Blessed by the Gods

Hills and Mountains

In the meantime, Rùna, Hvitserk, and Floki made their way towards the hills in the west where the queen and her men waited for the attack by sea to happen and then take over the town. Resting behind boulders, Floki scouted out the army that awaited the orders of their new leader.

Together they waited for Ragnar and Valtar to give the signal and when the light flickered from the lake to warn them, Rùna closed her eyes and let the energy she had held back for so long stream out of her body. A lightning split the sky and struck the lake, all the fish floating to the surface as they had died. Covered in silver, the lake remained still, no wind dared to blow the enemy's sails.

One flick of Rùna's hand and the ground beneath their feet shook. At first ever so slight, if Hvitserk had not sat on a boulder, he would have noticed it as little as the others, but the vibrations grew stronger, and the more focussed, the louder the thundering growl grew until the hills grew into mountains and the ground ripped open, swallowing almost half the army. Another wave hit, and the mountain turned into rolling boulders, fast, sharp, smashing the men that tried to escape the abyss below, but died, their blood marking the pool they left behind amongst the rocks in a sea of boulders and dust.

And as the dust settled, the screams of battle echoed from the lake to them. King Bǫlverkr's ships had reached land and vikings battled one another to the death. Ragnar and his men fought brave, but the enemy had Berserkers on his side much stronger than any they had ever seen.

Men, covered in scars, the skulls of bears on their heads, leaving dark shadows on their faces, the eyes so cold the men before them froze upon their sight. One man, he rose from the lake, the water dripping off his face, pearling along his chest that covered in dark hair and decorated with scars so big, one might wonder how he survived, he swung his axe around him with such force, three men at once lost their lives at his hand.

Rùna watched the battle take shape at the lake, her strength oriented towards the water that drew the ground from beneath the men's feet, dragging them into the deep. Ships found no hold at the docks, carried off to the other side of the lake by the waves that formed around them, wind blew into the sails lifting them off the ground and dropping them into the depths of the lake that swallowed all the wind offered it.

Exhausted from the strength she had given to the ground and the elements around her, Rùna sank into Hvitserk's arms. He carried her back to the King's house and let her rest next to Ivar, who protected Aslaug and the other young children of the king and anyone who sought shelter within their walls.