“Are you having fun, Thor?” a female voice asked, bristling with irritation.

  “How in the hell am I supposed to have fun in this kind of trial?” a strong, booming male voice answered.

  “I was saying, it was your idea to come to this FUCKING island, purr-iod!” the female voice shouted back.

  “It was everybody’s idea,” came another voice—drier, rougher than the first.

  “No, this ain’t got nothing to do with finding Father Odin,” the female voice continued, refusing to let it go.

  “Come now, little sister. We needed to grow stronger first, and this place seemed perfect for that ?,” said another voice. It belonged to a man, yet it sounded soft and melodic.

  “And tell meow then—how in the miaow-damn is a naval war supposed to make us miaow-stronger?” Freyja snapped.

  Freyja wore her totema and stood with her arms crossed on a small, poorly built wooden skiff, its prow clumsily carved into the shape of a dragon’s head. The other three Norse gods—Thor, Freyr, and Tyr—stood around the tiny raft, defending themselves from the attacks of four enormous red warships that had them surrounded out on the open water.

  Each enemy ship carried armies of at least sixty soldiers. Every soldier wore heavy crimson armor with intimidating helmets, and they were armed with huge stones tied to ropes. They hurled those rocks at the gods’ improvised raft, trying to sink it. They also wielded massive oars—used both to maneuver the ships and to fend off enemy strikes. The soldiers in the center loosed a rain of arrows at the raft, trying to splinter it apart.

  On each enemy ship’s prow were painted raven faces in black and red.

  Those were warships of the Haida.

  Yet the lake where they fought was not along a beach or bay—it was an artificial basin built inside a coliseum-like arena, where hundreds of Haida spectators watched and screamed with exhilaration. It was a life-or-death spectacle, very much in the style of a Roman circus.

  Haida society was nothing like their Innu neighbors in Nitassinan, or the Dene in Taltheilei. The Haida were a warrior people, accustomed to constant fighting. They mobilized their ships and raided smaller, weaker villages—burning everything in their path, taking survivors as slaves. They were the most feared people in the north of Vinland.

  Their soldiers wore terrifying red armor made from thick wooden plates, and helmets that allowed only a narrow slit of vision. Those helmets were adorned with frightening human faces meant to intimidate their enemies. Like other warrior tribes across Europe, the Haida believed they must die in battle to reach a paradise called “The House of the Sun.”

  Thor and the other Norse gods who had set foot in Vinland had chosen to go to Haida Gwaii to face what Adlivun had described as the fiercest, most violent, most powerful deities in the northern region.

  Odin’s son was so thrilled by the prospect that he had nearly forgotten his mission to find his father.

  Of course, that reckless decision had been argued—by Freyr, and especially Freyja—but Thor had convinced them to “train” there, to adapt to the anti-divinity barrier that covered the entire region.

  They had arrived in Haida Gwaii—capital of the Haida—about ten days earlier. It lay far on the western side of Vinland.

  When the Haida men spotted them crossing into their territories, they immediately raised bows and arrows. Thor and the others lifted their hands, trying to speak and de-escalate. But with no shared language, the Haida attacked, seeing them as invaders.

  Thor released a light electrical discharge that knocked the men unconscious.

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  “Really, Thor?” Freyja said, still in a sour mood. She was not wearing her totema, so—according to her—she couldn’t speak 'like a cat.' “We walked thousands of kilometers just so you could come here and electrocute humans?”

  “Freyja… ain’t you a little young to be goin’ through menopause?” Thor shot back with a grin, while Freyja looked at him with open contempt.

  “Thory, little sister—please, don’t fight like that ?,” Freyr interjected.

  The Norse gods wore the same outfits they had worn in Asgard. Though the cold was severe, they barely felt it—so their clothing could have looked suspiciously light. They did not care.

  Thor wore his green set with brown trousers, and a bear-skin cape tied over his shoulders. His totema—the Mjolnir-shaped necklace—hung from his neck.

  Freyr, as always, wore only a white tunic that barely covered his privates, tied at the neck. He didn’t bother with shoes or any additional clothing. Around his neck hung the golden medallion of Gullinbursti, which also served as his totema.

  Freyja wore her white tunic cinched with a golden belt at the waist. A huge coat of black and red feathers trailed from her shoulders down to the ground. On her neck she wore Brísingamen—a strange red stone that also served as her totema.

  Tyr wore a red Celtic-style garment, dark leggings, and an ochre-brown belt. From it hung his sword Tyrfing, secured in its sheath.

  They had left Adlivun behind, with Loki abandoned there as a prisoner—because none of them except Thor trusted him. Freyja regretted that choice; the continent was enormous, and without their divine powers they could not travel freely. They had no clue where Odin might be, and now Thor had dragged them into an adventure against the supposedly strongest warriors in the region.

  Everything was falling apart, and it infuriated her.

  Even so, the scenery was spectacular. The snowy forests had been left behind, and the air carried a faint taste of ocean salt. Mountains of pure rock dominated the horizon, and jagged cliffs rose over the region. It wasn’t snowing, but it was bitterly cold—driven by the strong northern wind.

  Strange totems stood everywhere: gigantic wooden posts carved with animal faces, often painted in many colors. At the very top there was usually an eagle or hawk with wings raised.

  As the gods approached the Haida capital, more and more warriors appeared to block their path. Word had spread that strangers had come to invade—yet, as usual, none of them posed any real threat to the northern gods.

  “The great and mighty Haida warriors,” Freyja muttered sarcastically, still seething.

  At last, in the distance, they saw an island where hundreds of totems stood, including carvings of furious human faces. The island was ringed by a wooden palisade, and inside stood houses made of reddish and blackened timber.

  “Guess that’s Haida Gwaii,” Tyr said, eyeing the massive settlement from afar.

  “Now we’re talkin’,” Thor said, pointing. “Bet we’ll find some real fightin’ gods over there, Freyja.”

  Along the shoreline, hundreds of rafts were tied up, and the men—already warned—moved to surround the four gods. Thor prepared another electric discharge, but a voice stopped him.

  “If I were you, I wouldn’t attack them. That would be abuse— a god harming humans,” said a woman’s voice.

  “She speaks the divine tongue,” Tyr noted. “So she must be a deity, or a valkyrie.”

  Since she did not radiate divine power, none of them thought she could be dangerous.

  The woman was brown-skinned with narrow eyes. The lower half of her face was painted red, and she wore a thick red-and-white robe that covered her entire body, though her boots and trousers were visible through an opening. She also wore a long wicker hat, with small furry balls hanging at the sides. A prominent ring arched through her nose. Her hair was wild, black as night.

  “Foreigners,” she said, “you are not welcome on this land. Leave at once, or suffer the consequences.”

  “I don’t know who you are,” Thor said, squinting, “but your divine power’s about nonexistent. We came here lookin’ for the strongest god—if you’re the ruler, even better.”

  “And what will you do if you find the ruler of Haida Gwaii?” the woman asked.

  “Simple,” Thor said, smiling with satisfaction. “We beat ’em, and declare ourselves the most powerful in the whole region.”

  The woman laughed and stepped directly in front of the Norse gods.

  “Do they not teach you manners across the ocean, outsider?” she asked, her tone turning sharp.

  “We only learn how to fight, ma’am,” Tyr cut in. “We’re warrior gods. We fight and die in battle. That’s our life.”

  “Well now,” the Haida woman said, intrigued. “You’ve made me curious.”

  “We have a similar tradition. And considering the offense you’ve already committed on our land, I imagine you’ll be proud to take part in our festival.”

  “Festival?” Freyja asked, interest flickering beneath her irritation.

  “No,” Freyja tried to explain, “we’re searching for a man from our realm who might be in your lands—”

  But Thor interrupted immediately, practically bouncing. “What kinda festival we talkin’? Beer? Fightin’? Sex?”

  The woman burst out laughing.

  “You’re something else, boy,” she said, grinning broadly. “That free spirit of yours intrigues me.”

  She turned to the men and spoke in their language. The warriors stepped back and began moving toward their boats on the beach.

  “Then I extend a cordial invitation to Haida Gwaii,” she said, opening her hand toward the boats being prepared to ferry them. “You will participate in our sacred festival: Potlatch.”

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  The next part will be released tomorrow.