1 The Uroborose Saga The Prince Beyond the Veil

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This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author's imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

First edition

Prologue — The stag

Baldur lay in bed under the beamed ceiling, wide awake, staring at the sky through the slanted window.

A celestial display of violet and emerald lights danced above the cobbled streets of the sleeping town.

The wind outside whispered familiar lullabies through the wide mouth of the fjord on the outskirts of town, and, in the sweet howl of the night, Baldur became aware of the shallow breaths inside his bedchamber that were not his own.

"Hoder."

Baldur sat up, his pearl blond hair disheveled. He took a breath and bent down to look under his bed.

A pair of azure-colored eyes gleamed at him from the darkness

"What are you doing?" Baldur sat back. "Come out."

The youngling, only seven years of age with flowing golden locks, huffed and pulled himself out from under the bed.

Baldur smirked at his little brother, standing before him in his linen night robes.

They looked similar to each other, but, while Hoder's features were soft and delicate, Baldur already grew to full height and acquired the strong set jaw of a grown álfur.

He, too, had sea-blue eyes and a jewel shard the color or rain at the apex of his pointed ears.

"I've heard him again." Hoder whispered.

"Then, why do you not alert mother or father?"

"I can't, they're not home. They went to a council meeting."

"Hoder, it was only a dream," Baldur took Hoder's hand and pulled the boy closer. "Go back to sleep. It was nothing but-"

A loud thud cut him off.

Hoder's eyes widened with fright.

Another thud followed the first, further away from Baldur's window.

"Don't move." Baldur mouthed.

Hoder let out a yelp and climbed into his big brother's bed, diving under the covers.

Baldur rolled his eyes.

He reached to his double-edged sword, slung over the bedpost. He released the eighty-centimeter blade from the scabbard and stalked closer to the window, clothed only in a pair of loose, linen trousers.

Gripping the carved hilt, featuring the tree of life, until his knuckles whitened, Baldur held his breath and picked outside, searching the semi-darkness.

"It's Oakthorn!"

"Damn!" Baldur jumped at the loud whisper behind him. He grabbed Hoder and pinned him to the wall.

"I told you not to move."

"But it's Oakthorn." Hoder struggled against him.

Baldur released him, and both brothers peered through the crack in the open window.

The large animal huffed, sniffing the air. Suddenly, it raised its head and bolted away from the house, back into the sanctuary of the forest.

Baldur stood up, sword at hand.

"No. What are you doing?" Hoder grabbed his arm and tried to pull him back down.

"He's gone," Baldur yanked his hand from Hoder's grasp. "It was just an elk. A large elk, yes, but nothing more than that. "

"It was Oakthorn." Hoder insisted.

Baldur looked at him. "The legendary stag that graces atop Valhalla?" He smirked. "Father should not tell you tales of our ancestral home before bed, brother."

Hoder pouted. "I know what I saw." Tears stood in his eyes, a clear sign of insult. "He is Oakthorn, but he is different somehow from the myth. There is something wrong with him."

"Hoder -"

"I don't care if you believe me. I will prove my claim, you'll see."

Hoder stormed out, slamming the door shut behind him.

Baldur sighed. He stared outside.

In the earliest cycle of his immortal life, not yet out of his teens, he craved to set out after the elk on a wild hunt.

In the morning, Baldur stood at the wall of their manor, inspecting the damage. Erobre, the King's second son, a youth of similar height, long black hair, lean muscular body, and amber eyes, joined him.

"You really think it was Oakthorn, the god Odin's stag that graces atop Valhalla?" The ebony-haired Prince asked.

"I don't know." Baldur reached out his hand to touch the indented patch in the stone where the stag's colossal antlers struck the previous night.

"I checked the fields this morning, it got to the crops. I followed the stomped-out path to the cliffs above the valley, and then it circled back into the forest. It needs to be stopped either way. If only to give me a night's rest from Hoder cowering under my mattress."

They laughed.

"We need to hunt him down," Erobre said.

"Your father will never let you join the hunting party." Hoder piped up from the open window.

Erobre and Baldur glared at the boy, unaware he was there until he spoke.

"What are you doing

To be continued

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