Adalwulf: The Two Swords (Tales of Germania Book 1) by Alaric Longward
Authors: Alaric Longward
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the strength of his next move, as his weapon, the crude sword slashed down from the side. I blocked it with my shield, and our strength seemed equal. Raganthar’s face was dark with fury, bestial and inhuman as he roared, and spat, and pushed his shield in me.
I jumped back, bashed my shield in his, and hammered at him from above. His huge shield blocked my attack effortlessly, he pushed again at me, lighting fast, and the rim of my shield struck my own face. I fell back, dazed, but ground my legs on the boards, felt his sword hit the rim of my shield. I pushed at him, and he stopped and we stood thus, like young boars, grinding at each other.
His face looked bony, hairy, as he struggled against my strength. We pushed, grunted, and I struck across the rim with the hammer, but the shield was so large, he merely moved it up to block the hit. His sword came at me, and the shield shuddered, about to break. I spat at his face, and he pushed me against a pillar. There, we exchanged strikes, all of which our shields blocked, until he heaved with a roar. His sword came in, my shield broke, and I let go of it. He kept me against the pillar, but cursed, because his sword was stuck on the remains of my shield.
I had only a moment to live.
I roared with desperation, and fell to the side. He crashed against the pillar, turned, tossing my shield’s frame from the blade, kicked at me, and he slipped in a pool blood. He fell on his knee, then his back, cursing, holding on to his sword and shield. There was a groan from his men, and I slipped as well, regained my balance. With such joy of battle I had never imagined possible, I brought the hammer down, crushing his shield against his chest, and he howled with pain. The sword came at me, weakly, but I kicked if across the floor. Spear flew past me from outside. An arrow crashed in the pillar. I stood there, uncaring, the mighty weapon hovering above Raganthar’s face. There was a flicker of fear in the beastly visage, finally. I exploded with happiness, and saw the horror in the faces outside the hall as well, as their lord was about to die.
And then, a voice screamed behind me.
It was one of anguish, of soul-wrenching agony. I was Gisil. Someone got to her. I began to turn.
I felt a stabbing pain in my back.
I fell, trying to catch my breath amidst the throbs of pain, knew I was badly hurt, and hit my face on the planks. I got to my elbows, but saw a fist coming my way, and Raganthar’s powerful punch made me see black. He grabbed me and threw me across the floor to the corner, where I gagged, squirming with the pain of the wound on my back. There was a framea there in my flesh, at least the head of it. I pulled it away and that pain was too much. I was losing the fight, and could not fight any longer.
Raganthar was screaming. “So many dead! This is Bero’s fault. We didn’t need this shit. Did you know what he was?”
A hand pressed on my neck. It was cold, and I tried not to move. It hesitated, and then went away.
“Dead? I asked, did you know what he was?” Raganthar roared. “A berserker!”
I didn’t hear the answer.
I passed out.
BOOK 2: WOLF BAITING
“They call me Bait.”
Bait to Adalwulf
CHAPTER 5
I dreamt of a cool mountain stream I knew well, very close to Mattium. It ran down from great heights of a mountain we called Ram’s Tumble, silver, gray, and blue cascade of bright waters. When the water reached the hills, just next to Mattium’s, it streamed brilliantly over perfectly round stones, gushed past tall pine woods. It sprang life wherever it streamed, made the land fertile and often soggy, and the priests thought Freyr, god of fertility, especially loved the water. On the hills, flowers of the spring grew wildly along the slopes, all the way to the top, where the mountain began. Women took full advantage of the stream. Since it was believed to be holy and good for growth, maidens visited it to get the blessings of fertility and beauty.
And
I jumped back, bashed my shield in his, and hammered at him from above. His huge shield blocked my attack effortlessly, he pushed again at me, lighting fast, and the rim of my shield struck my own face. I fell back, dazed, but ground my legs on the boards, felt his sword hit the rim of my shield. I pushed at him, and he stopped and we stood thus, like young boars, grinding at each other.
His face looked bony, hairy, as he struggled against my strength. We pushed, grunted, and I struck across the rim with the hammer, but the shield was so large, he merely moved it up to block the hit. His sword came at me, and the shield shuddered, about to break. I spat at his face, and he pushed me against a pillar. There, we exchanged strikes, all of which our shields blocked, until he heaved with a roar. His sword came in, my shield broke, and I let go of it. He kept me against the pillar, but cursed, because his sword was stuck on the remains of my shield.
I had only a moment to live.
I roared with desperation, and fell to the side. He crashed against the pillar, turned, tossing my shield’s frame from the blade, kicked at me, and he slipped in a pool blood. He fell on his knee, then his back, cursing, holding on to his sword and shield. There was a groan from his men, and I slipped as well, regained my balance. With such joy of battle I had never imagined possible, I brought the hammer down, crushing his shield against his chest, and he howled with pain. The sword came at me, weakly, but I kicked if across the floor. Spear flew past me from outside. An arrow crashed in the pillar. I stood there, uncaring, the mighty weapon hovering above Raganthar’s face. There was a flicker of fear in the beastly visage, finally. I exploded with happiness, and saw the horror in the faces outside the hall as well, as their lord was about to die.
And then, a voice screamed behind me.
It was one of anguish, of soul-wrenching agony. I was Gisil. Someone got to her. I began to turn.
I felt a stabbing pain in my back.
I fell, trying to catch my breath amidst the throbs of pain, knew I was badly hurt, and hit my face on the planks. I got to my elbows, but saw a fist coming my way, and Raganthar’s powerful punch made me see black. He grabbed me and threw me across the floor to the corner, where I gagged, squirming with the pain of the wound on my back. There was a framea there in my flesh, at least the head of it. I pulled it away and that pain was too much. I was losing the fight, and could not fight any longer.
Raganthar was screaming. “So many dead! This is Bero’s fault. We didn’t need this shit. Did you know what he was?”
A hand pressed on my neck. It was cold, and I tried not to move. It hesitated, and then went away.
“Dead? I asked, did you know what he was?” Raganthar roared. “A berserker!”
I didn’t hear the answer.
I passed out.
BOOK 2: WOLF BAITING
“They call me Bait.”
Bait to Adalwulf
CHAPTER 5
I dreamt of a cool mountain stream I knew well, very close to Mattium. It ran down from great heights of a mountain we called Ram’s Tumble, silver, gray, and blue cascade of bright waters. When the water reached the hills, just next to Mattium’s, it streamed brilliantly over perfectly round stones, gushed past tall pine woods. It sprang life wherever it streamed, made the land fertile and often soggy, and the priests thought Freyr, god of fertility, especially loved the water. On the hills, flowers of the spring grew wildly along the slopes, all the way to the top, where the mountain began. Women took full advantage of the stream. Since it was believed to be holy and good for growth, maidens visited it to get the blessings of fertility and beauty.
And
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