Prologue

The night was neither cold nor dark. The great keep of Yoorenhal was alight in bright flames, emitting warmth still felt by Jarl Khym Ragnarsson and his sons miles away. His banner, the crow of Yoorenhal, waved in the gentle wind, its dark blue seemingly vanishing under the star lit night sky. A hundred thousand were with him, leaving the country behind, forming a line stretching on and on for miles. Everything; food, weapons, armour, clothing and utensils of all sorts had been packed into knapsacks and mules on command. Men, women and children all were marching south through the realm of snow. The mountains to the east watched as the children of the sky left their homeland for the first time in centuries.

His sons saw their father's intense gaze, his soul hell bent on taking the people with him to a better future. 

Khym looked back to the city they had burned and abandoned. "Farewell Yoorenhal, I shall never see you again!" he cried out. 

"Farewell! Farewell!" Many chanted along with him. 

"When do you think they'll arrive?" Waldmar, his eldest son asked.

"They've taken our ships and sacked our granaries by the coast," the Jarl said. "I don't know when they'll come, but I say we let them!" 

"So this is the best move, then?"

"If we stay, eleven fleets and armies come for us. If my brother wants to be Jarl, I'll let him be Jarl. I go south with my people."

"In winter?" Waldmar voiced his concern once more, the ones his father had ignored for days. 

"If we wait for spring we die. We're not waiting for spring, we're going south." Khym spoke loudly, his rough voice heard by thousands. "I choose to die by my own will."

Waldmar didn't dare to question the man who led the people in these times. He would have to follow like everyone else. "Where do we stop?" he could only ask. 

Khym turned his back to the burning city. "Miklagard." the Jarl said. A wild smile appeared on his broad face. Many heard the Jarl say that, and immediately the word travelled to the furthest reaches of the trail of people. All began talking amongst themselves on what he may have meant...

"The Eternal City?" Waldmar asked in confusion. No child of the sky had seen the Eternal City in the far south in centuries. There, the children of the sun lived. It was said to have palaces of gold and marble, green fields and hills, unstoppable armies and hundreds of ships. A land the children of the sky had attempted to conquer twice, failing both times.

"Aye!" Khym said loudly, proudly marching on. A murder of crows flew above him as his people chanted. He couldn't tell whether this was a good or bad omen.