The Viking king is killed and his widow is called to suggest to the council a worthy successor, able to win the raging war.
Torn between her feelings and her duty to choose the best for her people, she decides to seek the divine guidance and goes to...
For the first time, he tested his father's sword in real battle. He found that killing people with arrows was easier: moans, blood, and the terrible sight of cut, distorted limbs made him feel sick. But there was no choice – kill or get killed was the only law of the battle. Ignoring his feelings, the boy fought, slaying people, while sweat ran down his back and his forehead. He couldn't tell how long it lasted – warriors kept dying around him, the deck was covered with corpses and limbs, making it difficult to move; he was getting tired and his arms ached.
Sveinn was out of sight, but Kirk appeared by his side, then Ottar. The next moment, he could only see Foreigners around. Right in front of him, a huge, fat Foreigner thrust his sword through Knut's heart. Hrafn helplessly watched Knut's eyes widen in shock and surprise as he lost his last breath. Then his face went pale and his lifeless body fell on the deck.
Horror and pain squeezed the boy's heart, quickly replaced by a sudden and violent thirst of revenge. Letting out an angry growl, he charged on the closest Foreigner. The latter moved back, avoiding the tip of his sword by inches.
But the next moment, the whole ship suddenly shivered, and the warrior was projected forward, receiving Hrafn's sword in the guts. Hrafn lost his balance as well and fell on his back, the dead warrior on top of him. Quickly squirming free, the boy stood and pulled clear his sword. It was no easy task because the hilt was covered with blood and slippery. Fortunately for him, the shock distracted everyone, and no one attacked him before he was ready.
Resuming his fight, Hrafn didn't bother to look around to find out what was going on. He knew that their enemy on the right had troubles of their own that distracted their attention from his ship.
Indeed, the Foreigners had a real reason to worry – their right side was severely broken and water started filling the hold. Their attacker, a small Viking ship with a heavy, sharply pointed wooden ram attached to the bow, came around for another run. Their shields tied to their backs, the oarsmen rhythmically lifted their twelve pairs of oars. A group of archers shot arrows from the bow, sabotaging all the efforts to fix the broken side.
"Go!" shouted Olaf from the stern, where he pulled the rudder.
His crew instantly plied the oars, hurrying their ship toward their enemy.
A new shock, smaller than the previous one, yet destructive enough shook the Foreign boat and echoed through the adjacent vessels. Foreigners yelled with panic. Most rushed to the starboard side and several Vikings stopped to see what was going on.
"Keep fighting!" shouted Hrafn. "Use their fear!"
Indifferent to spears and arrows mercilessly flying on her, the small ship was already rushing forward for another blow. Another shock, accompanied by a loud crack of broken wood. The Foreign ship was sinking.
"Abandon ship! All to the port! Slay them and get – " yelled the captain. A quick and perfectly aimed arrow from the small ship pierced his throat right between the lower edge of his helmet and the collar of his mail before he could finish. But most warriors heard the order and hurried onto Hrafn's ship.
The Vikings were ready, meeting the coming wave of attackers with axes and swords.
The Foreigners were still too many and they fell like a spring torrent over the Vikings who were now gathered in a group in the middle of their own ship, determined to stand to the end.
Meanwhile, Olaf changed his tactics. Leaving the sinking boat alone, he turned his ship, intending to get to the opposite side of the battle.
The Foreigners didn't notice his maneuver right away, but when they did, a rainfall of arrows and spears fell over the small ship. However, the town's army seemed ready for it: archers crouched behind their shields while oarsmen kept rowing, the shields on their backs protecting them from attack. Small but unstoppable, the ship gained speed, her ram ready for a new victim.
The mere appearance of the small ship on the other side of the battle changed the outcome of the fight: the Foreigners, who mercilessly poured onto Hrafn's ship from both sides, changed direction and hurried to their only remaining ship. Everyone knew that should it sink as well, all of them would be doomed.
When Olaf's ram hit their side, some warriors instantly jumped on the small ship, trying to kill as many people as possible. The oarsmen reversed their stroke, and some Foreigners fell into the water, missing the bow, yet several managed to get in and fought with the archers who had their axes ready at their feet. The arrival of new people unbalanced the small ship whose bow was already too low because of the ram. Her front sank lower, threatening to fill the deck with water.
"Move back!" ordered Olaf, and as his warriors started following, two well-placed archers in the middle killed most of the invaders. The rest were hacked to death with axes and thrown overboard.
The small ship was lucky – only two warriors were wounded so far and no one killed. But Olaf knew that renewing the attack would mean a nearly sure death for all. Their first blow wasn't strong enough – the wood cracked but didn't break, and he was well aware of the difference in numbers between the Foreigners and Hrafn's army. He organized the archers by the stern, leaving only two people on the bow to cover the oarsmen while the ship kept moving away from the battle.
"A bit farther!" he urged the oarsmen. "They must sink!"
Finally, the distance seemed correct.
"Stop!" he yelled and adjusted the rudder.
The oarsmen instantly obeyed.
"Ready? One... two... three!"
All the oars simultaneously hit the water. Taking advantage of the break, the archers readied their bows and placed spare arrows between the teeth. Rowing with all their might, the Vikings flew their small boat at the Foreign ship four times as big. Everyone was silent, frowning with concentration. None of them was scared of death, but they wanted to die with dignity.
The crash was mighty. The wooden side of the Foreigner made a thunderous loud crack as it broke. All three ships shook violently and everyone not braced were sent flying on the deck or overboard.
Olaf instantly ordered to backwater, but a dozen Foreign warriors were on their bow and others rushed to join them. A warrior and two oarsmen were instantly slain. The oarsmen had no choice but to join the fight. They formed a group on the stern, ready to meet the swarming fighters. Olaf seized his bow, positioning himself slightly above the fighting crowd.
"Take that one!" he muttered, sending a deadly arrow into a climbing Foreigner.
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
