The ships of the blockade gave chase, once they had uncoupled the rest of their boats. Captain Kormund and the Eikthyrnir hung back to harrass them at least long enough for Einarr and Hrug to carry out their part of the plan.
Breidelstein grew larger as they neared the shore, resolving itself into the various warehouses and halls that made up a city. Up close like this, it seemed somehow… smaller than he had expected, and Einarr did not know how much of that was Ulfr’s fault. Einarr, after all, only had childhood memories and his father’s stories to rely on.
Naudrek cleared his throat. “Hrug’s ready whenever you are.”
“I understand.”
“You think this is going to work?”
“It should.” I hope. Father would be taking most of both their crews on the assault. With Kormund still engaged behind them, both groups were counting on the success of Einarr’s ritual.
Einarr glanced at the Örlögnir where it rested on the deck in the center of their rune circle. Would they get a second chance, if it didn’t work? He shook his head: it was too late to worry about that now.
“Naudrek, Jorir, get us docked. Hrug and I are going to be busy for a while.”
“Yes, Captain!”
“Einarr wasn’t sure he’d ever get used to being a “Captain.” He tried not to twitch.
With a glance at Hrug, who still sat cross-legged on the deck, Einarr took his place in the center of the array with the distaff. “Let’s begin.”
Runa stood at the bulwark behind the gangplank, wrapping her fingers in the folds of her skirts and chewing her lip. Once again, she had been left behind – and not just that but ordered to stay behind with her father. Even though she knew she could be of use to Einarr out there, just like she was on the Isle of the Forgotten.
There was the Heidrun, docking now. As expected, Einarr’s crew was also joining the main assault… and was that Bea? …Yes, there went Beatrix, the Imperial Princess, in her fancy breastplate and with her fancy spear. Bea was definitely going to stick close to Einarr, if only to try to impress him. Thus, if Runa stuck with Beatrix, she could remind him she, too, was good to have around.
Still biting her lip, Runa looked over her shoulder. There was Aema, speaking with Father. There was Reki, tending to Sivid’s shoulder. Neither of them was paying attention: it was now or never.
She chose now. Without another thought, she raced down the gangplank after her rival.
Runa ran through the streets of Breidelstein, pelting heedlessly around corners as she tried to catch up. She kept one hand clutching the hilt of her belt knife, just in case, but none of the locals tried to stop her.
As she rounded the next corner she slid to a halt, suddenly faced with the chaos of melee. How had she not realized how close she was?
That didn’t matter. She was here, now, and there was Bea. No sign of Einarr, but he was sure to be nearby. If she was to prove her worth, she would have to support them properly. Runa opened her mouth and began to Sing.
She did not sing to invoke the battle fury: they were here to recapture the island, not merely raid it. It would not do to send the warriors forward indiscriminately.
Instead, she sang to lift their fatigue and strengthen their resolve. She saw Bea glance back, startled, but only for a moment. In the next instant she had returned her attention to the fight at hand.
Beatrix was like a whirlwind in the battle line. Runa could not help but admire the speed and grace with which the Valkyrie plied her spear. If Einarr had wanted a wife to fight alongside him, he could make no better choice.
Stop that, she thought, dashing away the grimness that threatened to choke her voice. That had never been her role, would never be her role, and Einarr knew it. If she intended to prove her worth, it was not combat she needed to excel at.
The line followed Bea as they continued to advance into the city. Runa walked after them, keeping at least half a city block between herself and the fighting, and sang more strongly. If she happened to make Bea look good while she shone, well, so be it.
Contrary to his usual practice, Stigander was among the first off the Vidofnir. It felt good to finally step on the ground he had once called home. If he was honest, it felt even better to visit some measure of payback on the traitors – poor ensorceled men defending the Usurper’s hold on the land. He turned the flat of his blade forward and laid about himself relentlessly.
The wolflings fell back before the liberators’ onslaught like barley before the scythe. Stigander pressed their advantage, driving straight up the main road that led to the cliff.
The further they went, the stronger their ranks seemed to grow. As Stigander looked to either side, he realized that the ordinary townsfolk were falling in behind him, bearing whatever weapons they had to hand. He blinked, gratified but confused. This was not normal behavior.
There was a large square just ahead. Much like the rest of the city, it appeared much grimmer than Stigander remembered. Still, though, it would provide a good place to regroup, and he had questions. They pressed on, taking full advantage of their enemies’ poor morale.
The Usurper’s men fell back to the next strong point. Stigander motioned his men forward even as he fell back, looking for a likely candidate.
The men of the Vidofnir and the Heidrun who fought with needed no encouragement to press on. His shoulders itched to give up the front line, but there was information he needed. Stigander spotted one of the locals who was a little better equipped than the rest.
He pointed at the man. “You there. What goes on here?”
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