The Verdant Prince

Chapter 33: Sweet, Sweet Revenge

The woosh of air and the crashing of a giant boulder only feet away from us brought us to even more important matters than the death of a leader. Loki had sped off, quickly jumping into the closest battle and wiping through his enemies like butter before I could even speak to him. I was only glad that I was not on the receiving end of his anger at this moment.

I snatched my bloodstained daggers from Laufey's chest and ran over to Heskell and Organar first, cutting down the few enemies that escaped through the lines of the elite warrior's defense line. Below me, Heskell looked paled with mauve bags beneath his eyes. His hands were shaking heavily as he placed them on Orgnar's lower half. Orgnar didn't look any better with a matching paled face and breathless pants.

"Heskell," I muttered, placing my hand on his shoulder tightly. Heskell snapped his tired eyes to me, lost hope gleaming in them.

"He is unwell," Heskell responded softly, looking down at Orgnar's gruff face. "The blade Laufey used was a certain type of poison, native to Jotunheim. It stops our regular rapid healing from healing us, therefore making our injuries heal and act much like Midgardian mortal's injuries," Heskell explained. Orgnar shuddered and coughed, his whole body heaving forward.

"Updates," Orgnar groaned. I cut in before Heskell could even observe and report.

"Laufrey is slain by my hand," I said. The world around us seemed to slow and become stuffy despite the frost creeping up each supporting pillar.

"Good girl," Orgnar whispered, a pleased expression on his face. He even went as far as to reach out and pat my foot once before wincing and drawing his arm back in. For a second, I forgot his previous actions and a sense of pride washed over me. For a second, a mentor was simply complimenting his young pupil. Most strive for such a recognition from such a legend. That second was over quickly as his rough coughing fits brought us all back to reality.

"Ymir is still alive, the warriors have killed most of Laufey's remaining troops. It is Ymir who stands in the way to our ride home," I explained, scanning the crowd of warriors finishing off his previous troops and attempting to cut through Ymir's tough skin. Orgnar and Heskell frowned deeply, creating worried creases in their foreheads. My comrades were slowly being backed against us, leaving them with little room to fight the closer we got.

"Get me up," Orgnar grunted. Heskell's brows furrowed and he scoffed.

"You can't even feel your legs, this is ludicrous," Heskell said.

"That was an order," Orgnar grunted. Heskell hesitated before cursing beneath his breath and helping Orgnar stand. I took one side of Orgnar, hefting him up from his spot and onto his feet. He groaned in pain and stood on weary legs. He leaned heavily on his mace as we backed away from him, letting him stand on his own. He had determination written in his furrowed brows and clenched jaw. "There was a legend that Ymir was slain because he had a weak point."

"Where?" I wasted no time getting answers. This had to be finished now or never, and I was hoping it wasn't the latter.

"It was said to be in the heart of his head, between the eyes," Orgnar said lowly, almost swaying on where he stood. Only Heskell reached out to steady him but was quickly shooed away. I nodded my head and ran forward into the ranks of my comrades, landing next to Asmund. A smirk appeared on his face despite having a large gash on his arm and the slower movements of exhaustion that he was performing.

"Aim for the spot in between his eyes, it may be a weak point!" I shouted to the ranks of my fellow comrades.

"How sure are you?" Sif shouted from the farthest end.

"Not at all, but it's the best shot that we've got!" I shouted back. My comrades grunted in response and set their sights to Ymir's massive head. Underneath his gnarled silvery-white hair were two little horns much like a bull's. If they acted the same way as a bull's horns did, it would surely hurt if someone were to pull on them.