Jarl Dragonheart’s granddaughter is almost come of age and she is becoming a powerful witch. The Skull Taker clan wish to take revenge for their death of their own witch at Snorri’s hands and take both Ylva and the land of the wolf from the Dragonheart. When Ylva falls into the hands of the Norns then Dragonheart must descend into the bowels of the earth and do battle with the most powerful of witches. With spies in his land Dragonheart is in danger of losing his land and he must use both his experience and his people to try to save the land of the Wolf. A fast moving novel which culminates in a battle in the heart of the land of the Wolf between Norse and Dane.
This is the fifteenth book in the series. Ylva, the granddaughter of the Dragonheart, is almost a woman. Taken to Syllingar she is placed under a spell by Skald, the Norn. When the Dragonheart’s land comes under attack from the Skull takers the very existence of the clan is under threat.
Excerpt
from the high ground. We could cross there and be at Ketil’s stad in two days.
There were many houses lining the road as we headed north, but eventually they gave way to scrubby bushes and straggly trees which had encroached since the time of the Romans. No one maintained them and soon, unless they were repaired, they would become a greenway. The dank air masked sounds but Beorn the Scout had sharp ears. He was aided by his horse which flicked its ears up. He turned and held up his hand in the signal for danger. I moved my cloak so that I could reach my sword and then donned my helmet. The others did the same, silently, and we kept moving up the road.
I nudged my horse so that I was close by Beorn’s mount’s hindquarters. I still held the halter for my spare horse in my left hand but I was prepared to let it drop the instant we found trouble. I heard Beorn’s sword as he slid it from his scabbard and I released my horse and then drew my own sword. The Danes came at us from both sides. I whipped my horse’s head to the left for Beorn could deal with the ones from his right. I brought my sword over in an arc as the Danish spear rammed at my side. My movement had made him miss. The spear head caught on my mail and then struck the rim of my shield. My sword struck him on the helmet. It was a powerful blow and the Dane crumpled, the life leaving his eyes.
In those days, we did not use the stiraps much and I slid my leg over my saddle. I would fight on foot. I drew my seax as I did so. There were four Danes facing me. Haaken appeared at my side. I did not worry about the others. They were Ulfheonar. They could handle the other Danes.
The four were armed with axes and spears. The worst thing we could have done was to wait for them to attack and I leapt forward deflecting the waiting spear with my sword. The Dane was taken by surprise. He wore no mail. Perhaps he hoped to take mine. As Ragnar’s Spirit ripped into his middle he discovered that would not happen. One of the Danes who had an axe had stepped around my sword side and I felt a crack as he swung it at my back. My shield was still slung there beneath my cloak. I saw the look of surprise from behind his helmet as I turned to face him.
“You do not catch an Ulfheonar like that, Dane!” I swung my blade at head height and it bit deep into his neck. The blood spattered the spearman behind him. Even as he prepared to stab at me Rolf Horse Killer swung his own axe and hacked through to the Dane’s spine. I turned and looked. Our horses had wandered a little way off but eleven Danes lay dead. They had thought that odds of more than two to one favoured them. They were wrong.
We searched them and took what little treasure they had. We searched for clan markings. They were not the Skull Takers. The paucity of their weapons had told us that. Their tokens told us they were the clan of the otter. We took the best of them and left their bodies for the carrion. In winter this would be a feast. Rollo Thin Skin had a cut cheek but that was our only wound.
