For more than a fortnight they sailed on, following the charts as best they could as they weathered the ordinary spring storms. While there had been more than a few cold, wet nights, Einarr was just as glad that was all they had faced so far: an island that could drive Grandfather out, and that had earned the name of “Thorn Deep,” was sure to have something unpleasant waiting – especially given Einarr’s calling. Thus, he took the blustery weather as a blessing.
Right up until black storm clouds appeared out of a blue sky off to the north and began speeding toward Einarr and the Heidrun.
It was Troa who spotted the clouds first, and announced their presence with a dread-laced “Oh, Helvíti.”
Einarr looked up and understood immediately. “Cult ship approaching! Prepare for battle! Guards to the Singer.”
Captain or not, heir or not, Einarr was…
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