Rollo pulled a wolf skin around his shoulders so that the head of the wolf rested on top of Dak’s own.
“The spirit of this animal will protect you,” Rollo answered, completely serious.
Dak wanted to say, “Yeah, because it worked so well for the animal,” but he kept that thought to himself.
“You know you’re insane, right?” Dak asked instead.
Rollo heaved a sigh. “I told you, Siegfried’s men are already searching the camp for you. If you have any chance of getting back inside the city to your friends, it’s in going with the first wave of battle. And that means becoming
berserkr
.”
A hulk of a man, completely naked except for a bear skin draped over his shoulders, walked through the group, offering each a flagon of what smelled like wine or some other kind of fermented fruit.
Dak braced himself when it came to be his turn, expecting the man to either burst out laughing or become enraged and pull his limbs apart with his bare hands. But the brute hardly seemed to notice Dak, just handed him a flagon and continued on.
Curious, Dak raised it to his lips only to find his hands empty. Rollo scowled at him as he poured the contents of the flagon onto the ground. “This isn’t for boys,” he said, which made Dak all bristly . . . until he realized what the drink was doing to the men around him.
One by one they began to shiver, their teeth (those who still had them) clacking together noisily. Sure it was cold outside and most of the men were naked and wet from the rain, but they were such brutes of men that Dak assumed they’d be immune to chilly weather.
Rollo leaned over and whispered into Dak’s ear. “Once the
berserkergang
begins, stay to the left and toward the back. Whatever you do, don’t get between a
berserkr
and the enemy.”
Dak nodded, his stomach sour with anticipation and worry. The more he thought about Rollo’s plan, the less confident he felt. There was no way this was going to work. “Maybe we should just take our chances with —”
Rollo ignored him and instead handed Dak an axe like the one he’d had before. “Let them do the fighting. When they punch through the wall of the fortification, that’s when you make your move.”
“How do you know they’ll breach the city?” Dak asked, his panic increasing exponentially as he thought about Sera and Riq, not to mention their mission of keeping Siegfried out of Paris.
Rollo smiled and for a brief moment Dak saw the Viking in him — that part that drove him from home toward battle after battle. It caused the hair to raise along his arms. “No one can stand against the
berserkergang
,” he said.
Church bells rang in the distance, waking the fortified city for another day of battle. Dak stared across the expanse toward the river. Already he could see men patrolling the ramparts. Between here and there Vikings were attempting to roll siege engines across the bumpy ground closer to the tower.
“That’s the problem,” he murmured. The only way for him to get back to Sera and Riq was for Paris to fall. But if Paris fell, they’d fail at fixing the Break.
He didn’t know what to do. Everything he knew about history had already changed. There was no mental guidebook he could consult, no set of facts he could rely on to figure out what the best move would be.
“Maybe —” he started, but his voice was swallowed by the horns from the Viking camp. He was running out of time. His mind raced. There had to be a way to fix this Break, some detail he was missing. He scoured through various historical events in his head, tilting and turning them for any weakness.
A thought came to him. As more and more horns began to blast he clutched Rollo’s arm. “There’s one other thing you can do to help,” he shouted. Rollo frowned; it was clear he couldn’t hear him.
As if the horns had triggered it, the
berserkrs
around him stopped chattering as their faces turned a dark purple, their cheeks swelling as though they’d
“The spirit of this animal will protect you,” Rollo answered, completely serious.
Dak wanted to say, “Yeah, because it worked so well for the animal,” but he kept that thought to himself.
“You know you’re insane, right?” Dak asked instead.
Rollo heaved a sigh. “I told you, Siegfried’s men are already searching the camp for you. If you have any chance of getting back inside the city to your friends, it’s in going with the first wave of battle. And that means becoming
berserkr
.”
A hulk of a man, completely naked except for a bear skin draped over his shoulders, walked through the group, offering each a flagon of what smelled like wine or some other kind of fermented fruit.
Dak braced himself when it came to be his turn, expecting the man to either burst out laughing or become enraged and pull his limbs apart with his bare hands. But the brute hardly seemed to notice Dak, just handed him a flagon and continued on.
Curious, Dak raised it to his lips only to find his hands empty. Rollo scowled at him as he poured the contents of the flagon onto the ground. “This isn’t for boys,” he said, which made Dak all bristly . . . until he realized what the drink was doing to the men around him.
One by one they began to shiver, their teeth (those who still had them) clacking together noisily. Sure it was cold outside and most of the men were naked and wet from the rain, but they were such brutes of men that Dak assumed they’d be immune to chilly weather.
Rollo leaned over and whispered into Dak’s ear. “Once the
berserkergang
begins, stay to the left and toward the back. Whatever you do, don’t get between a
berserkr
and the enemy.”
Dak nodded, his stomach sour with anticipation and worry. The more he thought about Rollo’s plan, the less confident he felt. There was no way this was going to work. “Maybe we should just take our chances with —”
Rollo ignored him and instead handed Dak an axe like the one he’d had before. “Let them do the fighting. When they punch through the wall of the fortification, that’s when you make your move.”
“How do you know they’ll breach the city?” Dak asked, his panic increasing exponentially as he thought about Sera and Riq, not to mention their mission of keeping Siegfried out of Paris.
Rollo smiled and for a brief moment Dak saw the Viking in him — that part that drove him from home toward battle after battle. It caused the hair to raise along his arms. “No one can stand against the
berserkergang
,” he said.
Church bells rang in the distance, waking the fortified city for another day of battle. Dak stared across the expanse toward the river. Already he could see men patrolling the ramparts. Between here and there Vikings were attempting to roll siege engines across the bumpy ground closer to the tower.
“That’s the problem,” he murmured. The only way for him to get back to Sera and Riq was for Paris to fall. But if Paris fell, they’d fail at fixing the Break.
He didn’t know what to do. Everything he knew about history had already changed. There was no mental guidebook he could consult, no set of facts he could rely on to figure out what the best move would be.
“Maybe —” he started, but his voice was swallowed by the horns from the Viking camp. He was running out of time. His mind raced. There had to be a way to fix this Break, some detail he was missing. He scoured through various historical events in his head, tilting and turning them for any weakness.
A thought came to him. As more and more horns began to blast he clutched Rollo’s arm. “There’s one other thing you can do to help,” he shouted. Rollo frowned; it was clear he couldn’t hear him.
As if the horns had triggered it, the
berserkrs
around him stopped chattering as their faces turned a dark purple, their cheeks swelling as though they’d
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