Coward
Proofread by TehSporkBandit
“Hey, shake a leg! It's not getting any warmer out here!” A flap of wings and rush of air only makes everything worse as you bend your back and jog towards the nondescript gap between heaps of crumbled stones and clinging mosses. The dismal skies still disgorge sheets of fat lazy snowflakes that form a gauzy veil. It stifles the air and blinds the senses. Rainbow Dash’s voice is muffled from a distance of no more than thirty feet, and you can’t pick out anything but the most indistinct edges at a few hundred feet. As you clutch your rucksack straps, the pins of cold stab into your frost-bitten fingers.
Huffing and panting, the jog turns into a run as you lose sight of Rainbow after she swoops under a great dilapidated arch. Being in such a desperate rush to catch up, you only see the forlorn and wind-ravaged faces of the custodian statues on either side of what was once a marvellous gatehouse. There are subtle signs that the crumbling stone encrusted with frozen black moss had been something far more grand. The misty outlines of great pointed turrets dotted the ragged skyline as collapsed monoliths haunt the far reaches of the phantasmal winter world.
“C’mon, for Fleetfoot's sake!” As loud as she shouted, it still sounds like the blue spangled Pegasus is crying out into a pillow. Thankfully, following half a dozen ponies tramping through the snow wasn’t too difficult. A great stone edifice emerges from the haze, great granite pillars and tall buttresses reaching up to the sky as a staircase leads up to the front entrance’s arch. Dash is just up ahead, settled on the top steps, and holding a great wooden door ajar.
Darting up those steps, you shoulder your way inside and brush past the Pegasus. You loosen the rucksack from your back and let it fall with a loud 'thump' to the flagstone floor. “Aaagh.” You rapidly rub your hands together, the friction swiftly building up into an uncomfortable heat before cupping them around your mouth and blowing. “ It'ssssss cold. Look at these.” You actually show your fingers which feel pudgy and swollen with the cold. They didn’t look swollen, but each finger was a concerning mix of white and red. “If they fall off, I wouldn't be surprised.”
“Heh, somepony’s been spending time listening to Rarity… come on, it's not that cold.” She was still more than occasionally irritating, not to mention not to mention mercurial, but Rainbow Dash was at least getting more amicable. Taking your pack in her mouth, she tosses it over her back and trots off, “These are coming with me, because there doesn't look like any other way to get you moving short of giving you a kick in the flank. Then you'll probably just whine about it.” She half turns to shoot you a smirk and hurries off into the darkness of the inner foyer. Shifting shadows meander through abandoned halls as you realize it’s probably best to ignore the discomfort in your limbs and hurry forward.
“Sure, this is charming.” Your quip is accompanied by a bellied groan of discomfort. The molding depths of the interior had been swept and cleared but the patina of age and putrid neglect hung in the air. “Twilight said there's a library here, but where is she? It couldn't have been that…” you are partially distracted by the sound of a puff of breath and clap of steel shutters.
A glow radiated from Rainbow's pack as she stoops down to looks in what looked like a lamp, “Hey, you alright in there?” She gave the lamp a little tap which sends the small cloud of twinkling lights inside into small intricate spirals like dancing fairies. Rainbow chuckles and lends an ear, as if listening to a quiet request from inside, “Oh, him?” She looks in your direction, “yeah you guys are the tough ones.” She wears that infernal smirk like a badge of pride while your sullen scowl does nothing to combat it. The soft comforting glow accompanied by quiet taps of unassuming fireflies against the glass makes the dank hall more tolerable.
Picking up the lantern in her mouth, Rainbow Dash trots off towards a curling grand stairway that leads to the left. It looks like this was an audience chamber, there is even the raised dais for thrones at the far side beneath a pair of restored tapestries. But if it was a throne room any trace of the regal seats had been removed. Looking up you can see chipped plaster and faded frescoes stretched across wide vaults where the shadows still frolicked, played, and peered from the corners. This wasn’t a place you wanted to get lost in.
“Scoot yer boot, you two! Yer as slow as a snake in a sock.” That takes a second or two of thought before making any sense. A rumbled groan of irritation from Rainbow is her only reply before she takes off at a gallop, leaving you to surmount the curving staircase bereft of the light she’d absconded with. Thankfully, the steps are flat and broad, which made tripping over them far less likely. You can't quite match Rainbow, but you still manage to come in not too far behind as she turns on a bit. Rainbow leans into the turn without losing a bit of speed and gallops around the bend into the hall. Meanwhile, you were just barely cresting the top of the stairs.
Up those steps you come face to face with the cowpony who'd turned to look at Rainbow Dash when she hurtled by. You slow and smile wryly, “She doesn't take challenges well.”
“Oh, she takes 'em right good. 'Specially if ya tell 'er what she can't do, she'll just go right ahead an' do it.” The cowpony smirks, showing a clever gleam rarely ever displayed.
“Must be like looking in the mirror sometimes.” You trudge forward down the marble hallway.
There was an indignant mock-growl from the pony behind you, “You best be thankin' yer lucky stars that yer on mah' good side.” You can't help but laugh to the inevitable chorus of Applejack asking, “An' what's so funny?”
Coming down off that slight high with a breathy gasp, you turn to flash her a smile, “First of all, it wasn't really an insult.” Borrowing a page from Rarity, you continue with your head held high in an air of artful refinement, “Why, I only mean the finest and most determined pony couldn't help but see such a good stick-to-itiveness in somepony else. After all, the most exemplary mare could ever hope to see the occasional glimmer in Rainbow's personality as the imperfect virtue they themselves hold.”
A stolen glimpse back has her flushing and keeping her eyes down in a humble acceptance. Stetson lower on her brow, pulled over slightly flushed features, she starts quietly, “S-shucks, ah didn't quite mean tha-”
“And she took my saddlebag with her so I didn't have to carry it.” You finish, half cutting AJ off before she had to accept any compliment.
The bubbling laugh echoes down the tall corridors, unabashed and unreserved. “Hah! You've certainly been spendin’ time with Rarity, but, Hooo-wee, that's a right good 'un.” Applejack catches up to you and even jabs a hoof in your thigh, nudging you over, “But you're mighty trustin', given how many times that pony's lost good saddles'n tack. Yep, ah wouldn't count on seein' that'n again.”
“Seriously?” You ask as Applejack trots off, lantern now held in her mouth.
Ah hell, I bet she is.
♣
Shuffling around to clear spaces from tables and shoving spare cloths and brittle writing quills aside from the broad round table still doesn’t reveal the object of your search. “Seriously not cool, RD, where is it?”
Damn it, why does Applejack get to say 'I told you so'?
“Hey, it's around, just put it down to stretch my wings.” You glance back at her as if to say 'and?' but she pointedly ignores it, “I think I put them with the rest.”
“C'mon, RD, we need yer help in here for the high shelves!” You and Twilight's shared revelation about the importance of Clover the Clever had galvanized everypony into action.
But Ponyville's library wasn't enough, oh no, you had to go to some ancient facsimile of the library of Alexandria.
The thick stones of the massive fortress complex were scrubbed clean, but there are small web-like cracks here and there, and despite the dozens of curling staircases upwards, you had caught a glimpse of indoor meadows growing in the gloom. It didn't feel quite dilapidated but it was still cold and neglected.
“Look, if you still can't find it I'll help you look for it later, alright?” You don't have time to respond as she canters out from that small palatial chamber to the adjoining balcony overlooking the library below. Rows and rows of book stacks, at least five times the height of a pony, had only a few woodworm eaten ladders here and there to reach the tallest shelves. Naturally, Fluttershy and Rainbow Dash were exceptionally useful in the newest quest for information.
You, by comparison, were not as useful. Your Equestrian was getting much better, but it wasn’t about recognition anymore, it was a matter of time: others could skim books in a glance and flip through pages with practiced speed and accuracy. You can’t hope to remotely match that or even be certain you hadn’t missed something allusive. Looking for individual volumes of books on Clover the Clever isn't going to be something that you are tremendously helpful at. Thankfully, there were a lot of other necessities involved in staying in an abandoned castle.
Blankets were set down and a small lantern of fireflies buzz their happy choreographed patterns up and down in admirable contentment near a small cooking fire that was started in the hearth. The cheery little fireside glow chases away the chill and provides enough light to read a book in comfort. Yes, you’d set up the cozy little camp surprisingly well.
A final sigh of resignation pushes you to put aside the thoughts of finding your pack as you slip your phone in your pocket. Really, there wasn't too much in it: a few treats that you enjoy, a change of socks, a blanket, a canteen, and some oil you were using as lip balm against the winter chill. Rarity gave you the last one and it tasted like raspberries and mint so it does feel like a bit of a loss. Licking your parched lips, there was also a soft cloth for your glasses that would have been useful as they fog up much too often to give a rainbow-like spectrum when warm air met the cold glass. It was worth being quiet about your glasses fogging up, otherwise Rainbow Dash would be teasing you for a month about ‘seeing her’ everywhere you went. The traces of echoing voices drifts up from the library archives into the massive hall just outside the door.
The doors are closed, the single window is stiffly shut, and the old curtains are drawn, but it could never hope to contain all the heat in a stone room. There’s a small bundle of firewood in the waiting room that connects with the long corridor hallway, the space in which most of your friends had stashed their extra bags to free up space in the comfy palatial chamber.
Your friends are away and you are alone here. It’s a little creepy, but you were going to run out of firewood before nightfall. “Damn.” You look at the door leading to the hallway and away from the ponies. It isn’t just about the darkness, you had lanterns for that, it was about the cold. Squatting down in front of this warmth-giving fire now isn’t going to keep you warm tonight.
Attempting to steel your resolve, you look at the soaked footwraps and inspect your drenched shoes. At just about any other time you'd have tossed the ratty things out. The heel is separating, the arches are gone, the treads are almost smooth, and the neck is down to a small hard bit with no padding that would otherwise cause a blister in about five minutes. With a sigh, you pull the footwraps from the stone, knowing your old ragged socks were in the now lost pack, and lace them up with cord while slipping your feet back into freezing boots.
Grasping the lantern of fireflies, you take one fire-prodding branch that would have to do as a makeshift club. You weren't exactly scared… alright, you were. Who knew what could have crept over the walls to linger in the depths of these ruinous halls. It might be as simple was a bear or another timberwolf. Moving out through the opposite door, you look over the library from the gallery and staircase leading down into the pit of books. “Twi.” You spot the Alicorn looking through book after book, inspecting each tome then returning it with the rhythm of an automaton.
“Hmm?” she said, distracted but cocking an ear back as she quickly skims through one promising volume.
“I’m going to fetch some firewood. I'll be back in twenty or thirty minutes. I'm letting the fire get a bit bigger then I'll put on supper, alright?” You jerk your thumb back towards the other room.
“Uh-huh.” She’s disinterested and doesn’t even give you a glance to see the motion.
Shaking your head, you turn back into the chamber before closing the door so no heat could escape. Piling on a little more wood into the hungry flames, you slip out the opposite door and into the adjoining preparation room before entering the hallway. A single row of Corinthian pillars spiralling up to the roof where it supported the elaborate vaulted ceilings. It feels familiar, almost like an entrance to a tomb.
Just find some smashed wood and extra slats, nothing more.
Taking a right, you wave your lantern out in an intersection and listen to the ghostly howl of the breeze whistling in some shattered window. You decide on a simple pattern that won't get you lost. Left, right, left, right, the pattern is foolproof.
♣♣
Grunting, sweating, and straining with a constant stream of curses didn't worked at first. But after another ten minutes of effort and a mighty crack you could finally slump down against a broken table, mop your brow and feel accomplished. It had taken closer to forty minutes than twenty in total, but the fire wasn't likely to burn itself out.
The aged credenza lay in pieces in front of you. Long spars and splinters of hardwood of reasonable size and capable of being snapped lay in not-so-neat piles here and there. All that’s left is half a dozen gold knobs with pearl insets and an intricately decorated board at the top, carved in immaculate spirals and etched with motifs of ponies, thorns, and some sort of great garden. It’s pretty and thus far you'd kept it as a gift for Rarity who would probably appreciate it more than anypony or anyone else. Even if she doesn't, it’s another spar of firewood that you can use.
The room around you looks like a worker’s quarters of some kind, with a fair table, a nice bed frame with old, long, rotted curtains that disintegrated at the faintest touch. You had thought it could make for a good club, but it had proven itself more adept as a crowbar. The table you’re rest your back against had broken ages ago, it sagged and buckled long before you rested against it, and the thick layer of dust that clung to every surface was ample evidence of that.
The thought of looting the room had already occurred to you, and after a few moments of searching, there hadn't been even a single article that was of any use. Old stained copper mirrors were more green than gold, and paintings that hung on the walls were white with age. Gathering the timbers from the shattered furniture, the prospect of getting back to the fire sounds terrific. After stuffing the greenwood crowbar bough under your arm with a half-score of other beams, you set off.
Heading back with the first load, you stop at the sudden clap. A heavy weight had slapped against the floor before something else rolled around like a baseball. Looking back and forth, some of the jubilation is stolen away by that odd noise. It was an old castle and piles of cracked plaster lay here and there on the floor. You had seen a small sheet fall from the aged ceiling when you tipped over the credenza and it had made a similar sound.
The firefly lantern is grasped loosely in your freezing fingers. Left, right, left, right, you follow your simple pattern right back towards the chamber. Slinking through the night as a single lone traveller, you seek the warmth and company of friends and know you’re doing your part to help. 'Left' your mind reminds you again as you turn and see the long columned hallway. A silent 'hah!' is better expressed as a grin. You know exactly where you are now as the warm yellow glow of the fireflies reflects off the surrounding pillars.
A single apple rolls out from the open door and comes to a rest ten feet in front of you. Skidding to a stop, it just seems out of place. “AJ?” Something scrambles inside the room, scraping and softly padding around, quite unlike the substantial clop of hooves. Slowly, you stalk forward, the light of the firefly lamp gives away where you are while the tap of your shoe’s detaching heel betrays your every-other step. Slowly shunting up to the door, you poke your head through the entrance to gaze around the waiting room.
It takes you only a moment to spot the oddity. Among the cluster of saddlebags, is a short gangly creature that was picking its way through with unnatural ease. Long spindly limbs with wiry fingers and a whip-like tail curls as it rifles through belongings before shoving them back. A rough rawhide satchel is slung across its back, adorned by a brace of raven feathers near a bone toggle clasp. The creature half turns its head, flicking up a pair of sharp dog-like ears in your direction. Frozen to the spot, you just watch as the creature seizes a single scrap of paper. It is one of Rarity’s handbills from the boutique. Its note of satisfaction sounds like a gargling hiss as if it is about to vomit or hock up the linings of its throat.
Corded muscles and taut red skin stretches like weak canvas along its sharp skeletal frame, punctured by bony growths like spines at its elbows, knees, heels, and shoulders. Where neither that or the waxy red skin was stretched were scabrous black growths like bark dotting its hide.
You smell a strange but familiar odour as you edge back into the hallway for a moment. Gently trying to put the slats of wood down against the wall and grip for the makeshift club, you grope around but can't find it. Placing the firefly lamp down, then the boards, you steal a glance down to fetch your protective weapon, you find it and bring it up in front of your face.
Your wrist is caught and you find yourself staring into the glowing yellow eyes of the creature from the pits of hell that had noiselessly slunk out of the room. A fleeting twitch runs across its face as well, a rising shock, before its baleful eyes widened. For that moment, it’s hard to tell which of you looked more surprised. Then its lipless mouth peels back to show a row of jagged teeth dripping saliva and a seething forked tongue. It isn't even as tall as a pony but the spidery creature was unnaturally strong as skeletal fingers grip you like a constrictor.
The beast leans forward, its lambent eyes nauseating and hypnotic all at once, “You have come here to find your deepest urges…” Its hollow rasping voice sounding like it should have stripped its throat dry in moments. It steps on your knee as you knee down, letting the shorter being draw itself up in front of your face.
Its stagnant breath washes over your face as it continues, “Something which, until now, rested in the dark. The darkness. I see you, in a dungeon of black despair. Downward, plunge into a prison, one of your own mind, your own making. So, why? Why were you bound and chained to feeble strengths, to a fearful mind, limbs uncooperative, and tongue inflamed to stuff your hoggish maw and render you deaf, dumb, and blind to everything but me?” It keeps that loathsome smirk, sniffing through slit nostrils before tightening its grip.
It still snorts and hisses with a forked tongue, “I see you, I smell your fear, it runs down your leg, nithinger. So I'll release you in your own mires where you can only do more harm to those ponies than good. Even now, you'll bring down their kingdoms, brick by brick, and they will curse your name as mournful winds howl through the skeletal spars of empty cities and the whole land decays when the light goes out forever. And there you are, whether you know it or not, at the last toll of the daylight hour before the sun begins to set and the last glories leave this land.” Its depressing voice whispers some prophetic dread for you and for those around you while fiery orbs hold you transfixed.
Why did its words seep into your mind? It’s nothing but a taunt.
You can hear voices from the main room again, excited, happy, jubilant in fact. The rising warmth spreading through your limbs dispels the dispiriting pall that entranced you. The impish beast’s eyes flick from yours, breaking its persistent stare to look at your wrists.
Instead of dragging you down, its snarl of malicious satisfaction quickly drains from its leathery face. The timberwolf was more frightening, this was more surprising. The forest spirit was large, quick, and easily capable of rending you to pieces, so while such a demonic apparition should have concerned you, you’d made it away from similar baleful eyes, tearing teeth, and promises of rot and decay. The Imp's grip begins to slacken as it tries to tug itself away from you, though now you held on to it. The loathsome creature’s face contorts quickly, melting from contempt to surprise.
Finally, you found your voice, “I didn’t say you could go.” You swing your head forward, like a certain aggressive Pegasus taught you from personal experience. The crown of your head connects under its jaw, cracking its neck back as you stand and overbalance the impish creature.
Two bat like wings flap out to stabilize the creature, keeping it upright. Fight or flight, it seems to choose in a fleeting moment. The Imp silently lungs at you with its distended maw hanging wide open. Its rancid breath blasts past your face, but the beast never bites down as you wind up with a strong right jab. The distance is short and that robs you of some power, but the punch still connects with the creature's face. Your knuckle catches its mouth, chipping one of the triangular teeth and dragging a bloody furrow from knuckel to wrist. Your free hand grasps its satchel strap and holds the creature fast. “Hey! Girls, get out here!”
Its legs lash out and crash into your chest, shunting you away and using you as a springboard to launch itself backward. You wobble and fight to remain upright. It snaps its trap-like jaws at your hands, making you pull the limb away quickly to avoid losing any fingers. It squirms and reels back to the woodpile and lantern.
It stops and narrows its eyes in a malicious glare before a thin trailing rumble tears from its slender chest. “Go ahead… tell them, tell your friends, but you won't be able to say you saw me; no, you'll just prove you're afraid of the shadows and the carrion lords who will consume you at your ignoble end.” Its tail flickers out too far, striking the lantern and overturning it with a crackle of shattering glass. The light from the fireflies dims as they disperse in an airy cloud of sparks.
The beast chances a glance down at the sound. It is looking at the glass, not your balled up fist which thunders into the side of its head and flattens it against the wall. As you pull yourself up and raise a fist for a punishing blow, the creature snarls out, “Muninn!” There’s a loud flutter of wings building behind you. In what seems to be a seething mass, the noise grows in an instant as you turn to confront the rushing sound.
The creature takes that moment to kick off your thigh and scramble away from you on all fours. A small ‘oomf’ passes your lips, but you can’t hear it as a deafening screech and buffet of noise engulfs you. The raking peck of talons drives you to the ground as the black tide sweeps through the hallway, extinguishing the light completely as hungry beaks snapped up the few fireflies in an instant. Within moments it is gone with the imp nowhere to be found, leaving you in utter darkness.
The squeak of a swollen door greets your ears as the ruffle of feathers die. “Rightly?! Rightly… are you okay? Oh my.” A downy soft voice graces your ears as a new lantern shines light on a pale pink mane and soft buttercream fur. Fluttershy’s eyes barely glimmer in the dark, but the look of wonder can be picked out in the gloom amidst the dancing lights.
“Flutter-”
You’ve got wings, you can catch up, go catch it!
The idea sounds good as you starts but after a second or two, you can see the wide-eyed mare peeking from the doorway in concern. Expecting her to chase down a denizen of the fiery pits probably is asking too much. You are breathing hard but still your lungs with one last gasping sigh, “Where’s Rainbow?”
“Oh, she’s back in the library. Her and Applejack were holding a contest seeing what pony could find the Clover books first… what happened?” Already you drag yourself up off the ground from amid a bed of blackened feathers.
Right next to you, against the broken lantern, were shards of glass and a few splinters with a thin film of dripping blood illuminated by Fluttershy’s light. Looking at your stinging hand, you see the ragged skin and broken fleck of a tooth.
I can't prove you weren't here now, huh?
It doesn't matter much, you almost believed the demon at first. In had hurt itself and provided proof you weren’t mad. “Well-”
“Heyas! What’s happening? Did you find the wood? Are we gonna’ make a fire, make something tasty, not freeze, and get all huddled up and comfy with a marshmallow camp fire. I didn’t bring a reaaaally big blanket for that, just a standard Pinkie sized blanket and a spare. But it’ll still be good!” Pikie pokes her head out into the hallway.
“Are you okay? Is that...?” Fluttershy gingerly points to the broken edge of the lamp that only just stopped rolling back and forth.
“It's not my blood, it came from some red skinned wing-thing about yea tall.” You indicate its height by raising your hand just below your chest. You take a breath and nearly cough on the acrid fumes. It was that same ionized stink from a lightning strike.
“Huh, and sort of a hook beak kind of nose, sorta lumpy and skinny at the same time? Voice like a rusty gate hinge?” Pinkie smiles and cocks her head to the side as you carefully pluck the glass from your uncut hands.
“That pretty much covers it.” She sounds like she knows what you were talking about.
“Hey, smell that?” Pinkie gave the air an exaggerated whiff then stuck her tongue out in disgust.
“Yeah, so what is it? Not the smell, that’s ozone.”
“BOzone? I can believe it. Eeew, I can taste it too!” Pinkie scrapes her tongue across her teeth.
Fluttershy focuses back on Pinkie who waggles a hoof in her ear then snorts to get rid of the smell stuck in her nose. “I think it’s a Cloud Gremlin. I wonder what it’s doing way out here.”
“A Cloud Gremlin, what?” The husky voice and similar flap of wings asks as you pull your way back into the room. Rainbow Dash seems to just be making her way into the main chamber and shouts across the gap between chamber and hallway.
Why couldn’t you be here thirty seconds ago?
“Weren’t you supposed to be competing with AJ trying to find that book?” The trot of hooves never falter as the Pegasus appears in the doorway. Her answer was relegated to a dismissive shrug and a ‘meh’.
Pinkie smiled, “Oh, Rightly saw a Cloud Gremlin!” She was obliviously proud of that fact. “It took Rainbow weeks to get rid of the last two that showed up. Hey Dashie, does that mean he beat your record?” Is this normal? Shouldn’t they be concerned?
“Hey! I made the baseline so everypony can compete. Next time I’ll show you how to really do it. So, where’re their ugly mugs?” Rainbow seems indignant and by the way she scans up and down the hallways she was spoiling for a fight.
Not surprising, she sucker punched me when she found an excuse.
“Oh.” Pinkie waggles a hoof in her ear and then stares at the relatively clean nail before flapping an ear, “They’re gone.”
Rainbow’s sigh of resignation is muddied by a growl and irritable flick of her tail. “Yeah, well, nice job, kid.” The pushy athlete bobs her head in recognition but a double-take at your bloody hand got her eyes to bulge open, “Woah, did they do that?” She steps forward and fumbles for your hand, turning it over to look at the gash.
“Yeah, kinda'. I punched it in the face and I guess it caught me with its teeth.” The twinges of pain were finally starting to overide the spike of adrenaline. The wound doesn’t look deep, just long.
“… Cool.” She sounds genuinely impressed as Pinkie makes a hoof-punching gesture with a muttered ‘Ka-Poomf’ “Hey, why not go get that wrapped up and take a break? I’ll go see if there’s any more Gremlins creeping around. Hey, Fluttershy, you find something over there?”
The demure one holds up a single black feather to the light, “It’s from a raven.”
It must have been tailing us from Zecora’s. But what’s a Gremlin want with a clothier’s handbill? All it has is Rarity's name, cutie mark, and address.
♣♣♣
The ringing clamour of shattered steel mingled with the deathly gale of mortal cries as the blood of Northmen flowed into the waters like rivers. Fires burned through the empty ribs of longships that crowded around the great flotilla tied together end to end. Ragged sails were consumed in tongues of licking flames that slithered up from the charred decks, leaving nothing but blackened husks and a haze that passed over the waters.
A raucous cheer followed, ripping from the throats of countless hundreds aboard the tall gilt ships besieged by swarms of smaller craft. Bright blue fabric turned to heaps of ash as the once mighty Talon, flagship of the Swedish fleet, plunged into the icy mien leaving only the jutting spar of its bow. A smaller rowed craft departed, far outside of bowshot and thrown spear. Several dozen Swedish warriors raised their shields as one man stood facing the Long Dragon and its stubborn crew. A thin man with a ruddy face to match his rosy split beard glared daggers at those aboard the great warship.
Ulf dashed up the blood slicked steps, skirting around groups of wounded men who groaned as they were pulled down from the aftcastle and laid on the midship planking. “My lord! My lord!” He hefted his shield over his shoulder and ducked as another long arrow slammed into the wooden railing sending up a flurry of splinters. The Talon is sunk! King Svein flees!”
Up on the highest deck, he watched his liege at the tiller of the monstrous Long Serpent. He held it with such certainty, staring out over the main at the retreating vessel as if oblivious to the hundreds of enemy borders that flooded aboard the eleven ships of the King's fleet. “Yes, Ulf, I can see. But that is Jarl Hakon out there,” he pointed out to the swarm of vessels sweeping out from the headlands to the south, “and that is the Danish king's fleet in front of us. How is the rest of my fleet?”
“My lord.” The banner had been set behind Olaf, its trailing ends snapping in the hot winds that raked the decks and billowed the sails. “It seems that the Flind requires assistance on the port side, and the Bleaksea on the starboard. Both flanks are being hard pressed. Surely, if we send Jarl Sigvald-”
“He's not aboard the Bleaksea?” Olaf looked shocked for a moment. Ulf looked up at him from the staircase.
“W-well, no. He's aboard the Dragon.” The thane looked up at his armoured lord and watched the snarl form on his face.
“I ordered him to the Bleaksea half an hour ago. Kolbjorn, take the tiller!” The shield thane at the aft of the ship nodded, putting down his bow and darting to take over the helm of the vessel. Olaf made his way to the far side of the ship, “Ulf, get back to the forecastle.”
The Lion of the North's stride was sure and confident as he set his hands upon the bulwark of the vessel and stared out over the Crane to the vessel across from it. Sure enough, there were at least sixty warriors in heavy armour hefting two-handed axes, merely staring at the formation as smoke billowed from either end of Olaf’s battered fleet.
Ulf scrambled back across the mid-deck where the wounded were being checked and then quickly sent below into the hold. Dozens of warriors stood with shields held high, archers loosed arrow after arrow into the cramped decks of smaller vessels around them. The mighty Long Serpent towered above those lesser crafts, but even then, blood ran down the cracks between the wooden planks. Olaf just stared, “Vikar?”
“Vikar is dead, my lord!” Responded a warrior in the aftcastle crew.
There was an irritated grunt before Olaf responded, “Thorstein then! I sent two runners to command Sigvald to board to the Bleaksea. Were they both killed?”
The man named Thorsein answered swiftly, “No, my lord, I went myself. He said he would soon strike.”
It confused the Norse king as he remained silent while Ulf stepped back up to the forecastle. “Is something wrong?” One of Ulf’s companions asked when accidentally bumped.
“For us, no, for the jarl, maybe.” He blinked and looked back towards the sea. “The Danes have just circled, they didn't attack?” Ulf questioned of the forecastle crew. Several men shook their heads as younger warriors brought up more quivers of arrows for the bowmen who loosed shafts with that same rhythmic 'twang'.
“It seems the jarl has something to say after all.” Ulf was clasped on the shoulder and a mailed hand pointed at the score of figures crossing over from the Dragon to the Crane, and up to the sides of the Long Serpent.
Olaf could be heard calling from the stern of the ship, “What have you been waiting for jarl?!”
There was no immediate response until he'd pulled himself and several other men up to the deck. “Ah, King Olaf…” he started and bowed.
“Sigvald never bows.” Ulf muttered and took a sharp breath.
“This of course.” He raised a hand as a flaming arrow shot from back aboard the Dragon. It was the same moment that a bellicose scream tore from the half dozen Jom warriors on the deck as they brought their sturdy two-handed axes down, splitting apart chainmail with a contemptuous ease as across three ships confusion gripped the heart of the Northmen's fleet.
“Nithinger!” Olaf cried and drew his sword. “Oath-breaker, you… you!” He stammered, at a loss for words as the bear of a man just laughed and swung his mighty two-handed axe. The blade took Thorsein across the head, splitting his helmet in twain and the skull beneath it with a resounding crash of shattered iron.