The Oath of Blood

The morning after the moot’s uneasy gathering dawned slate-grey, a hush hanging over the encampment as if the woods themselves withheld breath. By the time the pale sun broke the horizon, the tribal banners had stiffened in the wind and spears of frost bit the grass.

Kerr the Wolf awoke before the others, as was his custom. He paced the edge of the camp by the half-frozen river, each breath a plume against the dawn. Children’s laughter—rare, fragile—spilled from somewhere among the shacks as a girl chased her brother, boots crunching in the brittle snow.

Before long, the clans gathered once more, summoned by messengers to meet at the sacred stone: a slab of black granite streaked with white, staked in the moot’s center since the age of his forebears.

Men knelt to sharpen blades or finger charms as the circle formed. Among them stood Halvard, the young, broad-shouldered chief of the Fjorn—a clan neither rich nor populous, but bound to the Valskar by old debts. He nodded to Kerr, lips pale with fear or cold.

Hrawg of the Skjald hung at the circle’s edge, his gaze sharp as frostbite. Behind him, Sten’s Jotunstag watched, stony-faced. Eirik took his post at Kerr’s right hand, claymore across his back, his eyes never still.

At the signal, Seeress Freyja stepped forward, her hair loose, her linen robe trailing shadow and ice. She bore a silver bowl for the oath—an artifact battered by ancient hands and blackened by generations of blood. “Let none forget,” she intoned, her voice thin but iron-hard, “that an oath cut in blood is sealed before gods and dead kin. Break it, and let vengeance hunt you past this life.”

The clansmen pressed tighter, breath pluming, arms crossed. Tension ran raw as a wound.

Kerr extended his hand. Beside him, Halvard did likewise. Freyja drew a knife: her father’s, the blade inscribed with runes that made men murmur. She sliced Kerr’s palm—swift, practiced—then did the same to Halvard. Blood welled black in the cold, and Freyja pressed their hands together over the bowl.

“Blood calls to blood. So are you bound,” she whispered as their mingled blood fell in fat, red droplets. “Let no steel nor storm break what is pledged.”

Over the hush, a flake of snow whirled earthward. Shadows clung at the fringe of the circle.

Halvard, voice wavering, managed: “By my hand and heart, I bind the Fjorn to Wolf’s kin, to stand in shieldwall or perish where you fall.”

Kerr, gaze flinty, replied, “I name you blood-brother. Harm to you is harm to mine. Let this be the steel that shapes fate.”

A cheer began to rise, hesitant but growing.

It was in that moment—oath-magic still fresh in the air—that the quiet fractured, a scream cleaving the dawn. From the crowd’s far edge, a figure lunged, grey-clad and swift as a forest shadow: knife gleaming, sprinting as if flung by hate itself.

Time caught—a heartbeat stretched and shuddered. Kerr turned, blood slick on his hand. The knife flashed, angling for his heart.

Eirik moved before thought found words. He crashed shoulder-first into Kerr, pivoting to face the attacker. The knife bit flesh—Eirik’s, not Kerr’s—just below the collarbone. A crimson bloom spread on fur and leather. Eirik roared, driving the assassin backward.

The circle erupted—some shrieking, some drawing steel. But Eirik grappled the assailant, the two blurring in the frost. The assassin landed another blow, wild and shallow, before Eirik smashed in with his fist, wrenching the blade away. The would-be murderer’s hood fell back, revealing a tattoo above the brow—a crude raven, wings clawing toward the hairline.

Eirik drove the assassin face-first to the earth. Warriors swarmed; two Valskar pinned the writhing form.

Blood smeared on Kerr’s tunic—Eirik’s and his own, shock twining through the morning chill. Still, Kerr did not falter. He raised his wounded palm, crimson flowing anew. “Bear witness!” his voice thundered. “An oath thwarted is twice as strong. What’s sworn in blood and steel no shadow can unbind!”

The assassin spat, defiant, but in his twisting hand clung an amulet of raven feathers, black as the deepest midnight. The crowd gasped, eyes darting to Hrawg, to Sten, to where the Sundr stood stone-still. All knew of the Black Ravens: invaders, bringers of death and ruin.

Hrawg surged forward, face purpled with rage. “Who set this dog among us? Is this your doing, Wolf—stagecraft to turn favor?”

Kerr’s stare silenced him. “If any here think this blood is theater, let them speak before the gods.”

A tense hush. Eirik, breathing ragged, hauled himself upright. He pressed his bandaged hand to Kerr’s, true brother-in-arms. Behind him, Halvard followed suit, face white but resolute.

Seeress Freyja stooped over the assassin, plucking raven feathers from the talisman. “The shadow from the south stretches long,” she murmured, loud enough for all to hear.

Eirik, bloodied but grinning, gripped Kerr’s wrist. “No knife forged by cowards ends this oath. Let all see: the Valskar are joined to the Fjorn in toil, in battle, in life and in death.”

The ceremonies concluded in wary silence, the clansfolk dispersing—whispering dark theories, finger-pointing, some casting sidelong glances at their rivals. By noon, the assassin was shackled in a tent beneath heavy guard. Some said he muttered in a tongue none recognized, staring always to the south, at shadows no one else could see.

That evening, Kerr sat in the Valskar circle, Eirik at his side, both their wounds fresh. “The raven’s shadow is upon us,” Kerr said, voice low. “But our blood stands. Let no man say unity’s price is beneath us, when death dogs every step.”

They toasted the oath, drinks bitter with iron. Around the flames, the Valskar sang, voices raw but proud. Across the moot, faces watched from darkness, measuring, remembering: the Wolf had bled, but had not fallen.

Outside the reach of firelight, ravens gathered atop birches, black wings stirring the air, bearing ominous witness to oaths that would soon be tested in battle and betrayal. The rising wind carried their cry far across the snowbound camp—a warning, or a call to arms.