It was on the evening of the third day that Ulstea recalled the Scavengers to his cabin, his face set and his charts before him. The nine – ten of them now – were there along with Master Maxten, Brother Ole, and Crister Melor, the dour-faced Ship's Mage since its Navy days and another Thaumaturgist.

‘We have a sailing plan,’ the Commander announced. ‘After speaking with Olaf we may have a solution to our shortage of powder and shot.’

The silence that followed was pregnant with expectation, and Ulstea drew it out to its limit. He tapped the chart at the fore. ‘Draugen.’

‘Did we not go there on our last cruise, sir?’ Scops frowned.

Goose nodded. ‘Aye, we already hit th’ village there.’

Ulstea’s beard twitched. ‘You are correct, but you misunderstand the particulars,’ he said. ‘I speak not of the village but the estuary itself.’ He circled a spot on the chart with a stick of charcoal, forcing them to all crowd in for a better look. Sera leaned companionably on Aina’s shoulder, emitting a peculiar blended scent of lavender and ale.

‘Three miles upstream is a sea fort where the river starts to narrow,’ Ulstea continued, ‘Designed as it was to ward against invaders seeking to strike at the city of Miklagard some forty mile inland.’

‘So we hit the fort?’ Alvard asked.

‘We hit the fort.’

‘Should be a wealth of shot and powder there,’ Goose commented, rubbing his chin, ‘And maybe more than a few weapons perhaps.’

‘Aye,’ Ulstea confirmed. ‘I’m recalling the ship’s company and we sail with the morning tide.’

And so we go again into the ruins of the old world, Aina mused. Dismissed, the Scavengers scattered to their quiet corners of the ship, readying their souls for the journey to come.

*

Cold wind tugged at her coat as she stumbled on rock and stone, half-hidden in the dark and gloom, most of the way up the path, swearing between ragged breaths from the long climb. Finally there, Aina clambered up onto a cut slab longer than she was tall and surveyed her conquest. From this height the town was a pool of cinders caught in the bay below, unable to escape from the net of land, outlying farmsteads still burning free.

Beyond these markers everything was in shadow, a moonless light leaving the ocean a dark and endless void in which anything could be lurking, shrinking her world to the palm of her hand and the beat of the heart in her chest. Breaking from her usual pre-cruise routine she had climbed up here on an impulse, standing amongst the ancient ruins quiet and alone.

Grinning, she put down her bag. It clinked when it touched the rock.

‘Could almost jump and slap the gods from here,’ she muttered, looking up into the night sky. Not that the gods were up there, as old lore gave them homes set apart from the material world, if closely aligned. For the most part. Njall was said to live under the sea, Hass in the clouds, and Jod deep in the earth. So, The Triplets of water, air, and land were bound to their respective domains in the corporeal world.

‘The bastards,’ Aina muttered, retrieving a bottle from her bag and unstoppering the cork. She poured out a little in sacrifice to the island's guardian spirits and took a deep draught for herself.

Closing her eyes against the wind she allowed the peacefulness of it to wash over her, away from the sounds of the town and the ocean. She could imagine the raucous atmosphere of Njall’s Head spilling out into the street, the shouting, the bawdy laughter, that one man with his out-of-tune concertina. Alvard must have been looking for her by now, confused as to her whereabouts.

Aina smiled. ‘Bastard.’ She took a swig.

A rock scuffed nearby, a muted swear, and the clack of something being kicked.

‘Who goes there?’ Aina called.

‘Only me, love,’ Sera’s voice returned from the darkness.

‘What’re you doing up here?’

Some more scuffling, getting closer.

‘I saw...’ another muted curse. ‘I saw you go and thought you might want company.’

‘You think I might have come up here to be alone?’

Silence.

‘I can go if you want...?’

Aina snorted. ‘Get over here, idiot.’

The shadows at her side deepened into the woman’s silhouette. Her face was stolen by the night but Aina could see clearly in her mind’s eye the way her eyes scrunched up when she smiled. A scent of lavender permeated the air now. It reminded her of the long-retreating summer. Wordlessly, she prodded the woman with the blunt end of a bottle until she accepted it.

‘Thanks, love.’ The pop of a stopper, the rush of liquid, the fresh smell of ale. ‘What are you doing up here, anyway?’

‘Just wanted a change,’ Aina replied, smiling as she knew she spoke the truth.

‘Fair’s fair,’ Sera replied. There was something in her voice, there for a moment then gone. ‘Great view though.’

‘Aye.’

‘How did you plan on getting down in the dark after a few drinks?’

Aina gave an unseen grin, took another gulp of ale. ‘That, my dear, is a problem for later.’

The other Scavenger cackled appreciatively and brandished her bottle up at the shrouded heavens. ‘So shall it be thus!’ she intoned.

‘So shall it be thus!’ Aina echoed, whooping with her next breath and howling into the void, unfettered and primal, accompanied a moment later by the other woman. They guffawed in laughter and drank away the night, sharing anecdotes and joining their voices in slurred song, only returning to town when the first glimmers of pre-dawn light lit their path. For that time in the dark, however, they were free. They were queens of their little kingdom, a paradise in a paradise, in a world that had not ended.