TWENTY-FIVE
Isla rose from the ocean, n***d in the sun. Waiting for him. Rudolf's heart swelled within his chest.
No archers stood on the shore this time, and his three ships led a veritable flight of dragon boats from every inhabited island in the Southern Isles. They were filled with men from all the isles, too, not just those from Viken. Isla was ever the heart of the isles, and they would not be free of the Albans until they had been driven from Isla's shores.
Rudolf saluted the watch tower as they passed, wondering if they had sent a runner with word to wherever the remaining Alban army lurked. It mattered not. He and his men knew every landing spot on Isla, and they would not be driven off this time. They would land, and they would fight, until they won. Isla would be his.
The
