Ivar The Shadowless

There was once a turbulent time in the west when fierce raiders, from the 7th to the 11th century AD, came out of Scandinavia and attacked down the length of the Irish and Scottish coasts.

It was early morning.

Ivar slice, chief of the warbands, sat in the sunlight. His warriors lay sleeping still… save for Olvir, the watch.

Ivar had dreamt last night of the Skrimsli, the strand beast monster.

This was not a good omen for the coming battle.

He looked at his shadow, his skugga; it seemed diminished.

Would this next day be his last? He lifted his hands and said a short prayer to Odin for protection.

Olvir saw him doing this. Surely Ivar his chieftain was not losing his courage?

Olvir looked down into the glen where a mist, a dimma, lay thick yet on the valley bottom. Down there was the army of the Irish. He could hear the occasional whinny of a horse.

The norse warbands had left their boats behind

Imprint

Publisher: BookRix GmbH & Co. KG

Text: alastair macleod
Images: alastair macleod; "viking sword" purchased from dreamstime royalty free photos
Editing: alastair macleod and oystercatcher
Translation: cover typeset in classical
Publication Date: 06-28-2013
ISBN: 978-3-7309-3749-5

All Rights Reserved

Dedication:
The alvar woman spoke, “Each soul is connected to all the others - when one kills, one kills a little of oneself."