Sverik sat alone in the prisoner’s hut waiting. He wasn’t afraid, as that was not his nature; he was simply at a loss. For the first time in his life, his future was unknown to him.

Stoically, he stared up at the thatched roof above him, his eyes drifting around unfocused. He shifted his feet around on the dirt floor. A frigid gust of wind blew through the drafty wooden walls of the hut, carrying with it some flakes of snow. A pleasant relief, as Sverik always felt hot.

The door opened, and a man stepped in. He wore cotton under layers with furs on top, like everyone in the village. The golden belt buckle at his waist signified his rank as the captain of the village’s warriors.

“Haljorn,” Sverik said, looking up with anticipation.

Haljorn’s head hung low. He glanced at Sverik, then looked down at the floor and shook his head. After a quiet sigh, Haljorn stepped to the side of the doorway, holding the door open.

Sverik’s jaw tightened. He had expected this, but now that it was happening, it felt like the world was crumbling around him. What would he do? What could he do? No answers came to him, but all the same Sverik rose and held his head high. He walked out of the hut, followed by Haljorn.

Their village was built on a hill, with huts arranged pragmatically on the slope. A winding main road ran from the gates at the bottom of the hill all the way to the Chieftain’s house at the top. There was a rock outcropping near the summit of the hill that was used for proclamations. This was where the Chieftain’s counsel stood waiting for Sverik to walk the short distance to them from the prisoner’s hut.

As Sverik trod up the main road to meet his fate, villagers watched from doorways and windows. All the village’s warriors stood gathered nearby, and all shared Haljorn’s somber demeanor. Sverik smiled at them, putting his hand on several of their shoulders trying to cheer them up as he moved through their ranks into the village center.

When he reached the large fire pit that denoted the main village meeting place, Sverik looked up at the counsel on the rock outcropping above. Ragnik, the foulest of the Chieftain’s counselors, stood in front ready to proclaim the judgement. A malicious smile spread across his face when he saw Sverik. In response, Sverik stood tall, proud, and strong.

Ragnik spread his arms formally. “Let all listen,” he proclaimed. “The prisoner’s fate has been decided. Hear now the judgement. Our Chieftain has heard all regarding the prisoner’s dishonorable acts…”

“What I did, I did for the good of the village and all those in it, my kin!” Sverik shouted.

“Silence!” Ragnik spat.

The two men locked eyes in a moment of fierce hostility before Ragnik returned to the proclamation.

“It is our Chieftain’s wise decision,” Ragnik continued,” that the prisoner be banished from Reyklor.”

The village drew in a breath in disbelief. How could this be happening? Sverik closed his eyes and exhaled through clenched teeth.

“Haljorn,” Ragnik pressed, before anyone had recovered from the shock, “you are commanded to destroy Sverik’s weapon, strip him of his furs, and expel him from the village!”

Haljorn snarled. “You do not command me, you snake!” he shouted.

Haljorn turned to the Chieftain standing amidst the group on the rock outcropping. “Sverik is our brother,” Haljorn pleaded. “He belongs with the village. He has fought beside us since he was young. Our hearts have nothing but love for him. We cannot cast him out!”

The aged Chieftain looked down at Haljorn with a stern and resolute face. “I will hear no more of this,” he declared. “Do as Ragnik says.”

A wave of emotion swept over all. Some warriors glared at Ragnik with rage, while others hung their heads and buried their faces in their hands. Haljorn closed his eyes and shook his head in disillusionment. Ragnik looked down with smug contempt, delighting in his victory, knowing the last laugh was his. Sverik steeled himself and kept his face from betraying the sadness that swelled inside.

At a nod from Haljorn, the village blacksmith retrieved Sverik’s axe. The axe was as savage and strong as its owner, its ornate carvings marred by battle scars and hard use. With a deep sigh, the blacksmith placed the flat of the blade on his anvil and brought his hammer down hard. The axe head shattered into large chunks as Sverik watched with a painful grimace.

Next were his furs. Sverik disrobed, revealing his heavy shoulders and thick arms, trained by war. Haljorn took the furs gently from Sverik and, after great hesitation, tossed them into the fire pit. The smoke stung the already watery eyes of those around it.

After a last glance at those who had judged him, Sverik turned and began his final walk down the winding main road out of the village. Escorted by the warriors, Sverik trod down the old familiar way as questions flooded his mind.

What was he going to do? Where would he go? The village was all he’d ever known. It was his source of purpose and direction. Building, protecting, providing for the village was his entire life. That had been the only future he had ever envisioned, but now Ragnik had taken that future from him. And in its place, there was nothing.

Sverik and the warriors arrived at the gate, where timber walls on either side met with a stoutly fortified single point of entry for the village. Sverik paused at the threshold and looked out across the harsh, vast tundra before him. He breathed in the frigid air, and in that moment a vision filled his mind. Inspiration seized him, as if a higher force spoke directly into his heart. Suddenly, Sverik saw clearly his new path, his new future, and he felt the excitement of all the fresh opportunities before him.

Haljorn came alongside him. “Brother, do not hate us,” Haljorn said.

“Hate?” Sverik said, taken aback. “No, the love you have proclaimed for me this day is precious to me, and I only wish to match it, if indeed I can.” Sverik hugged Haljorn tightly, then released and faced the rest of the warriors gathered behind.

“No matter where my path takes me from here,” Sverik said loudly, “I will forever carry a warmth in my heart for all of you, and everyone in Reyklor, save for the vile Ragnik.”

The warriors all smiled, though with grief-tinted faces.

“I was worried this would happen,” Haljorn said, raising his voice to a shout so all could hear. “So last night I left food, furs, and weapons for you hidden under the shrub tree where the river Nordura bends west. And I care not what Ragnik has to say about it.”

“I know the spot well,” Sverik said, placing a hand on Haljorn’s shoulder. “Thank you, my friend.”

The two men looked out over the tundra.

“Where will you go?” Haljorn asked.

Sverik smiled. “North, and then west to where the sea freezes. I will cross the frozen waters to the realms beyond.”

Haljorn looked at Sverik with surprise and concern. “Cross the ice floes? To Terratha? A treacherous journey to a treacherous place!”

“A great adventure,” Sverik replied, his smile growing. “My heart yearns for hardship and strife, and the glory that comes from triumphing over them.”

“How will you do this?” Haljorn asked. “No one has made that journey and returned. The great snows are nearly here, and there are more dangerous beasts than wolves in the far north.”

“The Ancient One will guide my steps, and grant me strength as He always has,” Sverik said, his eyes filled with a burning excitement. “The shouts and cheers of my forefathers sound in my ears. My soul hears them clearly. I am filled with joy and courage for this great journey.”

For a moment, Haljorn stared at Sverik. He then nodded and slapped Sverik on the back. “Your heart was always the most courageous of us all. There is no doubt that you will achieve all you set out to do. My only sadness is that we will not see you again.”

Sverik looked at the man kindly. “But we shall see each other again. Many years from now, in the life after this one. We shall eat, and drink, and laugh together once more. And I shall have a great tale for you all.”

For the briefest of moments, Haljorn’s eyes watered, but the elder warrior was not known to show weakness. He recovered, then he and Sverik clasped forearms. “I will look forward to that day,” Haljorn said.

The two men released.

“Farewell,” Sverik said.

“Farewell,” Haljorn and all the warriors replied.