Valdimire and the Viking Curse

By Darwin Beloat

It all began a long time ago during the worship of the arrival of the full moon when mortals flexibly combated with the supernatural to acquire dominant power, refuting their predestined fate by the gods and deciding their own will. There lived a clan of adventurers and noble savages somewhere in Northern Europe who raided, traded, and worked as mercenaries and multiplied through the act of building new colonies from conquered territories. They were warriors and seafarers, who created routes to the south through the Baltic and Norwegian Seas, and formed independent habitations through their navigating skills. There, amongst these strong and highly resilient men, ruled a more intrepid dynasty of feudal overlords, who were in all rank superior but reigned with the rest of the clan under its control.

Their fame spread around, and beyond their European territories, as they were revered as the highest authority, rulers from other different tribes sojourned to pay homage and sought for advice cum support from them. Soon rose a progeny from this linage who, like his ancestors, exhibited an extraordinary wit and took the lead as a trailblazer. A mortal, whose destiny led him far away from his kin and ancestral land. To an unknown habitat where he took great risks, withstanding time's test to restore the lost glory of his Viking forefathers. His name was Valdimire, the son of Leif Erikson, the son of Erik the Red, lord over the Vikings

• Language: English
• Publisher: Darwin Beloat
• Release date: Jul 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9781005517717

Darwin Beloat

Darwin Beloat is a gifted healer and retired chiropractor of 40 yrs. He is also a gym rat, loves to exercise, lifting weights, surfing, running, and biking. He has frequented toastmasters for twelve years where he worked on his public speaking skills. He likes animals and spends his time feeding the turtles in the pond behind his house. He currently resides in Bethesda Maryland

Book preview

It all began a long time ago during the worship of the arrival of the full moon when mortals flexibly combated with the supernatural to acquire dominant power, refuting their predestined fate by the gods and deciding their own will. There lived a clan of adventurers and noble savages somewhere in Northern Europe who raided, traded, and worked as mercenaries and multiplied through the act of building new colonies from conquered territories. They were warriors and seafarers, who created routes to the south through the Baltic and Norwegian Seas, and formed independent habitations through their navigating skills. There, amongst these strong and highly resilient men, ruled a more intrepid dynasty of feudal overlords, who were in all rank superior but reigned with the rest of the clan under its control.

Their fame spread around, and beyond their European territories, as they were revered as the highest authority, rulers from other different tribes sojourned to pay homage and sought for advice cum support from them. Soon rose a progeny from this linage who, like his ancestors, exhibited an extraordinary wit and took the lead as a trailblazer. A mortal, whose destiny led him far away from his kin and ancestral land. To an unknown habitat where he took great risks, withstanding time's test to restore the lost glory of his Viking forefathers. His name was Valdimire, the son of Leif Erikson, the son of Erik the Red, lord over the Vikings.

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter Ten

Chapter Eleven

Chapter Twelve

Chapter Thirteen

Chapter Fourteen

Chapter Fifteen

Chapter Sixteen

Chapter Seventeen

Chapter Eighteen

Chapter Nineteen

Chapter Twenty

Chapter Twenty One

Chapter Twenty Two

Chapter Twenty Three

Chapter Twenty Four

Chapter Twenty Five

Chapter Twenty Six

Chapter Twenty Seven

Chapter Twenty Eight

Chapter-Twenty Nine

Chapter Thirty

Chapter Thirty One

Chapter Thirty Two

Chapter Thirty Three

Chapter Thirty Four

Chapter Thirty Five

Chapter Thirty Six

Chapter Thirty Seven

Chapter Thirty Eight

Chapter Thirty Nine

Chapter Forty

Chapter Forty One

Chapter Forty Two

Chapter Forty Three

Chapter One

Dawn approached with the sun rising rapidly from the east, cloaking the fog massing the horizon. Cocks crowed the acceptance of the day's task with pride, and pigs ferreted the muddy areas where trashy leftovers were thrown, scrambling the baskets for grubs and causing more dishevelment. The waters ran slow and still as high above, the mountains that surrounded the creek that has now been transformed into a larger habitation revealed its vastness and superiority to the hills a few miles away from it.

Your lordship, a guard from the royal court prostrated in salutation. They are here.

Make haste, sound the alarm, and make provision for their welcome. There shall be a banquet tonight. Go!

The crowd stood in silence, listening to the rhythm of the horn that was being blown from the royal court of the clan's overlord. Soon, the meaning is deciphered following the expression of the guard on duty in the tower house. They had all waited in anticipation to receive the news though they knew sooner or later it would be revealed. Exactly five weeks ago, a message that troubled the entire citizens of Greenland was received by the overlord, Erik the Red of a plan from his rival, Harald Hardrada, to besiege and invade his territory. His throne and power of authority were being threatened by a former leader of his imperial guard who had established himself as the king of Skye, a Vikings territory. Leif, the first son, and heir to the throne took the responsibility of taking up the battle, and for what seemed like unending days, the people lived with fear but waited with high hopes.

Natives and citizens rampaged the streets of Greenland to the harbor outside the walls of the city to welcome their returning heroes. The city had an old wall fortified and paved with hard rocks gotten from the mountains surrounding it after the earliest battle it won from invaders. Its gate was built with thick fetters of iron that shrieked during closure and was never entirely open unless under a royal command to admit ships and vessels after conquest into the inner harbor or to let out warships during battle. As the first long ship rowed into sight from a bending corner, a shrill voice from a young lass let out a cry of ecstasy, pointing towards the direction of the rowing ships. An uproar of singing ensued from the lips of the observers though they knew it would take a few more minutes for the warships to get to the harbour. What had begun as a mundane day was gradually turning into an eventful and exciting day for the citizens as each person expressed their joy by finding a partner to relate their observations to; the old men recalled their experiences in the battlefields before the waning of their strength and agility as fighters, while their counterparts busied themselves with such trivial discourse as what fighter wore his armour best and who was the bravest. For their part, the children out of impatience from waiting for so long started running around, while some others pointed and picked pebbles from the shore. Finally, the warships sailed its troops gradually past the cheerful spectators. The first long ship had some distinctive features from the others trailing behind it as it was meant only to accommodate members of the royal household. A flag of rich purple and white flew freely in the air atop the mast; it had a bold star drawn in the middle and the outer part of the vessel was emblazoned with the seal of honor that bore both the star and the head of a roaring lion that signified the ultimate power of the ruling dynasty. The second flag was the same as the single flags that flew in the trailing vessels; it represented the hallmark of high sea piracy. It was made of white, with the head of a skeleton and bones drawn in the middle. Its mast tapered farther above the skillfully built decks of the long ship into the sky.

Release the anchor! Cried a crew chief in the first long ship that had slowed down its pace.

Ay, release the anchor. echoed one of the natives before the ships finally halted.

Master, master... Cried a member of the throng as Leif, accompanied by his soldiers, made his way through the narrow spacing they provided for him to pass. He walked with an aura of authority that commanded respect from his subordinates. He was stout and dark-skinned with an oval face that exposed his facial masculinity. He wore a winged iron helmet made as a mask with mail. His chest was covered with a silvery armour the exact with his shield. Round his waist rested a steel belt that bore the sheath of his sword and held the folds of his skirt. He threw gallant steps that made his long flowing cape swerve from side to side in the wind.

Rejoice, people of Greenland, for we bring great news. He said raising the tusk in his hand.

The restless citizens would do anything to hear him speak in detail, but as tradition demanded, he would first speak to his father so on they followed with songs of appraisal till he got to the court.

Father, He said, kneeling before Erik.

What news, my son?

Your servant bows, your lordship. We camped round the entire kingdom of Skye, and for fifteen days, besieged the kingdom. On the morning after, we received information about a lapse in their guard's watch and invaded the kingdom. Starting from the highest to the lowest, we emptied the city off of men, old and young, and took the spoils of the land, your lordship.

"And what about Harald and his accomplices? Erik asked with raised brows.

Your lordship, a trace of dissatisfaction at the topic lingering hovered over Leif's face, but it was momentary. We had a personal tilt on the edge of the south field, and he fell off the cliff. He had avoided the imagination of the gory sight of Harald's bloodied face begging for mercy before he slipped down the pharaonic cliff all through his journey back home. Still, he realized somehow, that he was under an obligation to provide every detail of the battle to his father and the statesmen.

That was a huge mistake, Leif. Erik barked, The plan was to bring him down here clogged in chains for all to witness his death and not for you to let him fall off a cliff.

Leif couldn't stand the disappointment of being called a failure by his father in front of everyone. Too much had happened to him within the space of a few weeks, and he had come to know about details that had long been kept and protected as secrets by his father. He struggled to act normal and succeeded.

I trailed Harald down the cliff and confirmed him dead. Harald Hardrada is no more in existence, your lordship. He watched his father's eyes glint with satisfaction and wondered if he really knew him.

Well done, my son! Erik patted him slightly on the back with his fur staff, Go prepare, a banquet is set in your favour, and it begins soon.

Your lordship. Leif bowed and exited through the east wind of the palace, feeling rather subdued.

Chapter Two

The town grew extremely quiet with no one in sight; lights were out, the doors of living homes and business places were closed, shut out of the normal nocturnal activities they carried out daily. Sounds of celebration filled the atmosphere; mild tunes from the orchestra and boisterous laughter from the different hierarchy of citizens echoed in the ballroom. The Vikings were classified under three hierarchy - the Jarls which comprised of the aristocratic held high positions and served directly under the ruler, the Karls were free peasants, they owned farms and engaged in daily businesses, the Thralls were the lowest and served as slaves to the Karls and Jarls - but for the sake of the course at hand, the King laid low the strict rules to accommodate all his citizens. The higher class assumed the front position, the middle followed behind, while the thrall stood at the back, taking a glimpse of what was happening at the front.

"What troubles you, my son? Why wear such pale countenance? Enquired Thjodhild, his mother in a whisper.

Nothing, mother. Shall you live a life of heartache bothering how the sons of your youth fare? Come now, mother, I am a man, heir to the throne and leader of the imperial army. Leif retorted.

Oh! She gasped, holding her chest. Indeed, my son, indeed, you are all you claim you are and more like your father. She rolled her eyes towards Erik's direction.

Trust me, mother, you worry too much.

You know where I'd be when you need me, son.

For a moment, Leif felt like divulging all he knew and possibly cry on his mother's shoulder, but he was a man now, and men, the leaders of the great army didn't cry for any reason, so he held back his emotions and distracted himself with the events of the ceremony.

Hold still the King speaks! Echoed the royal chamberlain.

Subject and people of Greenland, I greet you. He paused to see the reaction of the crowd and continued when the court yard became silent. The mountain top is soon reached by a snail when trouble looms, drastic measures calls for drastic decisions, but we know the blood of bravery runs in our veins, and we are no coward. For weeks, our night sleep was snatched, leaving us in continuous anxiety for both ours and the safety of our brothers, husbands, and the sons of Greenland who for our sakes went into the war field to combat and take the spoils of our enemy, Harald Hardrada. All thanks be to Odin, the god of battle who gave us victory!

All thanks be to Odin! Exclaimed everyone.

And now, it is with great pleasure I announce to you the downfall of Harald Hardrada and the recovery of Skye as a fiefdom under the authority of the Rurik dynasty of the Vikings.

Long live the Rurik dynasties. Long live Erik the Red. Chanted the room as they bowed before Erik.

When the chanting intensified, like a cue for the ritual to be performed, he rose from his throne and sauntered majestically to the middle of the palace ballroom where there was an opening in the roof and raising his head to the exposed night sky, he parted his hands and legs ajar and began moving his lips in incantations with his eyes closed. He picked up a glass of wine sitting on a stool covered in red material by the side of the circle he stood in and raised it aloft his head. Up above the night sky, a mist of cloud shrouding the moon gave way, and it released all its effulgence on Erik's face. The glass in his hands shook as the liquid evaporated gradually, bringing out green fumes till it emptied out completely. Immediately the last drop disappeared; the bright light shining over his face became dimmed, saved from the supply emanating from the candles that hung on the walls around. He walked back to the podium upon which his throne sat and still standing up, he picked his glass of wine and lifting it, he said, Now the long-awaited moment comes for us to make merry over our victory, we make a toast to peace and unity!

To peace and unity! Recited the voices in the room with glasses that rang in a toast.

Let the banquet begin! Erik declared.

Somewhere a few miles away from the royal court, a figure wearing a long black cloak stood under the shade of a dark tree looking towards the direction of the royal court where the entire kingdom had emptied into. It carried a long wooden staff that had the head of live shrubs and was slightly bent. It reached its hand deep into its cloak and brought out a crystal ball that started rolling in its hand.

Ay, I see him standing with a glass raised.

My turn, my turn. Hand me the eye, the eye you hag. She hit Gaenoi's head with her rod wreathed with snakes.

Ouch... You know those things sting, Gaenoi handed the eye to Kaenii while rubbing the spot she was hit on her head.

They celebrate; they celebrate the victory of the beginning of their end,

Hahaha... Victory of their end. Repeated Loniiadei, the third witch.

Again, Kaenii used her rod on Loniiadei, Stop laughing stupidly, stir the portion!

I stir, I stir. She snatched the eye from Kaenii and fixed it hurriedly. Blood, I smell fresh blood, she sniffed into the pot of death. Just one sip sister, just one and I...

You talk too much, think of how to get a head for exchange, Kaenii commanded.

Leif, where is the prince? I don't see Leif there, where is he? Gaenoi jumped up and around the cave in a fury.

Hush... You wake the sleeping Serpent. Stir the portion.

Stir the portion, stir portion. You keep telling me to stir the portion, Kaenii. She pushed the turning stick to Kaenii, You stir the portion, and I rest for a while. Gaenoi stooped, and a black cat climbed into her hands.

Rest? Century after century, from whence does that come in the underworld? Night and day, good and bad, work and play; all's one. Witches like us know not the word rest. Kaenii grunted absentmindedly.

Put the Serpent back to sleep; its time hasn't come. The poor cat works too hard to be disturbed from rest. Loniiadei, the third and smallest among the witches, said.

Enjoy Erik, Kaenii looked into the boiling pot, a wry smile playing on her cheeks, Enjoy while it lasts.

Chapter Three

He took off his regalia, placed them on a hanger, and strode back to his bed, where he laid down with his head resting on a pillow. He had excused himself from the banquet right after his father's speech with a brief command to the guards on duty to keep adequate watch. Seeing that everything was still in place, he felt the need to retire to his chamber before the end of the celebration, especially since he didn't see the use of celebrating. The day had had its toll on him, and all of a sudden, he felt the burden of having to pretend all was okay with him. He closed his eyes and tried to recall the events that took place since the dawn of the day. He tossed on his bed as vivid pictures cascaded through his mind. He remembered the worried look on his mother's face when she asked him what was wrong, how she'd always shown concern though he wasn't the only child she had. He saw the contrast she had with his father and wondered how she'd coped being his wife and living with him all those years. He wondered again how he'd managed to control his emotions and played along like a good son to everything his father did. How he wished he could switch positions with his brothers or better yet, his sister that does almost nothing but idle around when she wasn't engaged in doing a fancy chore. He closed his eyes and not being able to constrain his thoughts anymore; he let the tape of the entire event roll.

Leif and his army had besieged the kingdom of Skye for more than twenty-eight days with no positive result; they were beginning to run out of patience and deliberated on the application of raw force. Ideas and strategies seemed futile, and every plan led to a dead-end that left soldiers of the army murmuring. The only conviction they had in continuing to stay back in the camp was the confidence they had in Leif as the leader of the army. He too was human despite having the blood of royalty running through his veins, they believed he first had the blood of the Vikings, and that was a common trait they all shared, so they eased their minds from worrying about the turn-up of the siege and battle.

Leif was alone one hot afternoon when a member of his army rushed into his tent, panting hard with his hands clung to his chest.

Your brows are in discomfiture. What hounds you thus?

Your lordship, I bring word in haste. The guard on the other side falls for the trick, and they move towards the wrong direction with their entire armada sailing the eastern coast.

Hurry, gather the men together, we'll break in through the southern wall. I'll meet you there right away.

But your lordship, what happens if any of our men chance upon the traitor?

Seize him, but ensure no hurt is done. It's decided, he shall be meat for the king's feast and the entertainment for the citizens' spectacle. The King needs him alive.

Your lordship. The guard bowed in a final salutation before excusing himself out of Leif's presence.

Leif sauntered the room, thinking of what command to give his troops that would go exactly in their favour. So far, he had listened to opinions from Menintius, his second in command, and had strategized critically all through the previous night. It pleased him to some extent that they weren't wasting their time besieging Skye. At least, Odin, after being summoned for help before their departure from Greenland, had proved himself useful and begun working to their advantage. Though the inhabitants and royal household of the Rurik dynasty of the Vikings dwelling in Greenland believed in the existence and worshipped the gods Odin and Thor, Leif doubted their usefulness, especially when it had something to do with serious matters like going to battles or raiding a territory for expansion. Finally, he was able to put everything in the tent in order, picking his helmet from a wooden hanger standing nearby; he wore it, laced his boots, and walked out to meet the others.

When he got to the terrain, he saw that his battalion of over three hundred men had assembled together, waiting for his arrival. The archers stood together on a straight file, while the spearmen and infantry armed with swords, sledge, and other dangerous missiles took the other positions. More than their lives' safety, he looked prepared to fight and lose their heads for their families and the kingdom that meant more to them. They had suddenly forgotten about the time they wasted in waiting around, besieging a kingdom that was unexpectedly fortified with so much army. Before then, two top-ranking men from the Vikings army had accompanied Leif in meeting Harald Hardrada for a parley. But instead, Harald turned down the offer of him returning back to the king's court as an ordinary peasant that would forever stake his life for the king. He chose instead to do everything humanly possible to dethrone Erik the Red as a payback for all his evil deeds. Leif retreated when Harald threatened to attack the plain island across Skye. Standing in front of his army, a messenger approached, bearing a tiny runestone in his hand.

The enemy approaches rapidly with archers and chariots. Prepare yourselves for their flag of battle has been raised, and time fails should we tarry here longer. The messenger announced.

At the end of the announcement, the countenance of some soldiers totally changed; they started shaking visibly in fear and out of control. Leif watched the entire scenario with disappointment fully displayed on his face and thought if to kick them one after the other in their balls or better still slit their throats - the recompense for cowardice and betrayal with his sword.

What do we do now, Captain Leif? One of the soldiers, too tired of dying in silence, spoke up.

I've got family, Captain Leif. A pregnant wife, two little girls, and a boy, what will happen to them if I die in the field with nothing to sustain them when I'm gone? Another soldier chipped in.

I have a sick father who may die untimely if word of my death reaches him. And what about Celia, my newly wedded wife, she may end up committing suicide than bear the shame of being called a young widow. A third soldier complained.

The stakes of our winning this battle is too low. I'd rather preferred it if we negotiated a truce with Harald Hardrada than bear the double shame of losing most of our gallant men and serve as slaves under captivity to Harald Hardrada and the natives of Skye. The first soldier suggested with a face that had already turned red with trepidation.

Leif felt his emotion changing by the clock with all he was hearing. For a minute, he closed his eyes and tried to recall the last time he was addressed as captain. The first time it happened was when they saluted him as captain of the Vikings' army during his inauguration. It was on the same day the battalion accepted and raised their swords to honour him as their leader. But seeing the situation at hand, even though they were beginning to act to the extreme, he tried to put himself in their shoes.

You, standing there, He pointed to the second soldier that claimed to have a pregnant wife and children. You asked what will happen to your family if you died in the field, but answer this; what will happen to you if you surrendered prematurely and return home to find the corpse of your entire family lying on their sleeping bed like roasted animals? Would you pick up your sword then and confront the enemy in a solo fight?

I, I will go to... The man stuttered an incomplete response that made him bent his head in embarrassment.

Walking up to the next man, and you, Leif said, giving him a slight jerk with his left hand. Which parent would you go back home to when you discover through hearsays from mongers that your sick father was dragged to death on horseback? Or who would you hold responsible when you see your wife clinging out of fear for her life to a saboteur that wouldn't miss his chance at feeding your carcass to the vultures?

He got a reply of amplified silence from the man, and before he could walk up to the first man that begun the episodes of talking cowardice, he saw the man's head bent with his legs slightly wiggling. He saw this as the best opportunity and began giving them one of the best pep talks he had ever given.

Put up courage, worry not about their threats, and advances. A dead man, no matter how big his looks, is not able to scare a live roach. Though we are like ants in the sight of their cavalry but ants through bravery conquers the greatest animal. His voice raised, Leif charged his men with all tenacity. They charge hither before time to show their bravery unto the terror that subdues them. They think to outsmart us by sending part of their troops to the eastern coast, but now, they meet their dreadful downfall. He walked up towards the end of the line and pointed his second in command, Menintius, take half of our troop, lead them gently on upon the right hand of the leveled field. I shall lead what remains upon the left hand. We meet here when it is all over. Odin, be our guide!

Odin, be our guide! Exclaimed the cavalry.

Vikings, Vikings, ahuu... Leif called.

Vikings ahuu... They yelled back.

Dark had begun to approach when the Vikings army heard the steps of their enemies drawing nigh. The sound echoed from the far end of the terrain like the strides of a multitude of giants even before the Skye army became visible. Like the Vikings, they had their archers mount the front position with their bows pointing towards the direction of their enemy. They stood still some meters away, and a few minutes later, an armed man whose horse gridlocked beside Harald's approached the Vikings for a last-minute negotiation. The emissaries from both parties met at the heart of the field, and as if anticipated by the soldiers, the emissaries raised their swords in an attempt to begin combat, sending a cue to the others that an agreement was still not reached. Before they could part ways to assume their previous positions, the cloud that had remained pregnant all through that day went into the labour room. Heavy rain accompanied by a fierce wind released its fury on them. With commands flying all over the air from the leaders of both sides, the archers got the first command to fire, beclouding the air with arrows. The atmosphere already stirred, the cavalries attacked, one man to an opponent. Leif retrenched to the left with some of his men riding close to him as he had earlier said he would, while Menintius and his men fought on the right, where the combat began.

The Vikings infantry had taken the Skye troops unawares when they released their bow missiles, leading to the fall of many on the other side. They formed a phalanx of fifty men, each group according to their kind of ammunition. Soon, some areas of the platform became wet and slippery, with the continuous downpour of the rain. Their legs knee-deep in mud with water dripping from the sole of their heads down their feet, they fought with all they had. With each gallant strike came the accompaniment of a heart-rending cry from the side affected by the blow, echoes of pain and death mixed with the din of the rainfall. Chaos clouded the atmosphere.

As if possessed with extraordinary power, the Vikings fought like immortals up to the wee hours of the following morning with most of their men alive. Some had fallen prone to the blows of the opposing army but relentlessly fought from the ground, taking their targets off guard. Leif spun around on time to see a lone figure disappear through a corner hidden by the shadow of the mountain. A quick knowing impulse pushed him to trail the figure and pushing his sword into the rib of his rival that laid helplessly on the ground, he followed his instincts without waiting to see the man before him breathe his last. He threaded the path cautiously, his hand tightly clenched to his shield on the left, he hurtled his sword here and there in the cold air with his right hand. As he trudged on, he saw the bushes begin to heighten, filling the landscape with different sizes of shadows that are capable of frightening the life out of a common man. Suddenly, he felt a warm breeze blow past him as he crossed a tree. Sensing the abnormality, he slowed his pace down again to observe the area but saw himself falling out of control to the ground.

When elephants run, the lesser animals suffer the impact of their weight in the troubled ground. When men fight, boys hide their faces on their mother's bosom. Harald drew his sword out of its sheath and aiming it at Leif's throat, he commanded, Surrender while you still can and live to enjoy your youth doing the fancy things boys do.

The taunts made Leif furrow in an attempt to see who it was in the blurry morning weather, he had fallen into a dreadful trap and thought of ways to distract his captor. What are you talking about? He enquired with clenched teeth, trying to surpass his anger; the man was wasting his time.

Huh... Harald propelled his sword close enough to pierce Leif's skin lightly.

I don't see the crime a man commits in wandering. Leif realized the situation was beginning to get out of hand with the man's identity not yet disclosed. He tried again, What say you, the weather promises to be bright today. He had employed his layman tactics on the man and silently prayed for it to work. Leif, unlike his siblings, was used to acting up different character roles since he mingled a lot with commoners back home in Greenland, and in other locales he found himself, especially during raids. He could act the role of a ragged beggar, a street rogue, or a crooked merchant. He had almost lost his wit to a pirate that kept him under interrogation for days when they kidnapped him and his crew at sea.

Harald busted into a series of hysterical laughter that echoed through the breadth of the mountainous landscape. Leif froze when he heard the sound of the laughter; he knew there was only one person that laughed that way, even the falling dew could not deter him from recognizing who owned it. It was Harald, Harald Hardrada. Leif and Harald grew up together in the royal court and ended up as close friends who shared everything together, including secrets. But Leif was sent away by his father to learn how to fight under the tutelage of his uncle the first time it was noticed that he had begun to lose his voice like a man. He was welcomed with the shock of his life. Harald had grown into a different man, rigid and stern in his decisions; brutal and deadly to his offenders no matter how minute the offense. They continued as friends until Harald's ambitions rose to the extreme, and he broke out of Greenland to crown himself lord over the Skye territory. Leif was heartbroken to lose the friend he took as a brother, but worse, he was disappointed to have spent most of his life being friends with a traitor.

Weather? What fool speaks of weather when his death stares him in the face? Harald asked with agitation displayed all over his face.

Leif had managed to fight all night indestructibly, conserving his energy to combat with Harald. It only displeased him that his back was already on the ground too soon than the fight had begun, but he didn't let it bother him. A fool that threatens to kill another with no eyes behind too watch his back. Leif retorted.

It all happened so fast, like a flash Leif shot up off the ground when Harald turned to see if anyone stood or approached to attack him from the back. Discovering the trick, Harald jumped backwards but sustained a sharp cut from Leif's sword, and for what looked like donkey minutes, they tired themselves from circling. The duo engaged in sword combat that left blood oozing from the unprotected spots hit by the sword. Compulsively, Harald moved backwards with Leif closing in on him with his sword still firm in his grip, tirelessly engaged in the combat. Seeing the exhaustion over Harald's face, Leif took advantage of the moment, and Harald saw his sword drifting far away from his reach. For the second time that morning, he scampered away for safety, but Leif followed on. He took another route that exposed them into a wide fallow field. The fog still thick, they both struggled to see, each fighter not knowing what odd he had at executing his enemy. Suddenly, Leif's left leg stepped into a small unseen ditch. His movement impeded, Harald pounced on him with all his mustered energy, striking a continuous blow that caused Leif to spit out blood.

Hahaha... If only you could see your face, Leif. Harald pressed his fingers deep into Leif's jaw.

This isn't the end, Leif hissed with great displeasure.

"A man is opportune