The Protector's Promise

“Riders!”

The guard’s harsh shout urged Ragnar to his feet from where he’d been reclining in his tower room, cleaning and oiling his bow. Carefully setting the bow aside to dry, Ragnar snatched up a rag to dry his calloused hands and shouldered through the swinging door, which he’d thankfully left unbolted.

The cold wind lashed his face as he emerged onto the walkway that led to the castle walls. He ducked his head against the breeze and broke into a jog, his well-worn boots clapping against the paving stones. In his familiarity with the castle, he didn’t need to look down. Instead, he studied his surroundings for signs of danger.

Ahead, he could see the guards on shift mustering to the walls and silently applauded the officer of the watch. Even should the approaching riders prove to be friendly, the drill never hurt. Neither does caution, he added silently.

The dark skies overhead threatened rain, but the late hour created a warm light over the mountains to the west. To the east, thick fog and steam wafted from the geysers in the lake. Only the boldest fishermen still had their boats out this time of the evening; the closer to nightfall it was, the more geysers erupted. To protect the lord’s family, Ragnar had set to studying their patterns long ago, but he knew it would take years before he would possess a complete knowledge of the lake’s beautiful hazards.

On the far side of the lake, the deep shadows of Grymvyr forest looked deceptively peaceful, but Ragnar knew otherwise. He had spent far too many hours there, hunting down the vicious beasts that crept from the protection of the trees to prey on villagers. His current position was owed to one such hunting trip, in which he saved the young lord of the fiefdom from a juvenile Kryldaur. It’d been three years after the loss of his little brother Fiske to a Servyge attack, five since his drunkard father–and his family’s boat–had disappeared into the lake. Alone in the world, he’d moved to a hut by the forest’s edge and began hunting for a living. This enabled him to seek revenge for his brother’s death by tracking down and killing vicious predators like the one who’d attacked Fiske, as well as protect villagers from meeting the same fate. When he saved Lord Tarn, the kind, yet often naive man named him his captain of the guard on the spot. Fortunately for the young lord, Ragnar prized honor and loyalty above all else, and his protective nature made him an ideal choice for the role. Now, fifteen years later, Ragnar’s loyalty was firmly entrenched with Lord Tarn, his wife Hylda, and their child, Aidan. He would do anything to protect them.

With that determination humming in his heart, he finally arrived at the gatehouse.

The officer of the watch stood at the rampart, telescope in hand. At the sound of Ragnar’s footsteps, the man spun and snapped a salute. “Captain! Riders approaching from the west!”

Ragnar acknowledged the lieutenant with a curt nod. “Lord Eluf’s territory. You did well to call the current watch to arms, just in case.”

His subordinate bowed his head at the praise from the notoriously demanding captain. “Thank you, sir.”

Ragnar scanned the group headed towards them. There were at least thirty riders, perhaps more—cause for concern. He held out his hand for the telescope. “Go check in with the other sentinels posted on the walls.”

The lieutenant handed him the instrument, murmured a “Yes, sir,” then left at a jog.

Raising the telescope to his eye, Ragnar studied the approaching riders. Unease rumbled in his stomach at what he could see of their armor and weapons. They were very heavily armed, and there were more riders than he had guards in the castle. At the head of the group was a man he recognized immediately. “Lord Eluf,” he muttered darkly.

Soft, familiar footsteps came up the walkway behind him, along with the clomping sound of small boots. Ragnar lowered the scope and turned with a bow. “Lady Hylda. Master Aidan.”

“Captain Ragnar.” Tall and stately in her dark green dress, her keen ice-blue eyes held concern as she scanned the horizon, her silky black hair fluttering around her face. “You mentioned Lord Eluf?”

“Yes, my lady.” Barely concealing his distaste, he handed her the telescope. “He’s in the lead there, on the gray horse. They are heavily armed for a peaceful visit.”

Deftly Lady Hylda brought the scope up to her eye. “Indeed they are.”

“I wanna see!” Aidan chirruped from beside them.

At the lady’s distracted nod, Ragnar swung the three-year-old into his arms, only to be struck gently in the face by the wooden toy grasped in the toddler’s chubby fist. “What do you have there, Master Aidan?” he asked, focusing on the child’s big brown eyes.

“A dwagon!” The child waved the toy excitedly, mimicking a dragon flying. “He scares away all the bad guys!”

Ragnar shifted the child’s weight in his arms to get a better look at the toy. “From what I’ve heard, dragons were predators like Kryldaurs and Servyges. Won’t it attack us?”

The child shook his head adamantly. “Dwagons are good. Mother told me!”

Ragnar couldn’t help but smile at the boy’s confident assertion. Slightly younger than Fiske had been, Aidan resembled the brother Ragnar had lost years ago. Again, Ragnar promised himself that he’d die before letting harm come to the lord’s son.

Aidan squirmed to get down. Ragnar gently complied, and the boy began enthusiastically “flying” his dragon.

Straightening, Ragnar focused again on Lady Hylda, who was setting the telescope down. “So, shall I order the gates closed?”

Lady Hylda shook her head, her expression somewhere between fond and annoyed. “My husband wouldn’t stand for that. He won’t expect treachery from his neighbors.”

Ragnar clenched his fists, but he had to agree with her view of her husband.

Studying the riders as they reached the beginning of the paved road to the castle, Lady Hylda spoke softly. “I want you to keep Aidan with you for their visit. Just in case.”

Ragnar tensed. “What of you and your husband?”

She shook her head, her expression grim. “If they mean treachery, my husband’s unsuspecting nature will put him too close to escape, and I won’t leave him to die alone.”

Though Ragnar wanted to protest, he knew that he couldn’t change the lady’s mind. He nodded once. “I will do as you say, my lady.”

“I know you will.” Lady Hylda turned to her son. “Come here, Aidan.”

Scrambling to his feet, the boy ran to his mother. She knelt and gently straightened his jacket. “You’re going to stay with Captain Ragnar for the evening, alright?”

A smile spread across Aidan’s face. “Yes!”

Despite the gravity of her concerns, Lady Hylda smiled back at her son. “Listen to him, okay? You might get to go on an adventure later.”

Aidan nodded seriously. “Yes, Mother.”

Lady Hylda reached up, lifted the large locket that she wore constantly from around her neck, and gently fastened it around her son’s. “Can you keep this for me tonight?”

Nodding forcefully, Aidan looked down at the locket, studying it carefully. “Wow, a dwagon!” he exclaimed.

Looking closer, Ragnar realized that the silvery swirls on the metal locket were indeed in the image of a dragon. The locket was oval in shape, with elaborate patterns around the edges. He was still studying the strange design when Lady Hylda’s voice interrupted.

“Captain?”

Aidan was studying the locket, ignoring the adults’ conversation.

“If the worst happens,” she whispered, “take Aidan through the passage in the cellar and across the lake. Go straight east into the forest.”

Ragnar shook his head. “My lady, that part of Grymvyr is exceedingly dangerous. I’ve killed Kryldaurs and Servyges for years and never dared hunt there, even with sage-torches to discourage predators. No hunter has ever returned from that place alive.”

“Trust me,” Lady Hylda entreated, glancing at Aidan. “It’s only a few miles through the forest. From there it should only take a day to reach my father’s fiefdom.”

A shiver crawled down Captain Ragnar’s spine. He wanted to obey the lady’s orders, but he’d heard far too many stories of vicious predators hunting their hunters. It didn’t make sense to him to jump immediately back into danger, assuming they escaped the castle. “My lady…”

“Promise me you’ll follow my orders,” she said urgently. “Likely enough, we’ll have a peaceful evening and our guests will leave tomorrow, but I want your word of honor that you’ll follow my orders if there’s trouble.”

With all his heart Ragnar wanted to disagree, but he knew she would have no peace until he relented. He’d never consider breaking his word, either. Unable to politely express the extent of his displeasure, he merely bowed his head. “I’ll follow your orders, my lady.”

As the riders clattered through the gate below, Lady Hylda smiled faintly. “Thank you for your loyalty, Captain. I know that you’ll do your duty.”

He bowed, unease making his throat tight. “It’s my pleasure to serve your family, Lady Hylda.”

She nodded, bent down to kiss her son’s head, then began to make her way back to the great hall. Ragnar stared after her, desperately hoping they were overreacting.

A tug on his arm drew his attention to Aidan, who smiled up at him hopefully.

He couldn’t resist a smile in return. “You want to go do the rounds now?”

The little boy nodded vigorously.

“Let’s go, then.”

***

A fork clanged against a plate, making Ragnar’s head snap up. However, the great hall hummed with the hum of mealtime conversations instead of the screams of an attack. Shaking his head, he continued eating.

Beside him, Aidan tucked his food away with gusto, chattering to Ragnar between bites. Listening with half an ear, Ragnar carefully watched the high table, which was normally his place during meals. However, Lady Hylda had placed him at the warriors’ table with Aidan. He agreed with her logic, but the distance from the potential threat galled him.

They were nearly done eating, however, and nothing suspicious had happened. Ragnar was beginning to relax and wonder if he and Lady Hylda had been wrong when the screech of a chair yanked his attention to the high table.

Lord Eluf had stood, raising his mug. “A toast, to new beginnings!”

Ragnar kept one hand on his dagger, even as he reached for his mug. It’d be rude to ignore a guest’s gesture, but his instincts were screaming at him. He watched warily as Lord Tarn reached for his mug of ale.

With a suddenness that made Ragnar leap from his seat, shouting a warning, Lord Eluf raised his hidden dagger and thrust it into Lord Tarn’s back.

Lady Hylda screamed, though it sounded like a battle cry. She snatched her dying husband’s sword from the wall behind them and managed to fend off an attack from Lord Eluf’s second-in-command.

Around Ragnar, the warriors scrambled to their feet. Aidan had realized something was wrong and was reaching for Ragnar’s arm. The captain’s first instinct was to attack, but the promise he’d made to Lady Hylda rang in his ears.

“Protect Lady Hylda!” he yelled after his charging men, then turned and swung Aidan into his arms. “Time to go, Master Aidan.” Stepping over the bench, Ragnar ran for the servant’s entrance.

Aidan was surprisingly silent as Ragnar carried him through the servants’ passageways, which were filled with panicking servers rushing away from the conflict. He cursed continuously under his breath when he realized that was exactly what he himself was doing, then remembered Aidan. “Sorry, kid,” he muttered, dodging a kitchen boy who was careening off the walls in his terrified sprint to safety.

Fortunately, they reached the kitchens without being trampled, but soldiers’ rough shouts told Ragnar they were being followed.

With a shouted warning for the occupants of the kitchen, Ragnar ducked into the slanted trapdoor to the cellar. He heard the warriors’ heavy boots burst into the kitchen and jumped instead of using the ladder. The drop sent stabbing pain through his knees, but he didn’t have time to bemoan his aging joints, instead running straight to the hidden doorway of the passage leading to the lake. He fumbled with the concealed latch as boots pounded down the ladder behind him.

With a grunt of frustration, Ragnar got his fingers under the edge and tore the door open. Ducking through, he took off running without lighting a torch. He knew every inch of the passage, while his pursuers would have to either fumble in the dark or light a torch. The twists of the tunnel only added to his advantage.

It was only a couple minutes before the tunnel sloped upwards to a shed on the shore of the lake, but it felt like an hour of sheer darkness mingled with Aidan’s near-silent whimpers, the distant shouts of the pursuers, and Ragnar’s own heavy breathing. Shoving open the trapdoor, Ragnar powered up the ladder and shouldered open the hut door.

The faint glimmer of moonlight through the clouds and fog over the lake seemed bright after the pitch-black of the tunnel. A constant hiss rolled over the water from the geysers. Scanning the shoreline, Ragnar dashed towards the boat kept under an oilcloth beside the hut. As he set Aidan down, he ordered him to stay put, then began uncovering the boat. Pushing to the water was a noisy endeavor, but it couldn’t be helped. Their main chance to stay ahead of the pursuit was his knowledge of the geysers in the lake.

The creak of the ladder inside the shed seemed loud to his waiting ears. Spinning around, he ran back, snatched Aiden off the ground, and sprinted towards the boat, which, untethered, was floating slowly away.

Men’s shouts rang out as Ragnar reached the boat. His soaked clothes weighed him down, as did Aidan’s weight. Tensing his core, he tossed the child gently into the vessel, grabbed the edge, and heaved himself aboard, grabbing the oars.

The thrum of a bowstring preceded a burning slash across his bicep. A cry behind him sent a lightning bolt of sheer panic through his chest. Spinning around, he expected to see Aidan wounded by the arrow that had grazed him. Instead, the little boy leaned over the edge of the boat, chubby fingers reaching for the wooden dragon floating atop the water but falling behind them as the boat picked up speed.

Fearing the boy would fall out of the boat, Ragnar tensed to catch him, though he continued rowing. “Don’t worry about him, Aidan!” Thinking fast, he added, “Dragons can swim. He’s probably enjoying himself!”

Aiden slid back into the boat, nodding, but Ragnar glimpsed his shoulders shaking with quiet sobs. He suppressed a growl of anger, turned, and redoubled his rowing efforts. No almost-four-year-old should have to face what that little boy did. Too young to understand what had happened to his father, he clearly knew something very bad was taking place. To an adult, the loss of the toy seemed trivial, but to a child, it was practically devastating.

Soon enough, they entered the fog. Now Ragnar had to concentrate, picturing maps of the geysers and their eruption intervals. Over the lake’s soft hiss when no geysers were erupting, he heard the rhythmic splash of multiple oars.

A fire arrow cut through the darkness overhead, illuminating the fog, and a shout rose from behind them.

Ragnar cursed and rowed harder. He hadn’t thought the men would locate a boat that quickly. With a sharp tug on his left oar, he turned the boat to cut between two side-by-side geysers and continued his twisting course.

As the other boat approached, Ragnar knew they were cutting straight across the lake. They were gaining on him, but…

The roar of a geyser erupting coincided with screams from the boat’s occupants as they encountered the boiling hot water. Splintering wood told of the boat’s destruction, and Ragnar had to grin in relief. Looking over his shoulder, he said to Aidan, “Don’t worry. That boat can’t catch us now.”

Aidan curled up on the bench seat. “I’m scared,” he whispered, his first words since the great hall.

“It’s normal to be scared, Aidan.” Ragnar dug his right oar into the water to turn the boat sharply around a corner in the narrow path of safety. “It’s part of an adventure.”

“This is an adventure?” Aidan asked, slightly curious now.

“Yes, it is. Do you remember when your mom said we’d go on one together?”

The little boy nodded.

“Well, here we are.” Ragnar lifted his oars from the water, turning to watch as a geyser erupted ten meters from them, its warm steam coating their faces. Aidan watched the fountain in awe, almost beginning to smile.

When the water stopped falling, Ragnar began rowing again. Other than the sounds of the oars and the roar of the geysers, all was silent for nearly ten minutes before Aidan spoke up.

“Captain Ragnar? A-Are we going to find a dwagon? A lot of adventures start like that.”

Ragnar hesitated. What would it hurt? “Maybe we will, Aidan, but dragons are hard to find. We have to stay away from Lord Eluf’s men, too. His soldiers have probably saddled their horses and are riding to chase us.”

Aidan nodded seriously.

The rest of their journey through the geysers was uneventful, but Ragnar kept thinking he heard hoofbeats. When they neared the shore, he realized his suspicions were correct. Flickering torches held aloft by riders sped along the shore to the north, growing nearer every second.

As soon as the water was shallow enough, Ragnar leaped out of the boat and grabbed Aidan off the bench seat. His waterlogged pants and heavy boots weighed him down, but at least the snug laces of the latter kept most of the water out.

Rocks scattered under his feet, his breath steaming in the air as he charged up the slope. Then they were into the trees, Ragnar trying to keep his balance as he trod over roots in the darkness. There was no way to be quiet or hide his path. He wished for a light, then cursed as he realized he hadn’t brought the sage-covered torches that repelled forest predators. Never before had he ventured into the forest after dark without the meager protection they offered. Now he would also have to worry about being attacked and eaten by a Kryldaur or a pack of Servyges. From the faint scent on the wind, he knew that Lord Eluf’s men had brought the sage-torches.

“No help for it,” he muttered, then promptly tripped over a root. Recovering, he ran onwards.

Fortunately, the cloud cover thinned out a bit so he could vaguely make out his surroundings, but the hoofbeats of the horses were approaching. He could’ve cried for joy when he stumbled upon a stream that could temporarily hide their tracks. Turning, he jogged down the center of it for a few minutes, then fought his way up the steep bank, plunging once more into the trees.

The sounds of pursuit faded. Ragnar breathed a sigh of relief.

It caught in his throat, however, when he reached a clearing and realized that the sounds of night animals around him had gone silent. A rock formation loomed over one end of the clearing, and Ragnar sprinted towards it, putting his back to the wall and setting Aidan down.

“Aiden, we’re going to play a game,” he said softly, scanning the area.

The little boy gripped his jerkin. “What’s that?” he asked, pointing into the darkness.

Ragnar saw the brilliant purple eyes of a Servyge creeping around the edge of the clearing and shivered. Where there was one, there would be five more. “We’re going to play hide-and-seek, alright? You have to stay hidden until I tell you, otherwise we lose. Can you do that?”

Aidan nodded vigorously, the idea of something normal after the traumatic evening obviously appealing to him. “I’m really good at hide-and-seek!”

“Perfect.” Ragnar leaned back, feeling the rock face with his free hand. A ledge protruded behind his head, and above it, a shallow cave. Ragnar was a tall man, putting the indent in the rock above eye level. “I found a hiding space for you,” he whispered, reaching down and lifting Aidan above his head. “Can you hide in this little cave? You can pretend to be a bear hibernating for the winter.”

The boy giggled. “Can I snore?”

Ragnar shook his head as Aidan curled back into the shallow cave. “No, you’re hiding, remember? Can you stay silent for me? Don’t watch, either, or they’ll see your eyes.”

Aidan nodded energetically, turning to put his back to the clearing. Ragnar squeezed his shoulder, then turned around, quickly drawing his sword.

As the Servyges crept into the clearing, he clenched his jaw and wished for his bow. Servyges had soft brown fur completely covering their slope-backed bodies, lived in packs of up to eight animals, and were excellent at working together. With his bow, Ragnar could’ve taken a few of them before he was in range of their sharp teeth and claws, but without it, he’d be set upon by the entire pack at once. Still, he figured his anger gave him a chance. His brother Fiske had been killed by a pack of these beasts years ago. It was a different boy now, a different situation, but Ragnar would rather die fighting than allow another of his charges to perish.

Despite their beauty, the seven sets of glowing purple eyes surrounding the outcropping screamed of savage bloodlust. The animals’ teeth gleamed in the moonlight, and Ragnar tightened his grip on his sword. Any minute now…

The first one, probably the alpha, leaped at him. Ragnar slashed across its chest, then grunted as another’s teeth fastened on his wrist. Drawing his dagger with his left hand, he cut the beast from his arm. It fell between him and the next attacking Servyge, saving him from its claws but doing nothing to lessen the impact of its seventy-pound body. Slammed into the rock, Ragnar thrust at the animal, but only succeeded in burying the first inch of his blade in its stomach.

Yelping, it jumped furiously at his face, the other five following. Ragnar gave as good as he got, slashing madly with both sword and dagger, doing his best to disregard the numerous gashes and punctures the beasts were inflicting on him. It would come down to who kept swinging the longest.

Or so he thought. With his total attention on the beasts, he didn’t hear the riders until it was too late. He smelled sage-torch smoke a moment before one of the Servyges sneezed, growled, and backed away, followed quickly by the others.

Ragnar couldn’t help but sink to one knee, trying to catch his breath. He’d thought he would die fighting, hacking at the predators he had spent the majority of his life killing, but it was not to be.

Between the beasts’ blood and his own, his grip on the hilt of his sword had grown slippery. Still, he clenched it harder between his fists and struggled to his feet.

The leader of the riders, Eluf’s guard captain himself, sat atop a massive warhorse, sword already in hand. Behind him were ten more riders.

Ragnar’s heart sank. Only if his men and Lady Hylda had been utterly defeated would so many be spared to chase down Aidan. He was more skilled than most with his sword, but he knew he didn’t have a chance against eleven well-armed men.

The truth felt like a sword to his gut. He and Aidan wouldn’t escape.

Lord Eluf’s guard captain, whose name was Destyn, glared at him. “Tell me where the boy is, Ragnar, and there’s no reason you can’t go free. I’m not here for you.”

Ragnar hesitated. Would it be better for them to surrender now? There would be nothing to be gained by fighting. However, he knew he couldn’t live with himself after such a betrayal. He had already outlived one of his charges; he would not allow himself to outlive a second.

He raised his sword. “I won’t let you take him.”

“You don’t have a choice.” Destyn spurred his horse a step forward. “Where is he?”

In answer, Ragnar charged at the riders. His vision narrowed to the man before him, whose horse pranced uneasily under its rider’s tight grip on the reins. He would at least kill Destyn before he died.

Something punched into his chest, stopping his mad run. He staggered and dropped to his knees. As if in a fog, he touched the arrow that one of the soldiers had shot him with, then looked up at Destyn.

The man shook his head slowly. “A waste of a good arrow,” he muttered, turning to his men. “Find the boy!”

Scattering, the soldiers searched the clearing. Ragnar managed to stay kneeling, despite the weakness sinking through him. It was difficult to ignore the hole in the rock where he knew Aidan hid, but the boy could remain concealed as long as Ragnar didn’t draw attention to him. The child’s gray jacket would help him blend into the rock, as long as he didn’t move.

The seconds passed like hours before one of the soldiers who had gone into the woods shouted, “There’s a trail here!”

By now, the rest of the soldiers were returning from searching the clearing. “He’s not here, sir,” one of them reported.

Destyn growled something under his breath, then spurred his horse forward. Ragnar’s sluggish body had no time to brace before the man kicked him to the ground, just out of the clearing. Fortunately falling onto his side, Ragnar braced himself with a hand against the ground and did his best to remain conscious.

The warhorse’s hooves entered the narrow circle of his vision for a moment, then hoofbeats told of the soldiers’ departure from the clearing.

Darkness fell; the only sound Ragnar heard was his own labored breathing.

Time passed, but he had no way of knowing how much. Vaguely, he heard Aidan calling to him from his perch on the rock, but he couldn’t make his body move. Not even his fingers twitched.

When he heard a rushing sound like a strong, gusting wind, he thought he must be imagining things. When he managed to focus his vision slightly, he was absolutely certain, for hovering over the clearing with its back to him was a massive winged beast. Its gleaming red wings snapped as it stared at the place where Aidan hid. Around the clearing leaves and twigs flew around. One hit Ragnar in the face, and he suddenly knew he wasn’t dreaming. He tried to yell, to distract it from Aidan, but he couldn’t speak. Shivering slightly, he could only watch in silent horror.

Instead of a roaring attack, however, the dragon stretched out its neck, plucked Aidan gently from his perch by the back of his jacket, and deposited him lightly on the ground. The earth trembled with the force of his landing, jarring Ragnar’s wound.

When he could focus again, he saw the dragon with its slightly-smoking snout touching Aidan’s throat. The boy stared up at the dragon in awe.

Ragnar tensed all over, waiting for the beast to kill the boy. It took him many long moments to realize that the dragon was merely examining the boy’s locket.

Noticing Ragnar's slight movement, the beast's head swung around, its dark eyes studying him with suspicion. Fire glowed behind its sharp teeth.

Aidan followed the dragon’s gaze. “Captain Ragnar!” The boy raced across the clearing and flopped onto the ground next to him. “It’s a dragon!”

Ragnar managed to give a slight nod.

“His name’s Orm. He said I can go with him!”

It talked? Ragnar fastened a suspicious look on the dragon, which the beast returned with surprising intelligence.

“Will you come with us?” Aidan asked. Underneath the soft sound of his voice, Ragnar could hear Lord Eluf’s men returning.

Ragnar shook his head slightly. Despite his suspicion of the beast, staying would be sure death for the boy. Mustering his strength, he said, “I can’t, Aidan. Go… go with the dragon.”

“Are you sure?” Aidan bent down and hugged him. “I don’t wanna leave without you.”

With monumental effort, Ragnar raised one bloody hand and gripped the boy’s arm. “I’m sure… Aidan, you need to go.” He stared right at his charge as his vision began to waver. One minute it was Aidan before him, the next it was his brother Fiske. “Go. Stay safe.”

The little boy nodded. “Orm will keep me safe.”

Ragnar looked up at the dragon. Twin jets of flame came from the beast’s nostrils as it snorted softly, turning to stare toward the incoming riders. Teeth bared, it was obvious what the dragon would do to their pursuers if they tried to harm the little boy.

Aidan hugged Ragnar’s arm, then clambered to his feet. Orm dipped his neck, allowing the boy to climb on. Ragnar's vision blurred as he watched the dark shape of the dragon flying into the night sky, Aidan’s arms wrapped tightly around its neck.

Eluf's riders thundered into the clearing, but Ragnar couldn't bring himself to care. As darkness crowded his vision, Ragnar suddenly smiled. The sting of his inability to save his brother all those years vanished. In its place was peace in the knowledge that he had honored his promise to be Aidan's protector.