Vylder began making his way towards home. He didn’t walk so much as stroll along the main path towards his cottage, taking deep breaths of the cool night air. As he ambled along, he thought to himself that it was a good year. However, it would be the last year before Erik went off to meet his service obligation.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a streak of light moving upwards. Momentarily dismissing it as a shooting star, he suddenly froze as the realisation came to him. The light was moving up! While he watched, the fire arrow reached its zenith and begin its descent.
Snapping out of his momentary shock, he started running home, shouting his warning into the night air. “To arms! To arms! To arms!”
Venna was just climbing into bed when she heard Vylder’s loud voice. He was shouting as he approached the outside. As she realised what he was shouting about, she bolted over to the dresser, grabbed her trouse and a tunic, and quickly donned them. She cracked open her trunk to retrieve her equipment. Her black leather armour had black steel lamellar panels stitched into it. The sword had a single-handed whale bone grip, with a thirty-inch double edged broad blade, and her wooden round shield was deep red with black protection runes covering the surface, a black steel domed boss at its centre. Venna donned them as she ran to rouse her sons.
As she burst into their room, the urgency was clear by her perturbed expression. “Get up! We’re under attack!”
Erik and Orn shot up out of bed, unable to believe that they heard right, but impulsively moving to their mother, regardless. Venna was already moving to the door as Vylder burst in and grabbed his war hammer from its place, hanging in the corridor.
It was a vicious-looking weapon. The wooden haft was approximately four feet long. It had a leather-wrapped two-hand grip covering the bottom half of the weapon with a leather thong attached to the base of the handle. Reinforcing the haft was an iron straddle rivetted along its length to prevent it from being chopped in half during a fight. The striking side was a flat square, warped at its corners, making it look like a primitive meat tenderiser. On the backside of its head was a thick, curved spike. There was also a spike atop the hammerhead, allowing it to be used as a short spear.
Orn asked, “What are we supposed to fight with?”
“You two will keep your mouths closed and stay behind us. Where are they, Vylder? What did you see?”
“A flaming arrow. I didn’t see anyone. But I’m as sure that was a signal to them, as I am the sun is bright.”
“All right, let’s try to get everyone into the forest. We don’t know who or how many they are, so our best option is to run and stay out of sight”
“You get Brenda and Selti and take them and the boys away from the village. I’ll start rounding up everybody I can find and send them after you.”
With that, they all ran out of their house. Vylder took off, heading to the outskirts and the Hagen’s place. Venna and their two boys dashed over to the Sogard cottage. As they arrived, Brenda and Selti were already coming out their front door, worried expressions on their faces. “What’s happening?”
Venna gestured for Brenda to lower her voice as she spoke in a hushed tone. “Vylder thinks we’re under attack, and he is not one to jump at shadows, so I’m inclined to agree.”
“Gods help us.”
“What will we do?” Selti asked in her soft voice, as she started trembling.
“For now, let’s head for the trees and then we’ll figure it out from there. Come on, follow me.” Venna moved ahead, shield forward, sword held low, relaxed but ready. She moved with a dancer’s grace, as her eyes scanned constantly for any threats.
Orn grabbed Selti’s hand and reassured her, as Erik watched to the rear and kept his eye out for Vylder. They heard battle cries and some screams as the enemy descended upon their village.
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Selti’s face drained of all colour, as tears streamed down her cheeks and a soft whimpering cry escaped her lips despite her efforts to stifle it with her hand. The worst of their nightmares had manifested into reality. After moving a short distance, it became too much for her as she froze and hyperventilated, looking about herself frantically. Brenda dropped back next to her and spoke to her in a calm voice, adding to Orn’s reassurances. “You’re all right. We’re getting to safety, we just have to keep moving. Come on, Selti. We’re all right…”
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
Vylder moved quickly and silently. His footfalls made no sound, a difficult feat for a man of his size, but accomplished through his experience as first a hunter, and then as a warrior. He was born in Bruderman, a Halder nation far to the north, locked in ice for half the year. The land of the berserk, a hard land that produced even harder men.
Seeing the glint of metal reflecting the dim moonlight, he changed direction. He circled around, following the fence line while crouching over to keep his profile low. As he slowly approached, he could hear two hushed voices speaking in Nevan. The two men in banded armour with piked helms walked along as they held their quiet conversation. They had no inkling that death was stalking them from behind. He closed the distance with slow, deliberate steps. Not fearful of these men in particular, more so that he wanted to take them down silently and not draw attention from their comrades.
His eyes glinted in the moonlight, his anger boiling to the surface. He pushed the anger back down, lest it consume him. As soon as Vylder could reach the men with his weapon, he swung a vicious cross swipe, leading with the spike on the back side of his hammer. It struck the first man in his helmet, punched through, tearing his helmet off and taking half his skull with it.
The force of the blow drove him into his companion, causing the two men to fall in a heap. Now frantic, the dead man pressed him into the ground, as he struggled to rise. While trying to wrestle himself free, the downed raider thought ‘What just happened? What is on my face?’ He looked up, and for an instant, he saw it. Something impossible moved towards him. He thought, ‘This cannot be human, the size is just too…wrong’. Stepping out of the shadows, the moonlight fully revealed the giant as he raised a weapon over his head. As they made eye contact, the raider’s eyes widened as he let out a blood-curdling scream.
The scream cut short as Vylder brought his hammer down onto his chest. His hammer caved the armour in at the centre, smashing the raider’s sternum into the organs it was supposed to protect. Then he jogged in silence back toward the village centre.
He cursed silently at the noise as he looked around. Then he shrugged his shoulders at no one in particular. “Ah well, there’s no help for it.”
ᚲᚺᚱᛟᚾᛁᚲᛚᛖᛊᚱᛁᚾᚾ×ᛟᚱ×ᛟᚱᚾ
They could hear the clash of weapons and heard a blood-chilling scream that cut off as suddenly as it had begun, and after a few moments, Vylder came bounding towards them. He pulled Venna aside, and told her quietly between breaths, “They’re trying to encircle us and move inwards. They’re wearing Nevan Legion clothing and equipment, but they aren’t real coordinated. Deserters maybe? I can’t be certain, because why would they come here and then attack instead of trying to blend in and hide?”
“Focus, dear.”
“Right, right. The way I just come from is clear for now. I took down two of them, so if you hurry that way, you should be able to break through easy enough. I’ll hang back and cover you.”
“What about the people over there?”
His eyes looked downwards and back up into hers. Shaking his head, he said, “I didn’t see anyone. Get them to safety.” and he turned and headed on toward the square.
Venna hesitated for a second and made to argue. Instead, with a sorrowful and worried expression, she said, “I love you.”
“I love you too, Venna. Now go!”
Venna signalled the others to follow and headed away from the town square in the direction from which Vylder had come. Orn was still looking back towards his father heading to the fire pit as first one, then two arrows appeared in Vylder’s left thigh. It looked as though tufts of feathers on long stems had blossomed out of his leg. His father dropped to his left knee as four men in banded armour and round piked helmets moved to surround him.
The coals in the pit were still glowing, and Orn could feel the throbbing of his pulse in his temple, the pounding of his heart, and the rushing of blood. A strangled cry burst forth from his throat as rage overcame him. He extended his arms toward the fire pit, his fingers curled, giving his hands the appearance of talons. His thoughts turned to flames as he envisioned them engulfing the men attacking his father, and then!
The dying fire pit suddenly roared into life as a giant flame erupted and surrounded the nearest two soldiers, like a phoenix wrapping them in wings of fire. Angry flames covered the two men, causing them to scream in agony as their bodies’ nerves and flesh seared, slowly turning to charcoal. Then Orn felt a thud and heard a strange high-pitched whining sound. The world started tipping to its side and everything faded to black.