"Make no mistake, today we are called to defend our lands. Hardar's intent is clear: to reduce our homes to ashes and tears. If you count the sails behind me now, you will see he has bent others to evil. No matter. All foes will wash away on the tide of blood before this day is done. We stand on this ground and we do not budge. We do not show mercy. We accept only victory. We fight for family, unlike Hardar and his jealous friends who fight only for pride. The gods love us and will grant us justice. We deliver the gods' justice at the point of our blades!"
Ulfrik thrust his fist into the air and his men followed, shouting in one voice. Ulfrik's heart thrummed at the grit and determination arrayed before him. Without looking back, Ulfrik knew the ships closed on the shore.
"Remember how we have drilled. Follow my command and those of my seconds. Protect yourself and protect your shield-brother. Then let your blades speak for you. Your families are safe in the hall, and Hardar will want to threaten it. He knows you will worry for your kin. Forget about the hall. If we stand here there is no way for him to reach it. You do not leave this hill; you do not leave your position! Do as I've ordered, and victory will follow. For Nye Grenner!"
The men roared back as Ulfrik joined the center of the line. Snorri gave an approving nod as Ulfrik donned his helmet, drawing the cheek plates closed. On his right, Toki gripped the banner of Nye Grenner. His stoutest warriors formed the front ranks, and many ranks back his trained hirdmen bristled with spears and axes. Behind them, Ulfrik had clustered bowmen drawn from the levy.
"Plant that banner, Toki. We are not moving from this place." Toki grunted and drove the banner pole into the soft earth.
"Well, now this is a surprise," Snorri said under his breath. "Where did Hardar raise this many ships?"
Ulfrik looked down the slope to where his docks stood empty. His own ships had been hauled away for safety. But now the dock and the tight beach of flat rocks and pebbles filled with ships coming aground. He silently counted twelve total, six beached and six still out at sea with furled sails. He could hear the invader's anxious voices calling orders back and forth as men spilled over the sides.
"They can't land them all and there's no other approach," Ulfrik replied. He snorted a laugh, as if one or one hundred ships made no difference. But this was a fleet, more than the local islands could raise in a few days. A hand tapped him from behind, and the man offered a skin of mead. Men facing battle needed mead to ease their natural fears of blood and slaughter. Ulfrik normally preferred his wits to anything that might blunt his mind, but now he seized the skin and guzzled before handing it to Toki.
"If they can't land them all, they can't fight with them all," Snorri observed.
Ulfrik grunted and drew his sword with a rasp. The blade song repeated down the line, and he felt the heat of his men press around him as they readied. The attackers were mobbing up, seemingly disordered. Ulfrik expected Hardar to raise a banner and form a block, then advance up slope. Instead Ulfrik saw him draw his blade and point. Then he bellowed and led a wild charge.
"What a fool," Ulfrik said with a smile. Then he shouted his first command. "Bows! Send them to Nifleheim!"
Ulfrik and his warriors dropped to one knee as the mass of bowmen at the rear shot. The thrumming filled Ulfrik's ears, followed by the swish the arrows overhead. He watched as the black fletched shafts plunged into the oncoming mob. Men screamed and tumbled into the grass. A second volley followed fast, and Ulfrik's smile stretched wickedly. Everything unfolded as he had planned. The wide slope offered no cover and was the sole approach to his hall. Bowmen only needed to arc their shots and the landscape ensured a killing zone at the front of his line.
The second volley was as devastating as the first, and dark bodies cartwheeled down the slope as arrows pierced them. Ulfrik expected the third volley to break them. No sane man would continue into the arrow storm. He heard brave voices booming out from the enemy, demanding them to keep moving.
As the third volley hissed overhead like a flight of ravens, Ulfrik anticipated Hardar's retreat. But instead he spotted a cluster of enemy in a side pocket where the arrows were not falling. Even as more enemy toppled, Ulfrik's eyes bulged and he cried out his warning. "Shields up! Enemy arrows!"
The counter fire was not significant. But Ulfrik and his men were on their knees and shields at their sides. Before they were beneath their shields, arrows were falling among them. A wet cry came from behind Ulfrik and shrieks followed. As they scrambled to raise their shields, they ruined the shots of their own archers.
It was the break Hardar needed. Ulfrik heard him screaming. "Charge! Get up the slope! Go!"
Ulfrik leapt to his feet. "Lock shields! For Nye Grenner!"
His men reacted with practiced fluidity. Shield clacked on shield and spears lowered into the gaps between them. Hardar's men drew to the final distance, and Ulfrik read them correctly. "Watch for their spears!"
Thin bladed throwing spears flashed and sailed across the gap. The spears thumped into shields or drove harmlessly into the earth. The spear blades bent, denying Ulfrik a chance to hurl them back. Several of his own men from the rear ranks flung their own spears. It was too late to stop the enemy.
Ulfrik swallowed hard and braced his shield. The back ranks braced against him as well. Hardar guided his mob in an uneven line. The two forces clamped together in an overwhelming thud of wooden shields and the groans of the men behind them. Ulfrik drove forward, plowing with his shield and stabbing under its rim. Hot blood splashed his hand and a foeman collapsed.
Now the steady murder began.
Spears sliced down from the second ranks of both sides, like the maw of a dragon slamming shut. A shaft thrust past Ulfrik's shoulder into the gap before him. The man stepping into his companion's place caught the spear in the collar of his leather vest. He yelped as the edge gashed his neck, but it was not fatal. Ulfrik rammed his shield forward, driving the metal boss into the dazed man's face. A second stroke beneath the shield turned on something hard, probably a thigh bone, and the second foe collapsed.
Ulfrik's pulse beat to the rhythm of the fight. His heart lifted with the wild joy of battle. Many years had passed since he tasted the euphoria of the shield wall. Too often a raid was finished before any serious fighting. Now he could slake his desire for true and glorious combat.
With two men piled dead before him, Ulfrik shoved into the space. Snorri and Toki both squeezed forward. Being on higher ground made driving back the enemy a simpler task. Spears again wove death, striking from above and between the front ranks. A spearhead clanked on Ulfrik's faceplate, dragging on the iron with a frustrated rasp. He roared back and redoubled his shove into the line. The dead at his feet nearly tripped him, and gore slicked the grass.
"Hardar, you bastard! Fight me if you have any stones!" Through the press of sweating, grunting, and bleeding men, Ulfrik spotted Hardar at the front of his lines. But Hardar's red face and white-eyed expression flickered between intervening men. No amount of maneuvering would realign them to face each other. The lines were too tight.
The banner of Nye Grenner cracked above the carnage, marking Ulfrik's position. He repeated his challenge to Hardar. But few places were more chaotic than the front rank of the shield wall. Clanging swords, battering shields, battle cries, and death shrieks overwhelmed the ears. The nose filled with the tang of blood and the cloying musk of sweating men. The mouth filled with sour fear or metallic blood, and every word was an incoherent slur from split lips and broken teeth. Hardar would not find him.