Authors: Stephen Zimmer
A new round of furious cries arose from the combatants on both sides, as the first clashes of steel ripped through the air. It was almost impossible to imagine the pervading tranquility that had existed mere minutes before.
From the deck of the first ship, Janus shifted his position, and slid up the covering to peer through one of the oar holes spaced between two shields set in the outer pine-batten. The fighting among the two larger, beached longships was erupting at a furious pace, as more and more combatants were brought together in the deadly clash.
The Midragardans were responding strongly, having recovered from the initial shock of the unexpected attack. Several of the more experienced warriors among them had been able to reach their weapons by now, and they were fighting back with a vengeful fury.
An abrupt, heavy thudding noise just behind Janus caused him to whirl about. A huge beast-warrior had jumped aboard the ship. It did not hesitate for a moment, bearing down upon Janus with a look of unfettered malice.
The snarling creature had one of the imposing, two-handed weapons, like an axe, lance, and sword fused together, raised over its head, corded muscle bulging throughout its arms. Both of its massive, dark hands gripped the elongated haft, from which the heavy, lengthy, single-edged blade extended. The fearsome weapon was poised to crash down upon Janus’ exposed head.
Even though the gesture seemed entirely futile, Janus brought up a small hammer, of the kind that would have normally been used to strike a chisel for wood-carving. He moved to swing it at the knees of his powerful assailant, the only action that came to his mind in the split-second of time left to him.
Before the heavy steel blade could be brought down to bear upon him, a very large dog or wolf slammed into the beast-man from the side. The brawny warrior tumbled down onto the deck several feet away, knocked entirely off its feet. The inhuman figure cried out in rage at the interference, teeth bared in a particularly rabid expression that froze Janus’ breath in his lungs. It twirled about with astonishing litheness to get back on its feet and meet its attacker.
Janus caught the deep gaze of the wolf-like dog for only a moment, as its penetrating, golden stare caught his eyes. The dog had not continued its attack upon the Trogen, instead remaining close to Janus. Without a sound, it bounded fluidly towards the side of the ship, leaping high over the top to disappear from sight.
There was no time to indulge any curiosities, or even pause to consider the bizarre intervention. The enemy creature was on its feet with its imposing weapon in hand, its eyes exuding a murderous intent.
Janus crawled, scrabbled, and lunged hurriedly for the bow of the boat, doing everything that he could to reach Erika while keeping his body below the top strakes of the vessel. She was crouched down, holding tightly onto a spear that she had retrieved from the equipment brought aboard the longship. He glanced back for any sign of the strange dog, but there was nothing to be seen of his canine savior.
The beast-warrior had its sights set squarely upon the two of them. The enemy warrior shook with rage, its powerful muscles flexing and bulging with its tightening grip upon the shaft of its great weapon. Janus felt lightheaded, as he saw the sharp canines now openly bared towards him, set just forward of a baleful gaze. The enemy warrior tramped resolutely forward across the decking of the longship, its heavy steps thumping on the wooden surface.
Janus stayed with Erika as they held their ground, for there were no good options left. Janus gripped the iron-headed hammer, while Erika clutched her spear. The beast-man strode rapidly down the length of the deck, readying its great, heavy blade to strike.
Using every bit of her might, Erika suddenly lunged forward and thrust the spear outward. Seeing her fast, desperate move, Janus reacted by hurling himself low, swinging the hammer at the creature’s knees with all of the strength that he could muster.
The hammer and spear attacks both met with success, catching the creature by complete surprise. The warrior emitted an angered, pained cry as it stumbled forward. The spear was lodged deep in its unprotected throat, blood draining in rivulets down the leather jerkin covering its upper body. Its broken knee, having caught the full force of the hammer blow, caused the creature to buckle and topple onto the deck.
Neither Erika nor Janus paused to regard the success or failure of their first strikes. As Erika pulled the spear free, and stabbed again, Janus moved upward and pounded the hammer down into the face of the beast-man. The two of them did not cease, raining successive blows upon the creature’s body, even after it became still and unresponsive to their attacks.
Pulling the spear free from her last stab, Erika straightened up, and looked out to the shore. “The enemy galleys are nearing the land now,” she reported, a wide, anxious look in her eye.
Janus listened to her words with his heart beating fast from the adrenaline coursing throughout him. He gripped the hammer tightly, his hand shaking, now finished with his grisly task.
Janus followed her gaze and saw that the incoming ships were now indeed very close to the shore. Their decks were filled with armed human warriors, all of whom looked eager to join the fray. Fore and aft platforms in the galleys were packed with archers and crossbowmen. With an elevated position to fire their missiles from, they trained their sights on various targets. Janus knew in his heart that the situation was worsening rapidly.
“What do you say we should do?” Janus asked Erika, casting her a brief glance.
Erika met his gaze, and looked back out to the water. “We must get to the others. Where are Antonio and Logan?”
Janus looked around frantically. He saw the other two at the far end of the longship, where they were slashing and hacking with short-hafted hand axes at a couple of beast-warriors that were trying to climb over the sides of the ship.
“Antonio, Logan!” Janus called, attracting their attention. “Get over here now!”
The other two, their eyes reflecting fear and a heightened state of alertness, kept low as they hurriedly crawled across the deck towards Janus and Erika. An arrow sank into the wood close to Logan’s head, just as the two men passed the mid-point of the ship. It was a very narrow miss, making Janus’ breath catch in his throat.
Logan cast a furtive glance at the lodged arrow, as he spurred himself forward more quickly. Antonio hustled in Logan’s wake, having also taken note of his friend’s close call.
“We have to try and get to the others,” Erika said, peering cautiously over the sides of the vessel again. She then added, with a sharp look of worry, “Once we can find them.”
At that moment, a few Midragardans clamored up over the sides towards the middle of the ship. Janus felt the longship lurch and begin to move, as it was pushed into the water. The haggard warriors were all armed well, with spears, swords, and one who bore a great two-handed axe, which had a prominent, downward-extended blade, cut to a flat edge at its lower extremity.
“To the water! The water!” a loud cry came from a stout warrior at the center of the longship. “Get this ship out there! Hurry! We must run for it! With all speed!”
The men tensed momentarily, as their eyes fell upon Janus and his other three companions, but the Midragardans immediately relaxed their postures as they recognized the four exiles.
“We have others on the shore still!” Erika cried out to them, as the boat was pushed further out into the water.
Most did not seem to hear her, as the Midragardans were lending their hands to help several others climb aboard the vessel.
“We are not going back!” the stout warrior cried out emphatically, as the others grabbed up oars from where they lay upon t-shaped racks, rapidly situating themselves along the sides of the ship. Chests scraped upon the planks and thudded as they were hurriedly moved into place.
The ship started to glide out into the sea. At the burly warrior’s orders, the oars were set down to the water.
Erika ran to the apparent leader of the Midragardans, as Janus hurried up behind her. Her tone was adamant, as she shouted. “We must go back!”
“No!” he roared back at her, equally forceful, as the ship pulled away from the shore.
“Tryggvi, enemy galleys are bearing down upon us!” cried another of the warriors, looking out as he pulled back on his oar.
Erika, Janus, and Tryggvi looked out to sea, where a large enemy galley was rushing towards them, parting the waters as it was propelled forward by a full complement of rowers. It was swiftly closing the distance between the ships, drawing nearer with every passing second.
Tryggvi cursed loudly at the development. “If we had a full crew, we might have had a chance to outrun her…. Crew or not, we must try anyway!”
Janus looked back out towards the oncoming galley. He could see a throng of archers and crossbowmen readying themselves at the bow to loose their missiles at the longship. The galley was higher of freeboard than was the Midragardan vessel, rising out of the water to a height that allowed the forecastle at the bow to have an open, unobstructed shot at any occupants of the longship. There was not a place on the longship that would not be reachable by the impending enemy volley.
Erika looked back to Janus, and he saw the unmistakable fear in her eyes. Yet the fear did not freeze her to inaction, as she turned and called back to Logan and Antonio. She urged everyone to pull up a shield from where they were set along the timber railing on the side of the ship.
In their desperation, they did not question Erika, not even the caustic Logan. The two men each yanked a shield free from the outer rack. Antonio’s trembling hands dropped the first one that he grabbed, and it splashed into the water. He immediately grabbed for another, and was more careful with the second one as he lifted it free.
“What do you have in mind?” Janus asked her, also following her directive, as he heaved a shield up and free from the outer rail.
The large wooden shield was fairly heavy. Janus grabbed onto the short iron bar set in the back of the small, dome-like protrusion of iron that was fitted in the shield’s center.
“We need to make a wall of shields, if we want to live!” Erika responded, loudly enough for all to hear her. “Follow me now!”
Having lifted a shield free for herself, she broke into a run towards the stern. Janus followed close behind her, as the others converged with them. He listened to her rapid instructions regarding the idea that she had.
With their backs turned to the raised deck at the longship’s stern, they proceeded to huddle together, allowing the round shields to overlap in front of them, forming a protective wall. Scant moments later they heard anxious cries from the men on the ship, as the horrific hiss of arrows and bolts filled the air.
More than once, Janus’ body was jolted as missiles slammed into the thick wood planking of the shield. Two arrows and a bolt burrowed solidly into the shield, as splinters and small chunks of wood flew free. He flinched as an arrow deflected off the iron boss of Erika’s shield.
The sickening sound of shafts piercing clothing, flesh, bone, and muscle carried to his ears, an eerie sound that Janus would not soon forget. What in reality took just mere seconds to pass seemed like a timeless gulf to Janus, as the missiles loosed from the enemy galley raked through the entire length of the longship. The screams from the Midragardan warriors were soon transformed into ebbing moans and rasps of death, as the torrents of arrows and bolts finally ceased.
A number of strange voices grew louder, as Janus and the others remained behind their makeshift wall of round shields. A tremendous force then shook the longship, as the two galleys impacted. In the aftermath of the collision, there was a great outcry proclaiming “With the Hand of God!” from the assaulting galley.
It was like having a herald at the cusp of an avalanche. The longship rocked violently, as many attackers jumped aboard the undermanned ship. A cascade of tremors passed through the longship, as numerous feet continued to heavily strike the deck.
The sounds of a furious, desperate fight erupted at the other end of the ship. There were several cries, thuds, clangs of steel, and splashes, but in a few moments the surface of the deck fell into a numbing silence.
“Come out from behind the shields. The rest are dead, and we can kill you easily enough, if we want to,” announced a gruff voice, outside the cluster of shields.
Janus heard a number of weighty footsteps approaching them slowly, striding down the length of the deck. He decided to lower his shield slightly. With nowhere to run, he felt resigned, and a strange calm fell over him as he knew that fate would have to take its course.
A number of armed men stood on the deck of the vessel, weapons in hand, and squared towards them. Many wore mail and half-helms, bearing an assortment of spears, swords, and short-hafted axes.
Others, primarily archers and crossbowmen, wore no armor, and had just cloth caps upon their heads. Several drawn bows and crossbows were trained upon Janus and his companions, both from the main deck and the high platform at the bow of the other ship.
As his gaze swept the ship, Janus saw that there was not a single Midragardan warrior left alive. Many bloodied bodies were strewn about the deck, exhibiting gruesome-looking wounds. The Midragardans had evidently acquitted themselves well in the short, furious fighting, as the casualties in view reflected both sides about evenly.
The warriors that had boarded the longship had distinctive accents, and were notably clean-shaven. Their demeanors appeared hard and unforgiving, and there was little doubt that they would have few misgivings about slaying Janus and the others, if provoked. The heightened tension was unyielding, as Janus waited to see what would happen.
“These appear to be foreign,” a deep voice pronounced.
The speaker was a man who looked to be a more prominent warrior among the group, with a hauberk of mail over a padded gambeson. The end of a long blue tunic poked out from beneath the protective attire, richly embroidered. The circular pommel of a sword surmounted the scabbard at his waist. Mail mittens hung loosely back from his exposed right hand, which rested on the hilt of the sword. His other hand held up a broad-topped kite shield, whose half-yellow and half-blue facing was crossed by banded iron strips, the latter arranged like a radiating star. A full iron face mask, with a bluish hue, extended down from the brow of a yellow, round half-helm. The warrior carried himself with a straight, authoritative posture that set him apart from the men around him.