Back again. I'm on a roll, here. ;)
A/N – I use the word tølt in this chapter. Tølt is the one gait that only Icelandic horses employ. Icelandic horses are descendants of the legendary Viking horses. I have tried it once, and it really is a most comfortable gait for the rider.
Lingo: As always, I can translate the Viking language to those who ask for it, but it really isn't essential to the story – trust me on that.
Disclaimers: Yadayadayada … you know the drill.
Now, … sit back and meet Jormundgand. :-D
xxx
The battle field was a complete jumble. In the west area, more than 100 alliance soldiers were doing their damnedest to hold back 200 Vikings that, high on mushrooms, still were viciously and aggressively ploughing their way through any obstacle. The Camelot war leader in charge did his best to order arrow head formations combined with shield blocks, but this really didn't impress the barbarians who just threw themselves at the sharp weapons in front of them regardless of the consequences. South of this spectacle, about 55 of Arthur's own soldiers had managed to flatten 70 Vikings which more than 100 more of their comrades in arms didn't take lightly. The rest of the killing field entailed random fights, man to man – or shield maiden, except for the east part of the battle where Arthur and his knights were holding the fiercest Vikings off. The knights had tried to spread out to pass more collective orders throughout the army, but had found it impossible to break through this particular blockade.
Almost all warriors had fallen or been ripped off their horses which left many of the steeds running helter skelter among the fighting men. Some of the more seasoned war horses had done what they were trained to do: returned to base, where others had stayed with their riders, faithful to the last. It was one such noble beast that Merlin got hold of; it was guarding its fallen master, a short, red haired Viking of slim build, and Merlin immediately bend its will by whispering a soft spell in its ear. Having mounted the furry, dusty beige Viking horse, he grabbed the black mane and urged it forward. The animal instantly engaged in tølt to the sorcerer's huge surprise.
Quickly by the help of this comfortable steed, Merlin found Arthur and the knights, dodging sharp swords and heavy morning stars on the way. The horse evaded several onslaughts easily, appearing completely calm in the middle of the din of battle. I might get me one of these once this is over, the warlock thought, pleased.
The knights had almost broken through the Viking semi-circular offensive line that had formed round Arthur. The prince nodded with satisfaction. This gave him the opportunity to slide round to one side and take these barbarians from the back. As he saw Kay and Elyan make it through the pack of enemies, he fell back, dodged to the left and swayed round the row of Vikings … only to run head first into three of the tallest, broadest, meanest son-of-a …. he had ever seen. The brick wall in front of him consisted largely of muscles and heavily boned bodies completely with large hands that looked like they could crush one of Merlin's monoliths just by resting on them. Arthur swore under his breath. He bent down in his knees, ready to catapult himself forward into at least one of them. He did so successfully and rammed into the groin of the giant, fell down and stood to review his handiwork.
No effect. What so ever. The giant still stood there, flanked by his peers, with the slight difference that they all were now grinning.
Not good!
Arthur didn't even get a chance to rethink his position when the terrible threesome charged surprisingly swiftly. One blow with the axe made Arthur's sword fly away and his hand hurt intolerably. Another blow flattened the prince to the ground. Arthur whipped his head round; his knights were not even near him; they had finally broken through the line – following Arthur's orders. As in a slow motion dream, Arthur saw all of the three big brutes' massive swords come down on him.
Arthur Pendragon had failed and was about to die.
x
The young knight with the brown curls never tired. This was what he was born for, this was the glory and honour he had sought. Fighting a peer enemy, every stroke a challenge and every breath exhilarating. Lancelot wielded his sword without pause.
Ever so randomly, his head turned to the left where he knew Arthur and the other knights were still trapped. He wanted to be there and help them; yet part of serving a king was also following orders. They had the comprehensive overview and knew what was best.
Except in one respect, of course.
Merlin.
Pulling his dripping sword out of a particularly fat Viking, Lancelot wondered, slightly worried, what had become of his young friend that he owed so much. There was no way, the thin young servant could stand up to this violent battle without using magic. Lancelot knew this. Arthur should know this.
In fact, Prince Arthur might just have signed his most trusted friend's and servant's death warrant by forbidding him to use magic.
The Camelot knight sighed and hacked down the next Viking.
x
As the row of swords came closer, the impossibly massive Vikings suddenly stiffened, simultaneously, and swayed, blood trickling out of their mouths. Arthur blinked as he saw the swords falter and then his eyes conveyed panic as he suddenly realised that the heavy bulks would actually fall on top of him. The prince almost yelled out in pain before it happened; then to his surprise, the bodies swayed lightly, took a turn and fell to the side instead. Arthur looked up, still not understanding what had happened until he saw Merlin stand where the Vikings had been. The young man's fingers were still outstretched and the eerie glow only just leaving his eyes.
Arthur opened his mouth, anger etching his face, when Merlin beat him to it.
"..."Thank you, Merlin – it was nice of you to save my life, Merlin." "Don't mention it, Sire. I am happy to be of assistance."..."
Arthur's mouth became a thin, strained line, and declining Merlin's outstretched helping hand, he got up. "I could have taken him," he said curtly.
"Whom .. are you kidding, Arthur?"
"You could have found another way," Arthur argued frustrated, turning to deal a blow when a shield maiden charged from the right.
"Of course," Merlin said in searing irony, "I'm so skilled with a sword!"
Arthur finished the shield maiden, then turned to face his servant with a new look in his face.
"Yeah. You're right. You really are quite an idiot with a sword – with any conventional weapon for that matter."
Merlin bit back a sarcastic gee, thanks, but he actually agreed wholeheartedly.
As the battle continued, they both went quiet and concentrated on surviving, Arthur wielding his sword and Merlin discreetly employing magic if it was absolutely necessary.
It had been a break-through.
x
Sporting an invisibility cloak, Bengerd walked among the fighting warriors and watched the battle. She was worried. Things didn't progress sufficiently to the Vikings' advantage. Already, the skilled soldiers of Camelot and their allies had slaughtered more than half the Vikings, whereas The Vikings had killed only a third of the British forces. The numbers were evening out, fast, and the invaders were losing their edge. The scheming witch passed up Thormod as he was pulling out his axe from a British skull. Appearing suddenly by his side literally out of the blue, she made him flinch.
"I hate it when you do that," he complained.
"Grow up," the old woman wheezed.
"What is it? I'm busy right now."
"It is not going well for you."
"I did get that impression," Thormod admitted, his face grim.
"Do you wish for me to summon him?"
Thormod severed a head from a body while mulling her proposal over.
"You say you cannot control this beastie fully? Will he attack us?"
The witch smiled. "Only if he is attacked. Which the British certainly will."
Thormod nodded his scarred face. "Then do it. We have wasted enough time here."
Bengerd dissolved again, much to Thormod's annoyance, and crept along the battle lines to the south. Once positioned there, she reappeared, a good 500 yards from the front line, took out her string of magical items and started chanting.
"Oh, Mægtige Orm, søn af Loke og Angerboda, broder til Fenris og Hel, forlad din dybe grav og vis dit åsyn og hjælp dine trofaste."
She continued to chant this one line while she rattled her bones and sprayed a green powders into the air. For a while nothing happened.
But then the earth trembled.
x
Keeling over, Merlin suddenly screamed loudly with pain and fear and put his hands over his ears.
Arthur jumped with shock and looked at the young warlock, then wrinkled his brow.
"Merlin? What are you doing? Stop it!"
"It isn't me," the sorcerer groaned, barely able to stand, "it is … someone else!"
And that's when the earth trembled.
x
As the tremors of the ground grew in intensity, many of the fighting souls stopped in mere amazement and insecurity, forgetting about slicing open the opponent and just plain trying to remain on their feet. Some cried 'earth quake', others cried a, to the British, unintelligible word. A rushing sound, like the sound from the keel of a sailing ship only a thousand times louder, rippled over the entire field and massive drops of salty water suddenly started falling from the sky. Immediately after, an enormously large cloud appeared above their heads, opting even more water, now in buckets, to fall.
Arthur cried out loud in annoyance and shock. What the...? Never had he witnessed such a weather phenomenon. "What is this?" he yelled to deafen the tonnes of water that splashed down.
""I'm not sure," Merlin yelled back, "Something gigantic has been summoned, I think!"
"Gigantic?" Arthur yelled, "Oh, come on, Merlin. You have to be more precise than that!"
He saw Merlin's eyes widen with shock and his hand rise to point … upwards.
"Gigantic like that, for instance?" he commented, trying to hold his shaking hand still. Arthur turned his head and upwards and saw …
… something enormous blocking the sun, in fact, blocking the entire sky.
Jormundgand had answered the witch's call.
Thormod was laughing wildly with delight as the huge, scaly sea-serpent rose from the ocean and stretched up to fill out the entire sky. It's blue-green luminescent scales were shining with water and made the drops that fell glisten with multicoloured sparks; its glowing, orange, fish-like eyes were fixed on the crowd of people, stumbling round underneath it and its long sleek body was curved like an S and supported only by four short, sturdy legs and razor sharp webbed claws.
"Oh, that is outstanding!" Thormod yelled at Bengerd. "Look at him. An absolute beauty. Welcome, my aggressive friend. Please – make yourself at home – lots of British to feed on!"
The Norse witch crumbled over, her strength being depleted from summoning the greatest beast on earth. Thormod went to her.
"Um – one question, oh most ugly and homicidal witch – can this fellow be hurt at all?"
Bengerd coughed. "It can be hurt. If the Brits have a particularly valiant and strong warrior, it can be hurt. However ..." she rose, gingerly trying out the strength of her thin legs, "if they break his scales, his blood will flow..." she lifted her still flashing eyes towards her master, a snide and wicked grin exposing her almost toothless mouth.
"... and kill his assailant."
xxx
Like it? Tell me good and bad. And don't worry: Jormundgand will be back in the next chapter.