Mourning Tides By Nathaniel Blackwood ***** PUBLISHED BY: Nathaniel Blackwood on ScribD Sanctuary Copyright 2011 by Nathaniel Blackwood

d ***** Prologue The prow of the ship rose and rose before plunging into the depths, the deck of the proud vessel nearer to vertical than horizontal more often than not. My own pride had me in the bow, my knuckles white as they clutched at the rail. My boots gripped at the soaked wood beneath my feet and I glared defiantly over the waves at the land in the distance. Home. Mourning Tides. A place I had not seen in over two winters. My wife would be sitting by the hearth cooking a stew. My eldest would be staring out the window at the storm, hand playing over the pommel of his axe eagerly, anxious to go forth and defend our place in the world. The storms always brought the beasts of the land upon us. I thought of my daughter as my eyes roamed the foaming sea. She would be near her fifth year, now. Would she remember her father? "Farbjorn!" a familiar voice bellowed from behind. I turned and raised an eyebrow at my old friend Yngvarr. He was utterly soaked, his wolfskins weighing him down to the point where he likely felt like a Southlander in their ridiculous armor, but his back was straight and true. His black eyes glared out at me like onyx from under his furrowed brow. "What?" I shouted over the roar of the waters. "Ye could lend a hand, you sopping old fool! We're bringin' yer baby into port loaded down with Southern gold, after all." I turned my eyes upon the rest of my men, who rushed to and fro across the ship, towing lines and fighting to keep us on course. I tilted my head a moment, then shrugged. "You seem to have it well in hand, old friend," I winked. Yngvarr stamped his feet like a petulent child and snorted, his hand dropping to one of his many hammers. "Just like a hersir!" I laughed and turned back to face the incoming land. Night was falling over the north, making the darkness of the storm even darker. Flashes of lightning lit the sky and I said a little prayer to the God of Thunder. The last thing we needed was a charred hole in our hull when we were entering a literal safe harbor. My heart sped a bit and I squinted as the tower fire came into sight, a roaring inferno that was kept up by the town watch, a dim and flickering light at this distance.

I was coming home. Chapter One I looked out the window, licking my lips eagerly. Impatiently. The snows whirled outside, coming down in thick white sheets. The wolves were out this evening. They howled madly, reveling in the chill that could freeze a man in a matter of minutes. The land here was harsh, but it was a good home. Worthy of being protected. And I would do so, would gladly lay down my life for this place I had grown into a man in. A man. My mother would disagree. My sixteenth winter and she nursed me still as though I were some wounded bird. My lip twitched in annoyance, but I knew that she meant well. I would join my place in the Wardens soon enough. When my father returned from plundering the arrogant Southlanders. I looked up the hill at the longhouse that stood proudly in the center of our town, my breath fogging the air before me, mingling with the white flakes. The steward sat within that hall, warming his ass by the braziers that graced the cruel and sheerly hewn throne. I knew his mind. Since he had taken the mantle of Steward two winters before he had done little to help the community progress. Had done little to protect them from the ever encroaching wilds. The Wardens stood guard against evil, but recieved no help from the man appointed to give them orders. He used his posistion only to gain more power. Used all of his energies to better secure his hold on the throne he tainted with his thick blankets of fur. He would not give up the power he had aquired a taste for easily. I smiled grimly. He would, though. He would lose it, and his head. He should know better than to test a true Jarl such as my father. "Leikr, your sister shivers," my mother scolded from behind me. I sighed and looked out over Mourning Tides one last time, then closed the thick shutters and turned to see my sister and mother huddled by the fire.