On one hand, the ship wasn’t much—a big canoe with places for men to sit and row. But I was standing on a real Viking ship, smelling the sea air and the faint scent of sweat. Up to this point, my experiences in this dimension had mostly included scrambling to stay alive.

  In that moment, it sank in. I was standing in a place scholars and historians throughout time would have practically killed to visit. I paused, not wanting the experience to be entirely wasted on me.

  The captain examined me carefully. This was another test, wasn’t it? I made a show of wavering, as if the water affected me—but then hopped down and took a deep breath.

  I met his eyes. “You thought a prince like myself would be stopped by mere water?” I forced out a reverb-enhanced laugh I didn’t feel. The captain looked away and gestured to the captive.

  It was a man with an olive skin tone. In fact, with his curly black beard and white, robe-like clothing, he didn’t feel British to me at all. Middle Eastern, perhaps? I was shocked; I’d assumed this place was pretty homogeneous.

  I hesitated, but couldn’t stop now. If I acted afraid, these Vikings would recognize it. I needed to persuade them I was too dangerous for them to sail farther north and attack Stenford. Besides, I had my augments.

  My body would know what to do, even if my heart was wavering. I walked toward the captive, noting that the captain still had his axe in hand.

  Oh, ever-loving hell. He was going to betray me.

  A panicked part of me knew the moment he shifted. I spun to see him winding up with the axe. Ealstan—following behind me—shouted and tried to stop it, but a Viking rushed him, shoving him aside.

  I stared down that axe.

  And my body, instead of fighting, cringed.

  I heard shouting people from deep within my memories.

  Angry voices. Flashes of light. Like explosions.

  Had I fought in a war?

  Shame. Utter, gut-rotting shame overwhelmed me, and I flinched back, laughter echoing in my mind as I raised my hands—but not as a warrior might. More as a terrified art student would. My back hit the mast, and the captain’s axe expertly shifted, going for my head. I saw my death reflected in that steel.

  Until the axe head completely fell off.

  It separated from the handle—narrowly missing my cheek—and soared out over the side of the ship. The handle of the axe missed my face by an equally narrow margin as the captain—suddenly off-balance—completed his swing.

  We stared at each other, dumbfounded, as a distinctive ploop sounded from the water outside.

  He recovered first, reaching for a sword. I wasn’t a warrior. I didn’t have instincts! I was going to get myself killed!

  “You dare?” I managed to sputter. “Don’t you know who I am?”

  “I know and believe, now!” he shouted back, smiling. “But you’ve stepped onto water! You shouldn’t have admitted your lineage to me, prince! The Dökkálfar will pay well for your corpse! You are weakened enough to fall to mortal blades now!”

  Oh, no. He did believe. A little too much.

  Three Vikings had attacked Ealstan, who struggled in close quarters with them. Sefawynn’s voice called over the chaos. “Master!” she said. “Flee before they bind you with boasts!”

  The captain glanced at his skald, who grinned at me. I barely understood what was happening. Sefawynn’s outburst had…persuaded them to capture me instead?

  Run with that, I thought, desperate. Buy Ealstan some time. “They wouldn’t dare!” I shouted. “My father would be outraged by the bounty price!”

  That did it. The captain’s hand hesitated on his sword hilt, and he nodded eagerly at his skald. She’d moved to the side of the ship, near two empty rowing seats. But now she composed herself, then strode forward, speaking in a loud voice.

  “Word-weaver I am / on waves wandering,

  The dread one’s daughter, / daunter of the dead!”

  I needed to play the part, so I flinched.

  She stepped forward again.

  “Struck-straight, strength strays, / struggles under strain.

  A worm to the wolf / your worth will be waste!”

  I sagged against the ship’s mast.

  “Victorious vision / I vow through this verse!

  Behold my bright boast, / my battle-born build!”

  I hissed, then met her eyes. I acted as if I was going to obey, but then—with gritted teeth—stood back up. I stretched, as if throwing off a weight. “Is that your best, skald?” I demanded.

  She backed up a step, hand going to her breast.

  “Submit to my spell-songs—”

  I flipped my hand out in front of me, as if batting the words aside. “I am Runian Von-Internet of Cascadia!” I shouted over her. “Your words cannot bind me, mortal.”

  She stumbled behind the captain and muttered something. He seemed intimidated now—and his expression fell further at a groan from the side. Ealstan stumbled toward us—leaving one of his opponents slumped against the gunwale, boots scraping the wooden floor as he thrashed in his own blood. The other two had backed away warily.

  The brutality made me sick. Still, I tried to regain some of my confidence as Ealstan and Sefawynn hurried to my left, placing all of us near the captive—with the captain and his soldiers gathered at the front. They didn’t even look at the dying man.

  “Now what, honored aelv?” Ealstan whispered. “You are strong indeed to resist such boasts, but…we should not have gone over water.”

  Damned if I knew what to do. The Vikings didn’t seem eager to advance on us, but they stood between us and freedom.

  My only instinct was to climb over the side of the boat and try to swim away. Yeah, I thought. Outswim a group of literal Vikings. That’s going to go great. What else could I do, though? It—

  A thought occurred to me.

  “Sefawynn,” I said, “please tell me you still have that ink.”

  “Yes,” she said, digging out the small clay pot—for oil—in which she’d stored it. “But…”

  “Give it to me,” I said. “Ealstan, grab the captive, then jump over the side. Sefawynn, you follow. If this doesn’t work, we’ll need to try our best to run.”

  Ealstan obeyed immediately, bless the man. Sefawynn took my arm, drawing my attention from the Vikings. She’d dug out the ink, but held it away from me.

  “Don’t write,” she hissed at me. “You will draw Woden’s anger.”

  “Would you rather be dead?” I demanded.

  “Yes!”

  Huh. Hopefully the Vikings were equally superstitious. I took the ink from her and pushed her gently toward Ealstan, who had hauled the captive to his feet and cut his hands free. The two were preparing to leap off the ship.

  Sefawynn scrambled after them. I turned toward the Vikings, then smashed the ink to the deck. I knelt and began to smear it into a shape—one of the runes I’d seen on the stone at Stenford. The one that looked like an F.

  I was able to get the shape right, and blessedly, it worked. The Vikings huddled away from the rune, like children who had just encountered a rabid dog.

  I stood up, pleased with myself.

  “You will leave,” I demanded, “and you will not return to these lands.”

  At my words, thunder sounded in a sharp, demanding peal from the perfectly cloudless sky, and the rune burst aflame.

  As in, the ink started on fire.

  I was stunned. What was in that ink?

  Oh, hell. Something was very wrong about all of this. I looked again at the handle of the captain’s axe, remembering the sudden way it had fallen to pieces. Remembering the strange, vanishing offerings in the bowls. The…

  Well, the everything. I’d been ignoring it, unwilling to accept it, but my ability to disbelieve was crumbling.

  “We will go, álfr,” the captain said. “I vow it.” His expression hardened. “We will not return until we have strength enough to defeat you. The gods will stand by us, after what you have done here.”

  I had no response for that. I gawked at the burning rune blackening the wood in front of me. I stepped back from it as it persisted, despite the breeze.

  Confused, and more than a little terrified, I ran for the side of the ship. With the help of my hand augments, I hauled myself up and over and leaped into the ocean—hoping the water wasn’t too deep.

  Our Fantastic Packages!

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  The population of the British Isles in these dimensions doesn’t speak a language intelligible to any known Earth language speakers. Perfect for linguists or those who want an extra challenge! Visit the speedrun section of our website for current records for full dictionary creation in the various language groups.

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  Our most popular package is the Wizard Wildcard™. Roll the dice! Literally anything could show up in your dimension!1

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  Are you looking forward to a specific experience? Perhaps your heart is set on learning to joust, or you want to help the Roman legions in their push northward across Britain? This is the package for you!

  You choose a specific time period—in relation to technological level and expected cultural customs—and we’ll provide a dimension that meets our triple guarantee and fits the desired criteria. (The time periods available are Celtic, Roman, Anglo-Saxon, Early Norman, and High Middle Ages.)

  PACKAGE FOUR: LUXURY EXPERIENCE

  In this premium package, you choose not only your desired time period, but also one specific criterion from the following list. Warning: You might have to wait until a proper dimension is located! Please visit our website for a current list of available luxury dimensions.

  Luxury Options (pick one):

  A specific historical individual from our world exists in the dimension.2 Arm wrestle King Richard the Lionhearted! Have a rap battle with Chaucer!

  A rare time-period/cultural/technological mix. (For example, Romans with gunpowder, still-living megafauna, or a Britain with Chinese settlements.)

  A highly sought-after specific time period. (The Norman invasion is about to start, for example.) Perfect for historical war gamers! See the speedrun section on page 203 for more ideas.

  Specialist dimensions found more commonly in our band than in others, as outlined on page 113. (Includes Celtic True Matriarchy™ dimensions, dimensions with extra-high ethnic diversity on Britain, and our Last Bastion of Civilization™ dimensions where Rome has fallen and Britain has become the center of the Roman empire.)

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  A small nuclear power plant and a castle to install it in.

  A full complement of modern weapons capable of outfitting a band of one hundred soldiers.3

  A modern helicopter, fully automated with piloting software and weapons.3

  Your own adventuring party! This option includes a one-year contract with an expert linguist, a historian, a bodyguard, and a dimensional guide to help you establish yourself in your new dimension.

  A fully trained complement of local servants, guaranteed to treat you as a god, and a castle to house them.

  Research into local diseases, a medical tent with equipment for treating wounds, and up to 2,000 vaccines prepared for distribution to your loyal followers. Also includes access to a medical team that can be called on in emergencies or for triage after a battle.

  One True Wizard™ staff with weapon functions, projection abilities, and a suite of magnetism augments to replicate telekinetic powers. Don’t go wizarding without one!™

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  * * *

  1 Please reference “FAQ: All Right, WHY Can’t I Have a Dimension Full of Talking Bananas?”—including all important legal disclaimers.

  2 Mythological figures, like Arthur and Robin Hood, are not available. You must choose people who are documented in the historical record.

  3 Legal Disclaimer: Controlled weapons will be delivered to the dimension by our team via a temporary gateway in international waters. This is to avoid local restrictions on arms sales. As per the Dimensional Arms Act, anyone carrying controlled weapons into a dimension must subject their in-dimension portal to government inspection. Said weapons may not be brought back through the portal into our dimension. Extra fees apply.

  I managed not to drown, though it was touch and go until Ealstan pulled me out. I sputtered on the shore.

  A warning popped up in my vision.

  Near-drowning detected. Nanites providing oxygen directly to the bloodstream. You have five hours left before running out of air. Would you like to contact emergency services?

  I selected No, I’m OK.

  Would you like to activate first aid mode to help others?

  “How,” Sefawynn asked, “did he nearly drown in a mere five feet of water?”

  “You know how their kind are with water,” Ealstan said.

  I shook my head, fumbling for a bit before I cleared my vision of the message and disabled future prompts to call for help. I appreciated the thought, but at the moment I was busy coughing.

  The Vikings, who were still packing up, eyed me. I didn’t know if my failure to swim improved or hurt my reputation, but we made a very hasty retreat with the captive we’d saved.

  Some fifteen minutes later, I stood—still damp—near the spot where we’d originally observed the Hordamen, watching their ships retreat across the blue ocean. They’d left behind their lead ship. Somehow, despite the fact that it had mostly sunk, the flames smoldered on.

  Damn.

  “You have my utmost thanks,” the captive said to Sefawynn and Ealstan behind me. He had a deep baritone voice, and spoke with an accent that—for the first time here—I was familiar with. Middle Eastern for certain.

  Ealstan had built a fire—a normal one—to warm us up. They sat beside it, treating what had happened as—if not normal—expected.

  “You’re from the otherlands, I assume,” Sefawynn said. “I’ve met your kind in Maelport. Traders.”

  “Yes, but I am not a trader, honored skop,” he explained. “I came to live among your people ten years ago—and have committed to stay here my entire life. My name is Yazad, and I am a loyal subject of the earl.”

  I listened with half an ear as I stared at the impossibly burning ship.

  What on earth just happened?

  You’re not on Earth, a part of me thought.

  Yeah, but the rules were supposed to be the same. Gravity was still gravity. Thermodynamics were still thermodynamics. Water-based liquids did not spontaneously burst into flame. Unless…had Sefawynn swapped the ink for something else?

  As the fire below finally went out, the black smoke dissipating, I found my confidence shaken. I mean, I would keep looking for rational answers. But for the first time since landing here, I wasn’t entirely convinced I’d find them.

  “Why,” Ealstan asked, “would you leave your people and come live here?”

  “What?” Yazad said with a laugh. “Adventure isn’t enough of a reason?”

  “I’d never leave my people,” Ealstan said. “My lands are all I want to know.”

  “Well, it is wonderful that we are all different, then!” Yazad said. “Isn’t creation beautiful?”

  I turned toward my companions. The important thing was that we’d gotten away, and had even sent the Vikings running. Sailing. Whatever.