Tundra

I saw it with my own eyes. It was not recounted to me after the fact, as many of parts of this tale have been. I had sat at the prow of a longboat while a squall picked up, doing my best to cast a bubble around our tiny vessel and protect it from the weather. There was salt in the air and on my skin. Where we were safe from it, the storm was almost refreshing. We ran aground on a low beach littered with stones and clumps of seaweed like dried octopi, all tendriled, curled and black. Further up the beach was a village, but around its edges were fences of pikes, stuck into the sand at odd angles to impale trespassers. The village was girt by them.

‘I don’t like this,’ said Eiron, rowing alone, for neither fish man nor little girl were strong enough to help. ‘This was never a fortress. Something has gone wrong.’

‘Still,’ said Aais, ‘this is your home, yes? You will be back with your school soon. This is a happy occasion. And to think! A fish man like me come all the way to a shoal in the great float! Who would believe it?’

‘It’s not really like that,’ Eiron replied. ‘My school and I, we’re not really on good terms. As, I think, we’re about to see.’

In the distance, shapes appeared from the front of the longhouse, and came drifting down towards the bay, where it kissed the sand.

‘Turon!’ Eiron exclaimed. ‘Where’s your father?’

‘In the hall of heroes,’ the young man said bitterly, serpent tattoos jumping along his jaw line where they reached out of his tunic to strangle his throat. ‘I am Karl here now.’

‘Your father was only ever regent,’ Eiron disputed. ‘I’m the Karl, and I’m here to take my place.’

‘You were cast out. You’re nothing. You’re a slave.’

‘I’m no-one’s slave,’ said Eiron proudly. ‘I have here a mage who will level this longhouse if I am not given my due.’

‘Is this really the time for this’ I spoke up. ‘We have bigger problems.’

‘Yes, it is,’ Eiron insisted.

The self-styled Karl Turon was warier. ‘What other problems?’ he demanded.

‘The spirits are moving against us,’ I said, jumping off the prow of the boat and landing with a flounce of robes in the sand.

Turon walked close, closing the gap between us. ‘That explains a lot, actually. Eiron, can we place our discussion of succession on hold for the time being?’

‘Very well,’ said the Seafarer.’ But we’re not done.’

‘I’m sure. Come inside.’ Turon gestured uphill, towards the longhouse. As a party, we followed, Eiron first, then Aais, then me and Hackley following wordlessly at my heels. She had not baulked at the weather, and seemed perfectly calm as we made our way towards the house that blood built. On the way, Eiron explained everything we had seen.

‘That fits with things I’ve heard,’ Turon said bitterly. ‘You know this Erasmus has declared himself High Thane?’

‘I did not know that,’ said Eiron. ‘He seems the type.’ At this Turon snickered. ‘What’s funny?’

‘Nothing,’ the young, blonde man replied. ‘It is only that, my father always said, if we had a High Thane this generation, it would likely be you.’