Dragons from the Sea

Dragons from the Sea

by Judson Roberts
Dragons from the Sea

Dragons from the Sea

by Judson Roberts

Paperback

$12.99 
  • SHIP THIS ITEM
    Qualifies for Free Shipping
  • PICK UP IN STORE
    Check Availability at Nearby Stores

Related collections and offers


Overview

The Strongbow Saga is an epic tale of one man's unstoppable quest for justice and vengeance that carries him across the 9th century world of the Vikings. In Dragons from the Sea, book two of the Strongbow Saga, Halfdan Hroriksson has escaped-for now-the enemies who murdered his brother and seek to kill him, too. Determined to avenge his brother's death, Halfdan knows he must first gain experience as a warrior. He joins a Danish army, led by legendary Viking leader Ragnar Logbrod, gathering for an invasion of Western Frankia, for among its fierce chieftains and seasoned warriors he may find the allies he needs. But first he must prove his own worth in battle, and more importantly, he must survive, for he will face dangers not only from the Frankish enemy, but also from hidden foes within the ranks of the Danes.

Product Details

ISBN-13: 9780988922488
Publisher: Northman Books Inc.
Publication date: 06/21/2015
Series: Strongbow Saga , #2
Pages: 304
Product dimensions: 5.24(w) x 7.99(h) x 0.68(d)
Age Range: 14 - 17 Years

About the Author

Judson Roberts brings an extensive, carefully cultivated knowledge of ninth-century Viking history to The Strongbow Saga. He also draws on a distinguished career in law enforcement, as a state and federal criminal investigator, a prosecutor specializing in complex major conspiracy cases, and a planner and director of several major undercover operations. He lives on a small farm on the edge of the Cascade Mountains near Eugene, Oregon, where he is currently working on the next novel in the Strongbow Saga series.

Read an Excerpt

The Strongbow Saga, Book Two: Dragons from the Sea

Chapter One

Hedeby

Early in the year the Christians number the eight hundred and forty-fifth after the birth of their God the White Christ, my fate led me to the outskirts of Hedeby, the largest town in all the kingdom of the Danes. I arrived there in the late afternoon, tired, hungry, and sore from spending many days atop a horse. At least I had not suffered too badly from the cold on my journey. Though by measure of days it was still the last weeks of winter, the weather had been unseasonably warm ever since the Jul feast, and on the day I reached Hedeby there was a freshness in the air that hinted of the coming of spring.

Hedeby was not just a town. It was a fortress that squatted, fat and solid, against the shore of a shallow inlet along one side of the Sliefjord, a long, narrow gash of the sea cutting deep into the eastern coast of Jutland. A deep ditch ran in a half circle from shore to shore around the entire town. The earth dug from the ditch had been piled behind it to form an earthen wall, which was topped with a wooden palisade.

I paused my horse at the edge of the woods and stared out across the open land that lay between me and the walls of Hedeby. Because of the season, the fields were still bare, with only low, weathered stubble from the remains of last year's crops showing gray against the soil like a grizzled growth of beard against an old man's cheek.

My mare tugged impatiently at the reins, urging me toward the food and shelter to be found in the town. She'd been mine only a matter of days. I had taken her from a dead man. Indeed, much of the gearI carried—my iron helm, my shield, my leather jerkin and small-axe, and even the meager hoard of silver pennies in the leather pouch at my belt—I'd taken from men who were dead. Men I had killed. Only the clothes on my back, the long, heavy bow I carried, and the fine dagger in my belt were truly mine. The dagger had been a gift from Harald, my half-brother and my teacher. He'd given it to me to honor my attaining the age of fifteen, and manhood. It seemed so long ago—had it truly been only a matter of days? The dagger was one of two gifts Harald had given me that night. The other was my life.

Still concealed within the final fringe of trees, I ignored my horse's urgings and sat staring at the town. It was not too late to turn back, and I dearly wished to, for my heart had suddenly filled with fear. Fear of the unknown, in part, for I had never seen a town so huge, nor even imagined so many people together in one place. Even more, though, I was afraid I would not measure up to whatever lay ahead.

I feared the fate that the Norns, the three ancient sisters who set the course of all men's lives, were weaving for me. How could I possibly succeed at the tasks ahead of me? By my years I was now reckoned a man, and admittedly I was tall and strong for my age. But I was alone, all alone, and in my heart, a part of me still felt like a child and longed for someone to turn to for guidance. There was no one, though. All whom I had previously relied upon in times of need—my mother, my brother, even his men—were now dead. The Norns had cut their life-threads and left me to face my fate on my own.

Shame at my own cowardice finally drove me forward. I knew I had to face my fear and overcome it, or I would dishonor myself. I owed a blood-debt. I had deaths I had sworn to avenge.

I kicked my heels against my mare's ribs and we headed down the road that led through pastures and fields toward Hedeby's gate—gaping like a missing tooth in the wall surrounding the town. Ahead, the road crossed a dry moat over a wooden bridge and disappeared through the opening in the wall beyond.

As I drew nearer, I saw an armed warrior was standing guard on the wall beside the gate. He watched my approach, looking out over the sharpened points of the stockade's timbers with a bored expression on his face. The late afternoon sun glinted on his polished helm and mail brynie, and made the sharpened blade of the spear he held flash like fire.

My horse's hooves thumped across the planks of the bridge like a slow drumbeat. As I reached the opening in the wall, three more warriors came into view, squatting on the rampart behind the guard, rolling dice. They were, I knew, warriors from the king's household, royal housecarls who'd been commanded by their lord to protect the town and collect the king's share of the trade that passed through its busy market.

I wondered if they were on the lookout for an outlaw and murderer. That was the lie told about me by the leader of the men who'd killed my brother, Harald. Had the tale made its way this far south? Had it reached Hedeby before me?

I forced a blank, unconcerned expression on my face as I rode through the gate, though my stomach felt twisted into knots and I had to remind myself to breathe. I was prepared to wheel my horse and ride for the forest if the guard challenged me, but he did not. As I passed him, he leaned his spear against the log wall of the palisade and squatted down to join his companions' game. I breathed a silent sigh of relief and entered the town.

Once inside the wall, the dirt track I'd been following became a paved . . .

The Strongbow Saga, Book Two: Dragons from the Sea. Copyright © by Judson Roberts. Reprinted by permission of HarperCollins Publishers, Inc. All rights reserved. Available now wherever books are sold.

From the B&N Reads Blog

Customer Reviews