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

In London's great hall, under a hammerbeam roof darkened by years of smoke and feasting, King Cnut listened in cold silence.

Before him knelt a half-dozen of his personal messengers — men who had sailed the breadth of the north seas and walked the streets of Rome, who wore small golden crucifixes on chains, now clutched like talismans.

The eldest of them held a rolled skin tight in both hands, knuckles white.

"Your Grace, we have seen it ourselves. It is no mere fisher's brag or trembling monk's tale. The Faroese and Westman Isles are walled with stone now. Iceland boasts roads paved broad as any market square in York, lined with runes and wolf heads instead of crosses."

When the Wolf Howls Reach the King