But the Shield-ring was growing ragged, for the men of Hightown were fighting one to eight, and these are odds that cannot last.

Sometimes it would waver, and an enemy would slip inside, and before he sank dead would have sorely wounded one of Ironbeard's company.
And now Biorn could see his father, larger than human, it seemed, in the dim light, swinging his sword Tyrfing, and crooning to himself as he laid low his antagonists.

At the sight a madness rose in the boy's heart.

Behind in the sky clouds were banking, dark clouds like horses, with one ahead white and moontipped, the very riders he had watched with Leif from the firth shore.

The Walkyries were come for the chosen, and he would fain be one of them.