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By Giles Kristian

In an exhilarating event of brotherhood, battle, and treachery, Giles Kristian takes us into ninth-century England, an international of darkness, epic clash, and an unforgiving God served through strong monks. On ships formed like dragons, bristling with oars and armor, Jarl Sigurd and his fierce Norsemen have are available seek of riches. And riches they're promised, by means of an English ruler who sends Sigurd and his wolves to scouse borrow a holy manuscript from one other nation. Osric, an orphan boy, sees past the fear of those warriors, and someway understands the heathens’ tongue. Renamed Raven, rechristened in blood, he'll sign up for them. they're his humans. and they'll be his fate.
“Astonishing and riveting, a robust, lightning-paced tale.”—New York occasions bestselling writer Bernard Cornwell
“A gripping story that wonderfully inspires the sounds, points of interest and scents of darkish Age Britain.”—Harry Sidebottom, writer of the soldiers of Rome series
“[Kristian] compares favorably with writers like Bernard Cornwell and Conn Iggulden.”—Historical Novels Review
“A rip-roaring Viking saga . . . advantageous, strong, exciting stuff.”—Manda Scott, writer of The Crystal Skull

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And so we gripped the oars and bent our backs, heading out to sea opposed to a swell that saved shedding away so all at once that my oar bit in simple terms the white hair that was once spreading around the waves. evening was once falling and Sigurd needed to come to a decision that might seal our fates. We needed to escape from the rocky coast, yet row too a long way and lets lose our means, for the cloud might veil the celebs and we might sail blind. The reefing ropes whipped left and correct as if the wind got here from both sides instantaneously. My oar's blade struck the white crest of a wave as i peeked over my shoulder on the far away cliffs, prior to Serpent's bow rocked into the sky. She gave an outstanding creaking sigh that appeared to say, do not glance again, Osric, there is simply us now. No land, no protection, simply wooden and nails and flesh. 'Any extra and we are going to lose sight of land! ' Olaf shouted above the swirling wind that whistled during the oar ports. 'There's no approach of understanding which approach the typhoon is heading, Sigurd! we are going to need to experience Rán's daughters! ' Rán's daughters have been the waves, and as Serpent's prow struck, they leapt throughout her best strakes to slap our faces and sting our eyes. Sigurd frowned, salt water dripping from his hair and beard. the incorrect selection may well see his males drowned. but when they have been afraid, they confirmed little signal of it. a few invoked their selected gods. Black Floki challenged Njörd Lord of the ocean to do his worst, however the males round him cursed and instructed him to close his substantial mouth. We rowed difficult, as if muscle and sinew may well problem the may of wind and wave. yet water used to be pouring in on the oar ports and the oars themselves have been at risk of snapping lower than the swell's strain. Rain and seawater soaking wet us, my face stung from the salt and that i stumbled on it most unlikely to row in time with the others. a superb crack of thunder crammed the area. 'Enough, lads! Get the oars in! ' Sigurd referred to as. 'Eric, inform Glum we will trip this one out,' he shouted, pointing to the oil lamp in its hole horn sheath. Eric nodded, wiping rain from his forehead as he took up the lamp and stumbled over to Serpent's seaward part, grabbing carry of the sheet to regular himself. We stowed the oars, plugged our ports with leather-based bungs and ready for Njörd's fury. all of sudden i used to be jealous of Eric, who were given a role that may steer his options from worry. 'Take within the shields! ' Sigurd shouted, and that i stood simply as Serpent's dragonhead prow lurched skywards. I stumbled right into a chest and used to be flung again, remarkable my head on an oak rib. Beside me Ealhstan made an extended guttural sound as one other peal of thunder cut up the evening. He clung to Serpent's most sensible strake, already taking a look like a drowned guy. whatever hit me within the chest as I lay in a sloshing pool of seawater. It was once a size of tar-stinking rope. 'Tie the previous guy down or his bones could be washed overboard! ' Svein the purple shouted as he staggered, unrolling the spare sail to aid disguise the small open carry on the base of the mast. 'And have a notice with Óðin All-Father! ' the red-bearded gigantic extra without trace of a grin.

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