"Jarls rise and jarls fall," she whispered, her dark eyes on the last orange streaks of light flickering across the horizon. "The Boneless Mercies remain. We have roamed Vorseland since the age of the Witch War Chronicles. Perhaps longer. We are ignored and forgotten... until we are needed. It has always been this way." She paused. "It is not a grand profession, but it is a noble one."
I didn't answer, but she read my thoughts.
"This isn't a bad life, Frey. Some have it much worse. Only fools want to be great. Only fools seek glory."
Our setting in this very loose retelling of Beowulf is Vorseland, a generic medieval/fantasy version of the Scandinavian nations. And our lead characters are a small group of teenagers who are members of the Boneless Mercies, freelance mercy killers who roam Vorseland granting quick,…