Reykjavik was on fire. Ingrid scrambled from house to house and pulled people from their doorways and bedrooms. A boy grabbed at his siblings as Ingrid kicked in the door to yank them out. Once assured they were safe, she hurried on. The flames grew higher and higher as she stumbled about, calling for Rionan ...

Rionan knew how it felt to be an outsider. From the church to the market to the masters she’d served, there had been no place ready-made for her. No hearth had ever welcomed her without a struggle for a seat. She’d long gotten used to being last in line for food or affection. She wore ...

Ingrid sighed and adjusted her bag. The straps cut into her injured shoulder, but the pain was a welcomed distraction. Rionan struggled up the path after her. Her Norse had improved quite a bit. If only the crew had bothered to teach her something other than swear words. With every skid on broken seashells and ...

The þræll glared over the railing as Ingrid inspected the bones. They were smooth and clean, in perfect condition. They’d be a nice gift for her father.  “You do good work,” she praised. “I won’t regret buying you.” The girl muttered something and ducked behind the railing. She could sulk all she liked; they would ...

Derrick was amazed at the quality of the bones. They felt sturdy. The thick sod had kept them perfectly preserved even after the roof of the grave caved in. They looked smaller laid out on the metal slabs under the examining lights. As he assisted Dr. Fraser in lining each set with its appropriate bones, ...

Dublin 873 C.E. Mist was rising off the water in soft clouds as they docked in Dublin early that morning. Five weeks at sea with only a few stops and all of Ingrid’s crew was ready to stretch their legs, find a meal, maybe a woman, and a bed for a few hours. First, though, ...