RAGNAR’S POV

The scarred warrior crumpled to the ground, clutching at the arrow shaft protruding from his chest. His eyes were wide with shock and pain, but he was still alive, still trying to speak through the blood that frothed at his lips.

I looked up to see armed figures emerging from the rocks above us, their weapons drawn and ready. For a moment, I thought this was just another wave of attackers, another trap within the trap that Harald had set for me. But then I recognized the man leading them down into the valley.

Jovna.

“About time you showed up,” I said, trying to inject some humor into my voice despite the blood running down my face and the bodies of my men scattered around me.

“Sorry we’re late,” Jovna replied with a grin that didn’t quite hide the concern in his eyes. “We had some trouble tracking you through this maze of valleys.”

Behind him came more warriors, at least twenty men in battle gear, moving with the precision of experienced fighters. They quickly surrounded the surviving attackers, who threw down their weapons rather than face hopeless odds.

But it was the figure who emerged last from the rocks that truly shocked me. Bjorn the Wise, Astrid’s father, looking older and more weathered than when I had last seen him, but still carrying himself with the dignity of a man who had led his people through dark times.

“Bjorn,” I said, struggling to my feet with help from one of Jovna’s warriors. “What are you doing here?”

“Saving your worthless hide, apparently,” he replied, but there was no malice in his voice. If anything, he looked relieved to see me alive. “Though it seems we arrived just in time.”

Jovna’s men were already moving among the bodies, checking for survivors and gathering weapons. The ambush site looked like a battlefield now, littered with the dead and dying from both sides. Too many of my good men had fallen here, betrayed by their own king.

“How did you know to find me?” I asked, accepting a water skin from one of the warriors and using it to wash the blood from my face.

“We’ve been tracking these bastards for days,” Jovna said, nodding toward the surviving attackers. “They weren’t as clever as they thought, leaving a trail of burned villages and dead farmers behind them.”

“They weren’t raiders,” I said grimly. “They were Harald’s men, sent to make sure I never returned from this campaign.”

Jovna’s expression darkened. “We suspected as much. That’s why we came looking for you.”

One of the surviving attackers was being dragged forward by two of Jovna’s warriors. The man was wounded but conscious, his face pale with pain and fear. He knew what was coming, knew that captured enemies rarely lived long enough to see another sunrise.

“Who sent you?” Jovna demanded, his voice carrying the authority of a man accustomed to being obeyed.

The prisoner tried to remain silent, but a sharp kick from one of his captors loosened his tongue quickly enough.

“King Harald,” he gasped. “The king ordered us to make sure Ragnar Thornegrim never returned from the north. We were to make it look like he died fighting raiders.”

“And what about his men?” Jovna pressed. “What were your orders regarding them?”

“Kill them all. Leave no witnesses. Make it look like a heroic last stand.”

The confession was exactly what I had expected, but hearing it spoken aloud still made my blood boil. Harald hadn’t just wanted me dead – he had been willing to sacrifice dozens of loyal warriors to achieve his goal. Good men who had served him faithfully, murdered for the crime of following their jarl.

Jovna looked at me, his eyes filled with cold fury. “I think we’ve heard enough.”

He drew his sword and drove it through the prisoner’s heart before the man could speak another word. It was a quick death, more merciful than the man deserved, but Jovna had never been one for unnecessary cruelty.

“Now we know for certain,” he said, cleaning his blade on the dead man’s cloak. “Harald has declared war on his own jarls.”

“Why?” I asked. “What did I do to earn his hatred?”

It was Bjorn who answered, his weathered face grim with knowledge I didn’t want to hear.

“It’s not what you did, Ragnar. It’s what you have. Or rather, who you have.”

A chill ran down my spine that had nothing to do with the mountain air. “Astrid.”

“She’s in danger,” Bjorn said simply. “More danger than you know. That’s why I’m here, why I brought my best warriors on this desperate journey north. My daughter needs help, and you’re the only one who can provide it.”

I felt the world tilt around me, my worst fears suddenly becoming reality. “What’s happened to her? What has Harald done?”

“We don’t know exactly,” Jovna said. “But we have reports from court. Strange stories about your wife disappearing from her chambers, about the king announcing her death in a tragic accident. But there’s been no body, no funeral, no proper mourning period.”

“She’s not dead,” Bjorn said with absolute certainty. “If Harald had killed her, he would have made a show of it. He would have used her death to justify whatever he plans to do to you. No, she’s alive, but imprisoned somewhere. Hidden away until he can figure out how to use her against you.”

My hands clenched into fists, and I felt the familiar rage building in my chest like a fire that threatened to consume everything in its path. Harald had taken everything from me – my men, my honor, my position. But touching Astrid was a line he should never have crossed.

“We have to get back to court,” I said, already starting to move toward where our horses were tethered. “We have to find her.”

But Jovna’s hand on my shoulder stopped me cold.

“That’s exactly what he wants you to do,” my old friend said. “He’s expecting you to come charging back like a berserker, ready to tear down his castle with your bare hands. He’ll be prepared for that. He’ll have traps waiting, enough soldiers to cut you down before you can get within a hundred yards of wherever he’s keeping her.”

“Then what do you suggest?” I snarled. “That I leave her in his hands while I sit here planning the perfect strategy?”

“I suggest we be smarter than he is,” Jovna replied calmly. “We can’t save her by force. You can’t save her by force. Only one person has the power to go against King Harald and make him back down.”

The implications of his words hit me like a thunderbolt. “You’re talking about going over his head.”

“I’m talking about appealing to the only authority Harald still respects and fears,” Jovna said. “The High King. Maonus Iyenide.”

Maonus Iyenide. The name carried weight that made even Harald the Ruthless tread carefully. The High King ruled over all the northern realms, and his word was law even for lesser kings like Harald. If Maonus could be convinced to intervene, Harald would have no choice but to release Astrid and restore my position.

If Harald refuses to comply, King Maonus would give me the power to kill Harald.