“Ye let them escape” roared Fergus looking at his men, seething with rage. 

Déjà vu. 

The three men before him visibly gulped and took a few steps back. Fergus was not a kind soul. When he was angry, he was worse, so much worse. The Dark Knight’s influence had not been good for Fergus. 

Just then a servant boy came scuttling into the study, his eyes looking at the ground. He fidgeted in the corner as he waited for Fergus to notice him. 

“What?” 

‘Speak!” 

“S.. S.. Sir Brian seeks a private word with ye” the boy said, his voice barely a whisper. 

Fergus dismissed the men before him and sat on his chair. He took several large sips of ale as he waited. A visibly irritated Brian strode into the room as the three men left, relieved at being spared, if only for the moment. 

“What's this? I thought we were waiting till th' Dark Knight returned afore taking on the barbarians. How come I wasnt informed?” 

Fergus threw his ale mug straight at Brian. It bounced off his chest and landed on the floor. Ale dripped down Brian’s tunic. 

“Dinnae raise yer voice at me. I will hang ye with the barbarians!” 

Brain stood still. He glared at Fergus, lips in a tight grimace. His fists clenched and unclenched at his sides as he weighed what he was to say next. Before he could open his mouth, Fergus sighed. 

“I waited fourteen years for this. I can’t wait any longer. It’s done.” 

He stood up quietly and looked out the window. 

“The boy and the Norse barbarian will be found soon. They can’t run. They can’t hide. Their death will be a gift to the Gods. Their wares will serve as dowry to my wife.” 

Brian forced himself to calm down. Being locked in the dungeon will not help Kieran. Being dead will not help Kieran. He softened his look and spoke, 

“What will ye have me do now?” 

Fergus thought for a minute before replying. 

“Flog the three commanders for their incompetence. Prepare for my wife's arrival tomorrow morning. Search for the two missing men. I want that boy and I want him alive. I will have his last breath before I wed tomorrow evening.” 

Brian bowed as he left. Quietly he made his way to the barracks. He had to know what else Fergus had ordered his men to do before they had charged the Inn looking for Olaf and Kieran. His mind raced. Its time he thought. It’s time to end this. I will help the boy leave, and I shall leave with him. 

At the barracks, he conveyed Fergus’ message to the three commanders. They paled. Quickly they filled him in on the details. The ships remained untouched. Fergus wanted them in his fleet. The men onboard received the same treatment – drugged by the witch, captured by the army, and locked in the dungeons. They didn’t remember any barbarians strolling in the marketplace. Only the ones from the ships and from the Inn. Brian could hardly contain his excitement. There was hope after all. More than he had assumed there would be. He needed to find the rest of Olaf’s men. 

Seconds turned into minutes. Minutes turned into hours. Olaf couldn’t breathe with all the hay on top of him. The rotting smell almost made him retch. Kieran seemed the same as he did at the Inn. He rolled his eyes. Every so often, Olaf would peek out at the passing landscape. He had to know where he was being led. Just in case… he had to know how to get back to the shore. He didn’t like this one bit. Not. One. Bit. 

Abruptly the cart halted. A gate creaked open before the man urged the horse forward again. Minutes passed. The sounds beneath him had changed. No longer were they traveling on a dry cracked road. This was gravel. Olaf stole a look again. All he saw was the clear blue sky. Nothing. Not even a tree. Not even a rotting tree. What was this place? Where everything seemed dead or dying? 

The cart came to another abrupt stop. More doors creaked open. Olaf stuck his fingers in his ears as the sound grated every nerve in his body. “By Odin, doesn’t anyone grease doors anymore?” 

The cart lunged forward again. This time for barely a few steps. Then the doors creaked shut. 

“Ye kin come out now”, the man said loudly. Olaf sat up quickly, brushed off the hay and yanked Kieran up. Slowly they got off the cart and looked around. This seemed to be some kind of barn he noted. The wood was old but seemed solid enough to not drop the thatched roof over their heads. The roof had holes everywhere. Sunlight barely streamed in. He squinted trying to see into the depths of the barn.

 Nothing. Just cold and silence. 

“Where are we” he demanded. 

The man turned to Olaf and said, “Sir Brian's residence. There’s a trap door a few feet from here. It’ll take ye inside his keep. His wife will tend to yer needs till Sir Brian returns. Make haste, I must leave now.”