Curse Of Blood: Gods & Monsters

Chapter XLIX - Roth

Beneath a brooding morning sky, like a dark and lowering brow, was Thorgny's army spread. Hundreds of foemen spanned the very length and breadth of the vast hillside, only a shallow vale separated Roth from his erstwhile father-in-law.

The air was thick with rain and seething hostility, the ominous clamor of swords and spears striking war-shields like thunder. The shadowy massif stretching to the north, Ulfrtönn at its heart, seemed to tremble menacingly as the war cries rent the gloom.

At Roth's back the Istyrr roared distantly. He haled his eyes furiously across Thorgny's martial panoply. It was indeed an impressive assemblage of might and soldiery. Evidently there had been no need for an ambuscade, for Thorgny clearly bethought himself invincible, marching boldly onto Blackmane territory by full light of day as if he'd conquered them already.

More fool he.

"The village has been palisaded." Aila informed her son, coming to stand beside him. It had been she and Eirik that had overseen the village fortifications. Her fingers curled keenly about the leathern hasp of her sword as she surveyed the rumbling war party.

Roth smiled a dreadful smile. "He shall not pass even that far, Mother. I stake my life on it."

"Let us hope it will not come to that."

The war flags overhead slapped against the wind, long water serpents, snakes, and ravens unfurling and undulating in the crisp air as he waited. The hummock across from him, atop which his nemeses stood, was also littered with flags. Their variegated shields, like that of his clan, were many; they dotted the sward of both ridges with bright colors, runes, and patterns.

"Do you recognize the colors of the men standing apart from the Redtooth Clan, Mother?" Of Thorgny's own men there were less than the Blackmanes. But it was a powerful ally he had at his side, increasing the sum of their combined numbers to more than twice that of Roth's.

Aila narrowed her eyes carefully. "Woad and black," she said, her voice hardening.

"Ay. The king's men."

"Why should King Harek involve himself in such a trivial matter?" she asked herself aloud. "What has he to gain by it?"

Why indeed. "Power." They both knew that much.

Harek was an avaricious king, and Roth's clan had was now far too much of a threat to be allowed to go on flourishing as it had been. And Thorgny's spurious cry for justice was pretext enough to quell a growing giant.

Roth felt, rather than heard, Heida move up to stand at his side. He glanced at her from the tail of his eye, remarking her form tall and wild as she impaled her spear in the wet earth, silver hair sodden as it clung to her neck and back. Her eyes too, like his men, sparked with bloodlust as she bent those grey orbs over Thorgny's men. Athwart her shield, its wings spread out like sharp claws, was splayed a large raven — the bird of the war god himself. The sigil of Odin.

There were three shield maidens in his band of warriors: Heida, his mother, and Thora. The latter was standing with her brother, Søren, beside Ragnar.

"Look," said Leif, pointing whence Thorgny stood, "he's brought his crippled son too. Gisli of the boneless hands!" And he roared with laughter.

Tallak snorted derisively from somewhere behind Roth. "I wager they all fight as he does; like naught but feeble old women."

Lightning fast, and before young Tallak knew what she was about, Thora hooked her longbow behind his ankle and shoved him over so that he fell to his rump amidst great hilarity. "Like this feeble woman?" she asked, smugly.