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TWO - First Blood

Our hereo learns that axes are useful for more than trees and that its not the size of the man that counts but the size of the blade you hit him with.

Sprinting as fast as I could and paying little attention to my immediate surroundings I must have reached the edge of the forest in less than a minute. On route I stupidly managed to run into two low hanging young branches, bloodying my forehead on the second. View still slightly blurred from the impact I almost staggered into the clearing of the village but managed to check my momentum at the last possible moment using the trunk of a stout beech tree as a brake.

I had left Esja standing dumfounded as she watched her possible mate disappearing into the undergrowth and guessed that she must have seen the smoke by now as well and was following in my wake. My guess was correct as only a few moments later she forced her way through the foliage directly behind me and pushed up close. "What is going on?" she asked, struggling to see through the heavy growth of grass and flowers which obscured most of the village from our view.

I ignored her and separated some of the grass to try and get a better look. Something wasn't right. I had seen houses catch fire and burn before but there was always an element of calmness to the villagers when it happened. Fire was a factor of everyday life. Wood burned and we used fire to cook and provide heat. Accidents were inevitable.

Carried on the wind however was not just the sound of burning homes. My ears could clearly hear loud screaming of the worst kind imaginable, the screaming that comes from terrified women and children.

"What is it?" Esja asked again, this time with a voice dripping in concern and worry. She could hear the screaming as well as I could but unlike me she didn't have the benefit of being able to see the its source.

Raiders and lots of them at that.

Armoured in glinting steel and armed like gods of war they had clearly attacked whilst I was out collecting firewood and stealing kisses. Like most younglings I had overhead stories from my father and the other village elders as they talked in their cups about the men who shunned the life of the farmer to take up axe, sword and spear to prey upon the unaware, taking by force what they refused to grow and killing almost everything that got in their way. A few of the more enthusiastic elders who relished an audience would also go on to tell the gaggle of youngsters that gathered on them like flies to rotten meat about the lives of adventure that these men lived, living and dying on the point of a blade and indulging in every carnal pleasure that took their fancy. Many a time a mother found her children sitting dumfounded as they listened to these tales and the stories were always dismissed at the ramblings of an old man gone soft in the head, but I knew different. In one of the only times in my life I felt like he had tried to bond with me, my father had sat me down in front of the hearth only a few years ago and told me everything he knew about them. He told me that they were murders, rapists and thugs, the worst kind of men imaginable gathered in one small community of killers which was normally led by the most ferocious or the one with the most brains. They took to the waves in long ships to strike at villages, towns and sometimes even cities at random. They lived hard, died young and cared for nothing but their own needs and crew. Anyone outside of the ship was a stranger, even other raiders, and he made it perfectly clear to me that history was littered with many a bloody battle between rival captains both at sea and on land.

When I asked him at the end of his speech why he had seen fit to tell me all he knew about raiders and how he knew so much about them he struck me with a heavy blow to the side of my head which sent me reeling. "All you have to do is remember one point" he told me as I tried to get to my knees. "The only good raider is a dead raider" and it was only when I watched him stagger towards his chamber and the warm sheets he shared with my mother that I realised he was drunk.

"Attackers" I told Elsa flatly, trying to say calm as I searched for any sign of my own family amongst the smoke which was curling in the breeze and masking much of the view.

When I finally managed to lay my eyes on a group of the village folk it was clear that they were captives. Four or five women and their daughters were huddled together towards the southern end of the village, closer my house than anyone else's. At first I thought they might have been my family but I didn't recognise any of the clothes they wore as belonging to my sisters and mother. Clearly then, the women had been pulled from their own homesteads and gathered together in one place so that they would be easier to handle. It worried me immediately that could only see so few and that, even though I tried, I couldn't spot any men or elders trying to defend their wife's and offspring.

Just as I was about to turn to speak to Esja a loud horn sounded and snapped my attention back round to the scene unfolding in front of me. The horn blast was clearly a signal to rally the troops that had up till then had clear reign over the village and its inhabitants and more than one hulking giant stepped out from the homes carrying items of worth and in some cases, more screaming women. They began their slow descent down towards the sound with their loot in tow, clearly caring nothing for the hardship they were causing the peaceful villagers.

Esja grabbed my paw and pointed in the direction of her own house only a few hundred yards away, fear and anxiety etched on her face. A trio of the raiders had left the house and were heading in our direction. The first two were carrying items which included a small wooden chest that I knew contained Esja's late mothers jewellery because she had shown it to me a few years ago. The last raider, however, had her younger sister under one arm as if she was nothing more than cumbersome than the firewood I had left near the glade. I was glad to see the girl, Oren, was making a fight of it and she kicked, screamed and even tired biting to break the man's grip on her. Eventually and clearly fed up with trying to carry the protesting girl, he dropped her heavily to the floor and then leant down and hoisted her up by her hair. Dragging her by her head worked much better and even though she tried to break free the large raider could simply control her by yanking on her locks and forcing her to her knees. Oren's screaming soon turned into helpless sobbing as she was broken.

"You have to do something" Esja cried, tears starting to pour down her face. "That's my sister!"

By now, the trio were only thirty yards away and were in range of my short bow. However, each of the raiders carried a large circular shield which was capped by a metal boss and all were covered in heavy furs and metal armour of the kind I had never seen before. I doubted my bows ability to punch through the armour and even if it did, the small weapon didn't have the knockdown power to disable the raiders. It was more likely to infuriate them than hurt them. But Esja was right, I had to try something, and even if the bow failed I still had my wood axe and the strength to use it. "Stay low and don't make a sound" I told her. "Or they will take you as well".

I removed the bow from my shoulder and fumbled an arrow into place. My fingers struggled to work the string but eventually I managed to knock the arrow and hoisted the bow up in front of me. If I was lucky I might get two shots off before the raiders figured my position and rushed me. "Don't move" I told her and then ran forward in to the village clearing.

I have never been a marksman and have always struggled to hit targets even when standing still. So, as I am sure you can imagine, firing a bow with any hint of accuracy whilst running was completely beyond my ability. I was surprised though to find that my first shot wasn't a complete failure and it managed to somehow find a gap between the first raiders round shield and his armour, skewering his leg just above the right kneecap. As the shaft buried itself in his flesh the warrior roared with pain and dropped the chest to clutch at his leg, spilling Esja's jewellery to the grassy floor.

The other raider who easily dwarfed his companion had been following closely behind and immediately threw his loot to the floor and brought his own shield around to cover his front arc. As his shield locked into place I was unpleasantly surprised at how little of the man I could now see to shoot at. I drew another arrow and fired it in his direction but the shaft simply bounced off the thick wooden face of the shield harmlessly. "Looks like we have some opposition Beinir!" he laughed.

"Gut the fucker!" his wounded friend growled through pain clenched teeth as he struggled to pull his own shield over him in an effort to stop my arrows if I chose him as a target again.

"With pleasure" the warrior replied and sidestepped to the left in order to clear the path between us. As he casually limbered up his muscles, rolled his shoulders in their sockets and raised up to his full height it became painfully clear to me that the monster was massive, easily towering over my young height and his fallen friend who was still sprawled on the floor. I also knew his large body mass was unlikely to consist solely of layers of armour but of the hundreds of pounds of tight and solid muscle underneath it. A large and sinister black metal helmet crowned the warriors head, blocking out most of his features from view behind the shield he carried. The only parts of his face that I could see with any clarity were his eyes and I will always remember the way they looked in those few moments. There was no rage, no hatred and no anticipation. His eyes were dead. I had seen more life in Olaf's rotten eyes when we buried him.

The giant stamped his feet like a bull, clearly looking for a good purchase in the soft ground and I knew immediately that he was going to charge. Just as I knew it would be, the bow was now completely useless so I threw it to the ground and hoisted up the wood splitting axe I had carried with me in its place. "And what are you going to do with that cub?" the raider growled over his shield rim. "Do you even know how to use one?"

"Try me you bastard" I hissed back at him and prepared myself to swing.

With a loud and fear inspiring scream of rage, the raider bull rushed me. I don't mind saying that the initial body shock his cry caused pinned me in place for a second but somehow I managed not to piss myself. When I recovered however, it was all I could do dart to the right in an attempt to move outside his reach of his sword as it stabbed at the air I had occupied only moments earlier.

I rolled off his shield and round to his left hand side, trying to keep his shield between us and stay where I guessed he would have trouble striking me. With a speed I had not anticipated the beast span on his feet and set about me again trying to force me back towards one of the nearby homesteads wooden walls. The axe is not a weapon that lends itself well to blocking blows from another blade, especially one which is wielded by a man of skill such as my opponent and I did everything I could to try and keep his sword out of range of my flesh. Eventually though, my constant weaving and dodging, combined with a day of hard physical work, started to take their toll and I began to tire. As I tried to brush his blade to one side, my arms seemed to sag with the effort and I only made a half-arsed attempt. Quick as a snake he reversed the blade and I growled in agony as he cut deeply into my right shoulder.

I nearly dropped the axe in pain but some part of me realised that if I did so, death would follow soon after. Whilst I had a weapon I was still in with chance of survival and I owed it to Esja to try and save her sister. So I somehow sucked up the agony and hoisted the axe in my arms once again, backing away to give me some distance.

"That would be first blood to me cub" the warrior laughed, still hiding behind his shield. "Anything else?"

Out of the corner of my left eye I could see that his wounded friend had managed to get to his uninjured knee and was watching the combat with interest. Behind him, the raider dragging Oren had also stopped to spectate as the girl whimpered softly at his feet.

Stupidly, I then made the mistake of looking to where Esja was hiding in the bushes and gave her position away.

The raider who had captured Oren immediately turned to face the direction in which I had glanced and saw her. He threw Oren to the ground and kicked her legs from under her in an effort to stop the girl running away whilst he went after his new prey. The thought that I had unwittingly brought Esja's doom down upon her crushed my heart and I was dumbstruck to respond as the warrior stamped over to her position and picked her up by her hair. She screamed and tried to kick at him but he simply backhanded her around the face. The blow was so severe it knocked her unconscious and she fell limp in his armoured hands.

"Well that was foolish" my opponent mocked me. "Some hero you are".

I don't know whether it was the pain from my deep flowing wound, the anger I felt at the raider who had so badly treated my love or the fear that I felt at that moment which suddenly renewed my strength. Most likely it was a combination of all three mixing together; pumping whatever fight was left in my body to my tired limbs and broken heart. I have noticed on many occasions since the ability of a wounded or beaten warrior to draw upon reserves of strength he didn't know he possessed to make one last stand and die fighting. It was the first time I can remember the surge happening to me and it was most definitely not the last. "Let them go" I said flatly, the anger building in me to a level I had never felt before, powering my muscles and stamina for one more roll of the dice.

"And why would we do that?" the wounded warrior on the ground who my opponent had called Beinir laughed. "They will provide some fine entertainment once Hrolf has finished with you".

I didn't grace them with a reply but instead launched myself at the giant in front of me screaming incoherently with rage and managed to momentarily catch him off guard. He reflexed quickly enough to raise his shield up and to stop the first wild blow from my falling axe but I kicked it towards him when I closed the distance and forced him back a step. Whilst he staggered, I yanked the axe head from the face of his shield and followed up the assault with a pair of chops at the warriors head, over the top of the rim of his shield. The first blow missed its target and hacked off one of the horns that adorned his terrible helmet but the second connected with the metal rim which reinforced the centre of headwear. A wood splitting axe is not the sharpest tool, relying mainly on weight to split a block of wood and my axe edge had been blunted badly from the day's work. Still, ten pounds of solid iron wielded by an enraged teenager connecting with a head, even if the victim is wearing a helmet, is enough to knock unconscious all but the thickest skulled man and as the dull blade struck his helmet the warrior grunted and fell to his knees. Seconds later, uncannily resembling an oak tree brought low by the saws of the woodsman, he fell slowly forwards onto his own shield with a crash of metal on metal.

I hoisted my axe and charged the warrior who still held Esja and her sister. The man dropped my loved one to the ground and fumbled for his own blade and shield but I was much quicker and in no mood to give him a fighting chance. My first swing buried itself in his shoulder and the second severed the warrior's right arm cleanly below the elbow. I kicked him to the floor, stepped over his prone form, and brought the blade down directly on his helmet, splitting the metal to either side and burying my axe blade a full three inches in his top of his head. The sound was horrendous and the warriors head almost exploded under the impact. As I yanked the blade free again his skull and brains burst from the gaping wound

It was my first kill.

Turning on the spot, I could see that the warrior I had knocked unconscious moments earlier was starting to stir again, clearly possessing a much harder head than I had credited him with. His friend was now on his feet and had snapped the arrow shaft in half to prevent it snagging on his shield which he raised in front of him. In the grass below me, Esja lay immobile, her muzzle bloody from the strike the now dead warrior had struck her. "Oren" I shouted at the frightened young child in front of me. "Get up and get your sister out of here, I will buy you as much time as I can"

Oren looked up at me and dried her eyes. The girl was only two years younger than her sister but was much less developed and I knew that she was going to have a hard time dragging her sister to safety. She staggered to her feet and ran towards me, kneeled at my feet and tried to wake her sister with some less than gentle slaps to the face.

Determined to kill the bastard with the arrow wound at the very least, I stepped forward and hefted the bloody axe to my paws a final time, consciously putting my body between the raiders and the girls. I took a few seconds to judge the man's stance and then bounded forward, axe raised. I rammed the blade down onto the raiders shield with as much power as I could possibly manage and it buried itself so deep into the wood that I knew immediately it was stuck dead. Before I could try and yank it free the raider barged me with his shield, forcing the air from my lungs and throwing me to the ground a few paces away. Despite the agony the wound in his leg was undoubtedly causing him, he advanced slowly towards me as my axe dangled uselessly from his shield, sword drawn and intent on finishing the job that his giant colleague had failed to complete.

"Well fought cub" he growled as he approached. "If I had known that you were a berserkir I would have told Hrolf to stop playing with you and get the job over with".

"Fuck you" I roared back at him and scrabbled to my knees, frantically looking for something nearby to use as a weapon. In reply he kicked me in the stomach with a heavy boot, sending me sprawling to the ground again, winded for a second time.

"I like your spirit cub. Get up again if you can..."

I tried to do just that but he laughed as he kicked my legs from under me and I fell heavily on my back, striking my head from a rock as I did so. The impact blurred my vision and sent lances of pain screaming through my brain. I could barely focus on the man in front of me now, his figure appearing as just a blurred mass of black and dirty silver in my eyes. I turned my head towards where I believed Esja and Oren were still located and was relieved to be able to make out a pair of figures getting to their feet. At least I had managed to buy them both some time. What they did with it was up to them now and I no longer had any say in the matter.

The warrior stopped above me and leant down, drawing back his sword as he did so. "See you on the other side" he growled at me as he took up a handful of the fur on my forehead and bared my neck for his blade.

I closed my eyes and waited for the agony of the deep cut which would tear open my throat and end my life.

"Enough Beinir!" another figure shouted from nearby and I snapped open my eyes to see my murderer still hunched over my body. He was now joined by another two figures which towered over him as he in turn crouched over me. "Restrain him and gather him with the others".

"As you wish my lord" my would be killer replied, clearly not happy with the command but forced to comply with it anyway. "Looks like it's your lucky day cub" he spat at me as the other figures left my vision.

The last thing I remember was seeing the shining brass ball of his swords pommel descending towards my forehead and then my world went black.