Lief, Astrid, and Gunn find a strange runestone on the shore of Nordheim, and a storm, a hidden path, and a watcher in the dark pull them toward danger.
The storm had been battering the fjord all evening. Thunder rolled over Nordheim, the sea slammed against the black rocks, and rain hissed across the beach in silver streaks. While the villagers crowded into the longhouse, three children slipped out into the night.
Lief led the way, his red hair wild under his hood. Astrid followed close behind, eyes narrowed against the wind, and Gunn hurried after them, nearly losing his footing in the wet sand.
"If Mother sees us, she'll have our hides," Astrid whispered.
Lief glanced back, grinning despite the rain. "Then we'd better find it first. You heard that bang after sunset. That wasn't thunder."
They reached the little cliff where the tide had thrown up stones, driftwood, and tangled weed. Gunn was about to complain when his boot struck something hard beneath the sand. He crouched, brushed it free, and froze.
A stone lay half-buried at his feet, and carved into its surface were old runes, deep and sharp as a knife's cut. Astrid knelt beside him and wiped away the grit. As her sleeve passed over the carvings, a faint blue light flickered across the stone.
Lief sucked in a breath. "A runestone," he said softly. "Jarl Sigurd's mark."
The glow brightened. Lightning flashed over the water, and for one blinding moment a narrow path appeared in the rocks below the cliff, where there had been only dark scrub a heartbeat before.
Then something rustled in the bushes behind them.
All three children turned. The runes burned brighter, the storm crashed louder, and from the trees came the unmistakable sound of someone stepping closer.