Erik led the way down the treacherous coastal path, navigating through a fine drizzle that clung to their cloaks. A steady breeze carried the scent of salt and seaweed up from the cliffs below. Sigrida and Rannveig followed closely, their steps quick and silent.

  "We'll reach the port soon," Erik murmured over his shoulder. "Then we set sail under cover of darkness."

  Sigrida nodded, her eyes alert despite her weariness. Rannveig remained silent, her lips pressed into a thin line of determination. Erik knew the Jarl's daughter was unaccustomed to such hardships, but they had no choice.

  As twilight deepened, they reached the hidden port. Erik guided them to a small, nondescript boat nestled in a sheltered cove. While he inspected the vessel, Sigrida prepared a meager meal. Rannveig stood apart, uncertainty etched across her features.

  "Here," Sigrida said kindly, pressing the simple fare into Rannveig's hands. "Eat and try to rest during our journey. Erik and I will keep watch."

  Rannveig accepted the food with a nod, settling awkwardly into the boat. Erik untied the moorings and pushed off, his strong arms guiding them out of the cove and into open waters. Once clear, he hoisted the small sail, catching the evening breeze.

  As they hugged the coastline, Sigrida maintained a vigilant watch, her keen eyes scanning the darkening shore for any sign of pursuit. Rannveig curled up near the boat's center, trying to find comfort in the rhythmic motion of the waves.

  As weariness set in, Erik's eyes scanned the shoreline. "There," he murmured to Sigrida, pointing to a secluded cove. "We can rest for a few hours." Sigrida nodded, fatigue evident despite her alert posture.

  Erik skillfully maneuvered the boat into the sheltered cove, where calmer waters met a shore hidden by dense foliage. After securing the vessel, Sigrida gently roused Rannveig, who had fallen asleep during their journey.

  "Where are we?" Rannveig asked, her voice thick with drowsiness.

  "Part way there," Erik said softly. "We'll rest here before continuing down the coast."

  Sigrida helped Rannveig out of the boat, guiding her to a sheltered spot beneath towering pines. The midsummer twilight filtered through a light mist, while the dense branches offered respite from the intermittent drizzle. Erik busied himself preparing his bedroll and arranging his weapons within easy reach.

  As Sigrida helped Rannveig settle, the Jarl's daughter spoke, her tone deceptively casual. "Brandr speaks highly of you both. Erik, surely serving under my brother's command would offer more opportunities than returning to Skogstrand?"

  Erik smiled, continuing to arrange their supplies. "Torbjorn has earned my loyalty. He leads with wisdom and strength – that's worth more than advancement."

  Rannveig nodded with quiet approval before turning to Sigrida. "And what about you, Sigrida? Do you plan to join his crew after the battle?"

  Her sharp eyes studied Sigrida, barely concealing her curiosity and underlying concern.

  "I'm still considering," Sigrida added, her voice measured. "Brandr has shown so far that he can be a fair leader." Her fingers absently traced the edge of her bedroll, betraying a moment's hesitation before stilling.

  Rannveig stiffened slightly at Sigrida's noncommittal response. Her eyes narrowed as she pressed further, her voice taking on a more pointed tone. "Brandr has never had shieldmaidens on his ships before. What, I wonder, makes you so... different?"

  The implication hung heavy in the air. Erik, who had started arranging their supplies for the following morning, paused in his work. His attention shifted to the exchange between the two women, recognizing the dangerous undercurrent in Rannveig's question.

  Sigrida met Rannveig's gaze unflinchingly, her voice calm and measured. "Brandr has made it clear that to join his ship, he expects hard work, courage, and discipline." She paused, her eyes steady on Rannveig's, though her hand tightened imperceptibly. "Those are the qualities he values. I trust his judgment is based on nothing else."

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  The implication hung in the air, challenging Rannveig's unspoken suspicions. Sigrida leaned back, settling into her bedroll with deliberate ease. "We should try to sleep, Rannveig. We'll be leaving before sunrise."

  Sigrida jolted awake at Erik's gentle touch. His finger pressed against his lips, urging silence. His face was taut, eyes darting towards the shadowy treeline encircling their secluded cove.

  Unlike the fear that gripped her when attacked on the trader’s knarr, Sigrida's movements were measured, showing her experience. She followed Erik's subtle gesture to listen. The night air was alive with the usual symphony of sea and forest, but beneath it all lurked something... off. Something that didn't belong.

  The faint rustle of footsteps through undergrowth reached her ears, a discordant note in the woodland's nightly chorus. Sigrida eased her sword from its sheath, the whisper of steel nearly inaudible. Erik already gripped his axe, his gaze locked on the treeline.

  Moving with fluid grace, they positioned themselves on either side of Rannveig's sleeping form. The Jarl's daughter remained oblivious, claimed by exhaustion.

  The footsteps grew bolder, accompanied by hushed, gruff voices. At least three men approached. Sigrida tightened her grip on her sword. She met Erik's eyes, a silent understanding passing between them.

  Protect Rannveig. Fight with discipline. Survive.

  A twig snapped, closer now. Erik's jaw clenched. Sigrida slowed her breathing, every sense heightened to a razor's edge.

  The stillness shattered as two men charged at Erik while a third lunged for Sigrida. She pivoted gracefully, deflecting the blow as Erik grappled with his assailants. Steel clashed against steel as Sigrida parried her opponent's relentless strikes. Seizing an opening, she let his momentum carry him forward, then spun, slamming her sword hilt into his skull. He crumpled with a dull thud.

  Sigrida whirled to see Erik dispatch one attacker with a mighty swing. But the second tackled him from behind, sending his axe skittering away. They tumbled into the shallows, water splashing as they wrestled. Sigrida rushed forward, her blade finding its mark in the assailant's back before he could strike Erik.

  A piercing shriek rent the air. Sigrida's blood ran cold as she saw the man she'd felled bearing down on the now-awake Rannveig. Sigrida surged through the shallow water, her sword flashing out to slice the man's arm. His weapon clattered away as she pressed her advantage, her blade work swift and precise. In moments, she had him disarmed and on his back, her sword pressed against his throat.

  Erik knelt by the fallen men, ensuring they posed no further threat. Satisfied, he turned to Sigrida, who held their remaining attacker at sword point. Rannveig, scrambling backward on the ground, retreated from the danger. Her face was pale, but she appeared unharmed.

  "Are you alright?" Erik asked, his voice tight with concern.

  Rannveig nodded, visibly shaken. "I'm fine. Just... startled." Her eyes darted to Sigrida, a mixture of surprise and newfound respect in her gaze. The former thrall's swift, decisive action had saved her life.

  Erik studied Sigrida's stance over the captured attacker - balanced, controlled, blade steady, feeling a moment of quiet pride before he moved to secure their prisoner.

  The captive writhed beneath Sigrida's blade, anger etched across his features.

  "We need answers," Erik said grimly. He crouched, fixing the man with a steely glare. "Who are you? Why were you stalking us?"

  The man's laugh was harsh, defiant. "As if I'd tell you anything."

  Erik's boot connected with the man's head. "I won't ask again," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

  The man worked his jaw, spitting blood. His eyes, however, remained defiant. "I swore an oath. My honor is greater than my pain."

  Erik's fist clenched, rage threatening to overwhelm him. He longed to beat the truth from this snake, but they couldn't afford to lose their only lead.

  "Tie him up," Erik said at last. "We'll take him with us."

  As Sigrida bound the man's hands, Erik went to Rannveig, who sat straight, masking her unease. She took his steadying hand gratefully, drawing comfort from his presence. Once satisfied with the secure bindings, Sigrida signaled to Erik, and together they carefully carried their silent prisoner to the boat.

  "We need to move quickly," Erik said, his voice low. "There might be more of them out there."

  Adrenaline drove them through their tasks - Erik concealing the bodies and the attackers' boat while Sigrida secured their prisoner in their vessel. Rannveig helped where she could, her movements precise despite her shaken state.

  With swift efficiency, they pushed off from shore. Erik took the tiller, guiding them into open water. As they followed the coastline, the rush of survival began to fade, leaving bone-deep exhaustion in its wake. Still, they remained alert - Erik scanning the shore while Sigrida watched their sullen prisoner, who tested his bonds occasionally but found them secure. Rannveig fought to keep her eyes open, the night's events having drained her remaining strength.

  As dawn's light crept across the water, they pressed onward, unsettled by the knowledge that somewhere along their carefully planned route, they had been discovered. Each glance at their prisoner carried the weight of that uncertainty - had Gunnar's spies penetrated the Jarl's fortress itself, or had they merely been spotted on their way to the hidden harbor?