Raising my axe, I clashed metal with the closest enemy, forcing him back a step. Before I could press my advantage, another warrior came at me from the side, twin swords flashing in the firelight. I twisted, deflecting one strike, but the other sliced across my shoulder, ripping through my tunic and drawing blood.
Gritting my teeth, I barely had time to register the third attacker before his arm locked around me from behind. His other hand held a dagger, the blade pressing against my back. Pain flared as he stabbed once—but I caught his wrist before he could drive it deeper, my axe slipping from my grip in the process.
I snarled and threw my head back, the impact smashing into his nose with a sickening crunch. He grunted in pain, loosening his hold just enough for me to twist free. My elbow crashed into his face, and as he staggered, I wrenched the dagger from his grasp and rammed it into his throat.
The man let out a strangled gurgle, his hands clawing at his own neck as blood poured out. I barely had time to retrieve my axe before another sword came down toward me. I threw my weapon up, metal shrieking against metal as I deflected the blow.
My hand trembled under the force, my legs buckling as I dropped to one knee. Another enemy lunged—his blade swinging low. I managed to deflect it, the force knocking me backward into the dirt.
I crawled away, reaching for the dagger I had just buried in that bastard's throat. Wrapping my fingers around the handle, I yanked it free and hurled it.
The blade struck true.
"Shit!" The man shrieked as steel buried itself in his forehead. His body twitched violently, his eyes bulging in terror. "Agh… no! No!"
A sharp whistle cut through the air.
An arrow struck the dirt inches from my head.
I rolled, grabbing both my axes as I dove behind an overturned cart. Peering out, I spotted them—two archers perched on the rooftop of a burnt-down house, arrows nocked and ready.
One of them loosed a shot. I ducked, the arrow thudding into the cart's wooden frame.
I exhaled sharply. Five against one. This was going to be hard.
"Come on, Val," I muttered, chest heaving. "Come on."
Pushing off from the ground, I broke from cover, sprinting toward the three nearest enemies—one being on the ground with a dagger in his forehead, still alive. Two reacted instantly, one raised a shield, the other stood just behind him, morningstar poised to strike.
The shield was unlike any I had seen before. It was so heavy that even the enemy struggled to carry it. It covered his chest and extended downward, completely shielding him.
"I won't give up." I said to myself. "I won't…"
I adjusted my footing as the spiked metal ball came swinging for my ribs. At the last second, I dodged left—my boot catching against the body of the man I had just put a dagger through. He was still alive, mumbling to himself, eyes wide with delirium.
I stumbled but caught myself, just in time to bat away another arrow with my axe. Without hesitating, I kicked the dagger's hilt, driving it deeper into his skull. His twitching ceased instantly.
Raising my axe, I swung down twice, hacking into his neck. The first blow nearly severed it. The second finished the job.
The shield-bearer stepped forward. The man with the morningstar swung again.
This time, the spikes found their mark. Agony lanced through me as two of them punched into my already wounded shoulder.
I roared in pain but refused to fall.
"You'll regret that," I growled through gritted teeth.
Gripping the morningstar's chain, I yanked hard, tearing the weapon free from my flesh. The enemy staggered, and I seized the opportunity—rolling past him and grabbing the severed head of the man I had just killed, tying it to my Höggskjold.
Three more. Three more for Thor's blessing.
"Valrik the traitor!" One of them bellowed. "That's you!"
Another arrow whistled through the air. This time, it struck true.
The shaft buried itself into the same wounded shoulder, the impact forcing me to my knees. My vision swam. Pain pulsed through my entire body, blurring the edges of my sight.
I barely registered the shield-bearer rushing forward before the heavy slab of wood smashed into my face. Stars exploded behind my eyes as I hit the ground, dazed.
Then came the kick—his boot slamming into the side of my skull, sending fresh waves of agony through me.
My axes slipped from my fingers.
I tried to reach for them, but my limbs felt heavy.
I crawled, my breath ragged, blood soaking the earth beneath me. Every inch forward was a battle, my body screaming at me to stop.
The dagger wound on my back. The arrow lodged in my shoulder. The morningstar's brutal strike. It was all too much. My strength was failing. My vision dimming.
"I…" My voice rasped as I dragged myself forward. "Go to Valhalla…"
Again… everything came to a halt.
The men froze—the two archers on the rooftop, their arrows aimed at my skull, the blood soaking into the dirt, the very air itself seemed to hold its breath. And then, from the corner of my vision, a shadow emerged.
I barely turned my head, but I knew who it was.
Odin.
His hood shrouded his face, and in his grasp rested Gungnir, his spear, its tip pressed against the ground. Though his eyes were hidden, I could feel his gaze upon me—watching as I bled, as I crawled, as I fought for every breath.
"Honor, once lost, is not easily regained," he spoke, his voice calm, steady, filled with an ancient weight. "It follows you like a shadow, ever present, whispering of your failure."
I struggled to talk. "O… You—Odin…"
"You aren't destined to die here, warrior," he said, his voice harsher. "Fight! Earn your place in my hall! Reclaim the honor you have lost!"
I blinked.
And just like that, he was gone.
The moment returned to me in a rush—the pain, the dirt beneath my fingers, the warriors charging at me, their weapons raised. But I no longer felt alone. He had walked beside me. He had seen me. And he was still watching.
A grin stretched across my face, wild and unshaken by the agony searing through my body. I pushed myself up, roaring, my voice cracking through the air.
"Odin is with me!" My eyes burned as I struck my chest with a fist. "He is with me!"
Fueled by the fire coursing through my veins, I lunged forward. The shield-bearer barely had time to react before my hand clamped around his throat. I drove my forehead into his face, the impact sending him staggering backward. His companion swung a morningstar, the chain whistling through the air—I caught it. Wrapping it around my arm, I yanked him toward me and drove my fist into his jaw.
The shield-bearer collapsed, and before he could recover, I ripped the morningstar free and swung downward. The iron ball crushed his skull, his body twitching as blood ran down from his ears and nose.
The second man, desperate, threw himself at me, trying to drag me down. But the rush of battle had taken me, and I would not falter. I caught him mid-charge, slamming the hilt of the morningstar into his temple. He crumpled.
Above me, the archers released their arrows. I ducked, the shafts slicing through the air where my head had been.
"You die now!" I snarled, striding toward the fallen man.
Grabbing the discarded shield, I mounted him, pressing the wooden frame against his throat. His hands clawed at me, at the shield, at anything—gasping, choking. Just as I was about to crush his windpipe, pain erupted in my back.
An arrow—but I didn't flinch.
Lifting my head, I turned to the rooftop. The archers scrambled to notch another shot, their hands trembling as they fumbled with their bows.
My vision blurred with rage as I stepped back, planting a boot on the shield. Then, with a burst of strength, I launched myself upward. My fingers gripped the rooftop's edge, and as I hauled myself up.
The archers fired. One arrow grazed my arm, the other lodged into my boot, but I didn't stop.
"He is with me!" I bellowed, charging.
Before they could react, I seized them both—grabbing one by the waist and dragging the other along as I ran toward the ledge. With a final burst of momentum, I threw us all off the rooftop.
We crashed onto the dirt below.
I rolled, then sprang onto one of them, fists hammering down. Left. Right. Left. Right. I lost count of the blows, lost myself in the blood and the fury. When I finally stopped, his face was unrecognizable.
But the second archer had recovered.
I barely registered the pain as he drove an arrow into my side. My body jolted, my strength faltering for the first time.
"Fucking shithead," he spat, yanking another arrow from his quiver. "You're dead!"
I gritted my teeth, fingers curling weakly around the arrow embedded in my flesh. My limbs felt heavy. My vision darkened at the edges. He lifted another arrow high, ready to strike—
And then a sword pierced through his face.
The tip of the blade jutted from his mouth, his eyes wide with shock. He gurgled once before crumpling to the ground.
I gasped for breath, my gaze shifting to the figures standing before me. Five warriors, armored and armed, their swords still slick with blood.
And beside them—a small figure. Ela. Freydis' little girl.
Her wide eyes locked onto me, filled with worry. "Help him," she pleaded, tugging at one of the men's sleeves. "He won't die, right?"
A man crouched beside me, lifting my head. "Are you awake, drengr?" His voice was steady, but there was urgency in his grip.
"He's barely breathing," another muttered.
"We need a healer," someone else insisted. "York. It's the closest city."
The sky above me blurred into darkness.
I exhaled, hoping that if the winged women of Odin came for me, they would take me to his hall.
Then, everything faded.
ᚹᚨᛚᚺᚨᛚᛚᚨ-ᚺᛟᚾᛟᚱ-ᚱᛖᚲᛚᛁᛅᛗ