Blessed by the Gods

The Storm

Had the enemy been under the trees at the edge of the woods, they'd have been killed by the ground that opened beneath the trees and swallowed it all. Deer, rabbits, the mice that lived between the roots of the trees, it all fell into the deep abyss. Bridges formed by the fallen over trees led to the dark woods beyond the light that lit the sky from below.

Rain drops like bullets hit the ground, leaving behind holes so big the men running over the fields fell and broke their bones. Not the men of the king, but the men who had hid in the tall grass, waiting for Valtar and Ragnar's men to reach the tree line. However no man ever reached town.

Lightning struck the field and let the electricity travel through the wet ground, over the blades of grass that brushed against the men's legs as they ran, stumbled and fell into their deaths. Storm clouds grew stronger and lifted the men off the ground, twirling them through the air and shot them back at the men that fought for their lives.

In disbelief of what they witnessed, Valtar, Ragnar and all the men and women who had sworn their loyalty to the kings, stood still, their eyes glued to the storm that played before them. Although men attacked from all sides, none of them reached the vikings that stood before the king's house.

The storm carried them away or the ground swallowed them. In the short glimpses of light the lightnings gave, they watched as the enemy got carried off into the sky by a spiraling wind that tore them off the ground, all the cracks in the ground filling with dirt until they formed an even path leading from the town back to the tree line and all around where Rùna had caused the light to shine through the broken ground.

Within seconds, the men vanished from sight and the lightnings stopped. Rain returned to soft drops that hurt no more than usual and washed the blood off the roads and fields into the ground. Bridges, the fallen trees had formed stayed as a reminder of what the storm had brought them, and if the men had not seen it with their own eyes, no one would believe it. The swirl that had taken away all the men who attacked the town, it brought back their weapons and shields, a pile of them, and dropped them in the middle of the market.

Although they had not won the battle by fighting, Ragnar and Valtar, with their soldiers, celebrated this victory. Never before had they seen a storm to compare to this, but for the time being, they had nothing else in mind, other than to celebrate their won battle.

The men gathered all swords, shields and whatever the storm had gifted them with into the hall and placed it around them, fighting each other with the weapons and sing, drink and play in celebration.