The Weight of Names
They broke camp before the light fully rose.
Mist lay low between the trees, thick enough to dull sound and blur distance. The fire was stamped out and scattered. No trace left that would matter for long. Thorfinn moved first, as he always did. The others followed in a loose line, spacing natural, learned already without talk.
Freydis walked at the front with him this time.
She did not try to match his silence. She watched. Every root. Every bend of ground. Her eyes were restless, not fearful. Curious in a way that kept her alive.
Einar brought up the rear, bow slung but ready. He hummed under his breath, soft and tuneless, stopping whenever the forest asked him to. Riqua stayed near Thorfinn, steps steadier now, pain still there but pushed down hard.
They did not speak until the trees thinned.
The land opened into a wide stretch of trampled earth and broken grass. Old tracks crossed newer ones. Hoof prints. Drag marks. Blood dried black in the soil.
Freydis crouched and pressed her fingers into the ground.
"Battle," she said. "Recent."
Einar nodded. "Big one."
Thorfinn felt it too. The air was wrong. Heavy. Like the ground remembered screaming.
They moved forward carefully.
They found bodies first.
Men sprawled in the open, twisted and broken. Some wore armor bent inward like it had been struck by something larger than it should have been. Others were torn apart. Limbs broken the wrong way. Heads crushed.
Riqua swallowed. "This was not normal fighting."
"No," Freydis said. "This was joy."
A laugh rolled across the field then. Loud. Booming. Unafraid.
Thorfinn's hand tightened around his knives.
They crested a low rise and saw him.
Thorkell the Tall stood in the middle of the field like a thing cut from the earth itself. Taller than any man had a right to be. Broad enough to blot out the sky behind him. He held a spear thicker than a tree branch in one hand and laughed as two men charged him at once.
He crushed one with a backhand that sent the body spinning. He impaled the other clean through and flung him aside like meat.
"Is that all," Thorkell roared. "I was promised a war."
The remaining men hesitated. Fear spread fast.
Thorfinn felt something old stir in his chest. A tightness. A pull.
Riqua noticed. "You know him."
"Yes," Thorfinn said.
Freydis's eyes shone. "That's Thorkell."
Einar let out a low whistle. "So the stories are true."
One of the men screamed and ran.
Thorkell hurled his spear.
It took the man through the back and pinned him to the ground.
Silence fell.
Thorkell turned slowly, eyes scanning the field. They landed on the ridge.
On them.
He grinned wide. "More."
Thorfinn stepped forward before he could stop himself.
Riqua grabbed his arm. "What are you doing."
Thorfinn pulled free. "Something I have to."
Freydis cursed softly. Einar swore louder.
They followed anyway.
They descended into the open.
Thorkell's grin widened as they approached. His gaze locked onto Thorfinn.
"Well I will be," he said. "If it is not the little wolf."
Thorfinn stopped ten paces away. "You are still alive."
Thorkell laughed so hard the sound shook the air. "So are you. Smaller. Quieter. But still standing."
He looked at the others then. "Friends."
Freydis straightened. "Depends."
Thorkell chuckled. "I like her."
His eyes slid to Riqua. "You look half dead."
Riqua met his gaze and did not look away. "Not yet."
Thorkell's smile softened. Just a little. "Good answer."
More men approached then. Vikings. Hardened. Bloodied. They formed a loose ring, wary but amused.
Thorkell planted the butt of his spear into the earth. "So. What brings you all to my battlefield."
Thorfinn answered. "We were passing through."
Thorkell snorted. "No one passes through here by accident."
He leaned closer to Thorfinn. "You chasing something. Or running."
Thorfinn said nothing.
Thorkell laughed again. "Still like that. Fine. Come."
He turned and began to walk.
Freydis blinked. "Come where."
"To eat," Thorkell said over his shoulder. "And maybe fight again."
Against sense, against instinct, they followed.
Thorkell's camp was chaos made livable. Fires burned everywhere. Meat roasted on spits too large for any normal group. Men drank, laughed, tended wounds like they were scratches.
Thorkell sat on a fallen log and tore into a slab of meat with his teeth.
"Sit," he said.
They did.
Riqua sat stiff, watching every movement. Einar relaxed slightly. Freydis looked at everything like she was memorizing it.
Thorkell tossed a chunk of meat at Thorfinn. "You look thin."
Thorfinn caught it and ate.
"You still fight with knives," Thorkell said. "Always liked that."
"I fight to live," Thorfinn replied.
Thorkell tilted his head. "That is new."
A horn sounded from the edge of camp.
A scout ran in, breathless. "Enemy force moving in. Larger than before."
Thorkell's eyes lit up. "How many."
"Too many," the scout said.
Thorkell stood. "Perfect."
He turned to Thorfinn. "Fight with me."
Riqua looked at Thorfinn sharply.
Thorfinn closed his eyes for a brief moment.
Then he stood.
"We fight," he said.
The field shook under running feet.
Steel rang. Screams rose. Blood soaked the ground again.
Thorkell charged first, a living battering ram. Men broke around him like waves against rock.
Thorfinn moved through the gaps Thorkell made. Silent. Precise. Killing without noise when he could.
Freydis fought near Einar, her blade fast and clean. She smiled when she cut. Not from joy. From focus.
Einar's arrows never missed. Each one found a throat or eye.
Riqua fought beside Thorfinn. Not wild now. Measured. Controlled. He took hits and kept moving.
A man rushed Riqua from the side.
Thorfinn killed him before Riqua even saw it.
Later, Riqua returned the favor.
The battle ended with bodies piled thick and steam rising from blood in the cold air.
Thorkell roared in triumph.
He clapped Thorfinn on the shoulder hard enough to stagger him. "You fight different."
"I know," Thorfinn said.
Thorkell studied him for a long moment. "You are walking a strange road."
"Yes."
Thorkell grinned. "Good. Those are the only ones worth walking."
As night fell again, fires burned brighter.
Thorkell drank and laughed, but his eyes kept drifting back to Thorfinn and the others.
"Stay," he said finally. "For a time."
Thorfinn looked at Riqua. At Freydis. At Einar.
Riqua nodded once.
Freydis shrugged. "Better than freezing alone."
Einar smiled. "Stories like this do not come twice."
Thorfinn nodded.
They stayed.
For now.
The camp did not sleep.
Thorkell's men drank until their voices broke, until laughter turned into shouts and shouts into silence. Fires burned high, fed without care. The ground around them was already ruined, so no one bothered to keep it clean. Blood mixed with mud underfoot. The smell of iron and smoke sat thick in the air.
Thorfinn stayed on the edge of it.
He watched men celebrate killing like it was harvest. He watched wounds be stitched with shaking hands and crude jokes. He watched boys not much older than Riqua stare into the fire with hollow eyes, already changed.
Riqua noticed.
"You don't belong here," he said quietly.
Thorfinn did not look away. "Neither do you."
Riqua shifted, wincing as his side protested. "Maybe not. But I'm learning where I don't want to end up."
Thorfinn finally turned. "That matters."
Freydis sat across the fire from them, sharpening her blade with slow, careful strokes. She cleaned it between passes, wiped blood from the groove near the edge. She did not hum now. Her focus was sharp and inward.
Einar crouched nearby, repairing fletching, fingers steady despite the carnage around him.
"These men won't stop," Einar said. "Not until something bigger breaks them."
"Or leads them," Freydis replied.
Her gaze flicked toward Thorkell.
The giant sat with a group of his captains, tearing into meat, recounting moments of the fight with booming laughter. He was alive in a way that frightened men and drew them close all the same.
"He's not a leader," Freydis went on. "He's a storm."
Thorfinn nodded. "Storms pass."
Freydis glanced at him. "So do people."
A shout rose from the far end of camp.
Not laughter. Not celebration.
Alarm.
Steel rang as men scrambled to their feet. Someone screamed. Another horn sounded, this one sharp and urgent.
Thorkell stood at once, spear in hand. His grin faded into something focused.
"Scouts," a man shouted, running toward him. "We were careless."
"How many," Thorkell asked.
"Enough."
That was all he needed.
The attack came fast.
Arrows fell into the camp, fire tipped, ripping through tents and flesh alike. Men shouted as flames caught. Panic spread in pockets, then steadied as veterans regrouped.
Thorfinn moved without thinking.
He grabbed Riqua by the shoulder. "Stay close."
Riqua nodded, knife already out.
Freydis kicked a burning tent down before it could spread. "Einar, high ground."
"I'm already moving," Einar said, sprinting toward a rock outcrop with his bow.
The enemy hit the camp edge in a wave.
These were not frightened raiders or desperate men. Their movements were tight. Controlled. Shields locked. Blades ready. They pushed forward with purpose.
Thorfinn recognized it instantly.
Mercenaries.
He slipped into the chaos, using smoke and fire as cover. He cut one man's hamstring and took his throat before the scream finished forming. Another rushed him head on and lost his eye for it.
Blood slicked his hands. He barely felt it.
Riqua fought behind him, careful, defensive. He blocked, stabbed, retreated. Each movement chosen. He was slower than Thorfinn, but he did not panic. That alone kept him alive.
Freydis met three men at once and did not give ground. She fought like she stood, balanced and sharp. She cut deep, stepped back, cut again. One man tried to grab her. She broke his fingers and opened his neck without hesitation.
Einar's arrows thinned the press, but more came.
Then the shouting changed.
Not panic. Recognition.
A name passed through the enemy ranks like a ripple.
"Askeladd."
Thorfinn froze.
The world narrowed.
He turned toward the voice.
A man stepped through the smoke, sword resting loose in his hand, cloak torn and stained but worn with familiarity. His hair was dark, tied back. His eyes sharp, assessing everything at once.
Askeladd.
He surveyed the battlefield calmly, as if it were a game board already half solved.
His gaze landed on Thorfinn.
One eyebrow lifted.
"Well," Askeladd said. "I was wondering when you'd turn up again."
Thorfinn's grip tightened on his knives. The old heat flared, fast and dangerous.
Riqua felt it instantly. "Thorfinn."
Askeladd's eyes flicked to Riqua, then to Freydis, then to Einar. He smiled faintly.
"You've picked up strays," he said. "That's new."
"Leave," Thorfinn said.
Askeladd laughed softly. "Still straight to the point."
Behind him, his men pressed harder, using the distraction.
Thorkell roared from across the camp and charged, scattering bodies as he came. The ground shook under him.
Askeladd sighed. "Of course."
He raised his voice. "Fall back. Regroup."
His men obeyed instantly, peeling away with discipline, covering each other as they withdrew.
Thorkell crashed into the space Askeladd had been standing seconds before and laughed.
"Running already," he shouted. "Coward."
Askeladd did not look back. He vanished into the smoke with his men, the retreat clean and deliberate.
The fight ended in pieces.
Fires burned lower. Groans replaced screams. Bodies lay scattered, some Thorkell's men, some not.
Thorfinn stood rigid, breathing hard.
Riqua touched his arm. "You know him."
"Yes," Thorfinn said. His voice was flat.
"He frightens you," Riqua said.
Thorfinn closed his eyes. "He should."
Freydis approached, blade lowered. "That wasn't a loss for him."
"No," Einar agreed as he returned. "That was a test."
Thorkell stomped over, blood dripping from his spear. He was grinning, but his eyes were sharp now.
"Askeladd," he said. "Always slithering away."
He looked down at Thorfinn. "You chase him."
Thorfinn did not answer.
Thorkell laughed. "I thought so."
Night fell heavier than before.
They tended wounds. Counted the dead. The camp felt smaller now. Less certain.
Riqua sat beside the fire, staring into it.
"He didn't look like a monster," he said quietly.
"That's why he is one," Thorfinn replied.
Riqua nodded slowly. "I don't want to become that."
Thorfinn looked at him. Really looked.
"Then don't," he said. "No matter how many times the world tries to force it."
Riqua swallowed. "Promise me you won't let it happen to me."
Thorfinn hesitated.
Then he nodded. "I won't."
Freydis listened without looking at them. Einar pretended not to hear.
Thorkell watched them all from a distance, thoughtful.
The world beyond the fire was dark and waiting.
Paths were closing. Others opening.
None of them would walk away unchanged.