Hall of Flames | 𝐕𝐈𝐊𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒

16

[ 4 x 15 ]

All His Angels

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The road was a rocky, lumpy piece of shit. At least that's what Tyra thought as the bouncing in the wagon never ceased. This was way worse than being on a boat, by the Gods she wouldn't be surprised if she vomited right there and then. The blonde would have rather walked, the Saxon guards didn't seem to have much trouble.

Speaking of which there were many of them, it seemed a little excessive to have near thirty guards just to escort them to the beach where they would board the boat. In addition to the men on horses.

Cedric and his brother talked quietly amongst themselves, both right behind the wagon which held herself and Ivar. She didn't understand what they were saying but more often than not Cedric would glance at her. Tyra hadn't a clue what he was looking for, her tears had long since dried.

Neither her brother or her spoke, knowing that they would speak freely on the boat where Cedric couldn't understand them. A few men were struggling to control the horses they rode, Tyra bristled with anxiety. Horses were much better at sensing threats than people and she doubted they would've put inexperienced riders to escort them when they could have walked.

No. These horses were aware of something they were not.

Tyra sat straighter at the realisation and tugged a small amount on her tied wrists, they didn't move at all. "Ivar," she whispered lowly, the Saxons for a moment silent. Her brother turned and she could see the anger on his face, he was already plotting revenge for their father. "The horses," she whispered hoping he wouldn't need any other words.

Ivar cocked his eyebrow subtly and looked around at the riders steeds. A few had stumbling hooves and others had ears which refused to stop twitching. Dread pooled in his stomach coming to the same conclusion as his sister, something bad was going to happen.

The promise she had made to her mother rung clearly in her head, Tyra wondered if she would ever forget it. She would protect Ivar until her last breath.

The forest around them was unusually quiet, little to no bird song and almost all sound came from the clunking armour of the Wessex guards. The blonde eyed the weapons, she needed one desperately. The two leaders of their little entourage, Cedric and Aethulwulf, seemed none the wiser to the imminent threat. Perhaps their sense of entitlement believed nothing could hurt them in this land, for it was their land and belonged to no one else.

Ivar shuffled to sit straighter and both siblings watched the forest with new eyes.

They attacked in a flash. Men ran from the trees screaming in their foreign language. Instantly the company of men who were escorting them broke into chaos. Many unsuspecting men were struck down where they stood, barely able to unsheathe their swords.