People were running. And screaming. Panic was thick in the air as they continued towards a hope of safety. Ylva could feel the burning in her chest like fire. Rage at their situation burned through her as she kept a close eye on Fritha, running beside her. She shouldn’t have to be running at all, not this close to having had surgery. “Bryech and Toralf must be doing a good job holding them off for us to get this far,” she thought.
Just as they reached a small plot of crop fields of a local farmer, Ylva heard screaming. This was not fearful screaming, but that low, vicious, anger-filled scream that accompanied a warrior who was about to push past the point of when others would have fallen in combat. She listened hard, filtering out the other screams and sounds of hard falling footsteps around her. That was her MATE screaming.
“Fritha, I’m heading back” Ylva said, turning on her heel to double back.
“NO” Fritha called out. “You gave your weapon to Valla, it would be unwise to go back”
“Bryech is going to need help carrying Toralf out!” Ylva called back, still heading towards the fray. But she ran into something unexpected, Bryech, empty-handed, a look of shame on his face.
Ylva was now more anxious than she had ever been in her life. “Where is he?” she cried out, desperation coating her words.
“He fell.” Bryech choked out through labored breath. It had been clear he had been fighting hard, both physically and mentally, as he was coming to grips with what happened.
“No. NO!” Ylva cried out, panic gripping her heart. She started running. Back toward where Bryech had just come from. Back to her mate. He had been in worse conditions before. If she could get to him, she just knew he would make it. Suddenly, arms flew around her middle and gripped her in a tight bear-hug from behind.
“There’s nothing you can do, Ylva” Bryech said gravely as he held her in place and she struggled against him. “Toralf wouldn’t want you to put yourself at risk like this.”
Bryech knew they still weren’t safe where they were, they had to continue.
“Come on, we can’t stop. We will get our revenge. But to do that, we need to regroup with our allies.” They continued on, regrouping with Fritha and the others. They pushed on into the night, avoiding any signs of Grimward. Many thoughts raced through Bryech’s head as he tried to make sense of what had happened.
Today was supposed to be a day of peace, cooperation. A time for the people of Mardrun to stand together after many trials. Instead it was a day for blood. Blood soaks his blades, his hands, his heart. The slash across Bryech’s forearm stung in that never familiar way, but still, that hurt less than the sense of failure which tortured him. Bryech bandaged his arm on the move, the entire time he could only see Toralf, slipping from his grasp.
“I couldn’t stop him, I couldn’t save him.” The thoughts repeated in his head.
He died well. A storm of steel and fury. The loss grips Bryech, the fear of what he must do next more so. They hadn’t stopped moving for long since Grimward gave up the chase for whoever didn’t make it out when the Nightriver warpack tried to break the hold Grimward and their Stonetooth messenger had on the meeting place. They could still see the smoke from the camps being taken. Jarl Layla Nightriver leads the ragtag remainder of the assembled groups to the safety of a secondary Nightriver camp. Moving east toward the road through The Pass. As the sun falls ever lower Bryech’s worry for the rest of the Einherjar grows. Fritha was in no shape to fight after her arrow wound. Bryech does his best to hide his fear from the others, especially Saldis and Amya. They’re less experienced and less prepared for this violence. Valla, Lillith, and Fritha hold steady, they have more experience. But he knows they fear the same as he does. Cenarae seems to hold up well for a human. Bryech takes note. Lastly, Ylva. Rage and anguish ebb and flow across her like the tide. A sudden uproar snaps the group to attention. A hasty series of commands is whispered and the group falls to the underbrush. Hiding from the approaching group. IN the fading light they bear torches and Grimward banners. Bryech scans the group and sees something that causes dread to grip him. Toralf, tied to the discarded banner of the Einherjar, being pulled in a cart piled with bodies of those fallen in the defense. Bryech grabs Ylva before she can see and holds a hand over her mouth keeping her pinned to the ground with him. The sob that escapes into his hand is indescribable. And Ylva’s struggle is almost too much for Bryech. Fritha’s pommel strikes with practiced efficiency, and in an instant Ylva is unconscious. It does little to ease Bryech’s struggle. They spout insults to Stormjarl, they goad the group to attack. Bryech can hear blades unsheathe in the darkness behind him. Bryech struggles to act. He could do it, he could save his friend. But it would cost everyone else. Bryech looks back to the group and motions to stay hidden. It seemed like an eternity while the cart rolled by. It was all Bryech could do to hold himself back. As the torch light faded, not a soul moved for some time. Bryech’s only thought as Jarl Layla pushed the group on closer to safety in the evening light was.
“I’m going to kill them all.”
A month later, Bryech stands at the docks of Ulvesal, watching the Einherjar prepare for war. Thrand oversees the Fate Finisher and Viknar. Packing provisions enough for the hastened movement to the ancestral territories of the clan to the west and the fight ahead. Fritha aids in the preparations by supervising. A task Bryech is all too willing to hand off at this moment. Weeks of training and preparation to enact such a swift reaction to this new war, this ‘Conquering”. Ulvesal is a storm of action. New warriors spar in the training grounds. Bryech spots Saldis and Cenarae among the new recruits as well as several newer additions.. Bryech feels a tugging sorrow at Toralf’s absence his usual place in the yard vacant. As well as an even greater guilt that comes with knowing half of those new warriors won’t survive the year. Nearby Arland and Valla both work tirelessly at the smithy. Preparing armor and weapons. Lillith and the pups prepare reagents and remedies for the warriors. Everyone works toward the common goal of defending their people from Grimward and this new foe Stonetooth. Bryech grabs his gear and carries it to the ship. He mutters to himself as his boots clunk across the docks.
“We are the storm, and we’re coming for blood.”
——————————————————————————————————————————-
(Toralf)
Pain, anger, fear. RAGE.. This is all Toralf remembers, as what was supposed to be a day of peace turned into bloodshed and betrayal. With the outpost surrounded the call was made to draw steel and fight our way out. As they tried to escape a barrage of blades and spears fell upon him. He felt the warmth of his blood flowing down his chest. Blow after blow he took and tried to stand tall, but it became too much. He falls to his knees and hears Bryech calling for him to fall back. “I can’t move, I am going to die here, but at least I will die a good death. A death worthy of recognition! A death sure to make my name ring in His ears!” As Toralf’s sight turns red he turns to his Jarl, the delegates and representatives, and all those who came to bear witness of this Moot,
“Run…RUN!!!” Toralf screams as he charges forward into the Stonetooth’s spear, as he is pierced again his vision darkens and he awakens staring at the sky.
Toralf’s mind stirs. All he can recall is Bryech telling him again and again, “No heroes today, we need survivors.” His thoughts run wild, an unending torrent of emotion.
“How could I be so stupid and disobey direct orders!? No, I did what I had to do. I am a warrior, I am the Unyielding! I would have slowed down the rest of the group trying to get patched up. I would have been a liability and more people would have gotten hurt or even killed. No, I did what needed to be done in the moment and I will accept whatever punishment may await me. I just pray to Gaia that what I did mattered and everyone was able to escape safely. Ylva….my Ylva, forgive me,I noticed as you, Fritha, and Cenarae were able to slip away in the chaos. Please be ok, please be ok! Please…..be alive. I made a promise that the Gods themselves could not keep me from your side and I intend to honor it! Please……”
As Toralf looks around he sees three Grimward dogs laying in pools of their own blood. “At least I took a few of those honorless bastards with me. I just wish I could have taken that Stonetooth bitch too.” He hears footsteps approaching but cannot make out the forms of those walking towards him. He feels the heavy iron of chains clapped around his wrists as he loses consciousness. It is clear to Toralf that he is not meant to die here today. He fears far worse is yet in store…
As Toralf slips in and out of consciousness he cannot tell how long they have been traveling. Days? Weeks? He does not recognize any roads or paths they take. Everything is hazy and it is hard to make out details. Toralf’s body burns in agony from the energy spent. He feels the tightness of bandages around his chest keeping him in one piece.
“Perhaps I have been picked up by another Pack or Clan. If it was Grimward they probably would have made sure I was dead.” Toralf thinks to himself. The cart comes to a stop and Toralf is pulled out onto his feet. He collapses to his knees from sheer exhaustion. As Toralf looks around He sees Grimward banners flying high. He does not know this settlement but he knows he will be here for some time. Toralf is not the only prisoner to be taken, but all the others are lined up outside, while he is taken into a structure built entirely of stone. Most likely holding cells or a prison of sorts. As Toralf is led down the stairs the reality turns out to be far worse. Within this structure is a singular room with a table in the center. Chains, tools, and other devices line the walls. This is not a mere prison cell…it’s a torture chamber.
“How long…. How long have I been here? How many times have I been cut? How many times have my bones been broken? How many….How long….I know the face of the one who initiates these barbaric acts.”
Though this is not the village she calls home, the Stonetooth female who ran Toralf through with her spear decided to stay for a few days and carry out his punishments. She seems to get a sick sense of pleasure at the sounds of his bones snapping, his flesh is flayed from his back. She is methodical in her techniques. She only breaks one leg or one arm at a time so that he can still be put to work. They keep him fed just enough so he doesn’t starve. Afterward she has a healer come and mend his bones so she can break them all over again.
“She can break my bones all she wants, but that’s all she can break. My heart still burns in my breast to return to my love. I will not die here, I refuse to die here! Ylva….my sweet Ylva. I will come home, I promise you. I know the Einherjar have to be looking for a way to free me…if they even know where I am.” Toralf thinks to himself through the haze of pain and misery.
“I got extra punishment today. I got lippy with the taskmaster and was chained to the posts to be put on display as an example. He struck me with his hammer on my right cheek, and I felt my cheekbone splinter under the blow. I didn’t realize the Stonetooth female would be making a pass through the village today. She came out and flogged me in front of the village. Again and again the lash struck me but I didn’t cry out, I was able to grit my teeth and bear through like I have been so far. I think I may have gotten under her skin a little. During today’s lashing I shouted ‘HARDER’ as an act of defiance, it would take far more than just lashings to cause me any real pain. The Stonetooth let out a chuckle as she told one of her subordinates to grab the “Stone’s Maw”. It was truly barbaric in design….Several whips combined with blades on the end of each. As she struck me again and again I could not help but give in to the pain. Feeling my skin peel from my bones with every strike, she should have just Blood-Eagled me at this point. I yelled and screamed in agony waiting for her to finally stop. ‘If I continue I will kill you, and I have no intention of relinquishing my favorite plaything just yet.’” Toralf remembered every agonizing detail.
As the lashing ended she came up and grabbed Toralf by the jaw, forcing his head up to look at her. “One day you will beg me for death, of that I am certain.” Toralf can feel himself choking on blood, as his gaze meets hers he spits in her face just before vomiting out the rest. With a smirk Toralf replies,
“I am Toralf the Unyielding. I do not beg like a pup for table scraps. Death can take me when it has earned me!”
The Stonetooth’s eyes narrow. “You are strong, there is no denying that. Perhaps strong enough that you might have become an Alpha-Slayer one day. Let’s at least make you look the part then!” As she pulls out her knife he feels the cold steel slide down his face as the vision in Toralf’s right eye is taken from him. He yells in agony before his body slumps over unconscious.
“Home. I want to go home. The punishments are getting worse. Everyday I am left on the brink of death only to be denied the release of it. I have not the strength to break the chains that keep me bound, kept on display as a warning to others who would step out of line. Ylva, Bryech, Fritha, Thrand, Valla, Lilith, I know I can count on you all to get me out of this. I just have to bide my time. Cold. So Cold. The blood cakes to my flesh. How long has it been? I will not die here!! I can’t! I made her a promise! Will they come for me? I know they will! Why did I not follow orders? Why do I always try to be a hero?! Why don’t I listen..So….cold. Has the flame in my breast gone out? Have I given up? No! I can’t! I made a promise to come home! Death…have you finally come for me? You are early…I refuse to die here, do you hear me? I am Toralf the Unyielding! I will not die in chains!!!”
“Horns? I hear…..horns? The Einherjar? Home……Ylva………”