Chapter 14
The northerners’ faces were grim as they readied their weapons on a rocky shore several miles south of Yeavenguut. Ragnhildr and Torvald had known of the place from their childhoods in Yeavenguut and had chosen to rendezvous there before the invasion. The longships had sailed up the coast for several days, taking a circuitous route to stay out of sight of any coastal settlements or fishing boats, and to give Torvald’s subterranean raiders time to reach Ingmar’s lands. Ragnhildr had decided it was too dangerous to risk a fire, so the warriors sat huddled under their cloaks. Somewhere outside the small encampment, a branch snapped. Aesgir and Helga, the sentries on duty, immediately had arrows nocked on their bows.
“Stand down,” Torvald said, stepping from the shadows. His face was streaked with grime and he reeked of torch smoke. Ragnhildr stood and passed Torvald a skin full of ale. The warrior drank it down in a few long gulps. He nodded to the assembled warriors and folded his arms. “My force is encamped around the tunnel mouth now. None of Ingmar’s sentries are in the area, and I don’t think I was followed. We’ll strike at dusk tomorrow.”
Wulfric knew that the delay was to give the warriors time to rest, but he saw the look that passed between Ragnhildr and Torvald. Against all hope, they still were waiting for Halvard to come over the horizon, though whether triumphant over the Storm Bringer or realizing the folly of his plan, Wulfric couldn’t be sure. In the days since leaving Rovngalad, he had come to doubt the jarl’s aims himself. If there was any man in the world who could subdue and tame a creature revered as a god, it would be Halvard.
But Wulfric had to admit that the odds were terribly long.
Torvald stayed only long enough deliver his message, eat a strip of dried meat and clap a few of the warriors on the shoulder before returning to his own war band. Wulfric sat against Steinarr’s flank, watching Aesgir’s Sharpedo, Gunnar and Gunhild, drift idly in the dark water of the cove. Their red eyes glowed just above the water level. Svein came and sat down beside Wulfric, and the boy was quiet for a time. Finally, he turned to the monk. “Are you afraid?”
“I’m terrified. I always knew this was coming, but I thought I would be by your uncle’s side. With him not here, I can’t help but feel…”
“Like something important is missing. I know what you mean.” Svein reached up and stroked Steinarr’s horns. “Do you think he’s dead?”
The blunt question took Wulfric aback. Certainly, all of the northerners had been wondering, but none of them dared to speak it aloud. Wulfric took a shaky breath. “Svein, I’m not naïve enough to think that I would know somehow if Halvard had died. And I know that it’s likely he… that he won’t return from this. But I have to have faith that he’ll come back to us. If he doesn’t, I doubt any of us will live much longer anyway, but the world will feel far emptier without him in it.”
Svein inclined his head. “Wulfric, I’ll keep you safe. I swear it.”
Wulfric couldn’t help but smile a little. The boy was barely half his age, the smallest in the shield wall. And yet, he could see the warrior the boy was sure to become, if he lived long enough. Svein had the hard lines of Torvald’s face, but in his eyes Wulfric could see Halvard’s fire. “And I you, as far as it is within my power. We’ll stand together.”
Some time later, Ulfi came to pray. The monk and the boat builder knelt on the sand and bowed their heads. They recited several of the prayers Wulfric had taught Ulfi, going through them four times for each of the points on the Arcean ring. When they finished the litany, Ulfi shook his head. “It’s not the same without Dismas, is it?”
“No, it isn’t. For as long as I can remember, Dismas and I have always said our prayers together. And now I’m not sure if we’ll ever pray together again.”
Ulfi stared down at his hands. “I’m sure they’ll be fine. They have Uthald, and I’ve never seen a finer family of warriors than the children of Sigurd. He may not be of our flock, but I have to believe that Our Lord is guiding him. He is striking down a pagan idol, after all.”
“Prayer can only do so much, Ulfi. Things will go as Arceus wills it, but He cannot answer every prayer. Our actions are our own, and while they may be guided by His hand, it is our choices that define us. Halvard has chosen his course, and what will be, will be.”
***
The fjords of Rovngalad were lined with rolling hills and pastures, well-suited for the grazing of Mareep herds. The fjords of Yeavenguut, by contrast, were hemmed in by stark, sheer cliffs of gray stone, worn smooth by centuries of the sea crashing against their base. As the Rovngalad longships rounded the inlet that led to Yeavenguut, Wulfric saw the imposing towers that guarded the mouth of the fjord once again. As he and Halvard had predicted, Donatus Builder’s chain was well below the surface, and to all appearances the harbor was open for the taking.
Ulfi, sitting next to Wulfric on the oar bench, growled low in his throat. “Steady on, boys. Keep your heads clear.”
As they entered the fjord, Wulfric could make out the sails of a small fleet of longships bobbing in the harbor. They flew the colors of several of the other jarls who were loyal to Ingmar. The Usurper had rallied his vassals to come to his aid, swelling his ranks to far outnumber the fighting men and women of Rovngalad.
It was all exactly as Halvard had predicted.
Though their fleet was outnumbered, it was known to all that Rovngalad had the swiftest and most maneuverable ships, and that their longboats were less likely than anything short of a sluggish Kalosian barge to capsize. The boat building techniques of Ulfi’s late father were one of Rovngalad’s closest-guarded secrets, imparted to Ulfi when he learned the trade and shared by him with a handful of trusted friends only hours before they had sailed north to Yeavenguut to ensure the trade was not forgotten should he fall in battle.
Outnumbered they might be, but they were far from outclassed.
A horn bellowed from the walls of Ingmar’s fortress, and archers in the Usurper’s longships nocked arrows to their bows. “Wall!” Ragnhildr shouted, and the warriors of Rovngalad raised their shields above their heads as the first volley was launched. Most of the arrows fell harmlessly into the harbor, though several thudded against the invaders’ shields. The horn blasted out over the evening air several more times, and Wulfric heard the clatter of metal behind him.
He turned to watch as the long, thick chain rose slightly from beneath the waves, sealing off their retreat. Ragnhildr banged her axe against the rim of her shield. “All right! No turning back now! Let’s show them what we’re made of!” She threw back her head and roared, echoed an instant later by every warrior on the longships.
Aesgir bounded to the prow of his boat and climbed the snarling bowsprit. He sucked in a deep breath and howled, signaling to Gunnar and Gunhild to burst from the depths. The Sharpedo sliced across the surface of the water and reached the enemy longships before the Usurper’s supporters had time to figure out what was happening. The sleek water aligned burst from beneath the waves and flailed across the deck, gnashing their teeth as they thrashed to and fro. Before the sailors could respond, the Sharpedo had jumped back overboard and vanished beneath the waves.
The cheers of the Rovngalad warriors were cut short by the thudding of a large drum from somewhere on the shore. The steady one-two beat continued, though Ingmar’s ships made no move to advance. Ulfi growled again, scanning the waves. “There!” the shipwright shouted, pointing to a wake moving across the surface.
“Archers!” Ragnhildr shouted. “Prepare to fire!”
The sea surged around the Rovngalad longships as three more wakes cut across the harbor. A deep and somehow familiar roar shook the timbers of Wulfric’s ship as whatever lurked in the depths drew closer. Just before they passed below the ships, all four creatures burst from beneath the waves. Ulfi shouted a curse and Ragnhildr screamed for the archers to launch their missiles. Only Helga came to her senses enough to loose her bow, but the arrow splashed uselessly into the waves.
The four Gyarados Ingmar had summoned roared in unison. “Row!” Ragnhildr cried. “Row as fast as you can! Make for the shore!”
Aesgir whistled to his Sharpedo, and the two sleek water aligned angled back towards the longships rowing in formation. He flashed a series of hand signals, and an instant later Gunnar and Gunnhild shot off in different directions. Gunnar leapt at the deck of one of the Usurper’s ships again, clamping down on the head and torso of a man as he passed overhead. The man flailed as his crewmates tried to beat the Sharpedo off, but when Gunnar finally thrashed his way back into the water, he had carried the upper half of the warrior with him.
Gunhild shot across the waves, angling towards the nearest Gyarados. She launched herself out of the water and tackled the leviathan, her jaws gnashing furiously as she tried to sink her fangs into its armored scales. The Gyarados whipped back and forth and managed to send Gunhild tumbling through the churning waves, but the Sharpedo had the taste of blood in her mouth. As soon as she oriented herself, she was carving back through the waves to renew her assault.
Another Gyarados swam alongside the ship at the very edge of the formation. The archers on deck pelted the serpent with arrows, though the volleys seemed to do little but agitate the monster. With a sinuous contortion of its body, it raised its tail from the water and brought it down in the center of the longship, splintering the vessel and sending the northmen aboard screaming into the sea.
Though Ivarr had gone with Torvald’s war band through the tunnel, his Beartic had sailed with the fleet. Dagmar leapt from the sinking vessel and used his heavy claws to gouge deep cuts across the Gyarados’s left eye. The beast reared up and screamed, desperately trying to shake the Beartic free. But Dagmar held firm, clutching one of the Gyarados’s spines with one claw while the other drew long, bloody rents along the soft tissue of its face. As the Gyarados bucked and thrashed, Wulfric saw the dull gleam of sharpened metal rods driven into the serpent’s back. He whirled around, trying to catch glimpses of the other three in the chaos.
“Ragnhildr!” he shouted, shoving his way down the longship. “Ragnhildr, I have a plan!”
Ragnhildr launched a flaming arrow from her bow at Ingmar’s ships, but fell short. “What are you talking about?”
“Look at the Gyarados! See the spars on their backs? Ingmar has driven them mad with pain and rage. He’s trapped them here and set them on us, but he doesn’t control them, not like Halvard and Uthald. They’re attacking anything they see, and we’re just the closest targets. But to them, one ship is just the same as any other.”
Ragnhildr’s eyes widened as she realized what Wulfric was proposing. “We can play Ingmar’s hand against himself, provided we turn them in the right direction!”
“Exactly. Can you and Sigrund—”
Ragnhildr cut him off with a wave of her hand and whistled to her Noivern. The black and purple dragon touched down lightly on the stern of the longship, clutching the prow with her claws. Ragnhildr scrambled to climb onto Sigrund’s back and braced herself in the leather straps fixed there. “You and Ulfi have command of the fleet,” she said. “Or what’s left of it, anyway. Get them to shore, Wulfric!”
The monk nodded and watched as Ragnhildr and Sigrund shot off into the sky. The Noivern swooped down at the closest Gyarados and unleashed a horrific scream. Wulfric clapped his hands over his ears and saw rivulets of blood dripping from the Gyarados’s eyes as it raged against the sheer pressure of the sound. Abruptly, Sigrund left off the auditory assault and darted across the waves, the Gyarados in pursuit. The air aligned flitted between the four sea monsters, harrying them with bursts of concussive sound and pulses of indigo light, all the while shepherding them closer to Ingmar’s ships. Aesgir had seen their gambit, and now signaled to his Sharpedo to hem in the Gyarados from the sides in much the same way the Houndour of Rovngalad kept the Mareep from straying from their flocks.
“Onward!” Ulfi bellowed. “Put your backs into it! We’ll break through them yet!”
The remaining four boats of the Rovngalad fleet advanced as Ingmar’s men deployed their own water aligned. Sharpedo, Carvanha, and a handful of Dragalgae flitted through the dark, churning waters of the harbor even as the smaller force of aqueous Rovngalad pokemon swam out to meet them. Dagmar snarled as he slashed at a pack of Carvanha that shot past him. The snarls turned into a drawn-out bellow of pain as a Sharpedo clamped down on his shoulder, only to be tackled aside by Gunnar. The two sharks tumbled through the water, a mass of teeth and trails of blood. Hjodtr, Ulfi’s Druddigon, barreled to the front of the longship and unleashed a blast of purple and white light at a Dragalgae rising from the depths. The beast screamed as it dove to safety, its frilled appendages flailing.
The Gyarados had been driven back towards Ingmar’s ships, and the Usurper’s fleet was beginning to give ground. They had seen the destructive power of the water aligned, and did not want to see the Gyarados’ wrath turned on them. Ragnhildr did not give them a choice.
She drove the Gyarados onward, whipping them into a frenzy of pain and anger. The serpents thrashed through the waves, their scaled coils smashing everything in their path. The enemy fleet was in turmoil as the rowers hastened to move around the beasts. Ragnhildr and Sigrund looped back towards the Rovngalad ships. “Now!” Ragnhildr screamed as she passed overhead. “Break through the lines! Get to the shore!”
The warriors of Rovngalad worked their oars, their shoulders rising and falling as they powered their ships onward. No one was entirely sure who first started it, but soon, every warrior on all four remaining ships was screaming a wordless battle cry, defiance and rage and pain all rolled into one sound that filled the air and drowned out even the roars of the Gyarados. When they reached the ranks of the enemy, the archers returned to their posts and began launching volleys of arrows at the Usurper’s men. Their pokemon companions clashed across the gaps in between ships, with several nimble war aligned trying to jump the gap. A pair of Gurdurr attempted to leap from the nearest ship to Wulfric’s boat. Steinarr caught the first one on his horns and tossed it into the churning sea, while Hjodtr simply clawed the second one open and tipped its bleeding form overboard.
And then, suddenly, they were through.
The warriors drove the ships up onto the beach, and several of the Rovngalad war aligned dragged them up still further, the metal rams Ulfi had affixed under the prows gleaming in the last light of day. Several of Ingmar’s ships had broken ranks and had made it to the shore as well, hemming in the Rovngalad war band on two sides. Another force advanced from before the gates of Ingmar’s citadel.
Skaldi drew his axes and rolled his shoulders. “It seems we’re surrounded.”
“A pity,” Ulfi said as he signaled for the shield wall to form up.
“For them, aye,” Helga replied as she fell into step beside the boat builder.
Ulfi glanced over his shoulder at Wulfric. “Get up on Steinarr, he’ll keep you safe. Play Halvard’s part. I may be strong, but I’m no strategist. I need you to call the shots.”
Wulfric nodded and clambered into Steinarr’s saddle. He put his hands on the Gogoat’s horns like he had seen Halvard do, and he felt Steinarr go rigid beneath him for an instant before relaxing again. He was about to give the order for Steinarr to advance, but the Gogoat seemed to instinctively know what Wulfric had intended, and set off at a trot.
Ingmar’s men regarded the warriors of Rovngalad warily, unwilling to commit to the engagement. Wulfric saw Svein standing shoulder-to-shoulder with Helga and Aesgir in the shield wall, his face grim. The boy caught Wulfric’s gaze and nodded.
As the standoff continued and the Gyarados continued to rage in the harbor, a thundering crash echoed from the west. A Talonflame shot into the sky, her wings bathed in flame as she dove towards the stone ramparts of Yeavenguut. The warriors of Rovngalad cheered as Branna swooped and danced through the air, gracefully avoiding the arrows of the Usurper’s archers. “Charge!” Ulfi shouted, and the shield wall raced forward to meet the enemy.
***
Torvald burst from his concealed position outside Yeavenguut’s eastern gate as Branna whirled over the walls and whistled to Jarn. The Aggron rose up from small pit he had dug and lurched forward down the slope. Torvald saw the other members of his war band and their pokemon rising up from their hiding places and racing towards the gates. To any watchers along the wall, it would seem as though an invading force had simply appeared out of nowhere, an army of ghosts.
As Torvald made his way down from the rise, he met up with Ivarr, and the two warriors fell into step. The war band that had traversed the tunnel between Rovngalad and Yeavenguut had spent hours in the suffocating dark with little else to do but plan their assault on the fortified gates of Ingmar’s citadel. They no longer needed to speak to coordinate their movements, having talked through them so many times on their eight day march through the tunnel. A shield wall had already begun to form at the base of the wall, and Torvald could faintly hear the guards atop the ramparts shouting to each other, scrambling to find a way to combat the Aggron that was even now lumbering towards their fortification. Jets of flame shot down from the wall as the defenders of Yeavenguut as fire aligned tried to drive the beast back. The stone aligned that the Rovngalad warriors had brought with them fired back with a volley of jagged rocks, making the fire aligned flinch away.
“Jarn!” Torvald barked. “Strike the gates down!” Skerast darted about his head until he held out his arms. The Doublade shot into his hands, the purple tails at the end of the blades wrapping around Torvald’s wrists and forearms. Torvald gritted his teeth as the familiar prickling sensation that happened every time he and Skerast became one passed.
Torvald jumped up onto Jarn’s rear leg and from there onto the Aggron’s shoulder. “Men of Yeavenguut!” he shouted. “Hear my words! I am Torvald the Red! Run to your king and tell him that I am coming for him!” His arm twitched of its own volition as Skerast took control of his body. The left blade jerked up and swatted an incoming arrow from the sky, and Torvald bared his teeth in a predatory grin. “No walls can stop me! No gates will stand in my way! Tell Ingmar that I will have his head!” He jumped down from his perch on Jarn’s shoulder and nodded up to his behemoth. “Jarn, charge!”
The Aggron grunted and lowered his crested head, the metal plates that lined his body grinding together. Jarn took a few lumbering steps forward before building up speed and crashing into the heavy wooden gates. The metal braces groaned, but the gate held. “Again!” Torvald roared.
Stones and arrows rained down from the walls of Yeavenguut, but the shield wall held firm, protecting the warriors and their war and pestilence aligned partners. The thick hides and carapaces of the stone and earth aligned pokemon allowed them to shrug off the missiles. Fire rained down from above, but Jarn was undeterred. Torvald had trained Jarn and Branna together for years, accustoming Jarn to the intense heat of a fire aligned’s flames, and it seemed that the arduous training had paid off. The Aggron barely flinched as the fire aligned of Yeavenguut tried to drive him back. He repeatedly threw his weight against the gates, making them give a little more each time.
Torvald stalked back and forth in front of the shield wall, letting Skerast do as it willed. His arms rose and fell, knocking rocks from the air and slashing arrows out of the sky. When he and Skerast bound themselves together, Torvald felt a remarkable clarity, where the noise and confusion of the world fell away, and he concerned himself with nothing beyond the next motion of his blades. Skerast seemed to hum in his hands, but it was not a hum that he could hear. He felt it in his bones, a deep reverberation that was like a second heartbeat.
Skerast felt things differently than Torvald did, experienced the world in a way that was utterly alien to him, but years of being bonded had allowed Torvald some insight. At that moment, Skerast hungered for blood, and in his twinned consciousness, Torvald did too.
Jarn threw himself against the gates once more, and there was a long groan followed by a thunderous crack as the wooden beams that held the gate split at last. The doors flew open as Jarn allowed his momentum to carry him through into the passage beyond the gates. A group of would-be defenders fled before the steel aligned, unwilling to pit their blades against the monster that had destroyed their supposedly unbreachable gate. Jarn roared, sending them scattering into Yeavenguut.
Torvald stalked forward, Skerast’s blades glinting in moonlight. The Doublade vibrated in his hands. “Yes,” Torvald snarled. “Time to feast.”
***
The corpses of the fallen, both human and pokemon, were strewn across the plain before the southern gates of Yeavenguut. A portion of Ingmar’s forces retreated to the citadel when it became clear that the eastern gate had been breached, but the warriors of Rovngalad were still outnumbered. Wulfric sat astride Steinarr’s back as the Gogoat galloped along the fringes of the enemy forces. Pokemon fought bitterly in the space just before the Rovngalad shield wall. Dagmar grappled with a Pangoro, forcing the dark aligned to the ground and tearing out its throat. Geirr and Talvar bounded back and forth between the enemy’s shields and the defensive bulwark of the Rovngalad warriors, dark red hellfire dripping from their maws. Helga’s Bisharp held a line with a handful of others of its line, their metal appendages glinting under the light of the stars. Hjodtr sported several fresh wounds, but the dragon still stood strong, his claws red with blood. Somewhere overhead, Ragnhildr and Sigrund battled against Ingmar’s air aligned.
Occasionally the shield wall would part to allow Skaldi’s Breloom to unleash a barrage of explosive seeds against the enemy shields, but the men of Yeavenguut refused to give ground. Wulfric directed Steinarr back towards the Rovngalad formation with a brief shift of his weight. The Gogoat bounded across the trampled grass, nimbly dodging a Conkledurr. Wulfric signaled to Ulfi, and the boat builder shifted his position to the back of the formation. “We need to go on the offensive,” Wulfric said. “Torvald won’t last long without reinforcements.”
Ulfi nodded. “One desperate charge then? Hit them hard before they know what’s coming?”
“I suppose Steinarr and I will have to lead it, won’t I?”
“It’s what Steinarr was born to do.” Ulfi smiled in a way that was probably supposed to be encouraging. “Go with Arceus, Wulfric. Let His grace be your shield.”
Wulfric reached up with his free hand and touched the iron ring around his neck. The grace of Arceus was all well and good, but he wasn’t about to set aside his real wood and iron shield either. “Ready the men.”
“Aye, we’re ready.”
Wulfric took a deep breath. “Men of Rovngalad!” he cried, praying his voice wouldn’t crack. “No more of these games! On to Yeavenguut!”
The warriors answered with a cheer as Steinarr galloped forward and launched himself over the top of the shield wall with a single bound of his muscular legs. They landed with a jolt that Wulfric felt in his teeth while Geirr, Talvar and the other Houndour raced to their side. Helga’s Bisharp made a chittering noise, and soon a rough formation of Pawniard and Bisharp darted in front of them. Wulfric drew his sword and gulped.
Oh Arceus, I’m really doing this, this is actually happening, Arceus have mercy…
He heard his comrades in arms behind him screaming a wordless battle cry, and before he knew it, he was screaming too, hoping against hope that somewhere far across the sea, Halvard was listening. They met the enemy lines with crash of steel on steel, and Steinarr took command. The Gogoat bucked and tossed his horned head, hurling enemies from his path and crushing the wooden shields of his foes. Wulfric held on as tightly as he could, trying not to be thrown off by his rampaging steed.
From above came a high pitched whine that quickly grew in intensity before culminating in a deafening thunderclap. All combatants on the field below were momentarily stunned as two dark shapes flitted in front of the moon. Even with the light against him, Wulfric could vaguely make out the shapes of two Noivern. “Keep fighting!” Ragnhildr screamed down from above, the words sounding oddly muted to Wulfric’s ears, as though coming through several layers of cloth. Sigrund lunged out in front of the moon as well, winging her way higher. A pulse of indigo and white light shot from her mouth, sweeping across the midnight sky and momentarily driving the enemy dragons back.
The warriors on the ground shook off their temporary deafness and resumed their clash. By now, the fighting had worn on for several hours, and fatigue was beginning to show on both sides. But the warriors of Rovngalad fought with a desperation Ingmar’s men lacked, knowing that they had nowhere to retreat to. Behind them were four rampaging and pain-maddened Gyarados and a blocked harbor, and before them a citadel full of enemies. Breaking ranks to flee to the tunnel to be hunted down in the dark was no better alternative than dying beneath the moon.
And so Ingmar’s forces continued to lose ground, and lose men. “We have them on the run!” Ulfi boomed. “One more press! One more charge! Onward!”
In the air above, Sigrund hissed and screamed as she fought back the enemy Noivern. Though she was clearly stronger, she was tiring and Ingmar’s dragons had the advantage of numbers. Sigrund’s sonic pulses were growing weaker and her movements sluggish, though she still managed to beat her foes back and protect Ragnhildr clinging to her back. With one last defiant scream, she unleashed another pulse, sending the two other dragons wheeling higher into the upper air.
They tucked their wings into their flanks and dove, their ears and antennae quivering as they prepared another attack. Sigrund tried to repel them again, but could not muster the strength. The two Noivern released deafening sonic blasts simultaneously, catching Sigrund in the middle. The sound drowned out Ragnhildr and Sigrund’s screams of agony as their eardrums burst and blood welled in their eyes. Sigrund crumpled and plummeted to the ground some ways distant, her landing throwing up a plume of dust.
Sigrund fell back, her wings hanging limply at her sides as she plummeted. The straps that held Ragnhildr to the dragon’s back had broken, and the woman tumbled through the air behind the Noivern. For the briefest instant, she fell in front of the moon, her golden hair shining around her head like the halo of an Arcean saint.
But she continued to fall, crashing to earth with a plume of dust. “No,” Wulfric gasped. It didn’t seem possible that the fiery woman who had only moments before commanded the full strength of Rovngalad could be struck down so easily.
“Mother!” Svein screamed from within the shield wall, shoving at his comrades to fight his way clear and run to Ragnhildr’s side. Ulfi grabbed the boy and dragged him back into the formation.
“No one could have survived a fall like that,” the boat builder said. “We’ll grieve for her later, but if you leave the wall now, you put us all in danger.” Svein nodded and wiped his tears away. Ulfi nodded. “But don’t worry, lad. We’ll make them pay. Helga! Take those bastards down!”
The warrior woman nodded and fell back to the center of the shield wall, her comrades filling the gap she left. She nocked an arrow to her bow and scanned the sky, waiting for Ingmar’s Noivern to pass in front of the moon. Now that Sigrund had fallen, there was no need to worry about accidentally striking her. Helga drew her arm back and let out a breath, releasing her bowstring with a loud twang. The arrow flew straight and true, burying itself in the breast of one of the Noivern. The beast screamed as it fell, but when it hit the ground, it stopped struggling. The other dragon shrieked in panic and fled to the safety of Yeavenguut, and Helga cursed as its shadow moved out of range.
Ulfi maneuvered himself to the rear of the shield wall and signaled to Wulfric. “We need to finish this. Give the order to move on.”
“Charge!” Wulfric shouted . “For Ragnhildr!”
The warriors of Rovngalad roared in answer and began to hammer at the remnants of Yeavenguut’s defenders. When they were within range of the citadel’s archers, arrows began to rain down from the walls. The warriors of both war bands ducked beneath their shields. When the hail of arrows relented, Ulfi and Wulfric ordered another charge, hoping to strike down the last of Ingmar’s forces before they could rally again. Steinarr lunged into the fray, his horns goring and tossing aside human and pokemon alike. Dagmar snarled as he tore screaming men limb from limb. Skaldi whirled through the enemy ranks, his axes rising and falling and thudding against wood and bone. Soon, the arrows began again, but it was too late to save the last defenders of the gates of Yeavenguut.
The warriors of Rovngalad retreated to just outside the range of the archers’ bows to rest for a spell while Dagmar, Hjodtr and a handful of the surviving war aligned dragged the largest of the longships up from the beach. Helga, Aesgir and the other Rovngalad archers stood with their bows trained on the gates, ready to shoot down any who tried to break through their lines. Ulfi made his way over to Wulfric, favoring his left side. “So Ragnhildr is gone?”
“I’m afraid so. Ulfi, what’s wrong with you?”
The boat builder removed his hand from his side, and it came away slick with blood. “One of the bastards got me good,” he said through clenched teeth. “I’m holding it together for the men, but I won’t last long.” He let out a low groan of pain.
“We need to try and stop the bleeding! We can sew you up and—”
“No,” Ulfi said. “It’s too late. I can feel the darkness coming. Trying to save me would be a waste of time.”
Wulfric slid from Steinarr’s saddle and took Ulfi’s broad, calloused hands in his own. “Please, let us try to help you. I was too late for Ragnhildr but you… I can’t lose you too.”
Ulfi forced a smile. “I’m going to join our god, Wulfric. I can almost hear Him calling to me. I’m going to be with my wife and son.” His face contorted in pain. “But I’ll hold the gate for you, one last time.”
The pokemon returned, bearing the overturned longboat on their shoulders. The large iron prow Ulfi and Ivarr had affixed it with shone dully in the moonlight. Torvald had breached the gates of Rovngalad with Jarn, but the southern invasion force would have no such help. Ulfi had designed the ram to sit below the water level, keeping it a secret from any ships that the Usurper pitted against them until they were able to land. They had planned to carry the ship on their shoulders, shielding the attackers from arrows while they battered down the gates.
Ulfi shooed the war aligned away from the boat, taking the weight up onto his shoulders with a grimace. Dagmar and Hjodtr remained behind, helping him bear the load. “I don’t have long,” he growled to the dragon and the ice aligned. “We’ll have to make this quick.”
“This is suicide!” Wulfric cried.
“This is dying with honor,” Ulfi replied. “Men of Rovngalad, on many raids I have held the gates for you! Allow me the privilege one last time!”
The northmen cheered his valor and willingness to face death, but Wulfric could only stare in mute shock as Ulfi charged towards the gates, heedless of his mortal wound. He slammed the heavy prow against the doors, and a tremendous boom resounded through the night air. “Arceus,” Ulfi hissed as he slammed the ship against the gate once more. “Soon I will stand before Your gates and join You in Your glowing halls.” Another boom, another searing pain in his side. “As I held the gates in this world, I swear to you, Lord of Light, I shall hold the gates in the next.” He bit down on his lip to stifle a cry of pain. “My wife and son, and the countless northmen who came before them never had the chance to accept Your grace. Can you truly bar them from the glowing halls just for that? I will break the gates down if I have to. I will not spend eternity without my family.” It was taking all of his focus to stand. His arms trembled under the weight of the longship. It wouldn’t be long now.
“Put your backs into it!” Ulfi shouted at the two pokemon behind him. If they didn’t break the doors down before he ran out of time… well, that didn’t bear thinking about. He could feel the wooden slabs giving more and more each time they struck. Every fiber of Ulfi’s being screamed with agony, and his shirt was soaked through with blood. “Oh great Arceus,” he rasped. “You are my shepherd, under your gaze I shall not want. May You guide us to pastures green, and lead us to lie by still waters.” Of all the prayers Wulfric had taught him, that had always been his favorite. It reminded him of home. “Guide me home, Arceus.” The doors shuddered one final time before bursting open. Ulfi stumbled forward, shrugging the longship off his shoulders. A handful of Ingmar’s warriors waited for him in the narrow passage between the gates and the city itself. The shield wall parted, and archers fired. Three arrows struck Ulfi, and he fell to his knees. “Take me into Your light, Lord of All.”
Dimly, he heard someone call out his name, and then everything faded.
Wulfric saw Ulfi fall. “No,” the monk gasped. Beside him, Skaldi unleashed a wailing, inhuman scream. The northern priest snatched a crystal vial from beneath his armor and held it beneath his nose, inhaling the brown spores within. Skaldi’s breathing grew ragged, and an instant later the priest sprinted forward, his Breloom a pace behind. When they reached the gates, Skaldi blew past Hjodtr and Dagmar, vaulting off the splintered door and leaping at the enemy formation. His axes glinted in the torchlight as he descended, another scream ripping from his lungs.
Using his axe’s hooked blade, he dragged the first warrior out of formation and used his second weapon to cave in the man’s skull. His Breloom darted forward, jabbing with lightning-quick blows as his master danced through the chaos, bathing in the blood of the Usurper’s warriors. Hjodtr stirred himself and charged roaring into the fray, heedless of the spears and blades of Ingmar’s men. The dragon was soon bleeding from many fresh wounds as he tore warriors apart with his claws.
Skaldi’s howling was drowned out by the screams of dying men as the priest and the pokemon butchered them. Wulfric could only watch in mute horror as one of the Usurper’s warriors brought his axe down on Hjodtr’s thick skull, stunning the dragon long enough for his comrade to drive a sword into the small, vulnerable triangle of skin on the Druddigon’s neck. Hjodtr opened his fanged maw to roar one more time, but no sound emerged. In a final, battle-maddened act, his claws shot out, pulling his killers into a deadly embrace, puncturing their armor and likely several organs.
In a matter of minutes, the bloodbath was over. Skaldi and his Breloom stood over the corpses of their foes, the priest up to his elbows in blood. His rapid breathing slowed as the spore-induced trance wore off, and he licked a spatter of fresh blood from his lips. “Yvetal,” he rasped. “I offer this feast to you. And before the night is out, I shall offer you far more.”
The remnants of the Rovngalad force hurried to the gate to join Skaldi. Their numbers had been winnowed since they had landed on the beach several hours ago, and they were all exhausted. Crashes and screams sounded from deeper within Yeavenguut, and several buildings were burning. Distantly, Wulfric could hear Jarn’s grating roar. He slowly became aware that the northmen were looking to him for orders. Steinarr was tense beneath him, straining to rejoin the fighting.
He pointed to several of the most exhausted warriors. “You remain here with the wounded to guard our retreat. The gate is as defensible a position as any. If things get bad, retreat down to the beach.” He glanced at Ulfi’s body. “Take him back with you, if you can.” Wulfric turned to the rest of the beleaguered warriors. “The rest of you are with me. We will carry on and join up with Torvald. And from there, we take the fight to the Usurper.” He held his sword aloft, tried to channel an inner reservoir of energy he was not sure he possessed. “Onward, warriors of Rovngalad!”
Makes for a nice cliffhanger, too.