The Leuca ango barely reacted as Einar struck the hook that was wedged into the small section of scales with a hammer.
Each strike hit true, and after three swings, he felt like it would hold no matter what, his anchor set just slightly above and about six feet behind where the wings were connected.
He grimaced at Ospak falling to the ground, his hook slipping free as the beast banked to the side.
Skardi was bent over, moving toward the top of the ridge of the Leuca ango, staying low as he had instructed them all. Even from this distance, it was easy to see the larger Viking struggling against the wind that washed over the creature.
Mimicking Skardi’s movements, he moved toward the top, where three-foot-tall spikes ran along the creature's spine.
Others began to appear as Bodalf and Thorlief came up from the back side of the flying beast.
“Wait! Don’t drive till everyone is closer!”
Skardi nodded, holding the barbed piece of metal in one hand as Einar held the hammer. Each of them was gripping a spike, bent low and on the balls of their feet.
“I’m flying Einar! I’m FUCKING flying!”
A grin larger than any he could ever remember covered the entire width of the warrior with just enough peach fuzz to look like a budding beard.
“Flying isn’t bad! It's falling!”
“Stop ruining this moment! This must be what Odin and the other gods feel when they too travel through the sky!”
“Thorodd? Starkard?!”
The wind muffled Einar’s shout, but Thorlief motioned over his shoulder and pretended to hammer.
Nodding, he pointed at the ring where his and Skardi’s wire were already looped inside the carabiner-like ring that the elves had crafted.
Draw something and they can make it… It's crazy how talented those crafters were.
Once the two men were clipped in, Einar motioned to the spot where the groove was between scales. Skardi placed the tip in it and nodded.
Swinging as hard as he could, the blow struck true, and the hardened metal tip drove into the beast.
As soon as he had struck the blow, the Leuca ango jerked upward, wings rising as it felt the sixteen-inch metal shaft sink in with the first strike. Still holding onto the spike, Einar struck again, sinking the anchor till only about two inches remained above the scaled top.
Each of them were doing their best to keep their feet as the Leuca ango bucked and turned, holding onto the spikes as they pulled on the wire to keep them closer to the anchor.
Thorlief pointed at the front of the beast, and all of them turned to see a large red eye glaring at them, its neck craned back.
A wave of sound that hurt even with how loud the wind was in their ears came as it turned its head forward and then ducked down.
“HOLD ON!” he cried out.
Jerking tightly on his wire to draw out the slack with one hand, Einar quickly grabbed the spike with both hands as the creature fell from the sky.
Their feet came free as they dangled, Bodalf sliding back eight feet before his wire caught him, twisting and turning as the Leuca ango angled toward the ground.
It did a twist, sending them speeding and crashing against its body before floating off its body once more.
Then its head snapped upward, and the creature flattened out, their bodies now pressed against the scales and feathers.
With his eyes squinted, he could see Bodalf bouncing off the creature's back, looking dazed from the impact.
“Go! We only have so much time! Pry up the scales; we will focus on this spot!”
Each man nodded as he yelled, making a motion for what they all knew needed to be done.
Wishing for eyeglasses as the wind made his eyes tear up, Einar set himself as firmly as possible against the base of a spike.
Anatomy lessons… glad everyone knows the same.
He smiled, remembering the conversation and how it had gone when he explained this plan.
***
“I’m sorry, what?” Hallad asked. “You expect us to climb up on top of a flying creature with these vests and then move to its spinal cord and cut it while it flies?”
A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.
Einar nodded, motioning to Osvif, who was using the button to release the tension in the wire and lower himself from the tree he had just climbed.
“We can’t expect it to stay on the ground. At some point, the only option we’ll have is to fight from its back. If we attack here,” Einar answered as he pointed on the drawing once more, “we should be able to be out of its ability to bite at us.”
“Should,” muttered Thorlief.
“Still… What are the odds this works?”
Thorodd grunted and pointed a finger at Hallad.
“Listen, we don’t have any other options. Unless one of you has a boon that allows you to fly and has kept it secret, this is our only chance. Trust me, when Einar showed me this plan weeks ago, I thought he was crazy. By Thor’s beard, I still think he’s crazy, but I also know it is our only chance!”
Nods and murmurs came, and Osvif ended up on the ground about ten seconds after all the drama with Hallad.
“Trust me, Thorodd is right,” the smallest Viking said. “Even I thought it was crazy it is the only way. Besides… if we die while flying, perhaps the Valkyries will just catch us first.”
Some of the older men chuckled, and a few scratched at their beards, bobbing their heads faster as they envisioned that.
“Well, I’ve always wanted to fly,” Skardi proclaimed as he strode forward. “Put one of those vests on me so I can try to figure it out.”
“Oh, don’t worry, we planned for you to get the most amount of practice. We all know you’re the first one going to die.”
Einar watched as the men laughed, the giant and the mouse fake sparing as they stood amidst the circle of warriors.
“Do you think this is going to work?” Thorodd asked as they moved to where Osvif was showing them how to put on the harness each man had been given.
“It’s our only chance. Besides, as my best friend said, we’re going to die… might as well do it in a very memorable way.”
***
Shaking his head to clear his mind, Einar took the long, three-foot, flat-wedged spike he had strapped to his back. Each man had two and needed to keep one. Slipping the pin out, he hefted the piece of metal he knew was at least sixty pounds or more. Grabbing the hammer dangling by the cord on his side, he took a deep breath and set the tip between the edge of a scale.
Hammering it in was harder than the anchor as this piece weighed more, and his hammer didn’t have the weight he needed. Adding the angle of his attempt, the constant shifting of the Leuca ango and everything else, it took five solid swings before he could get the flattened tip underneath the scale.
Prying and hammering, he slowly worked it upward, glancing to his left to see Thorlief struggling to get his in as well.
Another cry came from the creature as it turned hard left. Einar let go of the hammer, trusting the wire to keep it in place, and grabbed onto the metal bar, feeling himself slam into the spike.
The next moment, the beast banked to the right, tossing him away from the spike and falling into its body.
Over and over, the Leuca ango repeated this process for about twenty seconds, shifting back and forth, before it started climbing into the air again.
Rising quickly, he glanced at Thorlief who had a gash on his forehead, blood carried away by the wind as he fumbled for the second metal pole, having lost the first one.
Getting set again, Einar wedged the piece back into place and hammered, swinging and lifting, working that scale that appeared looser by the moment.
Time wasn’t his ally, and he knew the creature would soon try to remove them again.
He allowed himself to grin as the scale began to flap in the wind, no longer falling back into place. Without waiting, he carefully put the rod back in the sleeve on his back, sliding it in, and then moved to stand above the scale.
Wedging fingers in on both sides, he bent down and grunted, forcing all the power he could into tearing the piece free from the beast's back.
The sensation of flesh, ligaments and other pieces that kept it safely in place, tearing and ripping flowed through the effort as he pulled it free, finally causing it to flap upward and open and close as the wind blew it like a twig in a storm.
His last effort, which had freed it, also drew the attention of the Leuca ango, which turned, snapping at him, missing by about five feet, but the sharp beak still snapped, shrieking in his ears.
Bending down, Einar used one hand to wedge the scale upward, digging his fingers in for a grip while his left hand drew his knife.
It blossomed into flames, igniting as he drew upon his Wyrd and drove the dagger against the protective skin, black blood seeping from the wound slightly. An acidic smell assaulted him and pain began to twitch along his fingers and hand as the blood touched it for a moment before being burnt away.
Might as well go all out if I’m going to die…
Ignoring the pain, Einar hacked away at the flesh, cutting into the two-foot by two-foot section the scale had covered.
The Leuca ango roared and spun, turning upside down, flapping its wings in various ways and spinning, and causing him to drive the flaming knife deeper into its flesh as he fought to stay in place.
Einar’s right hand kept him pulled against the body. His fingers wedged under the scale while the left continued its assault.
As time seemed to speed away, he cut out the entire section the scale had protected and spun, driving his foot into the wet, warm flesh.
Shifting and turning, he got his leg deeper inside, using it as leverage to stay in place as the creature banked sharply before coming to an immediate stop, pitching him forward as it hovered in mid-air.
A grunt from his right made him look and Thorlief looked awful, his face having just raked across the scales but his hand still holding his last bar. The Viking clung to it like a mother would their child, protecting it at all costs.
“Finish it!”
Nodding, Einar sliced and hacked till he could fold his knee inside, now pinching the scales between his calf and buttock.
Putting away his knife, he drew out the crowbar-like tool again, leaning to his right as the Leuca ango started climbing into the sky.
His mind began to realize what it was doing as the air turned colder.
Shit! It’s going to where the oxygen is less!
Working as fast as possible, he took as deep a breath as he could and prepared for what was going to happen soon.
Every swing, each thrust and slash opened up more of the flesh as the beast roared, head raised and wings propelling it higher and higher.
The air continued to get colder and thinner, making his breathing require him to take more and more breaths.
This entire time, he had been so focused on the fury of the battle that he had forgotten about the dangers of being high in the sky.
Wedging the metal shaft into the flesh, Einr dug and hammered, risking a quick glance at Thorlief, seeing that his assessment of this danger was true.
The Viking’s lips were turning blue.