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"Gyda!" Daga's voice roared outside my tent, "Gyda, you will come outside! I wish to speak to you!"
"Sh," Saga shushed him sharply, "she is resting."
I rolled my eyes, turning in a circle on the ground, studying the images I had drawn in white chalk. I had had strange dreams all night, and I had woken up to find my skin painted with runes and the walls and floor of my tent littered with lines.
"Our father has rode out," Daga spat, "I am in charge of the camp until he returns. I need to discuss the rules with my sis—"
"You," Saga snorted, "are not in charge. You have about ten loyal men in this camp. The rest of them are your sister's men."
I heard metal sliding out.
"You will bring my sister, girl, or I will parade you through this camp for every man to take his turn."
Another sound of mental sliding out sounded. Saga's axe.
"You can try, but I guarantee you, I will cut off your hands before you can touch me."
Derya, one of my grey wolves who had been asleep on my bed, snorted in annoyance, his tail raising slightly.
I sighed, pushing myself up off the floor, still looking at the drawing. "Yes, yes, I know. You want to sleep. I will go and tell them to shut up."
The wolf's tail stopped moving, and he pretended not to hear me.
I rolled my eyes again, stepping over my other wolf, Arya, and pushing the flaps of my tent open.
Saga whipped around immediately, sheathing her axe, "Lady."
Daga said nothing, only glaring between Saga and I.
I looked up at the morning sky, pale and grey, clouds rolling over our heads lazily. "You are loud."
"I am sorry, Lady," Saga bowed slightly, "I was riled up, I did not mean to disturb y—"
"I have come to speak to you of important matters," Daga interrupted her. He moved forward slightly, as if to go inside my tent, but Saga raised her arm, blocking him.
"No one enters the Lady's quarters," Saga snapped, "not now and not ever. You know this."
"Those are my father's rules when he is here," Daga stated simply, "they are not my rules. I will enter the tent."
My tent was riddled with spells and charms laced with Freyja's power. My runes had been carved when I was still having my first visions, and half my artefacts and talismans once belonged to my mother. There was unspeakable power in my tent. Power that Daga should never be allowed to see.
"You will not," I told him simply, "we will go to the main tent if you wish to speak to me."
"I will decide—" Daga raised his voice, trying to stand taller, but a short bark from inside my tent had him faltering.
Not a moment later, Derya poked his giant head out of my tent, sluggishly walking towards me and standing between Daga and I.
Daga looked at the wolf wearily, glancing at me a few times before looking away and nodding, "We do not have to go anywhere. I will speak plainly."
"About time," Saga snorted softly, taking a step back as Arya also emerged, petting the wolf's head.
Daga sent her a glare but chose not to argue with her again. "In our father's absence, he has left me in charge of his men."
"Because you were resting, Lady," Saga filled in the gaps, "Daga is to lead alongside Torben."
Daga did not look pleased by that reminder, and his face twisted.
Torben was Olav's father, a fierce warrior and a skilled shipmaster. He had been at my father's side since they were boys, and he had stepped up as my father's second- in- command after Saga's father, Arkyn, had fallen in battle six years ago. I trusted him.
"Have the final sacrifices finished?" I turned to Saga.
I had poured my blood over a pit in the forest, and Olav had sacrificed three horses and twelve goats in my name, to the Gods.
I had regained my strength immediately after, but my father had not believed that I should be up and around so swiftly after an illness. I had been made to rest for a week until the Gods grew tired of resting.
"They have, Lady," Saga nodded, "the last of the animals have been bled dry."
"That is what I will speak to you about," Daga jumped in again, taking a step back as Arya moved to sit in front of Saga. "The men grow nervous when you perform these acts, these foolish sacrifices, and these supposed visions."
I raised my brow slowly, amusement growing on my face, "Foolish sacrifices?"
"The only foolish thing here is you," Saga snorted, her hand resting on her hip.
Daga flushed, opening his mouth, but he paused when I raised my hand.
"I have orders from our father to look over him as he travels to Ragnar," I told him simply, "I will do that, whether you like it or not. The visions will continue." I turned slowly, aiming to go back into my tent, "You are dismissed."
"You should appease me," Daga spat out, "our father does not have that long left. I will take over—"
"You are his least likely heir of all his children," Saga shot back, "including the dead ones he has not seen."
Daga's sword whipped out, swinging at Saga as he became blinded by rage.
Saga raised her hand to her axe, but she didn't need to bother drawing it out as Arya launched her big, grey body forwards, grabbing Daga's arm between her teeth.
Daga screeched, dropping his sword and falling to his knees as Arya gnawed at his flesh.
"By the Gods, what is all this noise?" Henrick's composed voice emerged from the tent opposite mine. He took in the scene in front of him with a slight pause before he raised his hand to pinch the bridge of his nose.
I tried not to smile at the exasperation on his face, whistling shortly, "Arya, enough."
The wolf let go instantly, and arguably, Daga screamed more.
Henrick rolled his eyes, walking over to him and grabbing a hold of his shoulder to pull him up. "You are a man of thirty, Daga. I am embarrassed for you."
Daga seethed at him, stumbling back to get out of Henrick's hold, "You'll regret this, all of you."
"Terror has gripped me," Henrick muttered flatly, "I must return to my bed to escape it."
Saga snorted loudly, covering her mouth with her hand to muffle the rest of her laughter as Daga stormed away angrily.
Henrick turned to us, staring wearily, "Trouble, the pair of you."
"The four of us actually," Saga blurted out, nodding at my two wolves, "they helped this time."
"Enough out of you," Henrick shook his head, smiling thinly, "go to the stables, the horses need riding."
"Olav is doing it," Saga argued promptly, her smile dropping.
"And you will be doing it too," Henrick told her plainly, "go."
Saga groaned loudly, dragging her feet forward, "You are a cruel man."
"I will have you muck out the pigs too, if you do not hurry," Henrick threatened playfully, glancing over his shoulder as she ran off before meeting my eyes. "Now, what do I do with you?"
"You assist me," I smiled widely, reaching back to push the flap of my tent open. "I have had visions in the night. They are all over my floor, and I do not understand them."
"It would be nice if just once, you invited me in for ale instead," Henrick muttered under his breath, walking past me into my dark tent.
"There is a raven there," I ignored him, pointing to my chalk covered floor, "and a blade in the other corner."
Henrick hummed in response, looking down at the chalk, his finger tapping his lips. "There is also a woman."
"Two, actually," I walked around him, "one is on the wall, the other is one the ground."
"And this?" Henrick pointed down, waiting for me to shuffle over to this side again.
"I do not know," I sighed, looking at the three lines as well, "they are the only part that makes no sense in all of this."
"Have you had any prophecies about things coming in threes?" Henrick suggested, leaning back around my table.
"I don't think—" Sihtric's face flashed across my brain, and I sucked in a breath, "the three men."
"Yes?" Henrick frowned, "What three men?"
I groaned, tussling my hair out of its loose braid, "The Gods warned me of three men that would come into Ragnar's camp. Haestan and Bloodhair were two. They would not reveal the third." I chose to leave out that I had employed a man I barely knew to try find the third.
"Then, these lines must be the three men," Henrick decided, slowly studying the other images. "What did you think the raven meant?"
"Odin," I shrugged, "it is his symbol."
"I think you are thinking too plainly," Henrick mumbled, standing straight again, "the banner of Ragnar Ragnarsson holds a raven."
My heart jolted painfully, and I gasped, leaning against the wall for support, my hand touching the drawing of the woman on the wall.
"Ragnar! Ragnar! No! Wake up!"
I jolted, the screams dying in my ears, my heart pounding against my ribs.
"What is it?" Henrick walked over to me, his face concerned.
"A woman was screaming for Ragnar to wake up," I mumbled, turning to look at him, "it sounded like Brida."
Henrick's face fell, and he grabbed my elbow, pulling me back, "Study the runes and the pictures. You must understand them."
I tried to pace my heart, but it would not slow, and my eyes swam with the pictures all around me.
"Think," Henrick urged. "The three men, the two women, the rav— Ragnar, the blade. What does it mean?"
"I—" I faltered uncertainly, my stomach turning as an option floated into my head, "I think Ragnar will die."
"I agree," Henrick reassured me, "he will be struck by a blade. It will be one of the three men."
"And the woman?" I frowned as he walked past me to my table, pulling up paper and chalk to write or draw.
"One is Brida," Henrick mumbled, "the other is either not important or—"
"The third sacrifice," realisation dawned on me, suddenly feeling very lightheaded.
"What?" Henrick did not look back at me, continuing to draw out something that Ragnar would understand.
"The seer," I groaned, "Skade! The seer who cursed Ragnar's brother. I warned them that Uhtred's life was worth three. His wife and his Saxon King are two sacrifices and—"
Henrick finally turned around, his face unnaturally pale, "And his brother will be the third."
I shook my head, my heart racing in fear; Ragnar had always been kind to me, patient and supportive, a brother in a way. "I will not allow it. I will fly to him."
"To take a raven's body is very draining for y—"
"I will fly!" I snapped, already going through my tent to find the sleeping draught I needed.
Henrick's heart stuttered as the torches in my room flickered. I heard him roll up the paper he had been writing on before he sighed. "Very well, I will guard you."
I gulped down the first sleeping draught I found, stumbling back over to my bed, "You will pack. We will ride for Ragnar's camp once I wake."
Henrick went to argue, but I was already closing my eyes and leaving my body by the time his words reached me, so I heard nothing.
It did not take me long to find a raven, and it took me even less time to fly it back to my tent and allow Henrick to tie his letter to its leg.
The challenge surfaced when I had fight the will of the Gods and fly for over an hour without stopping, my physical body growing more exhausted by the second.
I did not give up, though, until Ragnar's camp was in sight, and I was able to fly down low enough to look for him.
I could see his men talking, feasting and drinking, and I could see women working, but I could not find Ragnar, and I was starting to lose my grip of the ravens' soul.
"Got you."
The raven shrieked as a hand caught it, flailing around, and I felt my own heart race in fear.
"Shush, I do not mean harm."
The raven turned its head, meeting the face of Cnut. The Dane moved his hand to the letter, pulling it off and reading it under the light of a nearby torch.
A flicker of relief rushed through me as I figured Cnut would definitely warn his cousin of danger and protect him.
Nothing could have prepared me for Cnut burning the letter.
"Arne," Cnut called out, summoning his man who was stood nearby.
"Yes?"
Cnut's thumb stroked the raven's head. "You will send a messenger to Daga. It is time to kill the witch. She is meddling."
My heart leaped, and with my panic, the raven thrashed around again.
"I will go myself."
Cnut nodded in approval, looking the raven in the eyes. Looking in my eyes. "The sooner it happens, the better."
And then, he broke the raven's neck.
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