propping himself up on the handle of his axe, soldiers were already lying around his saviour. When he took a closer look, he saw a terrified young boy whose gaze suggested he had already been through a great deal in life. Olaf was just about to thank him for saving his life when his saviour’s eyes rolled back and he collapsed unconscious onto the ground.
Startled, Ytren hobbled over to the boy and turned him onto his back. It turned out that the boy was seriously injured. It looked as though someone had thrust a sword into his stomach, quite deeply; he also bore many other fresh, still-bleeding wounds. Unable to do anything else, Olaf roughly bandaged his saviour and hoisted the limp body onto his shoulder.
He couldn’t later recall how he found his way back to the ship, but he managed to reach it just as the other warriors were returning to it. He briefly explained to the crew what had happened, and together they agreed that they could not leave the lad at the mercy of the Nakher and brought him on board. The unexpected saviour did not wake up until a week later. He was confused, frightened and very distrustful. He also did not speak any language known to Olaf, but somehow they managed to communicate in broken Xuindonian, and so he stayed with them until the very end. He was also the jarl’s best friend, and when he died, he entrusted his only son, Einar, to the jarl’s care.
Einar remembered that when he first heard this story, he simply nodded and said that he could now rest easy, for he was the son of a true warrior. Olaf was astonished at the time, but said nothing; he merely hugged the little boy. And now, twelve-year-old Einar was looking out for the jarl and his sons, the father who had raised him and his brothers.
The first warriors began to disembark, and quite a commotion broke out. The gathered crowd surged forward and mingled with the new arrivals. From all sides, one could hear warm
