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Sefawynn stands radiant in a break of sunlight in the square between the city and the flood, and John curses himself for giving the gun to Ryan. His platings will deflect a few axes; he can get her out of there; he has to —

A soft, unyielding hand catches his elbow. *Wait. Give her a moment.* Thokk. Ealstan bows his head to her. John demands to know where she came from — this place is dangerous, she has to run — and she calls him dense and tells him to give his girl some time. *She might impress us. It's been building in her long enough.*

*Honored One,* Ealstan says to her, *Woden is here, serving our enemies.* She tells him he had it wrong earlier when he said Woden cares only about sacrifice and blood. Her brother cares only about being on the winning side — and right now her brother is frightened. Of the pain the outsiders bring. Of losing control. He needs the city to burn so he can pretend it is his punishment for disobedience. *We haven't disobeyed, Honored One.* *Not yet,* she says. John's brain catches up. *Wait. Your brother?*

Out in the square Sefawynn shouts a skop's boast at the sky in measured meter — a few lines about weaving the words of Woden and waking warriors — and then falters and slumps against the runestone as more Hordamen flood in. They ignore her boast but give her space; striking a skop is taboo for them. Other Hordamen break down nearby doors and the screaming of women and children rises. *Why?* she asks the sky. *I taught of you. I told your stories. Why do you need our blood?*

*We have to stop this,* John says — and does not know how. *Watch,* Thokk whispers, and *here, let me improve your sight.* The dark patches at the corners of his eyes resolve into wights — hearth-protectors hidden under eaves and along walls, knowing their god has betrayed them, too frightened to act. *They need inspiration.* Several Hordamen break the taboo and start toward Sefawynn anyway, swords up. She bows her head as they come. John tears free of Thokk's grip and runs into the square.

Then Sefawynn throws her hand at the sky and screams at Woden that she has always hated him.

Something turns. The shadows look at her. Their eyes burn alight, white pinpricks in their shifting forms. The runestone behind her starts to glow. She gives them their leader in skop meter — a boast of defiance hurled at the heavens, four refrains of *I defy you* against a god she names a worm — and lightning splits the sky and the wights of Maelport rise. The lead Hordaman's sword falls apart in his fingers as a darkness slithers up his legs. He himself comes apart at the seams — bones unhooked, hair fallen free, skin disconnected, body sagging like a sack of rags leaking out the eyes. Across the square the same thing: axe-heads embedding in wood as hafts come free, mail dropping link by link to the dirt, armored men suddenly disarmed and in some cases naked. The defenders find their enemies unmade in front of them, and Sefawynn keeps shouting her defiance at the sky.

*Told you,* Thokk says, suddenly at his side. He stammers — *what's happening, how —* and she explains: the wights needed inspiration, they wanted someone who didn't fear Woden, they needed a strong boast to follow. *You were my wight,* John says. She corrects him — she was the thing he ordered around with a few measly berries; she will forgive that as ignorance. *I'm not a wight,* she says, *and never have been. Surprised you never realized it. I gave enough clues.*

Hordamen are screaming and running for the boats. The sky still boils — *he's angry.* *Woden hates losing,* she says. *I'll deal with my brother.* John still has his job. *My job?* The poison of his place keeps seeping into the city; if it overwhelms Maelport the wights will die and the wyrd will stop and the Hordamen win. She cannot touch the machines — breaking the one in Wellbury cost her a day to re-form a body; outsiders have been in Maelport too long; she gets thinner by the hour, *like a plank sanded until you can see light through it.* She cannot get near Ulric at all. Her essence comes apart in his presence. She has tried. *I'll do it,* John says. *Will you? Can you?* *Yes. I promise.*

She smiles — the old woman who is much more of the *old* and much less of the *woman* than he'd been letting himself see — and tells him to scoot, to stop wasting time, not to make her regret picking his side; she could be off getting drunk and castrating giants right now. He salutes her. It feels right.

He runs back past Ealstan, who falls in beside him. *Did you know what she was?* *The goddess Logna? Mother of monsters? Harbinger of the end of the time of gods? Of course. You didn't?* These people, John thinks. At least he has a next move. The blue-lit round thing on the saferoom floor — he needs to smash it. He will need Ulric's beacon for the full cut-off, but a broken portal will buy time. He'd switched it off thinking he might want it later. Now he just wants it in pieces.

They reach the bunker door. *Make sure nobody enters.* *I will guard this door with my life.* John slips back in — stepping forward in time, out of dirt and thatch into steel and electricity — and locks it behind him.

He is not alone. Quinn is crouched at the rig. He stands and turns. *Johnny. What did you do to this thing? The coordinates have been altered.* *Step through, Quinn. Go home. The whole city is about to be overrun.* *Not a problem.* Ulric plans to talk to the Vikings: let them have the city, impress them with some future powers, and set up with them instead — they are a tougher group, *good to have on our side as we conquer this world.* *Go home to Tacy and the kids. Pretend this dimension never existed.* Quinn stretches one shoulder, then the other. He told the boss John was in the city; the boss sent him back to check the machine; he sees John let Ryan free, sent him home, fine.

*I'm going to destroy the portal, Quinn. Last chance for you to head home.* *Sorry, Johnny,* and the fists come up. *This isn't personal.* *You actually believe that?* *Nah,* Quinn says. *Every fight is personal. That's just something a fellow says.*

John nods. And Quinn comes in swinging.