Chapter 1
January 878
Chippenham
Ragnar Asgrim was dying. The evening winter sky was stretched out in front of him in a colorful array. Nightfall wasn’t far off and would bring even colder temperatures, but he was chilled through already, even with his warm furs wrapped tightly around his body. He knew the end of his life was near, but he would die with his sword in his hand and would be in Valhalla before long. He smiled a little to himself.
The battle had been harsh, but they had killed most of Alfred’s men and forced the English King to run. They had fought well, but none of that was his concern anymore. He had done his part.
And now, it was over. The battle, the day, and soon, his life.
He didn’t even feel pain anymore. The sword that had sliced through his side had somehow not killed him instantly, but he knew it wouldn’t be long. He was slowly bleeding out. He could feel himself growing colder by the moment.
The stench of death filled the air as the men scattered around him were either dead or dying. But Ragnar barely noticed. He didn’t hear their screams of pain or their cries for help.
His thoughts drifted to Edela, his woman. Would she be alright? She was a Dane, and a beautiful one at that. She’d find another husband to warm her bed. His only regret was leaving his child fatherless.
Darkness settled over the field, and he stared up at the stars. So many stars. But then, something entered his field of vision, blocking his view. Ragnar huffed in annoyance. Couldn’t he die peacefully?
“Do you want to live?” a voice said from above him.
He tried to focus his eyes on the shape hovering over him, but they wouldn’t cooperate. “I do not think that is possible,” he whispered, his voice hoarse. When was the last time he’d had a drink?
“I can make it possible. Swear allegiance to me, and you will live for as long as you wish,” the voice said. “Refuse, and I will let you die.”
Ragnar squinted at the man. “Who are you?”
“I am Ranald Remington, The Alpha King,” the voice answered.
Ragnar frowned. He had heard of Ranald Remington. The man answered to no one and swore allegiance to no king, though many had tried to ally themselves with him. He took no side and could not be bought. He had his own men, and Ragnar had heard that they were ruthless. Undefeated in battle, and to be against them meant death.
Ragnar was a Dane. He was ruthless, as well. What did he have to lose? Nothing. And he had everything to gain.
“I will swear allegiance to you,” he whispered. He already knew his wound was fatal, and there was nothing that could be done for him.
Remington grunted. “Good.” He brought a cup to Ragnar’s lips. “Drink.”
Ragnar opened his parched lips. The taste of something metallic touched his tongue and trickled down his throat. Blood, he thought and coughed a bit, the blood escaping his lips and dribbling down his long beard.
Remington kept the cup in place, forcing Ragnar to drink it all. When he was finished, Remington brought out a knife and cut his hand, dripping blood over Ragnar’s wound. His body warmed, and he felt tingling in his wounded side. He felt strength and power surge through him.
“You are now bound to me.” Ranald Remington stood and offered Ragnar his hand. He reached up and took the hand, and Remington hauled Ragnar to his feet, surprising him with his strength. “Come.”
Remington turned and took off into the woods surrounding the field at a run. Ragnar reached down and felt his side. It was sticky with blood but whole. He shook his head in wonder, then took off after Remington.
They ran for an hour before they came to a small clearing. Ragnar was amazed that he was able to keep up the pace, considering how much blood he had lost. He was in good shape, but his wound had been fatal. Now, he felt better and stronger than ever.
Three other men stood waiting in the clearing. One approached Ragnar and handed him the reins of a riderless horse before mounting his own and following the others off into the night. Ragnar watched them for a moment, feeling as though his life was about to change forever. He mounted the horse and followed them into the dark.
They rode for a few hours until they finally stopped in a clearing. Ragnar felt odd. Something was off with him. He was surprised he wasn’t dead yet, but instead, he felt refreshed and like he could fight for several more hours. His senses seemed sharper, but he was fairly certain that he was losing it. It had to be the blood loss because he was hearing voices in his head. Or, more specifically, one voice.
‘You’re not going crazy. I’m your wolf, Rollo. You’re changing into a werewolf,’ the voice said.
Ragnar rubbed at his eyes, wondering what was in the blood he had consumed. He felt so odd, like his skin was itching.
Remington suddenly pulled up his horse next to Ragnar. “You’re not losing your mind. You need to dismount.”
Ragnar looked up at him. “What’s happening to me?” He slipped off the horse.
“Disrobe.”
He couldn’t stop himself from obeying Remington. It was the oddest thing. He pulled his clothes off and stood there, watching as one of the other men rode forward and grabbed the reins of his horse. Were they going to leave him out here with no clothes and no horse? He’d freeze to death.
“Joseph, you run with him,” Remington called to another man.
Ragnar frowned as he watched the other man dismount. Was this a test to see how much endurance he had? He suddenly wished that he had declined Remington’s offer.
‘You need to give me control,’ the voice in his head said.
Ragnar ignored it as he watched Joseph strip as well. The man turned to him. “Stick close to me so you don’t get lost.”
“What is happening?” Ragnar asked him as the others took off. “They expect us to catch them?”
Joseph laughed, his eyes glowing a bright green. “That won’t be a problem. Wolf, you might have to forcibly take control.”
Ragnar suddenly felt as though he’d been thrust to the back of his own mind. What is happening?
‘Sorry to do that to you, but it’s time for us to shift, and it’ll be much easier if I’m in control, and a lot less painful,’ the strange voice said again.
‘Who are you?’ Ragnar suddenly felt fear for the first time in a long time. What was happening to him? Had he died?
’Oh no, you’re quite alive, more alive than you have ever been before. I told you, I’m Rollo, and you, Ragnar Asgrim, are stuck with me for the rest of your life. It’s time.”
Ragnar suddenly found himself kneeling in the snow, though he had no idea how he’d gotten there. And then suddenly, everything changed. His sense became even more heightened, and he could see Joseph off to the side, smiling down at him.
“Ah, good. Let’s get going then.”
And to Ragnar’s complete and utter amazement, the man shifted into a large gray wolf. ‘What is he?’ he exclaimed in his own mind, which seemed to be his only form of communication at the moment.
‘He’s a werewolf. A man with the gift to shift into a wolf at will. It’s more than just that, but for now,’ The voice paused.‘I’m more than just a voice, you know. I’m the one in control right now.’
‘This is insane,’ Ragnar muttered as Joseph began running in the direction the horses had taken off in. Ragnar saw himself follow Joseph. ‘I can’t keep up with a wolf.’
‘You can, and we are,’ the voice said confidently.
‘How? I’m not a wolf.’ Ragnar still couldn’t believe he was having a conversation with a voice in his head.
‘Oh, but you are. You are a wolf, and you are having a conversation with me, the voice in your head who is currently in control of your body, which is now very much a wolf’s body. You remember how the Alpha gave you his blood?’ the voice asked.
‘Yes.’
‘That’s how you became a werewolf. His blood highly accelerated your healing and changed you into a werewolf. The sooner you accept that small detail and the fact that you are not crazy, that I am here to stay, and I have a name, the more you can start to enjoy this. You’re a warrior. Do you know how formidable you’ve become?’
Ragnar became quiet after that as they caught up to the horses and trotted along with them. He realized that the men had known what would happen. ‘Are they all werewolves?’
‘Yes. The Alpha is King. The strongest of them all. They all are able to shift into wolves, just like Joseph and now you. They all have a wolf counterpart,’ the voice told him.
Ragnar was quiet, thinking over what little he knew of Ranald Remington. He had stayed out of the war, though he’d had offers from both sides to join in. Everyone knew he and his men were deadly. If he had picked a side, that side was guaranteed victory. To join his men was an honor, and rarely happened, and now Ragnar could see why. He could easily see why these men were so deadly. Joseph was no small wolf. He wondered what he looked like.
‘Later,’ the voice said.
‘What did you say your name was again?’ Ragnar asked. If he was truly going to be bound to this voice, he should probably get to know him.
‘Rollo.’
‘Ragnar. Are we stuck like this forever?’ Ragnar asked. Was his wolf always going to be in control?
‘No. Soon, we will have to stop, though I would imagine they are well aware of that. Then we will shift back, and you will sleep for several hours,’ Rollo explained.
‘Alright.’
They finally arrived at a large castle, and Rollo suddenly gave back control to Ragnar. He almost stumbled but caught himself in time.
‘Visualize yourself as a human,’ Rollo said in his mind.
Ragnar frowned internally, but noticing that Joseph was back to being human and everyone was watching him, he did just that. He felt his body begin to change. It hurt, but not horribly, and it took a bit longer than he would have liked. He stood and frowned at how much he ached and how tired he suddenly was.
Remington came forward with a blanket, wrapping it around his shoulders. “Come, I will show you to your room. You can wash up and then sleep. Your things have been moved in there already. When you wake, we will talk.”
Ragnar nodded and followed the man inside the castle. It was much more luxurious inside than he expected, but he didn’t take the time to look around. He was too tired. He followed Remington through a maze of hallways, passing by others who eyed him curiously.
Remington finally stopped in front of a doorway and opened it. “This will be your room. When you wake, we will feast and talk.” He clasped Ragnar’s arm, then patted him on the shoulder and left.
Ragnar walked into the room and looked around. His things were thankfully on the large bed, and he glanced through them right away, happy to see that nothing was missing. He didn’t have much, just his clothes, furs, a pouch of money that was still full, and most importantly, his sword.
He moved them off the bed and then stepped over to a basin and poured water from a pitcher into it. The water was still warm, and Ragnar used it to clean up the blood surrounding his wound. It was fully healed, but there was a scar there. He stared at it in wonder, then began to clean the rest of himself up.
The room wasn’t large, but it was the nicest he’d ever been in. He moved back over to the bed and pulled back the furs that covered it and laid down, still naked, before covering himself and falling into a deep dreamless sleep.
