allow it."

"William, what is this? You told me he was dead." Oliver asked looking aghast

"He was. I called him back. There will be a price to pay for this later, but it is one I can live with." William stated.

"Have neither of you thought to bring some clothes?" Thorvenhold advised, commenting on his nudity.

"There are some robes in the farmhouse," Oliver advised before leaving to retrieve them.

"This must be serious if you are willing to resort to such means," Thorvenhold commented.

"I had a portent telling me to seek the eye of the navigator," William advised.

Thorvenhold tapped the green eye and looked at William properly for the first time.

"When do we leave?" Thorvenhold asked.

"Soon enough," William answered.

Oliver returned clutching the robes he had found in the farmhouse. Thorvenhold put them on, although they barely fit. The three of them returned to the horses.

"How long has it been, William?" Thorvenhold asked.

"Near twenty years. I'm uncertain why Ravenhill has decided now is when he would return. We'll discuss it more on the ship."