"TOKE!!!" A Viking yelled, pointing outwards from their longship. Behind them, at least another 10 boats which all carried roughly 40 men.
"Land!!! Hahaha! We've made it boys!!" All the men cheered and started laughing at the sights they would create. "Toke?…" the same Viking asked.
Toke, a man known across the whole wide sea; a bear that towered above all else. He was blessed with formidable physical prowess and his appearance was no different. He always wears maroon armor that shines evidently in unison with his long wild hair, his eyes being a perfect jet-black match.
Toke ignored the man and instead turned around and headed to the middle of the boat. He crouched down and looked at a sleeping woman who's bright blonde hair was in a mess. He looked down at her round belly. "Just how much longer will you make me wait kid…"
"Bjørne," Toke called out. "Are we the only Danes headed towards Norfolk?"
"Ah, yes. Toke, you aren't scared of a measly village are you?" He started to snicker in a joking manner.
Toke's eyes slightly closed as he listened to the sounds of the ocean, the waves hitting the boat, and the sail fighting the wind. His child is traveling even in the womb. It reminded him of his younger self when he would journey with his late father. His father perished in a bloody battle that Toke unfortunately witnessed. The moment he saw his father get struck by an arrow was the moment he no longer took joy in sailing the seas.
It was like a part of the boat had been broken in an irreversible way. His own "boat" started to sink and he can't simply swim out. He needs someone to help him out. The day this happened, a stained memory.
**********************
The battle of Maldon.
Year 991
6 years ago
At the time, Toke was a mere Danish cub. A 15 year old boy. His father felt it was time that Toke went out and experienced more than just exploring the world. They went to a lot of places together which took up the majority of Toke's young life. Visiting France, bad idea, Norway, and even Croatia which took over a whole year there and back.
Toke thought of those pleasant experiences with his loving father but quickly came back to the surreal around him.
KLUSHK
Toke just witnessed another man get stabbed in front of him. An Englishman wearing full armor as well. "Hehe so much for that shiny armor of yours." The Dane said before going to take more souls down to hell as his ladder to Valhalla.
Toke had already barfed more than what he'd admit. He got up from the ground, his leather clothes and rusty helmet becoming sullied in dirt. Not that he really cared about being dirty, it was just that he could feel the blood of others dripping down his sides.
THUMP
His sword unintentionally fell out of his hand. He crouched down to pick the sword up and raised his meeting eyes at the sight of another soldier. The English soldier immediately put both hands on his sword and was visibly shaking. His sword had no blood on it. Neither of them had yet to take a life. That changed that day.
Toke at the moment had barf slipping down the side of his mouth but unlike the English soldier, he was not shaking. Reason being, Toke has seen much death in his life just not things on this level. Still, he developed a sort of immunity to more mild situations involving life and death. In other words, this soldier wasn't something that could shake him up.
Toke then readied his sword as they circled each other within five feet. Toke put his right foot forward, planting it, and thrusting his sword from his hip. The English soldier whimpered and put his sword in front of himself to defend the block but to no avail Toke slipped on the wet mud, falling to the ground and his sword with him.
The English soldier maniacally chuckled as he knew this to be an opening. He stood over Toke and raised his sword high above his head, slashing down. Toke rolled over making the soldier miss.
He grabbed his sword and even though he had blurry vision due to the mud, he swung his sword from left to right. The soldier went around Toke and he slouched down right when the soldier attacked, the soldier fell over Toke into a muddy pool of water.
The soldier kept spitting and tried taking his helmet off. Toke slowly walked towards the soldier as he heard him panicking through the helmet. 'Sounds like an echo…' Toke thought.
Toke raised the sword to chest level, neck level for the sitting duck of a soldier, and held it with one hand, pointing it at the soldier. Toke felt like, and still does, using two hands was a sign of weakness against this soldier. He must signify his strength by using one hand.
He tightened his grip on the sword with his left hand and lunged at the soldier from a few feet away. A clean stab. It went right between the gap of the soldier's helmet and chest piece. Toke heard his whimpers turn into cries. "Let me help you with that." Toke said, helping the soldier take his helmet off whilst the sword stayed in his neck.
Once off, the soldier threw the helmet to the ground as he'd hoped he would be able to safely breathe. He clawed at his throat and Toke felt…nothing. This couldn't be compared to the wonders of sailing the sea. "I hate it." Toke mumbled.
He grabbed the sword with his right hand and kicked off of the soldier to pull the sword out. The grueling sound of flesh being torn resounded in Toke's head. 'Why?' He thought, his eyes big, and holding his head. 'Why does it sound like a sail?!'
He began to freak out. The noise of sail versus wind is something he took joy in. Helping his dad on the ropes. A memory he couldn't allow to be tarnished yet his memory embarked into an uncontrollable call for help. The happy memories had already started to corrupt.
"Father!" He called out. "Father, where are you?!" He was met with nothing other than the screams of dying people. That was his only comfort. His fearful face soon turned modest. His father was out there somewhere in the battle, fulfilling his destiny and here he was having a mental breakdown over old memories. He walked towards the heart of the battle, leaving behind the frightened corpse.
Upon reaching the battle, the English were unfairly outmatched. The Danes had been decimating the levies of the English army. Not even the mercenaries that England hired could better the Danes. The English had formed a defensive wall and Toke witnessed his people merely jump over it or overpower it. The English were not having a good time.
Toke ran into the battle and without hesitation killed English soldiers. He killed and killed so much that he hadn't realized his bent sword. 'Guess it can only go through steel so many times.'
He walked over the dead corpses of both his people and the English until he found a weapon. It was beautiful and Toke couldn't help but be mesmerized by its encapsulating look. It had a brownish red hilt with a pendant in the middle. The pendant was yellow and unable to see throughout the other side but from the front you could see a hammer. Thor's hammer.
He took the sword for his own and went back to his killing spree. He swung his sword so much that he could no longer feel his fingers and had trouble letting go of the sword. "Let me help you out with that." A cultured and calm voice suggested.
"Father!" Toke yelped as he ran into the arms of his dad. Toke happily looked at his savior whose stature never fell to another. Toke felt like his father looked like him, just…with white hairs on both his face and the top of his head. "Onwards!" His father would always say to him as the two of them ventured into the unknown and when he did Toke would picture his maple brown hair that would brush everywhere, covering his face while deeply looking at the sea in front of them.
"Well, how was it my son?"
"It was…" recalling the fight with the English soldier, he got a sting in his head.
"It's alright…you don't have to tell me right now." He responded smilingly.
"Heh yeah…"
"We won't go down that easily!" Someone shouted.
"What the…?" Toke's father muttered.
WHOOSH
"Father!" Toke cried out.
SLISH
"N-no…"
The tragic scene of Toke and his loving father, Frode. What had happened was a small English regiment of men-at-arms consisting of archers and knights. Multiple archers pierced Frode while a knight snuck from behind, stabbing him. "You've spilled too much of our brother's blood." The knight stated.
"They're just w-cough…weak." Frode responded, then turned his head to Toke. "Go…onwards my son. Don't stop. If the sea-'' he was interrupted by another arrow in his stomach. "If the sea can't stop you then nothing can. FLY YOUR SAIL, YOUR PRIDE AS HIGH AS YOU CAN AND NEVER FORGET…YOU ARE A DAANE~~~"
Toke looked down, a single tear on its way down his face. He looked up, opened his eyes, the tear swept away by the wind, and nodded at his father, tossing him his sword.
Toke turned around and ran as fast as his legs could take him and as ran he heard the noises of his father being killed. 'I won't forgive them father…"
Frode put the sword to his chest and received once again, another arrow and stab. He kept the sword to his chest, not using it. He instead, turned his head and gave a headbutt to the knight, his steel helmet falling off. "Kgh! Damn you!" The knight yelled.
"Tell me…cough…what does your god think of killing?"
"God understands why I am doing this! Your false Gods are all sinners and deserve to be punished!"
"So your God believes that killing is okay? Is that what you are saying Christian boy?"
"W-wait n…" the knight questioned himself and made the mistake of taking his eyes off of Frode. Why? They happened to be right next to each other and although Frode knew he was going to meet his end, he decided on going out with a fight. He grabbed the knight by the back of the head and brought him next to his face. "Wh-what?!"
Frode brang his chin up and took a large bite out of his neck. "AHHHHHH! Stop! Stop!"
Frode dug deeper and deeper, even swallowing his blood, not on purpose, and soon a barrage of arrows landed in him. He let go of the knight and walked towards the arrows. He then put both hands onto the sword again and stood still.
Whoosh! Whoosh! Whoosh!
Frode slumped to the ground, already having over 15 arrows in him, and closed his eyes. He died on his knees in front of a dead Christian in a cross position.
This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road; report any instances of this story if found elsewhere.
At this moment in time, Toke was running to a camp that the Danes had set up near the shore. He couldn't head back to the battle as he was too tired and wouldn't be able to fight off people if needed. It is practically all plain grass so he didn't have many places to hide. Instead, he had to swerve from left to right and every now and then slow down to catch them off guard.
He ran down a small hill which led him to the shore. "The English are here!" He shouted for everyone to hear. All the Danes got their weapons ready.
"I call the first kill!" one of the Danes with a spear shouted out.
Two English men peaked over the hill and were met with the sharp end of a spear. They both died. "Hey!" The previous Dane angrily shouted. "I said I called it!" Though they both threw their spear at the same time, another Dane killed one of the two soldiers before he did. The two began an argument and before people asked Toke any questions, he found a canoe. He struggled but eventually got it into the water and threw himself in there. Letting the boat take him back to Denmark.
**************
Present time
The county of Norfolk
"Mother!" A young boy called out, tugging his mother's dress. "A dragon! Roar!!"
"Oh my son…" she said, patting his head. "I'm not joking, mother." He responded pouting.
A sigh left her mouth as she looked off into the sea past the shore. "Gasp!" She explosively reacted, scaring her boy. "Get your sister now!" She commanded her boy.
Immediately after her son rushed into the shack, she heard people yelling similar things.
"Vikings!!!"
"Everyone run!!"
Her heart leaped out of her body as she clutched her chest. "Oliver!" She yelled her son's name. "Where are you, child!"
She looked back towards her house and saw an arrow on fire, a fire dart, hit her roof. The speed at which the fire enveloped the house felt practically instantaneous to her.
She opened the scorching door, burning her hand. "Oliver! Anne!"
"Moth-cough…Mother!" Oliver mustered from under the rubble. "Anne needs help!" She looked to her right, seeing Anne also under debris. She began to panic at the thought of having to choose between her children. She simply couldn't bring herself to save one rather than another. She loves them both to the point that she would die in their stead, so why is it that one of her children may die before herself. Realizing she could no longer ponder this painful choice, she looked to her left, near her son, and saw a man in armor helping him.
The chiseling noise of fire had overtaken the screams of her fellow villagers but when she saw the possible knight all she could hear was the clinking of his armor as he helped Oliver. She didn't care who he was but she knew he was helping.
She dashed to her daughter and threw everything off of Anne. Blisters formed all over her hand with an occasional spark of fire touching her and she finally coddled Anne in her chest. She picked Anne up and escaped the house with Oliver and the unknown man.
The moment they got out of the house she put her hands together and looked at the knight, "Thank you." She said, sobbing.
"Of course." He replied.
He helped them onto their horses and before she could know who he was, he had left, heading deeper into the village where the chaos was at.
In the end she didn't need to know who he was. After all, she looked behind her and saw a flag of a yellow dragon with a red background being carried by a man on a horse.
The English.
*****
Inside the village
KLUSHK!
The sound of Toke ripping his sword out of a dead villager, stepping on their shoulder to pull it out. The body fell to the ground and Toke noticed a flag in the distance.
"Tch."
"Hahahaha!!!!" Bjørne roared. He put on his metal helmet and the other Vikings followed after. Toke heard many screams for help however he could've sworn he heard the scream of his pregnant wife, Elena. Paying it no mind, he rushed off into the battle.
"Gaaaaah!" Elena screamed whilst on her back. "Come on, English lady just push!!" A red head lady beside Elena said. "Gaaah shut it Inga!!"
Her screams of agony blended in with the screams of dying villagers and the now screams of English soldiers being completely and utterly obliterated.
SLISH!!
Toke took another victim except this time it was an English soldier. Then again, not his first time. "Bjørne we outnumber them!!"
"Sh-shit." An English soldier at the frontlines whimpered shortly before he met his demise at the hands of a cold man's look…Toke.
"Sir," a man in steel armor with visible chainmail on his neck said. "We're outnumbered by at least 100 men."
The man he was talking to turned towards him, his brown eyes patent through his headpiece. "Give the order to retreat. Damn Danes…"
Though the battle still raged on as the Danes chased after the retreating English men, Elena had just given birth to a boy inside of a house they took over.
"Took you long enough." Inga snorted.
Elena had no response but instead took her eyes off her newborn son and handed him to another female Viking. "What are you doing?!" Inga demanded.
"Now go" the female Viking dashed out the door with the newborn baby in her arms. Inga rushed after her but another two female Vikings stood in her way. Both looked practically identical with their crimson hair in a ponytail and freckles.
"Get out of the way! That's Toke's heir!" She snarled.
The two female Vikings slightly crouched and readied their spear for Inga. "AHHH!" Inga charged the two Vikings.
The Viking on the left thrusted her spear towards Igna's stomach area but she slid to the left, the opposite side of the other Viking. She grabbed the spear from under and with sheer force pulled it out of her grip.
The other Viking then went for an overhead strike with her spear but Inga blocked with her new spear. Inga pushed her off and front kicked her right in the stomach, making the Viking gag.
The previous Viking then went behind Inga in an attempt to knock her out. Inga ducked the moment she threw an elbow from behind, tossing her over her back and knocking her out cold.
Now it was just one left.
Inga then went to the last standing Viking, picking up the spear on the ground. "Ptooh" she spit, stabbing the Viking right in the heart.
She then looked to the the wooden table Elena had given birth on. Gone. Elena was no longer there.
Inga opened the door and luckily enough, a trail of blood in the direction of the shore. Inga had the advantage in this game of tag as the day had a bright sun shining down and mostly flat plains. The shore is also quite lengthy which gave Inga less of a hard time in this chase because she would only have to look right and left.
She ran as fast as possible and soon saw Elena on a small boat with her child. She had already set sail and although she wasn't far, she is being guarded by a Viking.
"Damn it!" Inga shouted. "I don't have time for this!"
The other Viking got into a defensive position, "sorry Inga."
"Damn you, Astrid"
Inga ran towards Astrid and did something unexpected. Astrid assumed Inga would do close combat but she looked down and saw a spear piercing her stomach. "Cough" she fell flat on her back.
Inga pulled the spear out of Astrid's stomach, "Elena!! Don't make me do this! Stop the boat or I'll have to make you stop!"
Elena looked down at her newborn son, rubbing his head, his cries piercing her ears. "Shh shh" she hushed her baby. She was comforting her child even though she was in worse condition. One could imagine that running away from a Viking immediately after giving birth isn't so good for a person. She was no different. Her eyes currently have dark purple bags and her skin only turned more pale by the minute.
The baby then fell into a slumber and Elena grabbed a paddle, starting to row the boat all by herself. "Have it your way." Inga uttered.
WHOOSH
The sound, similar to that of a kettle pot about to explode, revebrated in Elena's ears as she looked to the sky and saw a wooden spear headed straight for her.
She attempted to dodge but when in such a small vicinity she could only twist her body which she did. The spear went right into the side of her stomach and out the other side, stuck in the bottom of the boat. Fortunately though, it wasn't too deep that it would sink.
She covered her mouth as blood spewed out. She wanted to scream in pain but bottled the agony, squeezing her stomach, resulting in even more pain.
Fortunately, she no longer needed to row the boat as it started to sail on its own. She slowly started to lose consciousness whilst looking at her son. Everything became muffled as she heard the ear piercing and annoying screams of Inga. "Jo-cough…John…".
**********
Back in the battle
Toke has taken the lives of at least 30 men. His body showed no injuries as he carried on, chasing after the retreating English soldiers. "Kill them all!!!" Toke roared, lifting his sword high in the air.
All his men responded with their own roars, all in unison. Toke saw a man being protected more than anyone else on the field. "Their commander…"
"Uh s-sir…what's that." The young English soldier beside the commander asked.
"Hmm?" Turning his head to look. "Shit! Animals! All of them!"
Toke, currently headed for the commander, is bathed in guts and blood, the red on his body darker than his hair. "Hiya!" The commander made his horse trot faster.
"Not that easy…" Toke whispered under his breath.
He ran at a horseman coming towards him, grabbing him and tossing him off. He took his bow and quivers, leaving for the commander. He grabbed a quiver, drawing it, and carefully
calming himself before releasing the arrow.
WHOOOSH
One of the commander's men had been struck by an arrow directly in the eye, causing him to yelp at the top of his lungs.
"Tsk…I was a little off."
Toke repeated the process and this time paid extra attention to his aim. Believing he had the shot, he let loose.
"Sir!" The young soldier said, forcing his horse to take the arrow for the commander. His horse tumbled up on him, compelling him to suffocate under his own horse.
The commander now had nobody left to guard him as he kept kicking his horse in panic. Just like the others, he could not dodge the impending arrow of death.
SWISH
"Gaaaah!!" The commander let out, falling to the ground after being struck in the shoulder. He quickly rose to his feet to look for his horse. He completely spun around before he noticed in the corner of his eye, his horse running off into the hills.
He slumped to the ground in order to regain his thoughts but was interrupted when a shadow covered his own. He turned around and saw Toke standing there, sword in hand. The commander stumbled backwards and after an embarrassing moment, he unsheathed his sword.
"Boring." Toke said.
The commander summoned a loud howl as he headed towards his end. "For Wessex!!!"
SHLINK!
CRACK!
Toke had sunk his sword in the commander's neck, forcing him to choke on his own blood. Toke left the sword there as he found it slightly amusing that the commander didn't know if it would be better to pull it out or not. In the end, he didn't act and died in his own pool of blood.
Toke got back on the horse, leaving the sword in the now dead commander's neck. Most importantly, it wasn't even his own sword. It was a sword he had picked up from a dead English soldier along the chase. This added to his amusement as he found a bit of irony in it.
Toke shortly arrived back in the original area they fought. Utter destruction and ultimate defeat. The battle was between two small forces yet no matter the size, death could still be smelt.
Toke walked over the dead men. The clinks of armor and sound of men suffocating in mud or from hyperventilating. "Weak. The English are weak." As he walked, a man grabbed his leg. Toke looked down at the sorry sight of a soldier. The kid's eye had been stabbed and blood covered all of his teeth. The chain main on his neck, broken, hung from the outside of his armor.
"Lost the fight did you?" Toke pondered. The kid responded with a cough which was an attempt of a spit. "Good try. I'll send you to your Devil and put you out of your misery into a worse one." The kid's face became gloomy at the words and tried pleading for his life yet he couldn't even utter an actual understandable word. It all sounded like gibberish. Bjørne laughed as he thought the kid just had bad education whilst Toke knew that although he couldn't stand, he was on his knees and his hands together.
He could even picture the way the kid looked. His steel armor that had a cross implemented in the middle of the chest piece. It brings Toke joy to make Christian believers into hypocrites.
He grabbed Bjørne's sword out of his hands, Bjørne revolting with words, and lifted the sword high with one hand. Toke then used his other arm and put it into a sideways position and placed it right in the middle of the sword. A cross.
The kid's face then changed, resentful of Toke as he mocked his God. He cursed over and over, 'I'll kill you, I'll kill you.'
Toke smirked and gave the kid his divine judgment. Even better for Toke, it was a Sunday.
The kid's life bled out and Toke turned around, handing the sword back to Bjørne. "Bjørne, how many of us are dead."
"Uh…1…4…10…what's after 10 again? Hehe…" rubbing the back of his head. "Just tell me the two numbers that Ulf wrote."
"Yeah no yeah of course…3 and…1?"
"Thirty-one."
"Yes!"
"Make sure they all went to Valhalla and then send them off."
Toke headed back for the village which still had an occasional scream from a villager found hiding. Toke arrived at the designated area for Elena to stay during the battle. He opened the creaky door, "She isn't in there." A voice from behind said.
He turned around, "Inga?"
"They left…" she expressed in anger. "Just what the hell are you saying?!"
"I'm saying they left! Elena and your child left!"
"You said…my child? Elena gave birth!?"
"Yes. It is a boy. She is a traitor. She took your boy!"
"I see…a boy?…Halfdan."
**********
Shore of Gwynedd
5 days later
"What's all the commotion about?" An elderly lady asked her neighbor.
"Apparently some random lady and a baby landed on shore!"
"Wh-what?"
"Sorry, no time to explain, I have to see this!" He said his farewells and ran to the shore.
The elderly lady held her dress up so that it wouldn't touch the ground as she hurried to the commotion. Everybody stood in complete disfiguration of the sight.
A woman who's blood filled the small boat, her hair drenched in blood, changing the color of her hair to a dirty red wine, with her wailing child coddled in her arms. She had died yet she still protected her child from death.
"She has a note in her hand!" One of the villager shouted. People were curious but with curiosity came fear. Somebody who's this messed up isn't somebody you'd want to mess with. The villagers all felt like that except the elderly woman.
She pushed past the people the best she could and leaned into the boat, almost slipping and losing her balance. She grabbed the baby first and held it out to another one of the villagers who looked at her in confusion. "Well come on this baby ain't gonna walk to you!" The villager then took the baby in his arms and the elderly woman proceeded to take the note from Elena's deceased corpse.
"Well I guess it can't be too bad…if she has a note then that means she could've been English right? There's no way those ravages could know how to write."
All the villagers agreed and soon helped the elderly woman. All the villagers kept bugging the elderly woman for what the note said. "Come on Isabella tell us already!"
Isabella squinted her eyes, "John…it says John." She turned her head to the baby, walking to him and taking him back into her hands, out of the villagers. She wiggled her face in the baby's face who made a "coo" sound in response.
"Well you must be John."