Viking: Legends of the North: A Limited Edition Boxed Set

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Authors: Tanya Anne Crosby,Miriam Minger,Shelly Thacker,Glynnis Campbell

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BOOK: Viking: Legends of the North: A Limited Edition Boxed Set
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Viking
Legends of the North
 
by Glynnis Campbell, Shelly Thacker, Miriam Minger, and Tanya Anne Crosby

 

 

 

 

Viking: Legends of the North by Tanya Anne Crosby, Miriam Minger, Shelly Thacker and Glynnis Campbell

Published by Oliver-Heber Books

The Shipwreck COPYRIGHT © Glynnis Campbell

Viking’s Prize COPYRIGHT © Tanya Anne Crosby

His Captive Bride COPYRIGHT © Shelly Thacker Meinhardt

The Pagan’s Prize COPYRIGHT © Miriam Minger

ISBN 9781942820154

 

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced or transmitted in any manner whatsoever, electronically, in print, or otherwise, without the prior written permission of both Oliver-Heber Books and Tanya Anne Crosby, Miriam Minger, Shelly Thacker and Glynnis Campbell, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

PUBLISHER'S NOTE: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

 

 

Jafnan er hálfsögð saga ef einn segir.

(A tale is but half told when only one person tells it.)

—The Saga of Grettir the Strong

 

TABLE OF CONTENTS
The Shipwreck

 

By Glynnis Campbell
 

Chapter 1

 

The Ninth Century

Off the Eastern Coast of Pictland

 

The last ominous sound Brandr heard, before the icy ocean closed over his head, blocking out the roar of the storm and the crash of the waves, was the deep crack of his longship splitting apart.

The current dragged at his sealskin cloak and boots, pulling him down. But with his one still useful arm, he managed to claw his way to the surface. Gasping frosty air into his lungs as he broke through the waves, he blinked back the stinging saltwater, trying to see in the relentless black night. The ship’s lanterns had gone out. No light came from the distant shore. Even the trusty stars were hidden behind thunderheads.

“Erik!” he bellowed. “Erik! Gunnarr! Haral—“

A gulp of seawater choked off his cries. He fought to stay afloat in the paralyzing cold, turning in the water, listening for his shipmates. But all he could hear was the howl of the wind, the pounding of the sea, and the splintering of wood as his ship was dashed against the rocks.

A flash of lightning split the sky, zigzagging down like Thor’s avenging spear to blacken the timber of the mast. Before Brandr could wonder what he’d done to offend the god, thunder rocked the heavens, and the top of the mast exploded into sparks, igniting the square sail. For a moment it looked as if the dragon painted on the canvas was breathing fire.

By the light of the flaming sail, Brandr could see the extent of the damage to his ship. The hull was broken. Ropes snapped wildly in the shrieking wind. Chests and oars slid into the sea. And his crew…

Shuddering with cold and pain, fighting the tide, he called over the roaring of the storm until he was hoarse. He found four of his men. They were dead.

The rain eventually arrived to extinguish the fiery wreckage. Brandr—beaten by the storm, devastated by loss, and too exhausted to care what happened to him—used the last of his strength to climb atop the splintered prow of his ship and resigned himself to the whim of the gods.

Death was following him. It had already come for his wife and children. Now it had come for his men. Soon it would come for him. And as far as Brandr was concerned, it could have him.

 

 

“Stay close!” Avril called after Kimbery, shaking her head as the four-year-old raced ahead of her across the wet sand. Her intrepid daughter possessed insatiable curiosity, incurable wanderlust, and a stubborn will that left her deaf to her mother’s warnings.

Not that there was much to warn her about. Here in their seaside home, they lived far out of everyone’s way. No one would stumble across their stone cottage or cross their stretch of beach by accident. Their exile to the eastern shores had left them in a location that was remote, isolated...and far enough from her ancestral home of Rivenloch to satisfy the brothers who’d stolen it from her.

In the distance, Kimbery squealed as she bent over some treasure along the tide’s edge—probably a pretty shell or a starfish washed ashore in last night’s storm. Avril kicked off her boots and hefted up her basket. With any luck, the wild tempest had stirred up something edible from the sea.

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