Tattered

Chapter 19

When the trolls finally mounted their attack, I was fast asleep in my bed.

It was an ungodly hour of the night, and sleep was a welcome reprieve from my daily anxieties. Erik still insisted on training with us, and his pestering still grated on my nerves. Besides that, I'd seen Breca and Freydis talking in hushed tones in a corner of the great hall. I couldn't hear what they were speaking of, but just seeing the two of them together sent a shiver down my spine.

I didn't wake up until Dag pushed open the door to my chambers with a crash and threw a plate of chainmail at my sleeping form.

"They're here!" He bellowed once before sprinting back into the halls without a second glance.

The realization of what his words meant send my heartbeat racing, and I was up in seconds. I hastily dressed and ran into the halls. The sounds of fighting and shouts echoed around me, sounding muffled but not far away.

As I reached the outer edges of the castle, more people were running in every direction. Serving women ran to grab food and retreat deeper into the castle. Men grabbed any weapons and armor that could be found and readied for war.

I followed the soldiers heading for the outer walls, the sounds of battle growing louder and louder.

I pushed through the doors to the ramparts. Here, high above on the castle walls, I had a clear view of the battle. And what I saw chilled me to my bones.

Trolls, dozens of them, were engaged in battle with at least one hundred of Hrothgar's men. It wasn't even a fight. The men had grouped off, each trying to surround and occupy the trolls' attention. A clever strategy, but it wouldn't be enough. Corpses were already strewn about the place, and none of them belonged to a troll.

My focus was drawn to the largest of the trolls. It stood around nine feet tall with an ugly, scarred face. Its skin was mottled with scars from old and forgotten fights, its hair hanging in dark tendrils from its head. It expertly wielded a spear in its massive hands.

As I watched, it deflected the attacks of four warriors while simultaneously skewering a fifth through the chest. The man went limp. As more soldiers closed in, the troll flung his spear and the body of the dead man flew into the attackers, knocking them to the ground. He was steps away from the gates now. If they entered the keep...

Without even finishing the thought I sprinted towards the castle gates. I had no armor on, but there was no time. I sent a prayer to the gods to make Spoon's edge sharp and my arms strong.

The courtyard behind the gate was so packed with soldiers, I could hardly move forward. They were lined up in battle formation, swords and shields at the ready should the beasts make it through. There was a steady, pounding beat against the thick wooden gate- someone was trying to get in from the other side.

Hrothgar himself was at the front of the throng with his generals, trying to make their orders and encouragements heard above the maelstrom of screams and clashes.

Shoving through the men, I reached the front.

He barely spared a second glance at me and didn't comment on my presence. His eyes looked fevered, like a prisoner suddenly freed and let loose into the world. Old though he may have been, Hrothgar had not lost his commander's presence nor his fighter's bloodlust.

"By the eye of Odin, we shall revel in victory or sup in the halls of Valhalla!" He bellowed out to the men. Shouts and cries rang out from the men in response. There was fear in their eyes, but they were trained to destroy it, pushing it so far down that it could never resurface to mar their minds. But tonight, rather than honor and glory, there was only one thing these men hoped to achieve tonight: survival.