It's said of the day Haralðr arrived, that before the battle began Si'gvejg was seen talking to Gi'sli with tears in her eyes. He stood resolute and patted her hand. No one knows what they spoke of, but they say she was warning him of his fate in the coming confrontation.
Gi'sli wore his steel-weave tunic and a helmet.
A shepherd was the first to see the ships sailing up the fjord and he ran to tell Gi'sli, who called all the inhabitants of Hjænda'ta together. He put the orc-women and children in his hall at the top of the hill while those who could fight stood on the palisade.
Some orc-men had their bows ready while others held javelins or throwing axes, but the main body of orc-men stood on the ground by the gate, along with Ulvrin' and the men He'lgi had brought from England. Þo'rvalðr stood on the wall with his bow at the ready, standing next to Gi'sli, He'lgi, and Si'gvejg. No one now knows for sure how many orc-men Gi'sli had gathered together, but some say it was no more than a hundred, and Haralðr had as many or more.
The ships landed at the boatyard, which was well outside the range of the archers. Haralðr wore a helmet and chainmail armour as he approached the wall and called out:
“Gi'sli Þo'rvalðs'on! There's no need for us to fight today. Hand over Si'gvejg Halþo'rsdot'ir and the Finns they call Ulvrin', Ylgrin', and Gjorbu and we'll be on our way in peace.” Haralðr went on trying with words of this kind to convince Gi'sli to peacefully hand over the wanted persons, but Gi'sli would hear none of it. At last, the chief gave up and went back to the boatyard.
Then, Haralðr's warriors came forward carrying ladders. Some held shields up and behind them came the ladder-bearers with still more orc-men advancing behind them while the rest waited in reserve. Archers loosed several volleys of arrows, but most hit the shields.
“He'lgi.” Gi'sli said, “On my mark.” Gi'sli ran down to the ground to join the orc-men by the gate before waving his sword at his son.
He'lgi held a rune-staff in his hands and stood over the gate. He raised the rune-staff high, then brought it down with full force on the walkway. Suddenly, a blazing fire ignited in the circle of rune-staves around Hjænda'ta. With the fire behind them, the forward element of Haralðr's force were now cut off from the rest of them.
“Now!!” Shouted He'lgi: two orc-men opened the gates and the Hjænda'taskar streamed out, screaming as they charged into the enemy line ahead of them. A confused melee ensued as Gi'sli's warriors cut down the shieldbearers in front while those with the ladders dropped them and retreated into their own lines, breaking up their ranks just as the Hjænda'taskar hit them. Orc-men and men fought as individuals and small packs as any sense of group cohesion quickly devolved into a brawl. Þo'rvalðr and the other archers pelted the enemy with arrows; now that their formation was broken, many more arrows hit flesh instead of wood and leather.
From behind the cluster of buildings at the waterfront, a man approached the battle. He wore a black cloak over a white robe and the hair on the middle of his head was shaved bald, leaving the edges growing short. In one hand, he carried a staff with a cross fixed to the top of it, hanging from his belt was a book, and around his neck a circular amulet.
The sight of the man, who was nearly head and shoulders shorter than the orc-men around him, caused Þo'rvalðr to stop. Although there was nothing obviously intimidating about him, the man gave Þo'rvalðr an uneasy feeling. “Who's that?” he asked He'lgi, “What's he doing?”
“Oh no...” He'lgi murmured in response. The strange man was chanting in Latin and walked straight into the fire. Without showing any hint of pain, he picked up the nearest rune-staff and pressed his amulet against it. As one, the runes on all the staves glowed pure white and all of them—including the one in Hel'gi's hands—broke in two. Burn marks were now where the runes had been.
“The one with the cloth!” shouted Si'gvejg; “Þo'rvalðr, you have to shoot him!”
Þo'rvalðr loosed an arrow at the man, but missed. He loosed another, and another, but they also missed.
“What's happening? Why can't you hit him?” Si'gvejg demanded,
“I don't know.” Þo'rvalðr said, “I aim at him, but my arrows veer off as if they have a mind of their own.”
As this was going on, the battle continued unfolding below them. With the fire out of the way, the rest of Haralðr's orc-men surged forward, but were slowed by arrows from the wall. The Hjænda'taskar broke off and fled for the gate. Only a few, including Gi'sli, stood their ground to allow the others to escape.
One orc-man charged at Gi'sli. Drawing his sword-arm back for an attack, he hit Gi'sli's arm directly with the edge of his short sword, but it didn't cut through the sleeve. Gi'sli cut off his weapon-arm before running him through. Another thrust at Gi'sli with a spear, but it glanced off Gi'sli's tunic and he slashed the orc-man across the belly. A third went for Gi'sli as well, but Ulvrin' pounced from behind and killed him.
The man in the robe continued forward, still chanting in Latin, until he was only a few paces from Gi'sli. On the wall, Si'gvejg raised her hand toward the man, who snapped his gaze up toward her. His amulet was decorated with a cross and a Latin inscription around its circumference: he grabbed it and held it out toward Si'gvejg: a white light erupted from in front of her along with a loud boom that knocked her backward.
Seeing this from below, Gi'sli swung at the man, who raised his staff. When the sword hit the staff, it bounced off as if the staff was made of steel. While Gi'sli recovered his balance, the man stepped forward and, taking his amulet in his palm, placed his hand on Gi'sli's chest. There was a flash of light around Gi'sli and his arms fell to his sides as he stood staring forward in a daze. Haralðr himself threw a javelin which impaled Gi'sli through the chest.
“Father!” Þo'rvalðr and He'lgi shouted at once: as Þo'rvalðr nocked another arrow, however, Ulvrin' lunged at the man in the robe, knocking him over, while a Hjænda'task dragged Gi'sli toward the gate. The man in the robe brought up his staff in time to hold Ulvrin' at bay with it, and the rest of Haralðr's warriors were almost on top of them. Ulvrin' jumped off the man and ran for the gate.His teeth left deep marks on the staff where Gi'sli's sword couldn't cut.
However, the gate was still some distance away and Haralðr's orc-men were following closely and hurling javelins at the Hjænda'taskar still outside. As they all converged on the open gate, though, Si'gvejg stepped in the way. The remaining Hjænda'taskar ran past her, and when the last one was in, she threw up her hands: the charging orc-men stopped in their tracks, buying just enough time for the gates to be closed and barred.
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Haralðr recalled his force for the day and they retreated back to the boatyard, taking the siege ladders with them and leaving only the scattered dead on the field.
* * *
Gi'sli was brought to the hall, but by then he'd breathed his last. They laid him in a bed and his family mourned him. As they were gathered around they body, Si'vejga stripped off his tunic and felt the fabric. She took a knife and cut through it.
“I've never seen anything cut through an steel-weave tunic like that.” Said He'lgi,
“It's lost its weave. Here, can you feel it?” Si'gvejg handed it to him. He just nodded. It's said that when a vǫlva-weaved tunic is held in the hands, it feels like a living thing in some inexplicable way.
So many arrows had been spent in the day's fighting that they spent the evening and into the night making more. He'lgi took a straight piece of wood and fletched it. He then prepared the arrowhead. Þo'rvalðr offered him an iron arrowhead, but He'lgi took a bone from his bag instead and pared it to a sharp point. He then carved two runes into it. On one side, he carved the rune ᚠ, called Os'r. On the other side, He'lgi carved ᛏ, called Ty'r.
“This is a message from Ty'r.” he said, and handed it to Þo'rvalðr, “Tomorrow, when the moment is right, I'll call on Vǫ'li. You'll use this arrow, and this time it won't miss.”
“What kind of sorcerer was that?” Þo'rvalðr asked as he took it,
He'lgi didn't answer immediately. “That was a Frankish priest.” He said at last;
“I've never seen anything that can just knock arrows out of the way like that.”
“They have powerful lore. The realms to the south are all beholden to the Christian Church, and they'll allow no one to use lore except their own clergy members.”
“What he used on me wasn't lore.” said Si'gvejg, “It was... like a hole sucking up my energy and throwing it back in my face. I suspect that's what he did to Gi'sli's tunic, too.”
“You remember that woman I mentioned, the one they made powerless by tattooing her?” He'lgi said, “The Church has a lore that can break the power of the gods.”
“What makes you think this arrow will do any good then?” asked Þo'rvalðr;
“Because I have a plan. It'll take all three of us working together, but we should be able to pull it off.”
In the evening, guards on the walls saw some of the besiegers go up to the forest to cut trees and bring them back to the boatyard. Early in the morning, they built mantlets. It was early afternoon by the time they were finished, at which point besiegers and besieged alike made ready for another assault.
The bulk of the force stood at a safe distance. Among them were the Frankish priest and Haralðr. They watched as the vanguard wheeled the mantlets forward with the ladders carried behind them. The two sides exchanged arrows, most of them hitting the mantlets or ramparts. When the mantlets came close, most of the vanguard stayed behind them while the ladders were brought up to the walls. Two orc-men carried each ladder, with two more protecting them with shields. The ladders' feet were spiked so they bit into the ground: one orc-man drove a metal spike with a loop on one end into the wall. There was a rope tied to each ladder. The ropes were threaded through the loops as the ladders came down and tied there.
With the ladders secured, Haralðr and the rest of his orc-men hurried forward to join the fray as the vanguard climbed the ladders. A fight broke out on the battlements when they reached the top. It didn't take long before the defenders were pulling back, trying to form a shieldwall as Haralðr's reinforcements came up and pushed harder against them. In the claustrophobic chaos of shields clanging and bodies pressing toward one another, many dropped their spears and surged forward with their knives instead. Mad with bloodlust, they shoved and pushed against each other with their shields, lashing out savagely with their knives until they and the battlements were soaked with blood. The attackers had to step over the bodies of the dead as the Hjænda'taskar retreated further.
It was then that Si'gvejg came up to the battlement. She stretched out her hand toward the battle and spoke words that have not been recorded. Those who were there that day thought the sun shone a little dimmer when she did so, and the attackers stopped pushing forward. Fear showed in their eyes—all except for Haralðr's—and they looked around as if seeing something no one else could. A cloud of sheer darkness appeared above their heads, starting small but growing slowly.
As soon as Si'gvejg came into view, the Frankish priest strode forward confidently, once again chanting in Latin. Haralðr urged him not to rush forward so hastily, or at least to find some cover, but the man paid him no heed. He stopped near one of the mantlets, took off his amulet, and flung it into the air above the heads of the attackers on the wall. Instantly, the cloud of darkness dissipated in a flash of light and the sun shone like it should.
As the amulet left the priest's fingers, however, Þo'rvalðr and He'lgi sprung up from behind the rampart. Þo'rvalðr already had the rune-bone arrow knocked so it took only a second to draw, aim, and release it. As he did so, He'lgi said this poem:
O Vǫ'li Son of O'ðilðr: god of yew and bowmen.
Behold I call on thee: instead of this common archer.
O Ty'r toward thee I turn my gaze: now come here.
Deliver our message by your power: increase the renown of us and yourselves both.1
The priest raised his voice and his staff, with the cross pointed toward Þo'rvalðr and He'lgi. The rune-bone arrow slowed to a crawl, then stopped mid-flight. With each word spoken by He'lgi, it jerked forward just a little, but it seemed it would not make it through the priest's barrier.
Then, there was a shout from Si'gvejg: the priest looked up and saw she had his amulet, which she threw back at him. Before it even hit him, there was a bright flash of light and a loud boom. When the stars had ceased dancing in everyone's eyes, they looked down to see the man laying on the ground with the arrow sticking out of his heart.
Si'gvejg stretched out her hand again and the darkness returned. Filled with renewed vigour, the Hjænda'taskar charged, stabbing bellies and slashing throats, forcing the disheartened foe back to their ladders, but they didn't break. Chief Haralðr stood at their head. Sword in hand, he reached over one orc-man's shield to cleave his skull in two and slammed into another, knocking him off the wall.
“You think to bewitch me heathen, but I'm not afraid of your spells!” The chief shouted at Si'gvejg. Hearing this, Þo'rvalðr dropped his bow and took his sword and shield, pushing his way through the crowd of Hjænda'taskar until he came face to face with Haralðr. Others continued fighting around them as the two traded blows tersely. To the right, two orc-men, shields pressed together, tried to stab each other and to the left, one orc-man who'd kept hold of his spear was keeping another at bay.
Haralðr swung high and would have chopped Þo'rvalðr's head off, but the latter ducked and cut into his opponent's leg below the shield. The chief fell to his knees and tried to raise his shield, but Þo'rvalðr knocked it away with his own, then decapitated Haralðr.
As the head flew through the air and landed on the battlement, a terrible cry arose from the besiegers, and they started jumping off the wall to flee for their ships with the Hjænda'taskar on their heels. It's said that out of every ten orc-men who attacked Hjænda'ta, nine never left.