“Shield wall!”

Thorodd’s shout came as the sound of metal on metal rang out over the edge of the clearing.

A green ball of fire had struck Osvif, roasting him alive, the screams that had escaped his mouth still fresh in Einar’s ears.

Fireballs from the elves came from inside the forest, impacting the large groups of undead that were shifting to the side they had attacked from.

“Stay close! Don’t get picked off! Hold that line!”

Each shout from the second in command was answered by quick reactions by the Vikings tasked with holding the first line.

A fireball larger than the first two came from Einar as he released the wyrd he had built up.

Shrieks and wails came from the undead that caught on fire, unable to endure whatever magic was inside it.

“Shift right!”

Thorodd, Geir, Thorleif, Bodalf, and Starkard held the line. These large men worked together to block the pressing undead bodies that came at them, hacking and slashing without regard to what happened.

Each second brought more, and Einar did what he could, building up his wyrd and not waiting any longer than needed. His entire body was rigid as power filled him.

Cries came from those before him, tasked with not letting the undead reach the elves who needed to be alive each time they attempted this.

Three hundred… easily more…

“Incoming!”

Starkard’s voice seemed out of place as a large ice spear struck his shield, punching a hole in the metal and piercing a foot beyond.

The cry of pain was muffled as the Viking didn’t give up ground, instead holding his own, swinging an axe that took an arm off an undead warrior.

All around them, the sounds of battle echoed off the trees they were hiding in, as they tried to finish the plan for today.

“I can’t get his body!”Skardi called out. “The undead are too thick!”

“Leave it!” Thorodd called out from the front line.

Einar let the fireball he had been forming go, not bothering to watch where it landed. Knowing it would kill dozens, he repeated his process. Sweat formed, and even though he wasn’t tired, a sense of exhaustion overwhelmed him.

So many will die… they are willing to for you, Odin, and Freyr. Remember that!

Ospak cut down a pair of undead coming toward him, forcing Einar to cut his spell short, sending a quick flame at each, knowing they were finally truly dead and no longer a threat.

“Three more here!” Hogni called out.

The Elven mages sent another pair of fireballs outward and Einar took care of the undead that were reaching their ranks, ending their lives and wishing normal torches would do the same.

“Fill the hole!”

A pained shout from Thorodd brought his attention back to the front line. He saw Geir was down, not rising from where he had been standing.

A thread formed in his vision and Einar felt rage building up inside.

It had been a while since a thread had been so present in the last battles. He had killed so many things and it seemed one was never needed. Yet today, one tugged at his core, showing him what had to be done.

The same sensation he had felt against the troll was there, but Einar wasn’t sure he could repeat that process.

Focus! Get pissed off! Be angry!

Slapping himself once with a hand, he tightened his core, glaring at the sea of rotting bodies that pressed against his men and attempted to breach the trees.

A few small threads of metal wires that Osvif had quickly wrapped before he was killed held some of the undead in place, not yet having managed to push through them or cut them down.

Osvif…

His cry of pain and agony as the green flames burnt his body to ashes raged inside Einar, and the spark he needed burst into a blaze.

The crackling of power began to fill him and from inside the yearning to burn down everything that was before him grew.

Each of the undead was a threat to these people, and if they weren’t eliminated, he couldn’t stop Ragnarok. If that task failed, none of this mattered, and his hope of saving his friends would be over.

He could hear his own heart in his ears, feel the thumping in his chest.

Like a battle drum that was being beaten, the tempo grew, calling out for action.

Arcs of lightning began to form on his outstretched fingertips and there, the same thread waited, wanting him to direct the spell he was forming in this direction.

This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.

His wyrd rushed out of him, pouring into the spell's power, burning through it so much faster than when he used the flames.

It was no wonder why he had been told how hard it would be to master this ability.

Thorodd started to shout but was cut off.

A pair of undead had managed to flank him, spearing his side and back.

Rage overtook him and Einar didn’t hold back, barely noticing that from the ground where his feet were, lightning arced off his legs and into the moist soil.

The thread shook and he knew it was time or it would be lost.

Multiple strands of lighting flew from his extended fingers striking the horde he had been aiming at, jumping from undead to undead, their weapons acting as a conduit to each one.

Wails filled the air as did the horrible stench of burning rotten flesh.

Panting, and struggling to stay standing, Einar knew he was almost out of wyrd and would pass out if he kept trying.

Once more a pair of fireballs struck into the crowd of undead that for a moment seemed less.

“They are out!” Varitan shouted. “We need to pull back!”

“Retreat!” Einar called out. “Protect the mages!”

A horn sounded from behind but the image of Thorlief being struck down held his attention.

“We need to go!”

Skardi’s shout and the large hand that grabbed him yanked Einar from his daze.

So many are dying…

It was hard to see how much of the undead forces had been reduced because the world spun as his wyrd bottomed out.

***

“We managed to cut down a large number from what I last saw,” Thorlief said. “The lightning spell took down a lot more than the fireballs had.”

Osvif nodded, still quiet as he had been for the last twenty minutes.

“And now we hit from the opposite side. Everything went according to plan. Now we just continue what we started.”

Grunts acknowledged what Thorodd had said, but it was obvious there wasn’t much conversation going to be had tonight.

“Same thing as before then,” Einar added. “We fulfill the mission before us. Get some rest, pray to the gods, and find something to occupy your mind.”

The sound of boots moving away was the only reply he got and Thorodd motioned to the same log they had sat on the night before.

“It’s not you, trust me. I’ve been on enough missions to know how bad this is and each of them knows it. You’re going to have to let them adjust and then when things have worked out, and this menace is gone, they will return to normal.”

“What about you?” Einar asked. “How are you handling the death and what you saw?”

“You do realize how low I was before the gift from the gods? Dying is never fun but I will not complain about it. The price we pay to be a Viking. Now then, we need to talk about what you can do. Can you start off with that lightning spell?”

Einar shrugged.

“It’s not really something I’ve learned to master yet. When I get angry enough or the rage takes over, something inside allows me to summon it. It’s not like the fire which I can draw upon almost anytime.”

His second in command frowned, poking a knife into the log between them.

“Well, that isn’t something I can say I have experience with, but all I know is a few men commented on how much damage it did. For now, I guess we'll just hope you get angry again.”

“Trust me, I’m already there a little bit.”

“Good. Now then, I need to talk to someone and thank her for returning me from the dead.”

Watching as Thorodd left, Einar saw Osvif staring at him. Motioning to the log, he waited for his friend to join him.

“Sorry, I’m not trying to be a downer, but that death was beyond horrible.”

“I can’t imagine… Do you need to talk about it?”

The shortest warrior there just stared at the fire a few dozen yards away and said nothing.

Both of them sat quietly, and Osvif finally gave in first.

“It was… as if the fire somehow did more than just burn my skin. Inside my mind and my chest, there was some dark presence with it. I felt slimy and wet even though my body was burning and it chilled me throughout.”

“Dark magic, I would guess… not something I can tell you anything about. Even Thorve said she wasn’t sure how to handle some of it.”

“Yeah… even worse was I died first.”

“Everyone dies. At least you went out in a blaze of glory.”

A groan came from Osvif, followed by a chuckle.

“I guess you’re right. Still, I wish I could have contributed more.”

“Don’t doubt yourself,” Einar replied, touching his friend's shoulder. “Not every warrior can stand toe to toe with a troll like Hallad or Starkard. No one else complains about that. Not even Skardi has that kind of strength. Stop worrying about what you can’t do and focus on what you can.”

“I know… it’s just hard when your childhood friend is a legend already and apparently can shoot lightning out of his ass.”

Both of them laughed, earning a few glances as their voices carried a bit of life back into the camp.

“No, you can’t, but perhaps you might be able to one day. For now, let’s focus on tomorrow. Both the gods and I are depending on you to keep as many of us alive while helping to take down as many undead as possible.”

“No pressure,” Osvif replied as he stood up. “I guess I’ll go look at the map and what others drew that they remembered.”

As his friend walked away, Einar wanted to groan, seeing the next person in line who was waiting their turn.

“Varitan.”

His elf friend nodded and sat where the two Vikings had been sitting a little earlier.

“I talked with both of our mages. They think they can get one more fireball out if you are willing to have someone carry them back. Both felt a little sad at seeing the state you were in and knowing they might have done a little more.”

Frowning, Einar studied the elf next to him.

“Are you saying they think they can manage to cast one more spell like all the rest?”

“No… it won’t be as strong but it will still do damage. Each of them mentioned they may pass out from using all their wyrd. They said you would know what that is like.”

“I do and it’s not a great feeling,” Einar admitted. “Still if they can cast at least one more spell that would help. I’ll talk with Osvif and he can make sure someone will carry them out.”

“I am glad you have him and that you can help him return to normal. It was obvious to all that the young one was not happy about dying today.”

“It was more of when and how. As you and I talked, death comes for all. We can’t choose it and how it came for him today burned to his core. All I know is that inside every man is a desire to be something worthy of glory. Dying before you feel like you have achieved that creates a hole inside that is wider and deeper than a canyon.

Varitan chuckled and shook his head.

“When did you get so wise?”

“Leadership makes one wiser or it will grind them to dust. There are many who think they would make a great leader and enjoy that life, only to find the mantle and weight of it all crushes them so quickly they can’t escape.”

Once more, laughter filled the camp as the Elven warrior roared with amusement.

“Keep talking like that, and someone will make you a sage. Then you will never get to fight.”

“I can dream, can’t I?” Einar replied with a wink.