“Took
your fuckin’ time didn’t ya?” Scott grinned. The soldier looked appreciatively
at Heleena and noticed they were holding hands. He winked at Will.
“Yeah,
been hangin’ round you too long. What’s the plan, Boss?”
Will
asked Steve. He could see Matt jogging towards them amongst a group of
warriors.
“Dunno
yet. Let’s see what Berag wants first. We’ll work round him,” Steve replied.
They
could see Berag running towards them. He was dressed in a knee length chain
mail coat. On his head he wore a silver helmet that covered his whole head save
for the eyeholes, his mouth and chin. It reflected the light like a beacon and
was clearly well cared for. In his hand he carried a battle-axe with a haft at
least four feet long. Will noticed small intertwining vines carved all over the
metal axe head. He also saw a word written in the runic language on the wooden
haft.
Silence
fell when Berag arrived. He strode into the centre of the Ulfor men who had now
formed a circle around their chieftain.
“You
all know why you have been summoned!” he said, his voice deep and strong. “The
enemy is upon us! If we can move to the Valley of Ikthallon before they advance
there then we have a good chance at victory. That is if their numbers are not
too strong. We must move swiftly!”
“Make
haste. This is a war party. They come to kill and to rape and to burn. Even if
they break through us, which, Odin willing, they shall not, it will be a difficult
task for them to locate what it is they seek.” Berag coughed and spat on the
ground. “Are there any questions?”
“Just
one,” Steve said. All eyes turned to him. “I notice that you have most of the
men in the village here. Shouldn’t some stay back and defend the village and
protect the women?”
Berag
let out a loud, genuine laugh that was accompanied by chuckles from the other
warriors.
“Our
women are equal or better warriors than ourselves! In fact many of the women
will fight with us today. Odin help those pack of cowards if they do break
through us, they will wish they had not been born!”
As
Berag spoke, Steve looked around. He noticed a blonde haired woman leaning on
her bow. She was watching Steve with an amused expression. Several other women
held swords, long knives or spears. Not one looked like a hapless maiden. In
fact, Steve noticed, there was perhaps one woman for every four men here.
Heleena was stringing her bow next to Will and had a cluster of lethal looking
knives sheathed in a belt across her chest. She leaned into Will and whispered.
Will laughed.
“Point
taken,” Steve nodded.
“We
leave now!” Berag shouted. “Our forward scout is already long gone, let us
march with speed and may Odin watch over his children!”
A
great roar went up and the group of warriors ran towards the forest. As he ran,
Will made sure that Heleena remained in front, not to be gentlemanly, but so he
could watch her body from behind.
Scott
noticed that the women of Ulfor were standing outside, watching them leave. But
they were not sobbing and waving goodbye as they did in Hollywood movies.
They
were standing, knives and bows in hand, ready for battle. This was a warrior
race, bred not only to fight, but to win.
CHAPTER
11
Trees
whipped by as they ran, the scent of fresh snow filled their nostrils and the
sound of birds taking flight stirred the forest silence. The warriors ran in
single file along the forest track, determined to close with their enemy. Steve
was somewhere in the middle of the pack. He could see neither the front nor the
rear of the travelling column.
Even
weighed down with armour and weapons, they maintained a pace that would bring
them in under the battle fitness assessment (BFA) time limit of a
thirty-year-old in the modern Australian Army. These were a fit, strong people.
The path ascended for several minutes, and their feet sank into the blanket of
snow.
Steve
heard shouting and laughing ahead. Another roar of triumph sounded and the men
close to Steve pointed to the left, laughing.
“Thormdall
has already begun his work!” a gruff voice shouted.
Steve
saw that fresh blood had stained the snow scarlet. Three
bodies
had been hastily dragged into the scrub and half buried in snow. He could make
out the foot of one man and the half-buried, pale face of another. They must
have been enemy scouts. The main force would not be far now. It would not be a
good thing, Steve thought, to meet the enemy on a narrow path like this.
Will,
who was behind Steve, looked at the corpses as he ran past. They had been
buried hastily. They must have been the warriors Thormdall had intercepted
earlier that morning. Will noticed that beside one of the bodies was a sword
that had been bent in half and dropped carelessly on the ground. Will
remembered Thormdall’s comment about killing their enemy’s weapons. It was a
question he would ask Thormdall when this was over.
Heleena
was jogging but not even breathing hard. Although Will was fit and able to
maintain the pace, he knew that at this speed he would only be good for another
ten or fifteen kilometres. But Heleena, with a long bow, quiver full of arrows,
a belt of throwing knives thick clothing and a leather breast plate, looked as
if she could hold this pace all day.
Steve
almost lost his footing as the path descended suddenly. He righted himself
clumsily. Ahead there was shouting and laughing. A man had fallen and rolled
off to one side to avoid being trampled as his comrades ran past. He climbed to
his feet, brushed himself off and continued running.
Matt
was beginning to experience tightness in his chest and could already feel the
lactic acid burning its way into his thighs and calves. A heavy hand slapped
him on the shoulder.
“How
goes it?” asked Berag, running alongside.
“Good,”
replied Matt, wiping his forehead.
Berag
was running up the line slowing to talk or encourage individual warriors before
moving on. Berag himself did not show signs of weariness, even though the chain
mail he wore looked to weigh more than ten kilograms. He was a strong man.
Matt
ensured he was at the action condition for the third time. Yes, the safety
catch of his weapon was engaged so the rifle wouldn’t discharge
unintentionally. He had plenty of spare ammunition and the first aid pack,
probably the most important pieces of equipment, on his back.
Scott
remained several warriors behind Matt. The Minimi he was carrying clanked and
rubbed against his webbing as he ran. He was looking forward to this encounter.
He felt they were at last taking a step towards returning home. More shouting
rang out from the front of the line, only this time it was different. This time
they sounded aggressive. They resembled the drunken shouts heard outside dodgy
nightclubs in the city, just before fists were clenched and makeshift weapons
drawn.
A
deep horn blast echoed through the forest. The blast came again and the
warriors quickened their pace. Scott could see an opening in the forest ahead
and a blue, cloud-dotted sky beyond. They moved clear of the snow-covered
forest and joined the large gathering of warriors ahead. Berag stood at the
front of the group.
The
valley was one big firing lane. Sheer, snow capped cliffs rose to the left and
right and the only way out was the way they had come, or where their enemy had
appeared from the forest on the other side. From what Steve could see there was
nowhere to go and the battle about to be fought would be messy. Steve turned
and caught Scott’s eye. He signalled for him to come to him. He shouted out to
Matt in the near distance. Nodding, the balding medic made his way over. Steve
spotted Will who had already seen him and was making his way over, shadowed by
Heleena.
“Okay,
I assume these guys will charge each other,” said Steve. “Now when the—”
“Who?”
Scott asked, sweat trickling down his forehead.
“Them!”
replied Steve, pointing to the other side of the valley where the enemy stood.
They seemed demoralised and weather-beaten, but that could well have been how
they looked rather than how they felt. It was obvious they were keen to fight.
“Shit,
they’re here already. Sorry, go on,” said Scott.
“Anyway,
as I was saying, when they do charge each other, Will, Matt and myself will be
positioned right here.”
“We
will take single shots where, and when, we can. Try not to hit Berag’s
warriors. Scott just short bursts on the gun, mate. Conserve your ammo and make
every shot count. We haven’t got the luxury of a resupply here.”
Steve
paused. “Now Scott while this is happening, I want you to steer wide of the
battle and make your way round to the other side, where the enemy is standing
now. Once they have charged, the enemy will be down in the basin of the valley
so you should be safe up there.”
Scott
liked that word “should”; it always added an element of spice to life. That was
one of the reasons he had joined the SASR.
“You
will be our cut-off party. Any of the enemy come back your way looking to
retreat, brass ’em up. You’ve got a claymore?”
Scott
shook his head.
“Yeah
I have,” said Matt opening a pouch on his webbing and taking out a claymore
mine and handing it over to Scott.
“Good,”
Steve said. “Get that set up, Scott. And stay out of sight once you’ve found
your position. And wait.” “Got ya boss,” said Scott.
“Good,”
Steve said. “Now ammo, how much have each of you got?”
“Three
full mags,” Matt said. “Same,” replied Will.
“Two
belts of two hundred rounds,” said Scott. “One belt in the mag,” he said
patting the camouflage canvas magazine attached to the light machinegun. “The
other’s a loose belt in my webbing.”
“Right.
I’ve got two full mags. Today we’ll use just one mag each,” Steve said to Matt
and Will. “Scott, use as little as you can, but enough to be effective. You’ll
probably be in more danger than we will up here, so if you run out and need the
extra belt, use it. Okay?”
“Don’t
need to tell me twice,” said Scott.
“Right,
any questions?” Steve asked. They all shook their heads.
The
four soldiers moved towards the larger group of warriors. Down in the valley
stood Thormdall, facing the enemy with his sword in hand.
“Berag,”
called Steve. “We will be killing the enemy from up here, but it’s important
that when the enemy break to retreat that your warriors don’t follow them!”
“Why?”
asked Berag.
“Because
we’ll have a man on the other side of the valley and he’ll be shooting into the
enemy as they retreat. Our weapons are very powerful.” He pulled out a bullet
from one of his spare magazines. “This is what the weapon fires,” Steve
explained. “It may look small but it is many times more powerful than your
bows. Most of these little… arrows,” it was the only way he could think of
explaining it to Berag, “that we fire, will probably pass through the bodies of
the men we kill. So if your warriors follow the enemy as they retreat and my
man begins firing, his arrows will also hit your men. Do you understand?”
Berag
looked at the bullet. “I do not understand how this works,” the chieftain said,
“but I understand what you are saying. I will call my warriors back once the
enemy have retreated.”
Steve
nodded. “Good.”
Silence
reigned throughout the valley as the Ulfor warriors eyed their enemy. Steve
moved back to the other soldiers. They watched Thormdall raise his sword above
his head and walk slowly towards the enemy warriors.
Now
that the brief was out the way and his soldiers knew what they were doing,
Steve had time to take in the force opposing them. They seemed to be made up
mostly of young men and teenage boys. Very few of them had armour, and those
that did wore half-rusted, cheap- looking chain mail. Most of them wore iron
helmets that shone dully in the morning sun. There was a big difference between
the two forces. Berag’s warriors seemed larger and fitter, although that could
well have been the distance playing tricks on his eyes. Their equipment was
also better maintained. Their chain mail was oiled and helmets polished. Their
weapons were immaculate: each sword, axe or bow gleamed healthily in the sun.
The Ulfor people had something to fight for and something to defend, even if it
meant giving their lives in the process. That was the difference.
“I
do not see the Kadark,” said Berag from the front of the Ulfor gathering. He
sounded concerned.
Steve
guessed the reason why. The Kadark may have a second force, so this rag tag
group would be a diversion while the main force made their way around the
mountain ranges to attack their village. Either that or this was an advance
force sent forward of the main pack. If this were the case, then the main force
would be a large one indeed.
A
deep voice bellowed out. It was Thormdall, who had advanced half way between
the Ulfor people and their enemy on the other side. The berserker still held
his sword above his head. He shouted again, plunging his sword violently into
the ground in front of him. Raising both his arms he threw back his head and roared
in a language foreign to Steve.
“What
the hell’s he doing?” asked Steve to himself more than anything.
“He
is offering them a challenge,” replied Heleena. “This entire battle can be
settled between Thormdall and one of their Berserkers if they have any. Either
that or it will be between Thormdall and their leader. It saves a lot of
bloodshed and does not take as long,” Heleena explained. “But it does not look
like that will happen on this morning.”
“What
is he saying?” asked Steve, as Thormdall boomed once more.
She
shrugged. “We do not know. It is a language that only Berserkers are taught.
Before you ask, one can only become a Berserker when one kills a full-grown
bear or wolf, single-handed at, or before, the age of twelve summers.
Berserkers are warriors chosen by Odin. If the boy is killed by the animal, or
lives but fails to kill the animal, then the Father God has not chosen him.
Thormdall killed a fully-grown brown bear just before his eleventh summer. Word
spreads quickly around the land when something like this happens. When other
Berserkers heard of Thormdall, they came to Ulfor to make sure what they heard
was correct before taking him away for his training.”
She
fell silent as she watched the proceedings.
“No
Berserker has responded or stepped forward to take the challenge, so Thormdall
will now issue the challenge again in our language.”
Steve
assumed that if this second challenge went unanswered then an open battle would
quickly follow. Heleena interpreted for the Australians.
“Hear
me, those who stand against us!” Thormdall’s voice called. “Let us settle this
now!” He went silent for a moment. “Come forward your leader, I will send you
swiftly on your way! This fight is one of honour! You can be welcomed to the
Hall by the Father God! Why die for nothing when you can die a hero!” He roared
the final word.
Silence
followed and for some time no one moved. Then Steve noticed movement at the
back of the enemy. Their leader seemed to have risen to the challenge.
“Blasphemer!”
roared a voice amongst the rabble and a bowman pushed his way clear. In one
fluid motion he brought his weapon up and released an arrow. The projectile
screamed softly as it cut through the air towards its target. Thormdall did not
move as the arrow narrowly missed his face and slammed into the earth behind
him. Will realised that the enemy warriors were Christians, or as Heleena
called them Chreest Men.
“So
it begins,” said Heleena.
“Ready
yourselves!” shouted Berag to his warriors.
“Odin
still watches you,” roared Thormdall to his enemy. “Today he will make you
regret you ever turned away from him!”
This
was met by a deafening roar and the Ulfor warriors burst forward like water
from a broken dam.
“You
blokes right?” shouted Steve to the other soldiers. “Yeah, all sweet,” Scott
shouted with a grin.
“Take
care ay?” Will shouted, grabbing Heleena’s hand.
The
young woman laughed as if she would not for one moment be in any danger. She
pulled away, running at the rear of the Ulfor charge alongside the other bowmen
and women.