Aki lead his men closer, still in a loose group, and began to hurl insults. With all the ferocity Ulfrik expected from his father, Orm yelled back across the expanse. Orm the Bellower could be heard above anything, across any battlefield. His battle cry weakened men and frightened wolves. Ulfrik felt proud to stand next to him at this moment, and to let out his own bellow.
“Arrows!” Orm called. But the weak hunting bows failed to reach Aki’s line.
Aki and his men laughed and showed their backsides. More arrows flew, one actually landing among them. A section of their ranks jumbled to avoid the arrows.
After a while, neither side had advanced and the cajoling and cursing grew uninspired. Ulfrik anticipated the attack. He could already feel the enemy shields clashing on his own.
Orm must have sensed it as well. “Ready shields. They’ll come at us soon.”
True enough, Aki called out and pointed at them with his sword; the green gem on the pommel flashed, as if winking at Ulfrik. Then the whole group moved forward at a jog. Orm’s few bowmen fired and first blood was shed as an arrow found a mark. A raider fell, clutching his neck. As the enemies approached, screaming and cursing, they picked up speed.
Then they seemed to slow, and they raised their arms.
At first, Ulfrik didn’t understand.
“Spears!” Orm screamed, raising his shield.
With a hiss, the enemy let their spears fly, some hurling two at a time. The heavy shafts sailed in steady arcs, thudding all along the line and into the earth before them. Ulfrik ducked behind his shield just as someone behind him screamed with a wet gurgle.
“Lock shields!” Orm cried again. “No mercy!”
Ulfrik hurried to place his shield on Snorri’s. Beside him, Orm’s shield clacked on his own. Over the leather shield rim, Ulfrik saw Aki leading a charge, his men forming a loose wedge behind him. Screams washed over them, and Ulfrik pulled behind his shield and braced for the onslaught.
None of the powerful kicks Orm had ever delivered to Ulfrik’s shield in drills could compare to the impact of a real charge. The enemy crashed down upon Ulfrik; Aki had probably guessed he was the weakest link. He felt himself driven back as the charge plowed home, but the man behind shoved him forward, smashing Ulfrik up against the point of the swinehead. His breath pressed out of his chest, Ulfrik swooned.
But somehow he still stood.
The noise was deafening: the roars and curses of men on both sides, the clash of shields like rocks clattering down a mountainside. Then, under the shield came a gray iron blade. Ulfrik sprang back, the blade searching for his crotch or inner thigh-either strike would bleed him out in minutes. In answer, spears plunged down from behind him, striking over the shield wall at the enemy.
Regaining his composure, Ulfrik jabbed his short blade under the shield, feeling it turn on something as he did. Now came the steady killing. Men on both sides howled and screamed. The tang of blood rose into the air. Ulfrik kept his shield over Snorri, who screamed and jabbed his blade beneath it. Orm, next to him, pushed forward into Aki.
Giddy and light-headed, Ulfrik stabbed his sword again and again beneath his shield until it came away bloody. It had to have been Aki’s blood; the enemy leader shrieked in pain whenever Ulfrik felt the resistance to his strike. It was an incredible feeling to exist only in the timeless space of battle-a space in which people moved with perfect clarity. Ulfrik didn’t know how it happened, but suddenly the orderly battle lines on both sides were broken. Men were pairing off in combat. To his left, Snorri had engaged a red-haired giant with a bloody ax. A sallow-faced man came at Ulfrik with a spear from the front. Instinctively, his shield arm snapped up, saving him but lodging the enemy spear deep into the wood and sending Ulfrik careening backward. The attacker, also without a shield, dropped his spear and fumbled for his long knife. It was the pause Ulfrik needed. He stepped into the gap and sliced upward, his blade ripping through the man’s unprotected throat like old linen. Blood gushed down the man’s body as he flopped face down with Ulfrik standing over him.
The close but disordered ranks of men crashed into him all around. Before him, Orm and Aki traded blows strong enough to behead a horse. Aki, despite being shorter, steadily beat Orm back until Ulfrik saw his father stumble over a corpse. Again the world slowed down. Orm toppled backward, one arm out to break his fall, his shield arm drawn protectively over his chest. Aki’s eyes seemed lit with a feral fire. He stepped into Orm’s fall, hauling his sword back, preparing to plunge it into the gap in Orm’s defense. Ulfrik, watching, felt everything move too slowly; it could not be real.
He leaped forward, his borrowed sword seeming almost to pull him toward Aki’s exposed armpit. The iron blade thrust easily through the chain links, plunged into Aki’s soft skin, and finally halted on bone deep inside. He saw Aki’s eye blaze. Then the man’s eyelids fluttered, his pupils dimmed. Brilliant scarlet sprayed Aki’s sides and his mouth fell open, releasing a torrent of blood as he twisted and fell. Ulfrik, amazed, forgot to release his sword; it snapped as Aki toppled.
Weaponless and stunned, Ulfrik looked up into the melee. Men dashed everywhere. He could not tell who was who, but he guessed the enemy was in retreat now that their leader was a corpse at Ulfrik’s feet.
Orm leaped up, ready to fight, as if he had never touched the ground. Ulfrik, still straddling Aki before him, nodded to his father. Even as men still swirled in combat, Orm dropped his fighting stance and strode to Ulfrik’s side. Kicking Aki’s body over, he dropped his hand to his son’s shoulder. Breathing heavily, father and son stared down at the corpse at their feet.
“You are a man today,” Orm finally said, patting Ulfrik’s back. “When I’m gone you will be a fine jarl.”
Ulfrik heard no more but his own beating heart. He looked to his father, who was surveying the ebbing tide of the battle, the bloody flotsam of its wake. Ulfrik smiled, and swore he would never forget this day.
***
The raiding party had been destroyed, killed to a man as near as anyone could tell. Once the bodies had been stripped of valuables and the raiders’ ship found and hauled overland to the hall, Ulfrik helped carry away the treasures. Orm made good on his promise to line the coast with the raiders’ heads, supervising a few men performing the grizzly task. Ulfrik was glad he did not have to watch.
Only one of their own had died-the man who had taken a hit from the thrown spears.
“A fool to die like that,” Orm had told Ulfrik privately. But later, when the man’s relatives came to collect their blood price, Orm had praised the man as if he were a hero from a saga. Some of the other men had taken serious injury, but once everyone had cleaned up, they nonetheless prepared to celebrate with a feast.
Ulfrik sat at the high table with his father, his uncle, and their hirdmen. Being a man meant he was to drink like a man, yet he still became drunk like a boy. Orm and Auden were in high spirits, and every time Ulfrik drained his mug it was ordered refilled. Ulfrik was enjoying the glory of the battle and the camaraderie of the warriors. Earlier, he had embellished his own role for the excitement of his cousins, ignoring Grim’s constant interruptions and belittlement. Now, Grim had disappeared, making the feast even more pleasant.
“Listen! Listen to me!” Orm banged on the table as he stood. “By the gods, still your mouths!”
Men laughed and fell silent, turning on their benches to look up to Orm.
“Today, we celebrate not only our victory, but also the making of a man.” Orm gestured to Ulfrik without looking down. Several of the men hammered on the tables and growled their approval. Ulfrik shrank under the attention, not knowing what to do.