Page 4 of The Magic of Vanaheim
Arngrim snorted. “This is about finding Perhonen, then?”
Talvi’s witty retort died on his tongue as they rounded another building, finally reaching the harbor and the scene of the most fierce battle. The open space between the harbor wall and the walls of the citadel, reaching even higher into the sky, was a horrible chaos. Overturned carriages and debris littered the square where ships were usually unloaded, and market stalls stood.
“Why are their fucking warshipsinsideour harbor walls?” Talvi yelled. Anger, fear, and frustration had his heart beating frantically.
“The harbor chain is lowered,” Arngrim grunted, sinking his battle ax into the neck of aJotunnraider foolish enough to attack them.
Talvi finished the raider off with a swift cut of his sword.
“Traitors in the citadel?”
Arngrim just raised an unimpressed eyebrow at him. He had grown up at the dwarven court in the realm of Nidavellir, expecting treason at every turn. In this respect, Arngrim resembled Uncle Njord a lot. But Talvi couldn’t believe it, despite seeing the evidence with his own eyes. They had always been safe here, the power and cunning of his mothers protecting theVanirfrom their foes. How could it have come to this?
“We have to get back, gather our forces behind the gates of the citadel,” Arngrim said as he watched more and moreJotunnlongboats spill into the harbor.
“What about the people in the lower town? We can’t just—”
Another blast ofseiðrexploded over their heads. Talvi spotted Perhonen standing high on the harbor wall, overlooking the fjord, engaging what seemed like a whole army ofJotunn völur, mighty sorceresses, on the longboats in a battle of will.
There was no one in charge of Saeborg’s defenders, Talvi realized. Some warriors were still trying to fend off the raiders at the harbor, while others had already retreated behind the walls of the citadel, but there was nobody giving orders. His mothers had vanished, and his brother and uncle were both away on missions.
What was he supposed to do? It was Talvi’s duty to stop theJötnar. But this raid had been planned, and someone from the inside had helped theJötnar. Talvi didn’t even want to think about the amount of power and magic necessary to keep his mothers from joining the fight. He shuddered, faltering as he was overwhelmed by indecisiveness. It would’ve been wiser to fight theJötnarfrom the relative safety of the citadel’s walls, but this would mean exposing the people in the lower town to the wrath of the frost giants. What would his mothers do? What would Uncle Njord do?
“Talvi.” Arngrim stepped in front of him, facing anotherJotunnwarrior who was storming toward them. “Talvi!”
What was the right choice? What was he supposed to do?
Time seemed to slow down as Talvi’s thoughts ran riot.
And then he spottedhim.
Holding on to the neck of the majestic dragon head adorning his longboat’s bow, Prince Håkon guided his ship towards the mooring. Talvi stared at the warrior, mesmerized by his beauty:the silvery blond of his hair, the width of his shoulders, and the black leather armor clinging to his body.
A giddy excitement rushed through Talvi’s veins, and he knew he must be grinning like a lunatic. The frantic racing of his thoughts stopped, replaced by calm and clarity. He knew exactly what he must do.
Summoning the round shield of a fallen warrior into his open hand, Talvi strode forward. He killed the attacker with whom Arngrim was battling in passing, already gathering hisseiðr.
“Shield wall!” Talvi roared over the soaring of the waves and the raging of the battle. He had already decided on the point where they must stand. The narrowing between the harbor wall and the citadel was the perfect place. “To me,Vanir! Form a shield wall!” His voice, enhanced by magic, rang clearly over the battlefield, reaching even the last of defenders.
Arngrim was by his side in a heartbeat, but Talvi barely registered that his warriors were listening, forming a line of shields and swords right where he wanted them. His gaze was fixed on Håkon, who leaped gracefully down onto the quay even before his warship had properly moored. Their gazes met over the battlefield, and Talvi grinned at theJotunn. He must’ve looked like a madman, but he didn’t care. All he wanted was to show Prince Håkon that theVanirwere worthy warriors, fit to forge allegiances with, and not some hapless peasants to be raided.
Håkon focused on Talvi, a gaze under which he had seen many experienced warriors falter at theþing, back when theJötnarstill tolerated theVanirthere. But Talvi only raised a questioning eyebrow, hitting the side of his sword against his shield. The sound of steel against wood rang loud and clear over the battlefield, a magical warning. When Talvi hit the shield’s edge again, it was echoed by Arngrim and the other warriors getting into formation by their side.
“Jötnar!” Håkon called.
It took only a single command to make his warriors gather around him. Talvi hadn’t fought many battles yet, but he was sure that not many leaders were able to command such natural authority. His mind was filled with the few occasions he had been lucky enough to meet Håkon in person before. The way he had seen him defeating famed warriors from all clans, even opponents nearly twice his size. Rumor had it he even fought theÆsirand lived to tell the tale.
I must make this man mine, no matter the costs.
TheJotunnwarriors gathered at the pier, ready to charge. They should’ve done so earlier. If Håkon had arrived in time to coordinate the attack, theJötnarmight have already stormed the gates of the citadel. But their best warrior was late, and this mistake might cost them their victory.
Who slowed you down?
“Hùh!” Talvi shouted in rhythm with the clapping of swords against shields.
“Hùh!” His battle cry was picked up by theVanrwarriors. “Hùh!”
There was movement in the lines of theJötnar. Not everyone was joining Prince Håkon; some raiders were lingering indecisively, seemingly waiting for orders from their chieftains, and others were even slinking back toward the ships.