The horns of Jomsborg howled across the bay.
From the east and the south, sails dotted the horizon, broad-beamed Wendish ships, their prows carved with wolves, horses, serpents, or no more than plain timbers blackened by tar.
One by one they slipped into the harbor, their decks crowded with warriors in leather and bronze, cloaks of wolf and bear drawn close against the wind.
The chieftains came ashore like lords of their own halls, each ringed by men with long axes and round shields painted with runes and beasts.
They were not one people but many: Rani with plaited hair and amber at their throats, Obotrites with heavy gold armrings, Veleti scarred from border raids, Rani with their priests in black robes whispering to Triglav.
Each clan kept its distance, their banners snapping like rival crows circling the same feast.
Jomsborg had never seemed more alive.
Its stone walls bristled with warriors, its great hall lit with torches, the air heavy with smoke and salt.
