I adjust my helm as the Fate Finisher sails along the coast toward the inlet where the three ships are claimed to be held. Spies deal in deceit and tricks so trusting the word of an enemy spy never comes easy. Even if there aren’t any ships it’ll still be a fight. I’m happy to kill Grimward warriors either way. Around me our Viknar adjust their armor and ready their weapons. They’ve fought hard these last weeks and yet they remain ready and willing to fight. I couldn’t be prouder. On either side of the ship the crew man their stations at the oars joined by a handful of Sundvik sailors. Pulling their mighty vessel with heavy strokes and open sail. They are no calm water men and women and they have been armed and trained to defend this longship with their lives. Still, I fear I have sent them to their deaths as we follow the coast further north.
Thrand made the battle plans for this raid. He’s far better at naval matters than I am so I’m happy to let him take the lead. Between coordinating our efforts in this war and keeping our affairs back home in order I’m glad my only part in this is ground command. We spot the ships as we round the southern corner of the entrance. We make no effort to hide our approach. Thrand rends the rhythmic sound of the tide with a blast from a war horn. A long sonorous howl erupts from the instrument as several dozen Grimward arm themselves to meet us.
“We are the storm!” I roar. Our band replies in kind with their own chorus of roars and battle cries as Thrand banks the ship to position the starboard side of this ship facing the beach.
“Landfall!!!” The shared command from the ground element breaks over the cacophony of commands and shouts from the defending Grimward. As one we leap from our longship and crash into the thigh deep tide with fury. Arrows and spears whistle past and into us as we rush toward our foe. I hear cries of pain and muttered curses as they find their mark. To our left a second warpack of grimward raiders move to a longship to try and hold off Thrand and the sailors as they begin their task of freeing our stolen ships. I refocus and rush forward with the Viknar, Valla and Lillith close behind. Our enemy meets us with a skirmish line, half their force appears to be hunters and scouts. Lighter armor but riddling our line with arrow fire. In the center a well armed and armored woman leads the formation, barking commands before all order is lost in the organized chaos. She leads well, but I’ve brought the greatest killers of my clan to bear and we hunger for blood.
We form our own shield wall, tighter as we need no openings for archers. And crash into their line, the surf quickly fills with blood and Grimward bodies. Their archers rip into our line, punishing our every misstep. But their hunters and scouts are no match for the caliber of warrior that is the Stormjarl Viknar. Try as they might, they can’t withstand our assault. I move toward the left side of our line. I glimpse Valla raining down blows in a practiced flurry of heavy handed strikes shattering shields and bodies as she and Lillith press into the fray. Lilith’s shield is full of arrows and her sword flashes out pouring more Grimward blood into the sand with each strike. I look to the ships, prepared to redirect now that we’ve pushed onto the beach. I’m greeted by the sights and sounds of slaughter as the other warpack tries and fails to hold off Thrand and the crew from capturing the ships. The water surrounding the two ships is full of blood and bodies. The deck of the Fate Finisher is a maw of axes and spears. Thrand leads the fight with practiced efficiency giving commands between bouts of swift strikes with his long axe. Durnir and Saga stand amongst the crew. Having some experience in sailing Thrand figured he’d do well on the ship and she would do well helping defend with her spear. They prove him right as he and Saga spear and hack into any foe foolish enough to try and board our drakkar.
A horn bellows from the Grimward line as their leader now sporting a fresh gash through her armored shoulder calls for a reforming of the line. We give them no mercy, hacking into them as they flee. I’m more in my element in the attack. I’ve weathered enough punishment, it’s my turn to punish them. I’m a flow of metal and fury. All the world fades as I face any still willing to stand against me and my warriors. I slash and thrust through armor and flesh howling my savage song with every kill. Swift blocks and parries turn into crushing counters as I deal death to the men and women who bring my people war. In minutes I’m a mess of gore. Drunk on the glory.
“Bryech, Get out of there!” Thrand yells out over the battle. I turn and see the Sundvik sailors casting off. Having used their deft hands and sailing skill to get two of the ships ready to move. I hate to leave the third but we’re already stretched thin as it is. Push too far and we risk far more than bruised pride.
“Break contact, back to the ships!” I roar. We usually preach a coordinated retreat but we knew this was probably going to be a hasty getaway. Our warpack breaks ranks covering themselves as they scramble back to the Fate Finisher and the other two ships. Viknar rush to man the oars of the reclaimed longships and quickly set them back toward the coast. Arrows fly behind us trying futilely to stop us from our mission. No such luck for them. The water is cold as I climb the side of our drakkar. Not so cold I don’t feel the sting of an arrow punch into my body. I scream in pain as Thrand hauls me over the edge. We land with a thud on the deck as he pulls me from the danger.
“What happened?” Thrand asks. As he steadies himself.
“I got shot in the ass!” I respond. Wincing at the pain in my right buttock. Thrand looks at the wound and laughs. Through the pain I join him and so does much of the crew as we move back to the sea and arrows rain into the waters of the inlet. With Thrand’s help I remove the arrow and limp my way to the bow. Taking stock of the other ships I’m flooded with relief as we account for all of our warriors. No one came away unscathed though as everyone sports fresh wounds. Arrows riddle our Viknar, but they stand proud. Hooting and hollering their victory over our foe. I let out my own howl as we make our way back to Sundvik.
The people of Sundvik cheer at our approach and they flood the longship docks to welcome their people back to safety. Loved ones greet their sailors and the people praise us as we disembark. All of us limp to the great hall, which has been turned into a temporary barracks to house all the warriors and adventurers who come to help fight. Wounded men and women fill the beds. Most of them from neighboring settlements that fell to the swift raids of Grimward in the opening days of this war.
I move to the area set aside for the healers to ask for Ylva’s help patching us up.
“Ylva, you’re gonna love this.” I say before stopping dead in my tracks. She’s asleep, curled up on a cot holding the spare tunic for Toralf she’s carried with her since we left Ulvesal. She holds it like a child would their first blanket. And I can see it’s stained with tears. She has cared for the people of Sundvik and the surrounding villages body and soul. I know she’s as exhausted as the rest of us and her grief saps even more of her strength. I turn back into the hall to find one of the new healers she has trained. They could use the practice.