Reaper's Fee

   The firelight glowed softly, throwing shadows against the walls of the cave. A hunched figure sat nearby, rocking slowly back and forth like a punished child. Unnaturally grey hair framed a haunted face of twenty-five years. The man's left eye was missing, covered by an elaborate patch adorned with runes. He shivered, despite the warmth of the fire, and sweat glistened across his brow.

   A small blonde woman, dressed in the traditional garb of the Vestenmannavnjar, appeared out of the darkness and knelt before him.

   "King Asbjornsson?"

   "Go away." His voice was bitter, half-crazed.

   "My name is Yngvild Olafssdottir," she said quietly.

   "I know who you are. Go away."

   "I have nowhere else to go. You are the leader of my people."

   "I'm not the leader of anyone," Gjæving Asbjornsson spat. "I'm a thief, a stupid oaf who fell down the wrong hole. It's all been a terrible mistake."

   "Your mistake or the gods' mistake?" she asked

   "Pick one."

   His remaining eye clenched shut and a series of shudders wracked his body. Yngvild watched him struggle to reassert control.

   "The visions are strong now, aren't they?" she queried.

   "Everyone's been having visions," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Skjæren, fate witches, even that Avalon magician in Elaine's court."

   "But none of them mentioned me. You have. Every night for the last three days, you have screamed my name. Haven't you?"

   He glowered at her as blood trickled down his nose.

   "That's why I'm here." Yngvild leaned in closer. "My ship and I have reached an impasse. The Vendel are too numerous: their vessels are everywhere now, and they've begun hiring Eisen mercenaries to guard them. For every one we sink, two more rise to take their place. We're losing this war, and unless you help me, the Vestenmannavjar will die.

   "They told me you've been having visions. They told me that you've seen the future: a future where the Vendel have been wiped out. I need to know how."

   Asbjornsson looked pointedly at her.

   "Help me." Yngvild grabbed his arm and her face filled with preternatural anger. "Tell me what I have to do to destroy the Vendel once and for all."

   "I can't!" he cried. "I can't even tell you if the visions are true or not! I could be mad, or delirious, or just wrong!"

   "I trust you." Her grip eased. "I have to trust you. Tell me, please, what I have to do."

   He closed his eye and wiped the blood from his chin. "If I tell you, will you leave me alone?"

   She nodded curtly. He sighed.

   "In the centre of the Mirror is a gate," he began, "a gate that lies beneath the waves."

   "Where does it lead?" Her eyes gleamed eagerly.

   "I think you know." Asbjornsson stared hard at her. "And I think you know what will happen if you open it."

   "Yes…" she hissed softly. "Tell me how."

   "It isn't difficult. You simply have to know the proper sequence…"

   The firelight faded, but the voices continued deep into the night.