Flight of the Krilo Page 17

  “Akuhn is with us! Akuhn is with us!” Halsten shouted as he sprinted toward the dwarves. Halsten saw the crossbows come out, but as they did, the other hundred and fifty male warriors jumped up from the west and rushed in toward the dwarves’ flank. The dwarves shifted their formation, trying to defend from both assaults. The result was that many of the crossbow shots missed. Ivar was struck in the stomach, but he only grunted as he continued to keep pace with Halsten.

  The dwarves then pulled spears and waited for the berserkers and others to reach them. However, since the other group of warriors had already accomplished their assigned task of distracting as many crossbow shots as they could, they stopped their charge, fanned out, and fired with bows.

  Haslten smiled as he continued to sprint forward. He had already learned how futile the first archers had been earlier in the day, so this time he had prepared something else for the dwarves. Each of the arrows the men fired were covered in pine pitch and had new arrowheads placed upon them. Instead of the bladed broadheads the Varvarr typically used for hunting and fighting, the arrows were fitting with conical heads sharpened to a fine point that were similar to the crossbow bolts used by the dwarves. They were lit on fire just before they were shot at the dwarves. Not only did the new arrowheads pierce through several suits of armor to slay dwarves, but the smoke from the burning pitch obscured the line of sight for many of them. Some of the arrows even managed to land in drier patches of grass, starting additional fires that kept the dwarves jumping and moving out of the way rather than focusing on the enemy.

  As the chief closed in, he let out a final yell. The dwarf he was running toward was holding a shield up, while the dwarf behind him was steadfastly aiming a spear point at Halsten’s chest.

  As if on some sort of unseen cue, all of the warriors running with Halsten lunged and dropped into a somersault. They rolled under the spears and then came up with their weapons, cutting into the shield-bearers and breaking apart the spears, crashing through the first and second row of dwarves as if they were made of straw.

  Halsten’s heart thumped heavily in his chest as he swung back with his hammer and bashed into a dwarf’s helmet, sweeping the dwarf to the ground as if he was a rag doll. Next he came down hard with his axe. A wide-eyed dwarf was caught in the chest. The metal of his armor gave way under Halsten’s blow, crushing inward as the dwarf was thrown backward. Another enemy came in from Halsten’s right, sword in one hand and shield in the other.

  Halsten blasted the shield squarely in the middle with his hammer, sacarring it and denting it inward. Behind the shield a cracking sound could be heard, and the dwarf recoild in pain as he cried out, but Halsten’s axe was already coming in. So powerful was his blow that his axe cut through the dwarf’s visor and sunk deeply into his face. The dwarf dropped his sword and then collapsed on the ground a second later.

  There was movement to Halsten’s left now. He pivoted to see a pair of dwarves coming for him. One had an axe, and the other had a sword. Halsten swept away a sword strike with his axe, and then turned to the side as the second dwarf came in with an overhead chop. The dwarf’s blade narrowly missed Halsten. It was so close that his naked chest could feel the wind it made as it arced down toward the ground. Halsten then laughed loudly and came in with his hammer.

  “For Samek!” he cried as the hammer drove down into the axe-wielding dwarf’s left shoulder. Bones crunched under the armor, but the dwarf didn’t give up. It dropped its axe and pulled a sword with its good arm just as the first dwarf was coming in with a sideways swing of his own sword.

  Halsten leapt backward with more grace than a man of his size would normally possess. The two dwarves shouted at him in their language and quickly regrouped for another assault. They charged him, and he ran toward them as well. He threw the hammer, striking the wounds dwarf in the face and dropping it backwards to the ground. The seoncd came in with a quick thrust, but Halsten side-stepped it and turned his axe so that he could use the spike on top to drive into the space between the helmet and chestplate. The dwarf made a strange noise that was something between a gurgle and a shout, and then it fell forward to the ground.

  The young chief ran on to meet his next foe, not realizing that the wounded dwarf with the crushed shoulder had not been killed by the hammer strike. The dwarf came up at him with a stab aimed at his groin just as Halsten was running past. The Varvarr chief managed to perform a twisting jump that put him out of danger, but also meant he fell to the ground about a yard away.

  A spear bore down on him before he could regain his footing. Halsten barely managed to knock the spear aside with the flat of his left hand against the shaft, just behind the head. The spear drove into the dirt. Halsten grabbed onto it, and then kicked up at the dwarf standing over him. The dwarf was lifted into the air by the powerful kick, but he held fast to the spear and did not fall. Instead, he pulled his feet up under him and used his grip on the end of the spear to angle himself so that he would land with his armored knees on Halsten’s face.

  Halsten saw what was about to happen and rolled to his left just in time. The dwarf dented the ground with his knees and then jumped up to press the fight. The Varvarr chief suddenly realized he was in trouble now as several dwarves were gathering around him in a circle, cutting him off from the other berserkers.

  Everything slowed down, as if time was beginning to lengthen, allowing Halsten the opportunity to better think through his moves. This was the height of the Varvarr Bloodlust. He twisted and stepped back and to his right. At the same time, he began a mighty chop of his axe aimed at the spear-wielder’s arms. Then, just when he was sure he had calculated all of the moves he needed to survive, time sped back up to its normal pace.

  A spear brushed across his exposed stomach, but did not break the skin, as he had calculated his twist perfectly. A sword from another dwarf whiffed through the air behind him, which would have otherwise cleaved into his shoulder had he not moved. A third dwarf fired a crossbow bolt, but thanks to Halsten’s quick footwork, the bolt missed him and struck another dwarf in the back.

  A second later, Halsten’s axe came down, severing the spearwielder’s arms at the elbows. He then knelt down as he reversed his swing and brought the spike atop his axe to meet the sword-wielder. The spike punched through the armor between the hip and left leg and a spray of blood misted the ground. Halsten then pushed with his feet, coming up out of his kneeling position and slamming into the swordsman with his left shoulder, driving the dwarf to the ground as he simultaneously yanked his axe free.

  Halsten stepped on the dwarf’s sword to pin it down and came down with a perfect swing. The axe blade slipped between the helmet and armor, taking the dwarf’s head. He then turned, his axe now high and up to his left. He had planned on whirling about and taking a final swing at the dwarf with the crossbow, but before he could do so, Ingvar barreled into the dwarf and took him to the ground. Ingvar worked a broken sword and a knife, deftly finding the vulnerabilities between the plates of armor before the dwarf could fire his next shot.

  Halsten smiled, and Ivar returned the gesture.

  Then a bloody sword arced horizontally through the air and swept Ingvar’s head from his shoulders. A great amount of blood sprayed out, some of it splattering across Halsten’s chest as the necklace of orc tusks flew up into the air.

  The dwarf then wheeled about as Ivar charged in from behind him. His sword ran Ivar through, entering the abdomen and running up and out through Ivar’s upper back. Ivar screamed at the dwarf and with his left hand he ripped the helmet off the dwarf while he gripped the dwarf’s hands with his right, holding the sword still. Ivar then beat the dwarf to death with his own helmet.

  Halsten was dumbstruck. In that one moment, he fell out of the state of rage, and was now standing still amidst the chaos as he watched Ivar take two steps toward him and then collapse upon the ground.

  For a moment, the battle seemed to forget about the young chief as Halsten spun around and surveyed the figh
ting. So far, he had done well, felling many foes, but by the looks of it, he was one of perhaps twenty remaining warriors from his group of fifty that had led the assault.

  The western flank was ferociously locked in a dead even struggle. The smoke was clearing, and the fires were beginning to die down, which would mean that the dwarves would soon regain their advantage. As for the berserkers, they were losing.

  Halsten then heard the most delightful sound he could have hoped for.

  The women were shouting and screaming as they charged toward the dwarves from behind. The dwarves momentarily stopped to regroup against the new threat. Seeing them put back on the defensive gave Halsten the strength he needed to keep fighting. He took the sword from Ivar’s body. It was a great sword to a dwarf, which made it just the right size for Halsten to use with his left hand while he kept his axe in his right.

  He parried the next sword that came his way and cut in with his axe, but this dwarf was quicker than the others and manged to step back out of the way. A short dance ensued, but ultimately Halsten proved the victor and the dwarf crumbled to the ground with blood seeping out from his armor in several places.

  The reinforcements began to tip the balance of the battle in the Varvarr’s favor as the women entered the fight and began to press the attack. Halsten slew three more dwarves, one who had lost his helmet and was stumbling around the battlefield, another who had actually had his chestplate ripped off of his body, and a third who had charged him with a great axe.

  After the third dwarf fell, Halsten spotted the target he wanted. This dwarf was wearing a set of armor unlike anything Halsten had seen among the other dwarves. Instead of steel, it was made from a shiny white metal, with gold imbellishments along the fringes and seams. Halsten ran toward the dwarf in the fancy armor, sword and axe ready to take him down.

  Two more dwarves tried to stop Halsten, but now that he had a specific target, his focus was back in full swing. He jabbed the tip of the sword in through the elbow joint on the first dwarf, holding him back far enough that he couldn’t reach Halsten with his own weapon. The second dwarf Halsten put down with a solid chop to the head. The axe didn’t break through the helmet, but it didn’t have to. The helmet caved in, leaving a deep V on the top and a stream of blood ran out the bottom of the helmet. The dwarf fell to the ground.

  The first dwarf pulled back, removing the sword point from his elbow, and then he advanced once more. Halsten feinted with the sword and then came in fast and hard with a straight kick that sent the dwarf to his rump.

  A female Varvarr jumped in and finished the dwarf from there before moving on to attack another. Halsten continued toward his target in the brilliantly gleaming armor. The dwarf seemed to sense him coming, and turned with a large sword in his hands to face off against Halsten.

  The young Varvarr chief rushed in. The two swung at each other. Their swords met in the middle and the great clash produced sparks as they matched their strength against eachother. Halsten then came in from the side and slammed into the dwarf’s side with his axe. The blade glanced off the armor without hardly scratching the surface.

  The dwarf then pulled back and thrust his sword forward.

  Halsten parried with his sword and came down with his axe on the dwarf’s outstretched arms. Again the armor held solid. No dent, no broken bones inside the armor, nothing.

  Halsten growled and lashed out with a front kick. The dwarf took it in the chest, leaning forward to absorb the blow. Halsten’s foot ached from the failed attempt, but he was not deterred.

  The dwarf spoke in a language that Halsten didn’t understand, and then it rushed toward him with considerable speed. The dwarf slashed to the side, then cut back at Halsten’s chest, and then stabbed out with a thrust. Each attack put Halsten on the defensive. He parried with both his sword and axe as the dwarf advanced on him. He tried to counter, but the armor was too strong. The few times he landed a hit, his weapons glanced off without harm and the dwarf continued to press the fight.

  Halsten then watched and studied his opponenet. There was no repetition or cycle to the dwarf’s movements. There was no opening to wait for. He was extremely well trained and it seemed his energy would outlast Halsten’s. Then, as Halsten parried three more strikes and leapt back to put some distance between them, he saw what he was looking for. All of the joints were reinforced with another layer of armor beneath, but there was one vulnerability.

  The visor had a long slit, perhaps wide enough to fit a blade into if he could time the strike right. Halsten realized that he had already given his enemy a pattern to predict his movements with. Typically, Halsten parried or jabbed with the sword, and then came in hard with the axe. So he decided to use that to his advantage and then make his move.

  The dwarf came in with a thrust. Halsten parried by swatting the sword away with his own sword, then he raised his axe arm up high as if to strike. Just as the dwarf pulled back to parry the axe, Halsten flipped his sword tip out and stabbed for the visor. There was a high-pitched squeal as the metal forced its way through the gap. A moment later there was a crunching sound and a bit of resistence against the sword before it broke through and ran into the dwarf’s head. The helmet shifted as the tip of the sword hit the back of it.

  The dwarf went limp and his sword fell to the ground. Halsten held his opponent upright for a moment, admiring just how perfect his thrust had been to get it into the slot. Then, he pulled the sword free and let the dead dwarf fall in a heap of clanking armor.

  After the dwarf in the fancy armor was slain, the other dwarves seemed to lose their spirit. None of them fled the battle, but quite a few stopped fighting and stared at the fallen dwarf long enough for the Varvarr to overtake them. The battle was finished within the space of half an hour from that point. Halsten slew several more dwarves, and his warriors were able to not only win, but gain the upper hand so that they utterly crushed the dwarves in the last few minutes of battle, hardly losing another Varvarr.

  When it was all over, there were some two hundred and sixty Varvarr that had survived. Of them, thirty seven were wounded. Halsten ordered one of his men to take the helmet from the fancy-armored dwarf’s corpse and deliver it to the mountain from whence the dwarves came.

  The rest of the Varvarr went to work gathering up their casualties and carrying them back to the camp.

  Halsten ordered the dwarves to be left where they lay, as a warning to others, and as feast for the carrion birds.

  When Halsten and the others arrived back at Ysgrear’s Landing, Samek had succumbed to his wounds. Halsten buried his friend personally, and offered prayers over his grave asking Akuhn to receive him and take him along on her Great Hunt.

  That night, Halsten slept next to the grave, unwilling to leave his friend’s side.

  During the night, he had another dream.

  This was not the nightmares he had been plagued with before. Instead, he was walking alone in a vast valley of green grasses and colorful wildflowers. Trees of all kinds dotted the land, and there were animals grazing around him.

  A voice called out to him and he turned to see a large, black wolf. It was not unlike the one he had seen before slaying the mountain goat some days before.

  It looked at him with its blue eyes and held its head proudly.

  “Halsten, you have kept your word.”

  Halsten knelt in the grass and bowed his head reverently. “I have come to the Sacred Valley to cleanse it from the defilers,” he said. “But it has come at a high cost.”

  “I know,” the wolf replied. “Listen to my words. If you continue on your path, and reclaim my temple, then I will bless your people. The Gray Wolf tribe will become strong, and it will not only overpower all of its foes, but it will have peace and happiness in the valley.”

  Halsten nodded. “Thank you, Great Goddess.”

  “However,” Akuhn said with an edge of warning to her voice. “If you shall fail to reclaim my temple for me, I will curse your tribe. Your enemies shall dri
ve you before them like deer scattered by the wolf. If you should try to flee across the Inner Sea and escape, I will send a storm to bury you all in the waters. The only path for you is forward. You must reclaim my temple, or my punishment will be swift, and final.”

  Halsten bent lower to the ground. “I will not fail,” he said. “I will find and reclaim your temple. I swear it!”

  The dream ended and he awoke next to Samek’s grave. Halsten bid his friend farewell and went back to the camp to find his backpack.

  Inside the pack he found the headdress he had taken from his father’s house. If ever there was a time to wear it, it was now.

  Halsten’s pelt was that of a gray wolf, complete with the top set of fangs that hung low over his brow. The skin was nearly entirely intact, save for the stomach and limbs had been removed so that the fur would hang evenly over the wearer’s back. It had become his when his father had died, for normally the oldest warrior in a family, whether that warrior be male or female, would keep the family pelt until death.

  He would instruct the other warriors present to wear theirs if they had one. The next time the Varvarr fought, they would be dressed in pelts made of foxes, badgers, or bears. Halsten would be granted the strength of the gray wolf, and he would lead them all to their final victory. Their honor would be restored, and so would Akuhn’s blessings.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Kamal sat up on the stone slab. Shouts were coming from the hall, and had woken him from his sleep. The door was thrown open and Gauer stormed in, angrier than Kamal had ever seen the dwarf before. In his hands, he held Reu’s helmet.

  The young Krilo gasped and put a hand to his mouth.

  “He’s dead!” Gauer said as he shoved the helmet into Kamal’s chest. Kamal reflexively put his hands around the helmet and looked at it. Blood caked the inside. Reu’s blood.