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

The ships came up the coast at dusk, sails dark against the orange wash of the sinking sun. Gull cries wheeled overhead as the long prows cut through the gentle surf, wolf heads snarling at the waves.

Along the cliffs above, men blew horns; low, thunderous notes that rolled across the water and sent fishermen running to haul nets aside.

In the center of the harbor, Brynhildr stood waiting, her wolf-skin cloak wrapped tight against the salt breeze.

Beside her was Roisín, hair as red as fire lifted by the wind, holding their young son against her shoulder.

The boy squirmed and giggled, fat fists clutching at her braid. Nearby stood the nameless skraelingr woman, Brynhildr's long-serving thrall, her dark eyes watchful and unreadable.

At her side waited Eithne, Roisín's former sister in Christ, once defiant, now quiet, her hands folded with a calm that seemed to surprise even herself.

When the Wolf Returned