Bjørn thrust his numb hands deeper inside his pockets and hunched his shoulders against the bitter cold as he crept through the forest, searching for the creatures he hoped could save his future. To his right, he could just make out the river Meuse, still and silent under a glistening layer of ice.
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Nobody knew precisely where the relics came from nor how those with the money and power to assemble such collections managed to locate them in the first place.
Yet Hal was certain of one thing—at some point he had robbed and swindled them all.
“Let me guess. You see yourself as…
“Oof!” Thud.
Gideon paused mid-step and sighed. He turned back to find the man he’d been charged to protect sprawled in the dirt.
Gritting his teeth, Gideon grabbed Zeke by the arm and hauled him up. “Need another break?”
“No, no… Just tripped… I’m fine.” The younger man’s face was red, his breathing labored.
We need help. Because—to put it frankly—the world has gone to crap, and we need a hero to save us. That’s why I went searching for that forgotten island, somewhere between the Old World and the New—Avalon. On this island I would find a mountain, and the king sleeping beneath it.
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In honor of my first Crossing the Line—or equator, as landlubbers call it—I bought a parrot. Scarlet she was, with a tuft of white atop her head, which I smoothed down, saying, “I’ll call you Poll Whitecap,” thinking of the foam-topped waves.
“Can’t believe you paid so much for…
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