At the meeting hall, Joryck sat atop his pelt-covered throne, a circular wooden table in front of him scattered with maps and creeds. Opposite to him sat Samas, rubbing the graying beard of his chin. Aelif was seated next to her father, examining the maps that were marked with small crosses, indicating sightings of necromancers in surrounding areas. Over the last moon, the attacks had grown closer and closer to Avald. If this negotiation did not go well, they’d soon be overrun by draugar. The fate of their clan rested on this conversation—and everyone knew it.

The crowd, which had been so merry and boisterous hours earlier, had fallen dead silent, not even taking a swig of their drinks. Aelif was not so tame, downing mugs of mead as the kings conversed.

“The draugar threat has been growing, and now—the Seidha have been spotted prowling the edge of our territory, with several of our scouts found dead. If they’re responsible, we’ll have war on our hands soon enough.” Joryck sported a grim countenance, his face harsh and words sharp.

Samas huffed, a sly grin on his face. “Draugar, Seidha, you have a lot on your plate, eh Joryck?” He chortled, the raven medallion about his neck jangling against his chestplate. “You need our help, is it? What do you offer in return?”

“If we don’t band together against these necromancers, all of us will be in need of help. They attacked your own clan two moons ago!”

“If you hadn’t slaughtered nearly the entire clan of Seidha, perhaps they wouldn’t hold such a grudge.”

“Seems I didn’t slaughter enough,” Joryck said, gulping down his drink. “They’re cropping up like rats in a cellar. Besides, you raven-shits speak so highly of your seers—I was just heeding the warnings of mine.”

Samas’ face changed, the air around him suddenly seeming stiffer. Aelif sucked in a breath before he spoke.

“I will not tolerate such disrespect from you, Wolf King.”

Her father chuckled. “To Alheim with formalities.”

Aelif winced. Her father was in one of his moods again, and the mead was not helping.

Samas’ eyes narrowed, lines deepening in his brow. “Our seer predicted as much, said the proud Wolf King will not be so forthcoming.” He set his mug down. “Yet, I decided to give you a chance. I will give you one more—my last.”

Joryck sighed heavily. “I will not apologize to you. Will you give us your aid, or not, raven-shit?”

Samas leaned back and grimaced, then rose from his chair. “I leave you to your fate, Wolf King. Perhaps you’ll survive, or perhaps the ravens will pick clean your bones, but know this—” He pointed a finger toward the table. “My clan will not be at your side.” Samas turned, swiveling on his boots, then strode away, his footsteps reverberating in the spacious halls.

Joryck said no more, only watching as Samas left. The clan watched, too. She felt their disappointment toward their King—to have such a man speak for their needs. Aelif studied their faces, despondent and desperate. Her heart ached with a strange, dull pain.

Amongst the crowd, Aelif noticed the little Raven she had seen earlier. Samas had introduced him as his second son, Gillyndr. Across his young face, he looked serious, determined. In that moment, he looked far more like a king than her drunken father.

“Father. Do not let him leave like this,” Aelif looked to Joryck and pleaded, her fist tightening around her mug. “Without their help, we’ll be reduced to nothing more than walking corpses.”

“Better a corpse than a coward.” He laughed bitterly, taking another swig. “We’ll bring them all down with us.”

“Be reasonable. We cannot do this on our own. Think about our clan, about what Seer Alma said. Do you want them all to perish?”

“If that is our fate, so be it.”

Aelif felt her face flash hot, slamming down her mug and standing. “You have never been one to believe in fate! What’s changed? Has old age rotted your brain?”

“Aelif!” Joryck roared, spit flying from his mouth. “You know nothing of a king’s burden. May you never have to learn, for it is—”

The loud wail of war horns interrupted his sentence as the wooden doors swung open.

“The draugar have broken our defenses. An entire horde! They’ll be upon us soon,” said the scout, panting for breath, kneeling forward.

Joryck snapped his head to the hall’s fore. “Ready your arms, men! We have company!”