Zentmeister

"When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait."

In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.
Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.

But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.

Vetrúlfr Úllarson, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.

He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.

From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.

But all will know his name.

and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

Valkyries Calling

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New Novel: "Spellforged Scion:

Word of the skraelingr's flight reached Vetrúlfr by way of hunters returning from the northern streams, their breath still steaming from hard runs over ice and stone.

They spoke of camps half-abandoned, of small canoes slipping quietly out to sea under moonlight, laden with families and scant belongings.

They also spoke of lean bands of young warriors gathering in narrow ravines, planting sharpened stakes, watching the passes with hungry, desperate eyes.

Vetrúlfr sat on his carved chair of whale-bone and driftwood, one hand draped across the wolf pelt at his shoulder, the other resting on the hilt of the dark sword at his hip.

The hall was thick with the scents of salt and forge-smoke, alive with the clatter of armor as his huskarls leaned in to listen.

Let Them Carry Our Shadows