As Lìfa stepped out from the small hovel to the fresh night air she felt like she was hit hard in the head. Her surroundings were slowly spinning and everything was constantly moving, making her dizzy. Her vision blurred, and her knees were about to give in. While sitting by the fire she didn't feel the effects of the potion, but now it hit in strong. She did not feel pain anymore, but all her senses went numb too.

She stumbled towards the meadhall to warn her friends, but the two guards escorting her previously stepped in her way. She instinctively reached down to her belt searching for her axe, though she wasn't able to fight. When she couldn't find her weapon her eyes trailed after her hand realising that she probably lost it back in the woods. Her shield and the Troll Cutter were left on the ship and now her only weapon left was a small dagger hidden in her bootleg. The two guards saw her struggling and didn't even bother to pull their swords out. They just saw a desperate girl who couldn't stand on her own, trying to get past them.

"Where do you think you are going?"

One of the guards just kicked her down to the ground, followed by the vicious laugh of his mate. Just for fun, he kicked her hard in the side a few more times, sending her a few feets away in the dust. What they didn't know was that Lìfa couldn't feel any pain under the effect of the potion. For their biggest surprise, she gathered all her strength and managed to stand up and face them again.

"I see, you're a stubborn one. How sad, we can't kill you thanks to the witch." one of them stated.

"But it doesn't mean we can't have a little more fun with you while our friends cut down your crew." a vile smile spread on the other's face as he approached the girl again with big lazy steps. Like a cat playing with its prey.

As Lìfa saw them coming closer, she secretly pulled her dagger out of her bootleg and whispered a quick prayer to her god before she forced herself to stand up. She had no idea about how she would fight the two men since her vision wasn't entirely clean and the world was still spinning around her a bit. But she had to try anyway. She had to defend herself and most importantly to warn her friends.

One of the guards grabbed and held her while the other sent a well-aimed punch to her stomach. Though she didn't feel the hit itself, its impact made her stomach tremble and she wanted to throw up. Now the guard holding her lifted her head up by pulling her braided hair. From this close Lìfa could feel the man's breath stinking from the cheap beer and his unpleasant odour only made her nausea worse.

The other guard examined her face for a bit and backed down as he looked into the girl's unmatched eyes. He had been serving the witch for years and still, he got scared by the strange eyes of the girl. The fierce and reckless fire he saw in those eyes made him shiver and fear Lìfa. Then quickly rage ran up his face turning it into a dark colour of red. He spat to the ground, then pulled his fist back and punched the girl's face as a revenge for what her gaze did to him.

As he stepped closer to her and his fist collided with Lìfa's lips, she freed her arm and buried her dagger into the man's chest. Then she used the other warrior's surprise to free herself from his tight grip. She faced the man barely standing, armed with only a tiny dagger. Realising her low chances against the man Lìfa backed away, trying to maintain her distance from the guard, but she stumbled upon the lifeless body of the other guard and fell to the ground.

Within no time the huge man appeared above her, pinning her to the ground. She struggled against the man, trying to free herself, but he knelt on her shoulders, leaving his hands free to take vengeance for his fallen friend. As he kept beating Lìfa, her fingers were desperately searching the dust for her dagger. When she finally found it, she didn't grab it immediately. She had a better idea. She grabbed a fistful of the dust and threw it into the man's eyes. He reached for his face in pain, losing focus and trying to rub the sand out of his eyes. Lìfa took the chance and stabbed her dagger into the guard's throat.

Without making a noise the body fell helplessly ahead, right on top Lìfa, his blood dripping all over her. She had a hard time crawling out of under the dead body. It was heavy and almost impossible for her to roll it off of her. When she finally freed herself, she rose to her knees with a deep sigh, then emptied the content of her stomach to the ground.

Her face was covered with the blood flowing from her nose and puffed up lips. She tried to wipe it away, but only managed to smudge it all over her face. Not like it mattered at all since her clothes were soaked in her victim's dark red blood. She took a moment to catch her breath and gather her remaining strength to stand up and walk again.

When Lìfa finally reached the entrance of the hall she heard the sounds of the ongoing fight coming from the inside. The gates were barricaded by a giant log, leaving her drunk friends trapped inside with the group of bloodthirsty barbarians. She stood up and gathered all her strength, trying to push the log away and free the doorway. She tried with all her might, but the enormous piece of wood didn't move a single inch.

The noises from inside intensified and the stench of burning wood reached her nose. As she looked up she noticed that the far end of the hall got on fire. The sight of the orange flames slowly licking the building made her heart start into a violent race pumping panic to every cell of her body. She tried more desperately to move the log, but without any result. She sank to her knees and hot tears trailed down her cheeks as she watched helplessly the hall getting slowly eaten up by the flames. She heard all the screams and shouts from inside as they tried to break out.

She killed the only men who could open the gates up and now she had to watch the hall burn down to ashes with her friends trapped inside. She heard all the voices and for a moment it took her back to the day when Thornvik was destroyed. The flames and the violent roar coming from them. The screams. They were calling out to her, blaming her for her helplessness. For letting them die. The past came back to repeat itself and to haunt her again. Once she had to watch her father die back in Thornvik. She lost her family and now it all happened again. She was late and she had to watch her new family die too.

Though Lìfa couldn't feel physical pain under the spell of the potion, on the inside she was in complete ruins. Her every cell was in pain, burning with remorse and self-accusation. Beside this chaotic mixture of emotions, something new hit its head up and made its way to Lìfa's mind to compete with the voices in her head.

Anger. She was angry at her so-called god. Wasn't he supposed to watch over her and help her? Or was this his big plan? To watch her world burn down to ashes again? What kind of sick game was he playing?

Then she blamed herself again. Maybe if she had stayed with the guardians instead of running away. Maybe then she would have been able to warn her friends. Maybe then Sveinn would have seen that they were fishy.

Sveinn. That stupid oaf. Why couldn't he just believe her? Why didn't he see through the act of cheap beer and poorly cooked meat? Now he had to die among the flames, like everyone else. The thought of losing Sveinn drove her crazy. They grew up together, they laughed and cried together. Sveinn was like her brother and she couldn't imagine a life without him.

She wanted to move, to run away from all the voices in her head but she wasn't able to move. She just sat there with hot tears flowing unstoppably from her eyes, unable to tear her gaze away from the flames slowly consuming half of the building. Suddenly, she noticed a figure standing next to her.

As she looked up, she saw a tall man wearing a simple forest green tunic and brown leather pants. His long hair was copper red and his amber eyes were shining bright in the dark of the night. His face was emotionless, he almost seemed to be bored. Lìfa rubbed her eyes, she wasn't sure if the man was really there or not.

"I thought your mighty friends would be more clever. I enjoyed stirring up their little arguments and fights. Even that ridiculous nausea did entertain me, but this..." he pinched the bridge of his nose with a disappointed groan "You'll need these fools alive."

He didn't look at Lìfa just mimicked a bored yawn and snapped. At the very same moment, the gates of the meadhall burst open with Bjarne and Thorvald dashing through. After them, the whole group piled out followed by the wild forest barbarians. The fight was still raging, though they barely could see each other in the thick black smoke pouring out of the hall. Lìfa looked around searching for the strange man, but by that time he was nowhere to be found. Still sitting on the ground, stunned by what just happened in front of her eyes, she just watched her friends fight. Like she wasn't really there, and it was just some kind of weird illusion surrounding her.

She saw Frode's knives flashing in the dark, slicing up his enemies faster than they could blink. With his black robes, he was like a fearful old raven striking at the Allfather's enemies. A few feets away there were the two berserkers, releasing their wild, uncontrollable powers. Their eyes lost their human-like shines, and their gaze became more beastly. The corner of their mouths foamed, and the shouts and growls coming up from their throats were the most terrifying voices Lìfa had ever heard. No man could stand against Magni and Thorvald. Their swords began an endless dance, leaving only death in their path.

All voices surrounding her merged into one chaotic mess. She could hear Egil shouting orders to his men, but the meaning of his words couldn't reach her mind. She saw Olaf and Carolus slowly carrying away a huge, unconscious body, while others covered their backs on the way to the ship. Her heart skipped a beat as the thought struck her head that it might be Sveinn. Her eyes frantically searched the crowd in the dark for the boy.

For her biggest relief, she found him fighting by the side of his masters. His training hadn't begun yet, but he still was almost as strong and wild as the two berserkers. His strikes were fast and deadly. He moved so easily among his enemies, blocking their every move like it was only just a game.

Lìfa couldn't watch the surreal scene any longer, as a huge hairy arm wrapped around her, and lifted her from the ground. As Egil ordered the group to withdraw to the ship, Bjarne grabbed the girl and carried her to the Fox. She recognised that the others were carrying the almost lifeless body of Gunnar. She couldn't see what happened to him, but he was pale as snow, and he was fully covered in blood.

Behind their backs the trio of Thorvald, Magni, and Sveinn kept fighting, covering the group's back as they piled onto the ship. As the last one of them climbed aboard, Thorvald and Magni pushed it into the water. Bjarne and Egil pulled Thorvald overboard, but Magni stayed behind. He took up the fight against the barbarians again, keeping them busy, so his friends could flee.

"Magni! What are you doing? Come on, you still can reach the ship!" Thorvald shouted desperately to his friend.

"You know I can't! Go on without me! Just please, tell my wife and daughters that I died in glory and honour!" came the answer from the shores. He already made the decision to sacrifice himself for the others.

Thorvald got wild again, he wanted to throw himself into the water and fight by his brother's side, but the others held him back. It was too late to turn back for him. As the ship slowly sailed away from the shores, they watched in silence Magni's form slowly disappear in the distance. He fought against the huge group of barbarians all alone, and he stood his ground as long as he needed to. He unleashed the beast inside him one last time to save his friends.

When they reached the open sea and left those haunted shores behind, life slowly returned to their faces. They were sorry for losing one of their best warriors, but he earned his place in Valhalla. It was the best end a man could ever hope for. They needed to move on and concentrate on more urging problems. For example Gunnar, who lost an arm during a battle. Frode stopped the bleeding and took care of him as good as he could, but everyone knew that Gunnar probably wouldn't reach the treasure with them. The godi's potions may ease his pain and put him to rest, but his time was about to come and they could only hope for the best.

Lìfa sat in silence beside Sveinn, trying to process all the things that just happened. Her empty gaze was still fixed at the small orange point at the distance from where they came. The potion was slowly losing its effect on her, making her senses come back to life again. She was exhausted and her every inch was throbbing in pain, but she was so lost in thoughts that she barely noticed any of this.

Finally, Sveinn pulled her back to reality.

"What a night, huh? I thought we would never make it out alive. And you missed out all of the good stuff." he tried to sound cheerful, covering the sorrow in his voice.

Like waking up from a dream, Lìfa finally tore her gaze from the horizon and slapped the boy hard in the face.

"You idiot! Do you think it's funny? I thought you all died in there! I thought you died!" she tried to hit him again as anger washed all over her, but Sveinn caught her hand midair.

"Aww, you were worried about me? How cute!" he punched back the girl's arm, and before she could hit him again, he pulled Lìfa into a tight hug.
She returned the hug, and let out a shaking sigh.

"Sometimes you're such a moron. I don't even know why I hang out with you."

"Because you need someone who saves your stupid ass from time to time."

They both burst out laughing. It wasn't the happy kind of laugh they used to share too many times to count. It was that desperate kind that helped them let out all the tension of the night and ease their pain a bit. When they volunteered for this quest they never imagined they would go through all this. No one ever told them that it would be this hard. They only heard the tales about glory and wealth, but nobody ever told the ones about pain and death. It was a lesson they needed to learn by themselves.

As they finally let each other go, in the background Carolus started into a song about one of their old fights on his lute. He tried to cheer the crew up a bit, or at least to raise the spirit a bit above zero. To wake the hope in their souls that the morning may bring them something good as they reach their final destination where endless gold and never dying fame awaited them.