Eadric gripped the dagger in his right hand so tightly his knuckles turned entirely white.

The guard’s hand reached out to grab Ulf’s collar.

The guard pulled backward, shifting the giant Viking’s weight and turning the corpse over.

At that exact moment, the masked guard’s pale eyes dropped down... and met Eadric’s wide gray eyes.

Time seemed to freeze in the dimly lit barn.

The guard found a crippled Saxon noble lying flat on his back, clutching a weapon and a glowing green bottle.

The guard blinked, he opened his mouth, his voice muffled by the black mask.

"Sir, I—"

Still lying flat on his back in the foul-smelling horse dung, Eadric didn’t hesitate.

Driven by a primal instinct to survive, Eadric lunged upward and thrust Ulf’s dagger with all his might straight into the guard’s kneecap.

"AARRRGH!" the guard cried out in agony, instantly dropping his grip on Ulf’s collar.

He collapsed backward, clutching his ruined leg, which was now bleeding profusely onto the dirt floor.

Oden the Ormr, who had just been adjusting the cuffs of his sleek leather coat, snapped his head around.

The other masked guards, still shaken from their comrade’s exploding weapon, turned in unison to see the source of the commotion.

There, emerging from beneath the dead giant like a vengeful ghost, was the one-legged Saxon nobleman they had all assumed was a broken hostage.

"What in the world...?" Oden hissed, "Shoot him!"

Two of the guards closest to Eadric frantically raised their polished Mark-III rifles.

They reached for their powder horns, their gloved hands fumbling.

With his right hand still gripping the bloody dagger, Eadric brought the green glass vial to his face.

His left hand was trembling so violently he knew he couldn’t pop the cork with his fingers. So, he did the only thing he could.

He bit down on the thick cork stopper with his teeth.

Eadric tasted the chemical residue of the alchemical mixture, a sharp tang that burned his tongue.

With a jerk of his head, he pried the cork off.

With a sweep of his left arm, Eadric spurred the glowing liquid out of the bottle in a wide, random arc towards the screaming, fallen guard in front of him, and onto the surrounding piles of dry haystacks.

And then, relying on the strength of his arms and his one good leg, Eadric rolled away at full speed, diving back into the shadows of the horse stalls.

As soon as the glowing green liquid hit the open air and the dry hay, the reaction was instantaneous.

A deafening roar consumed the barn as the liquid rapidly oxidized.

Brilliant, blinding green flames erupted.

Drops of the liquid splattered directly across the fallen guard’s face and chest.

The man let out a scream that drowned out every other sound in the room. He thrashed wildly on the ground, trying to extinguish the emerald flames with his hands.

The green flames devoured the man’s thick leather gloves in an instant. The fire clung to his uniform, burning with a heat so intense it continued to eat away at his flesh right down to the bone.

The alchemical fire spread with unnatural speed. The green flames shot up toward the rafters, lighting up the entire barn so brightly that the shadows vanished entirely.

"Back away!"

"Get out!"

"Get out of here right now! The barn will collapse!"

The Spies abandoned the gold, abandoned their burning comrade, and scrambled out into the cool night air, coughing and swatting at the sparks landing on their clothes.

Eadric used his calloused hands and his one good leg to drag himself through the dirt, crawling on his belly.

"...wait!"

A pathetic cry pierced through the roaring flames.

Eadric paused his crawl for a fraction of a second, turning his head slightly.

Through the shifting curtain of green fire, Eadric saw Ivar the Boneless.

Ivar was crawling toward the exit, his hand reaching out toward the fleeing spies.

"Take me with you!" Ivar pleaded, coughing as the green smoke enveloped him. "Don’t leave me to the fire! Please!"

Eadric turned away and resumed his crawl. He dragged his body over the threshold of a side door, pulling himself over the splintered wood.

He rolled down a grassy embankment, his body aching. He finally stopped, rolling into a small mud hole beneath the sprawling roots of an old oak tree.

Eadric lay there on his back, gasping for breath.

A loud, cracking sound echoed across the field as one of the barn’s main support beams finally gave way.

Eadric slowly propped himself up on his elbows, peering over the edge of the mud hole.

The entire barn had been transformed into a towering inferno, a beacon of unnatural green light that pushed back the night.

Suddenly, Eadric noticed a silhouette moving near the edge of the tree line.

Ivar had somehow managed to drag his battered body out of the burning structure.

He looked over from behind a smaller tree, his clothes singed.

Eadric watched him from afar, hidden safely in the shadows of the old oak.

Just an hour ago, Eadric had looked at Ivar as a savior, a legendary figure who held the key to vengeance.

Now, looking at the trembling, broken man clinging to the tree, Eadric realized the truth.

Eadric slowly looked down at his own hands. His right hand was still tightly gripping Ulf’s iron dagger.

"A lord of the Saxons..." Eadric whispered, "Is that what I was trying to save?"

"We dress ourselves in myths and noble causes," Eadric muttered, "But what are we, really? Only meat trying not to burn."

"How much pride is left in a man with half a body?" Eadric asked the shadows. "Did Osberht see this moment coming? Was his insulting pity the only honest thing in this city?"

Eadric closed his eyes against the blinding emerald glare.

"Am I finally waking up?"

The green glare faded from his retinas, leaving only the honest dark. Eadric dragged his bones forward, a ghost disappearing into the mud.