Just outside the long house, Thorson watched as smoke rose from the meat of the carcasses of his last animals
This was what was left of whatever he had deemed valuable.
Over the last two days, he had sold off anything that could be of any value.
What he had sought was food and warm clothing in exchange for the material things from his former master’s household, but nobody had been willing to trade their oats, meat, or food of any kind .
People were more than willing to pay in silver than trade away their food supplies.
But of what use was silver when no one sold anything?
Still, he had no option left.
It was that, or he would have to leave everything behind for others to plunder.
He did it in a discreet manner so nobody would start wondering why he was selling everything…
Especially after what he said at the Thing
Tomorrow was the day Ragnar planned for them to leave, and so far the Earl did not have any wind of their plans.
He had met with Bjorn in the market the previous day.
He had confirmed that his father had been able to raise thirty men.
Thorson felt as if that was the beginning of an upcoming disaster.
Thirty?
Ragnar had said they needed at least seventy.
If they were to find open water, the longship that Floki had built could only be properly manned by that many men, maybe fewer, but at a very great cost.
The men would become exhausted far too quickly on lon rows
On the other hand, their fate would be even worse if they had to push the vessel overland.
To drag the ship, Some would push from behind, while others pulled from the front and by morning they were supposed to have covered enough distance to avoid Haraldson’s men coming after them.
With only thirty men, that task would be almost impossible.
He could only hope that by the time they were leaving, more men would have answered Ragnar’s call.
Still, he understood their reservations.
Vikings were not quick to break customs, and they rarely raided during winter.
Even worse when the plan was as vague as the one they had.
Thorson watched as a flock of ravens soared just above where he had spread the skins of the three carcasses.
His mother had often told him that ravens were sacred to Odin.
That the Allfather walked with one upon each shoulder.
Thought and Memory.
One would have thought that Odin would have provided for his sacred companions.
As it was, the birds were eyeing his carcasses.
Probably starving just like everyone else.
It was not that he was mocking the gods.
No.
He revered them just like any Viking did, just as he had been brought up to.
Yet Thorson had never found himself praying to any of them.
Not Odin.
Not Thor.
Nor Freyja.
To him, it had simply never made much sense.
Then again, he had never made it a point to question the wisdom of their beliefs.
At the moment, however, he found himself in dire need of their intervention.
If any of them were listening, and if his visions truly came from Odin himself, why would he not give him a sign?
Especially at this moment, when all their plans hung by a thread.
For once in his life, he found himself closing his eyes and whispering a plea to the Allfather.
Close by, a raven that had landed upon one of the skins cawed.
He reached for the drying meat, cut off a piece, and tossed it toward the bird.
What he was sharing would probably become part of his food for the perilous journey they were about to undertake.
His actions, however, only made the bird greedier.
He cut another piece and threw it farther away, hoping it would take it and leave.
It did.
But not before swallowing the entire piece in one gulp.
The bird then locked eyes with him before spreading its wings and taking off.
Thorson did not look away.
His eyes followed it as far as they could as the raven climbed higher and higher into the sky.
Surprisingly, he did not seem to lose sight of it.
Farther and farther it flew.
Still, Thorson’s eyes remained locked upon it.
Then suddenly his body went rigid.
His consciousness seemed to leave him and fly alongside the bird until the sight of its body disappeared entirely, leaving only the land beneath them.
He was inside the bird’s eyes.
He was seeing what the bird saw.
‘By the gods!’
Surprisingly, instead of panic, a great calm settled over him.
The two of them, or what had now become one, flew above the endless icy wasteland.
The howling wind was the only sound around them.
With time, their speed seemed to increase until they tore across distances that would have taken days to travel.
He could feel the bird almost becoming dizzy.
It too no longer seemed to have control of its body.
Something else had taken command of them both.
Then suddenly its speed began to slow, and they started descending.
It was then that he saw it.
Even from that height, what lay before them was the largest structure Thorson had ever seen.
It towered well over one hundred feet above the ground.
It looked like a colossal wall made entirely of ice.
Even from a distance, Thorson could tell it was manned.
There were people standing upon it battlements
Its summit was broad enough to hold walkways.
Fly closer, Thorson thought.
The bird needed no encouragement.
It had already begun flying toward it.
Moments later they were directly above the wall, and Thorson realized he had been right.
It truly was a wall.
Behind it stood what looked like a castle.
No.
Castles.
Its length stretched farther east and west than his eyes could follow.
At intervals stood great castles, each manned by men dressed entirely in black, much like the raven itself.
Suddenly, a single thought appeared in his mind.
‘The Wall’ .
This was the place from his dreams!
Thorson’s heart pounded with excitement.
But just as quickly hope faded.
Even Ragnar, for all his voyages, had surely never seen anything so immense.
Even if they gathered entire villages, convinced more jarls, and somehow won the support of King Eric himself, they could never hope to breach such a fortress.
The men upon it looked like trained soldiers.
Perhaps monks.
Either way, there would be no laying siege to such a place.
Any army would perish long before taking it.
Fly south, Thorson thought.
Fly south.
Find open sea.
But the bird did not obey.
It circled the enormous wall again and again, first east, then west, as though trapped by some unseen command.
Go south.
Thorson’s thoughts became desperate.
Yet neither he nor the raven seemed capable of controlling where it flew.
Then, as suddenly as he had become the bird, his consciousness snapped back into his own body.
He was once again standing before his longhouse.
He drew a deep breath as though he had been holding it the entire time.
Pain flooded back into every part of him as he struggled to steady himself.
“The gods have answers, Odin has made me see,” Thorson panted.
“Doom lays ahead, We must go south.”