𝐬𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐞𝐫'𝐬 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬 | 𝐨𝐬𝐟𝐞𝐫𝐭𝐡

𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐘-𝐅𝐎𝐔𝐑

When Aethelwold hesitated to advance as Uhtred commanded, Orri sneakily guided his horse behind Aethelwold's and unsheathed his sword, using the flat edge to tap Aethelwold's horse on the bum. The steed jerked forward at the contact, causing Aethelwold to fumble for a better grip on the reins as his horse sprinted off towards the ridge.

"What's wrong with the flags?" Someone asked from somewhere near the back of their little army.

Bryn glanced over her left shoulder, solitary eye locking with those of a younger Saxon man called Aloc. Leofric had known him since he was a boy and had recruited him to serve under Alfred after seeing him win a fight against two men twice his size at an alehouse one night. Aloc must have been the one to ask the question, because the moment he saw Bryn looking at him, he dropped his gaze and apologized. "No apology necessary," Bryn reassured. "Saxon flags are rectangular, the ones atop the fort are not. That means that Peredur—" Bryn paused to cast a scathing look in Peredur's direction. "—lied about it being the Britons that took the fort."

"Danes?" Aloc guessed.

Bryn nodded. "Danes."

As if on cue with Bryn's confirmation, Aethelwold came sprinting back in their direction, waling about the Danes headed their way. Bryn nearly cackled at the sight of his panic-stricken face, and she probably would have, but then the Danes Vikar has seen on horseback crested the ridge along with half a dozen more Danes on foot flanking them on either side.

"Eleven?" Bryn spat at Vikar. "Does that look like eleven men to you?!"

"I clearly didn't see the rest of them, Bryn!"

"Clearly!"

"Enough, the both of you!" Leofric scolded. "Uhtred, what do we do?"

"Stand still, hold!" Uhtred instructed. Out of his periphery, he saw Bryn pushing herself to her feet from behind Leofric, nocking an arrow as she went. "Hold, Brynhild!"

"What are you waiting for?" Peredur called. "So they're Danes, what do you care? You people will fight anyone for money, even yourselves!"

"You lied to me," Uhtred replied, turning his horse so that he could face Peredur as he shouted back at him.

"Think of the silver!" Peredur suggested. "The queen has seen your victory, so fight!"

Bryn spun around from where she was perched behind Leofric, aiming her arrow at Peredur's neck. "Say the word, Uhtred, and I'll drop him where he stands."

Despite the anger that coiled like a snake in his belly, Uhtred circled around the back of Fidler to place himself between Bryn and Peredur. "I told you to hold, Brynhild. Do not make me ask again."

Bryn opened her mouth to protest, but before she could, Orri was calling out to Uhtred. "Uhtred, three coming."

"Who the hell is that?" Leofric asked aloud. He was staring at the Danish leader.

"He is a sword-Dane, a Lord of War," Uhtred replied without skipping a beat.

"If the Lord of War wants to talk, may I suggest we listen?" Aethelwold asked.

"Leofric, Bryn, boys, with me," Uhtred announced as he dismounted his horse. Leofric, Bryn, Vikar, and Orri dismounted their horses as well, obediently following Uhtred towards the three Danes. The five of them remained silent upon reaching the Danes, each of them sizing the Danes up in their own way.

It was easy enough for Bryn to distinguish the sword-Dane from the others. He had arm rings of gold and silver over his chainmail, stacked on his arms from his wrists to his elbows. He was also taller than his counterparts, larger in every sense of the word, too. Bryn had to tilt her head, straining her neck, to look up at him.