Under the gaze of the crescent moon, a cavalry charge broke into the rear of Holda’s assault group on Rodos hill. A rout.
As one group of horsemen pincered the ones who stayed, another group broke off and chased down the ones who ran. Holga scoffed and said, “Fall them back.”
Once the retreat horn sounded, he called out loudly, “Inga!”
Inga rode up to Holda at the commander’s table. As soon as he dismounted, Holga asked him, “What now?”
Inga calmly replied, “Keep sending men behind the hill to cut off their escape. I will gather up the routed troops and charge the hill again soon.”
At that moment, a burst of flames lit up the almost-night sky in the east. Holda’s newly won outpost was burning! Everyone stopped and looked on in shock and a fuming Holda yelled, “All our supplies were in that camp. Ahh, Forget about it! I will take my men back and see what’s happening.”
Inga snapped out of his own shock and asked, “What of the siege here?”
Holda replied, “Handle it!”
Holda mounted his horse, took his war-glaive, and ran his men back to the camp. With each passing moment, their supplies and loot were burning. Holda knew that once the food started to dwindle, his army would tear itself apart.
After riding hard for what seemed like eternity, though barely half a meile (1), Holda finally reached the outpost. Infront of the burning wreck of his conquest, Holda’s scream pierced the wood and smoke. Vengeful fury and bloodlust took over him as he realized what happened and he charged to catch the fleeing attackers. His men rode with all their might and haste behind their commander but none could catch up. The darkness was no bother at all for Holga and his horse who caught up with the attacking Athenian horsemen one by one and slashed them down. As Holga reached a small stream and the bridge to go across it, he chased down one more and cut him in half from behind with his giant blade.
The water flowing through the stream turned red and the red eyed Holda crossed the bridge, his fury yet unsated. He saw horsemen running towards the cover of the woodlands beyond and gave chase. Once he was halfway across the field, a horn sounded, and 20 horsemen charged him from the woodlands. Lost in the bloodlust, he couldn’t help but savour the moment as he charged into the enemy and swung his mighty glaive killing them one by one. But then he caught something from the corner of his eye.
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Holga stopped and Holga screamed. He screamed a scream that terrified the horses, and none would move forward. Then he wailed with such sorrow that everyone stopped in their tracks. And as Holga’s men caught up and started to charge towards the remaining men, the attacking Athenian horsemen left alive retreated to the woodlands.
Then Holga dismounted his horse and walked to the dead body of his son Rodrik. As he knelt beside him and wept, Freja on top of her wolf slowly appeared from behind Rodrik’s body.From beyond the fog that had gripped the area as if accompanying Freja herself, a howl accompanied Holda’s crying and Freja slowly walked up. He knelt before her and begged her with teary eyes, “Sister, my boy.. he’s... dead.”
Holda’s mind was also a fog and as if bound by a spell of grief, he could not speak anymore. But in the next second, he screamed even louder. And then he continued weeping. Freja said, “My dear brother. He was a handsome boy and your worthy successor. And they took him from you. It was the Athenians. They take our brightest stars and deny us our greatest leaders of the future.”
“But my dear brother, Blarnar is merciful. Blarnar will give you your vengeance. And what’s more, if you bring him the heart of the child of prophecy, he will let you see your son again. Pledge your own blood to his cause brother. Pledge, by your own life, the destruction of Athena and the man who killed your son. Pledge to make him proud. Pledge to gouge the heart from the child of prophecy in his altar. Then, you will drink with your son again. Pledge it my brother.”
Words were no longer necessary. Holda drew his silver dagger, and spilled his blood from his palm. And he said, “I pledge my life to his cause.”
As Holda screamed once more, a drop of water hit his face. As drops became a drizzle and thunder roared above, Holda fell on his knees. And as the drizzle became a pour, with veins popping and waterdrops steaming off his face, he screamed even louder.
Freja smiled, and Holda’s men screamed, “Veni Viktra! Veni Viktra! Veni Viktra!”
--Preview of the Next Chapter--
Traps, Tactics, and Discipline all favor the defending Athenians but Inga has a plan. Will the plan survive contact with the enemy or Inga have to see more of his countrymen die? Find out on of From Fire and Blood ch10 - Inga’s Plan.
---Notes---
1. MEILE: From Ancient Germanic - 7.42km