Tattered

Chapter 6

My blood pulsed loudly in my ears as we emerged on the castle walls and into the midst of chaos. War preparations were at full blast. All along the battlement men ran to grab weapons and fasten armor, the sounds of clanking steel joining the cacophony of confused and panicked voices. Some were old, many more were young, but all had seen their fair share of fighting. These were battle hardened warriors, fearless berserkers in battle. Many of the faces we passed proudly sported the scars given to them by enemies long dead and forgotten.

But looking into their eyes as we walked through their midst, I didn't see the usual battle lust that overcame them before war with a neighboring kingdom, none of the usual bragging or drinking to dull the senses. I saw only a steely determination and an aura of solemnity that made the hair on the back of my neck stand on end. I picked up my pace, following closely behind father's heels.

Volsung strode purposefully toward the forefront of the chaos. The men quickly parted for him as he passed, though they knew enough not to waste time bowing while an enemy approached. He walked up to an old eroded parapet where Gregor stood giving commands to another man. As soon as they spotted my father, both men dropped to their knees, heads lowered.

"Your majesty," They murmured deferentially before my father motioned for them to rise.

"What is the state of things?" He asked immediately. The messenger had told us what little he knew of the situation as we'd run through the halls accompanied by father's guards, but it had lacked any specific details or developments.

"The beast is nigh on ten miles northwest, and coming this way," Gregor reported. "A group of my men came across it while patrolling the forest. Only one returned to spread the word." He gestured quickly to the man at his side, who tensed under my father's sudden gaze. "It appears the monster let him go."

The man was large, with a squat torso and arms like tree trunks, and had a black beard so tangled it almost completely obscured his battle-scarred face. He gave me a quick look of distaste before turning his attention back to my father.

"What is your name, warrior?" Volsung asked.

"Egil, your grace." His voice sounded like he'd eaten two axes and a halberd for breakfast.

"Tell me, Egil, did this troll reveal to you his objective?"

Egil shook his head.

"He did not say much," He said. "Only attacked ruthlessly, and then told me to warn the castle of his approach."

Father and Gregor glanced at each other, so quick that I almost didn't catch it.

"You have fought bravely for your king" Volsung said, placing his hand on Egil's shoulders. "It will not go unrewarded. As you were." Egil muttered his thanks, gave me one last dirty look, and left to join the other warriors as father turned his attention back to Gregor. "I assume you are already assembling a battalion."

 "Yes, your grace," Gregor replied. "Thirty men. They'll be ready shortly." 

"Double it," Volsung commanded. "And I want half of them to be saddled with horses."

Without another word, Gregor bowed his acknowledgement and strode purposefully along the ramparts, shouting the king's orders to the men. 

"Sixty men?" I asked once Gregor had gone. "For just one creature? Even for a troll, isn't that...?"

 I trailed off as he fixed me with a cold stare, one that reminded me that I had never seen a troll myself, never fought in a war against them as he had. I gulped, looking off into the forests where the beast lurked. Something that could strike fear in even Volsung was certainly a terrifying enemy. My stomach fluttered anxiously.