Pan Solobowski cursed his luck. Looking around the flattened landscape, he knew to search was fruitless. The fleeing Swedes had cut the bridge down, leaving only a couple pieces of wood anywhere near to being joined. Looking around against, the land was barren of houses.
"Colonel, lets move over to the north. There has to be another bridge!"
Barring his teeth, Solobowski turned his steed northward, and they found more broken bridges.
At last, a small ford where the banners of the Commonwealth crossed. Speeding up the riders, they covered the barren land. Occasionally the sky was lit by burning flames against low clouds of smoke. By the evening, he was another day's ride from Ventspils.

When Njord rested, he saw the flickers of red and orange flames. They were there when his country attacked, raiding and pillaging the surrounding countryside.