The days after the trip to the dragon cliffs passed in a blur of ordinary village life. Eirik chopped more wood than usual because Gunnar had twisted his bad leg again. Alaric helped Freya collect honey and listened to her stories about her husband who never came back from the sea. Soren hammered iron in the smithy until his hands blistered and learned to keep his thoughts even quieter than before.
But something had changed between them. The oath was not just words anymore. It lived in the way they looked out for each other without being asked. Eirik saved the best pieces of bread for the other two when food was scarce. Alaric made sure to leave small gifts of honey or smooth stones on their doorsteps. Soren watched the village paths and warned them when strangers were coming.
One afternoon the village buzzed with news. Royal scouts had arrived. They came on tall horses with banners flapping in the wind. Their armor was polished and their cloaks were deep blue trimmed with silver. They asked questions in low voices and looked at every boy old enough to stand straight. They were searching for the lost heir. Whispers said the old king had died without a clear successor and a boy of royal blood had been hidden among the common folk for safety. The scouts carried a small golden medallion with the royal seal. They showed it to every guardian and asked if any boy in their care had strange marks or stories.
Eirik watched from behind a stack of barrels. His fists were clenched. "They act like they own the place. I do not like it. What if they take one of us away?"
Alaric stood beside him eyes steady. "They will not take us. We are brothers. Remember the oath."
Soren was quieter than usual. He had overheard Harald talking with one of the scouts late the night before. The words had stuck in his mind like a thorn. "The boy we seek bears the mark of the dragon line. A small birthmark shaped like a wing on his left shoulder." Soren had looked at his own shoulder in the mirror that morning. The mark was there faint but clear. He had never told anyone. Not even his brothers. Now the secret felt heavier than the hammer he swung in the smithy.
That night the three boys met in their secret spot behind the old barn. The moon was thin and the air smelled of coming rain. They sat on hay bales and shared a stolen apple.
Eirik spoke first his voice hot. "Those scouts are trouble. I heard them say the king's bloodline must be found or the clans will fight. I say we stay away from them."
Alaric nodded but his eyes were thoughtful. "There is more to it. I felt something when they rode past. Like the air changed. Like the dragons knew they were coming."
Soren took a deep breath. His hands shook a little but he kept his voice even. "I have to tell you something. The mark they are looking for. I have it. On my shoulder. I think I am the one they want."
The words hung in the air. Eirik stared at him open mouthed. Alaric reached out and put a hand on Soren's arm. "Are you sure?"
Soren pulled down the neck of his tunic. The small wing shaped birthmark showed clear in the moonlight. "I have had it since I was born. Harald never spoke of it but he always looked at me different. Like he was protecting something bigger than me."
Eirik jumped up and paced. "Then we hide you. We tell them nothing. You are our brother not some royal prize. No crown above us remember?"
Alaric's voice was soft but firm. "We can not lie forever. If they find out they will take him. But we will go with him. Brothers stay together."
Soren looked at them both. His eyes were wet but he did not cry. "I do not want a crown. I want our life here. The cliffs the dragons the three of us. But if this is who I am I will face it. As long as we face it together."
They made a new promise that night. They would protect Soren's secret as long as they could. They would watch the scouts. They would run if they had to. The oath held them tight.
The next morning the scouts left without finding what they sought. But the seed had been planted. The village felt different. Whispers followed Soren now though no one knew why. Eirik walked taller and glared at anyone who looked too long. Alaric stayed close and listened harder than ever.
They did not know that the scouts had sent word back to the capital. They did not know that the hidden royal blood had been marked. They did not know that the war was already stirring far away.
But they knew they had each other.
And for now that was their shield.
(Word count for Chapter 2: 2,634)
Chapter 3 – The Night the Village Burned
The attack came without warning.
It was a clear night with stars sharp as knives. The village had settled early after a day of hard work. Fires burned low in the hearths. Dogs slept under the tables. The three boys were together in the barn because Gunnar had kicked Eirik out for talking back and the others had joined him.
They were telling stories when the first scream cut the air.
Eirik sat up fast. "What was that?"
Alaric was already on his feet. "Raiders. Or something worse. I can feel it in the ground."
Soren grabbed the rope they always carried. "We stick together. Oath first."
They ran out into the night. Flames were already licking the thatch of the nearest longhouse. Men in dark cloaks moved between the buildings with torches and swords. They were not ordinary raiders. Their armor was too fine. Their movements were too planned. This was no random raid. This was a political strike meant to look like one.
Eirik shouted and charged toward the nearest attacker. He had no weapon but his fists and his rage. He tackled the man and they rolled in the dirt. Alaric and Soren followed. Alaric picked up a fallen pitchfork and swung it like a staff. Soren used the rope to trip another man.
The village was chaos. Women screamed. Children cried. The air filled with smoke and the smell of burning wood.
Eirik's guardian Gunnar fell with a sword in his chest. Eirik saw it and something inside him snapped. He fought harder. "They are killing everyone!"
Alaric felt the power rise in him again stronger than ever. A dragon roared in the distance drawn by the fire. Without thinking Alaric raised his hands and whispered the words. A gust of wind pushed the flames away from the children running past. He hid the motion by pretending to throw a bucket of water. No one noticed. But the dragon calmed and circled away.
Soren saw his own guardian Harald cut down. He felt the weight of the secret on his shoulder like a brand. This was because of him. He knew it in his bones.
The boys fought their way toward the center of the village. They saved who they could. They dragged an old woman from her burning house. They carried a small girl to safety. But the attackers were too many and too organized.
In the middle of the square the leader of the raiders pointed straight at Soren. "There! The royal whelp! Take him alive!"
Eirik stepped in front of Soren. "You will not touch him!"
Alaric stood on the other side. "We are brothers. You take one you take all."
The fight turned desperate. Swords clashed against pitchforks and stones. Eirik took a cut to his arm but kept swinging. Alaric used his hidden power to make the ground tremble just enough to knock two men off their feet. Soren fought with quiet fury using a fallen shield as a weapon.
Then a flaming arrow struck the barn they had just left. The roof collapsed in a roar of sparks. Eirik's family home the only place he had ever known was gone. His guardian was dead. He screamed in rage and grief.
Alaric saw the danger closing in. He felt the magic burn in his veins. He pushed it out in a single burst. A wall of invisible force knocked the attackers back giving the boys a moment to run.
They ran toward the cliffs. Smoke choked their lungs. Tears stung their eyes. Behind them the village burned.
Royal guards on horseback appeared at the edge of the chaos. They wore the same blue cloaks as the scouts. They cut down the remaining raiders with practiced ease. One of them spotted Soren and shouted "The heir! Protect the heir!"
Strong hands grabbed Soren and pulled him onto a horse. He fought but the guard was too big. "Eirik! Alaric!"
Eirik lunged but a horse knocked him down. He watched his brother being taken away. "Soren! No!"
Alaric tried to follow but exhaustion from the magic hit him like a wave. He collapsed in the dirt.
Enemy clan warriors appeared from the other side of the village. They were the rivals from across the fjord. They grabbed Eirik and dragged him away calling him one of their own now that his home was ash.
Alaric lay still. The dragon monks found him there unconscious and carried him into the night.
The three brothers were torn apart in the smoke and fire.
The oath had been spoken.
The war had begun.