Djúprvik came into view at the close of the sixth day. The mountain road rose over a ridge, for a while disappeared on the rough gray ledge that ran like a scar across the face of the mountain, and then dipped away to reveal a fjord below, broad and glorious in the evening light, a small settlement cupped at its end with chimney smoke arising from scores of small buildings.

“Well,” said Damian, hands on his hips, tawny skin gleaming with sweat. “There it is.”

“Doesn’t look so bad,” said Skadi, drawing her water bottle from her hip to take a swig. “Smaller than Kráka.”

“It’s why Kvedulf has three dragon ships,” said Glámr.

“Had,” replied Skadi.

“Has. You brought him one.”

Aurnir leaned forward and rubbed at his chin in the same way Kofri did before saying something considered. “Bad town.”

“Bad town,” agreed Skadi, studying it far below. “And we need to be careful. Never know who might be walking this trail this close to it.”

“Let’s climb higher then,” said Glámr. “Get a better vantage point from which to study our helpless prey.”

Skadi led the way, abandoning the mountain road to pick a path between boulders and ravines, climbing and working ever north so that by the time they found a hospitable ledge they were almost directly above the town, albeit separated by a half day’s hike and several sheer cliffs.

“There,” she said, dumping her back, adjusting her völva staff and sitting down on the ledge’s edge, heels drumming on the rock face. “And now we plan.”

“Yes,” said Glámr, setting his pack against the rear rock wall. “Now this I’ve been looking forward to.”

“When is inspiration supposed to hit?” asked Damian, stretching and then twisting from side to side. “Now? Tonight? Tomorrow morning?”

Aurnir happily sat in the center of the ridge, swung his huge frame pack with all its pots and items off his shoulders, then stretched out full length, sighing with contentment as he curled his toes and smiled up at the sun.

“Hey, half-giant,” said Glámr. “You’re taking up all the room.”

“Yes,” said Aurnir contentedly.

“Very well.” Glámr worked his way around the half-giant and joined Skadi at the edge of the ledge. “So there it is. What do you think? Forty buildings?”

Skadi studied the small town. It was laid out in the classic fashion, the docks along the waterline, wooden walkways crossing the stony beach to piers that extended to where two dragon ships were anchored and countless smaller craft. Three streets ran parallel to the shore, with a wooden palisade protecting the whole town from the wilderness beyond. The broad hump of a great hall dominated the town’s center, smaller she thought than Kvedulf’s, its roof mossy and in dire need of cleaning. It looked almost green. A huge tree grew in a clearing beside it, an ancient oak, she thought, several centuries old.

“Tannery there,” said Glámr, pointing to the village’s western edge. She could almost make out the vats. “Looks like a forge right at the rear gate?”

Skadi narrowed her eyes. “How can you make that out?”

“Good eyes, I suppose.” Glámr scrutinized the village further. “Something looks…off, about it though—don’t you think?”

“Off?” Damian sat down carefully on her other side and stared. “Off how?”

Glámr shrugged uneasily. “It looks…quiet. At this hour there should be more activity on the docks. People working.”

Skadi focused. They were too far to make out actual villagers. “You can make out the streets?”

“Barely. It seems quiet. And in disrepair. Some of the buildings look abandoned, or if they’re not, they should be.”

“Hard times for Djúprvik?” asked Damian. “The Draugr Coast is inhospitable, after all. Perhaps they’re just poor?”

“Perhaps,” said Glámr uneasily.

“Well, their palisade looks in good condition,” said Skadi, scanning its curving length. “Their Raven’s Gate looks firm.”

“So what are we thinking?” asked Damian.

Skadi frowned. She’d refused to discuss the plan in any detail until they arrived. Partly because they could thus account for information they’d discover only upon arriving, partly because she trusted her wyrd to show her the way, but mostly because after many sleepless nights she couldn’t think of anything sensible.

“Our stated goal is to neutralize Djúprvik,” she said. “That means breaking Jarl Blakkr’s ability to resist my uncle. What if we fired their dragon ships?”

“Intriguing,” allowed Glámr. “And I can envision our finding a means to enter the town, sneaking down to the docks, and…perhaps stealing oil or tinder with which to burn the boats. It would have to be carefully thought out, for the flames would need to be bright and bold and work fast if they are not to be simply quenched by Blakkr’s hird.”

Skadi nodded, considering the points.

“Alas,” continued Glámr, “that’s as far as my imagination extends. We sneak in, we fire the ships, alarm, shouts, and we…? Slip away into the dark? We would be trapped against the shore with the entirety of the town arrayed between us and the wilderness.”

“Tricky,” agreed Damian. “At the very least Aurnir wouldn’t be able to take part.”

“Aurnir,” said the half-giant sleepily.

“Agreed. He’d have to stay out here. Perhaps…” Skadi rubbed her chin. “Perhaps we prepare the ships—killing the guards first, of course—and then once they are primed for burning, two of us return to the wall, while the third waits to light them. Just before dawn, say, when the town is least prepared. One would have a much greater chance of slipping away than three.”

Glámr nodded reluctantly. “This plan makes no account for the fordæða, or Jarl Blakkr’s own wyrd. We cannot assume events will go smoothly. And as it stands, this plan separates us: Aurnir up here alone, two of us by the wall, waiting, and the fourth trying to return through all of Djúprvik by themselves.”

Skadi frowned. “Very well. Let’s set that aside for now. If not firing the ships, how else can we break Blakkr?”

“What if we slew him?” asked Damian. “I find the very idea of assassination distasteful, but that might sever the snake’s head.”

“First, Jarl Blakkr will undoubtedly be in possession of a fierce wyrd of his own,” said Skadi. “I doubt we could kill him so neatly. But even if we did, that still leaves the fordæða. She might nominate a biddable jarl to do her bidding, leaving Djúprvik just as problematic.”

“Then we kill her,” suggested Damian.

“I think that must happen one way or another,” mused Glámr. “But that is a perilous endeavor. I’m not eager to slip into a fordæða’s home to try and press a blade to her throat.”

“We have to kill their sorceress,” agreed Skadi. “Perhaps a plan to assassinate their leadership? Kill the fordæða, then the jarl—”

“—and the berserker,” said Damian. “Don’t forget him.”

“Which should be interesting,” said Glámr. “Marbjörn confirmed to me that arrows and spears quite literally bounced off his skin in battle.”

Skadi put her hand on her half-spear. “Thyrnir might be equal to that task.”

“If we’re fighting a pitched battle, we’ve already lost,” said Glámr. “No. We need to approach this with subtlety.”

They stared in silence down at Djúprvik.

Aurnir began to snore softly.

“What if we cut a massive amount of trees down,” began Damian. “No, wait, listen. We cut down a massive number of trees, sheer off their branches, cover them in pitch, set them on fire, then loose them to roll down and over the town.”

“Nearós Ílios has a fascinating opinion on what constitutes subtlety,” said Glámr.

“We need more information.” Skadi drew her völva staff from her belt and tapped its basket head against her other palm. “The town cannot be nearly as monolithic as it appears from up here. There must be elements we can use to our advantage.”

Glámr glanced down at her staff. “I thought Ásfríðr said it was all veiled from divination.”

“It is. Which is why I think we need to be more hand’s-on.”

Glámr raised an eyebrow.

“We need to get closer, hear what the people are talking about. Glámr, you said the town looks wrong. But how? Perhaps we can discover that for ourselves.”

“Sneak in under cover of darkness?” Glámr frowned. “Possible. Slip over the wall, or around where it meets the waters. Listen to the guards as they converse, get a sense of the village up close.”

“That sounds like an awful and terrifying idea,” said Damian.

Glámr grinned, baring his tusks. “Not a job for a delicate priest, I’d agree.”

“Delicate?” Damian sat up straight. “I can run to the Thor Stone a dozen times now, and last I checked—”

“That would mean sending in one or two people,” said Skadi. “Perhaps you and I, Glámr?”

“What are the alternatives? Aurnir and Damian. Yes. Or I could go alone.”

“Your wyrd is insufficient.” Skadi smiled apologetically. “You know how this works. Our enemy’s wyrd could cause you to slip, or trip at the most inopportune time. And then we’d be mounting a rescue instead of trying to kill anybody.”

“Are you saying you must go?” asked the half-troll.

Skadi studied Djúprvik some more. Tried to envision her descent at night, perhaps in the early hours before dawn. There would be guards at the gate, guards where the palisade met the water. She’d have to find a spot in the wall to creep over. A wall that was probably ten feet in height. They’d brought a rope. She could lasso one of the posts, climb up, drop down on the other side, hide the rope.

Then? Creep forward, explore, see what she could learn of the village from within. There’d not be much conversation to overhear at that hour. A few guards at the great hall’s front door, perhaps. Little more.

She’d essentially be trusting her wyrd to guide her true and furnish her with opportunities.

Damian leaned forward to gaze them both in the face. “We need information, do we not?”

“Your grasp of our conversation is remarkable,” said Glámr. “You never cease to impress me.”

“Then why don’t we just go down there and ask?”

Skadi and Glámr simply stared at him.

“They don’t know who we are. None of us were part of your uncle’s raid. We’ve only been guests at Kráka for the summer. People use the mountain road. We could profess ignorance and make our way down to ask for hospitality.”

“The right of hospitality is sacred,” mused Skadi.

“Unless you’re asking it of a fordæða,” responded Glámr. “And what reason would we give for wandering the mountain road? We’ve no goods to trade, no justification for traveling one of the most inhospitable stretches of wilderness in the north.”

“We weren’t unduly bothered,” said Skadi.

“Because we have a half-giant with us,” said Glámr patiently. “Most travelers don’t.”

Aurnir smacked his lips and turned onto his side, his weight causing the rock and gravel to crunch beneath him.

“We’ve got the perfect excuse,” said Damian. “We say we were robbed by bandits. Our goods have been taken, and we’re now in need of passage back home. To…Hake, say. Or Havaklif.”

Skadi considered. “There are bandits.”

“A half-troll, a half-giant, and southerner?” Glámr looked askance. “An odder merchant caravan I couldn’t imagine.”

“We could claim you’re both from Afastr,” said Skadi. “They’re famous for having many such in their ranks, are they not?”

Glámr glowered.

“We could have hired you both as bodyguards,” said Damian, growing excited. “And we’re traveling to your home with…whatever they don’t have in Afastr. And I am here to spread the good word of the New Sun. Proselytizing. They’ll hate me, but not doubt that I am a Nearós Ílios priest.”

“And I could be in charge of the caravan,” said Skadi. “We lost three others to the bandit attack. It was a large band.”

“How did they defeat us with Aurnir on our side? And him unwounded?” asked Glámr.

“I healed him,” said Damian simply.

“And perhaps they captured the caravan leader. And promised to release him if we left all our goods. Only for them to kill him anyway and flee with our cart.”

“And we didn’t give chase?” asked Glámr.

“I’m but a poor girl,” said Skadi with a grim smile. “I’m frightened and overwhelmed. I want to go home.”

“To Hake,” said Glámr. “What if there are people from Hake in Djúprvik?”

“Then we say I fled from Búðir when the Archeans attacked Hregg. I left with my father on a knorr with all our wealth. Who was disgusted by King Harald’s failure to protect us, so we made for Havaklif to begin a new life. Purchased goods to trade, a cart, and set off along the mountain road with you and Aurnir to protect us. Alas that after several successful stops in Hake and Kráka we were attacked en route to Djúprvik.”

“I don’t know,” said Glámr. “There’s enough truth there to make it credible, but…what if the sorceress can tell you’re lying?”

“Then I plunge Thyrnir into her eye.”

“Very nice.”

“But seriously, I like Damian’s idea. It keeps us all together. It allows us to learn about the town, its strengths, its weaknesses, and formulate a more nuanced plan from within.”

“You would violate guest right,” said Glámr. “Few crimes are greater.”

“I never said we’d enact the plan while staying as guests. But once we left…?”

Damian gave a firm nod. “I like it. And as Skadi said, it keeps us together.”

“And our shields and weapons?” asked Glámr.

“I’ll store my mail in Aurnir’s pack, and nobody will wonder that I’m armed with a seax and old spear. You two are guards, and who will contradict a priest of the New Sun for carrying a sword?”

Glámr took up a rock and bounced it in his palm. “I still don’t like it. But I won’t say no. Not yet. Let us sleep on the plan. And if I’ve come up with no further objection come tomorrow morning…”

He hurled the rock out into the void. “Then we march into Djúprvik with foolish smiles on our faces. Sweet perfection. I can’t wait.”

Skadi nodded. “We’ll sleep on it. Perhaps one of us will think of something better.”

“Or dream it,” said Damian.