Thirty Four
Some of the Viking Raiders talk about a calm before the storm, how the ocean sort of stills and the sky is clear and the wind is quiet – and then how that quiet is shattered by violent waves and thundering clouds and shrieking winds. Even the fishermen share similar tales, even those who do not dare fish too far into the deeps.
Iza has known calms before storms, as well. Times when she grew close to others her age, only for a misstep to have backs turning against her. Times when she thought that perhaps the Elders would be agreeable, only to find they have waylaid and disrespected her once again. Times when she thought all was well, only for all to go wrong.
The night she was struck down by Thor's hammer comes to mind.
So, when she wakes one morning to utter peace, her heart launches itself into her throat and her mind clouds with thoughts of calamity. It is too quiet, she thinks. Too quiet, too calm, to predictable. This sense of security is a false one – she can feel it as sure as she can feel her own bones.
And then there is knocking on the door, rousing the Chieftain from his slumber and making Iza quickly rub the sleep from her eyes. Iza opens the door to Alise's wide, vacant-eyed face and, with the Chieftain standing over her shoulder looking on with his own bewilderment, Iza asks, "What did you see?"
Alise, still dressed in her sleep tunic, sways on her feet as she answers. "Boats."
"What about boats, Alise?"
There is a flicker in Alise's dull gaze as her eyes focus somewhere on Iza's face. "Everyone needs to be on boats. Evacuate. Children, women, the sick, the old, the ones who cannot fight…Boats. The village must be on boats. Boats…"
Iza inhales sharply. "Then…it is happening."
"Boats," Alise repeats, a whisper, hardly even a word.
But Iza hears it and she knows that Alise has seen what must be done – that in fact, someone else has shown Alise what must happen if they are to survive the day. And so Iza turns to her father, looking up at the Chieftain expectantly, as if asking, Will you do it, or shall I?
And to his credit, although he grumbles and frowns, the Chieftain knows that Alise often sees that which is yet to come. He nods and tells Iza to deliver his order. "Evacuate the village," he says. Beneath his beard, she can see the grimace forming on his face. "The women, the children, the old and sick. Everyone who cannot fight, as Alise said. Tell them…tell them to take what they cannot live without."
"Yes," Iza agrees readily.
"I will gather those who can fight," he says decisively. And then he pauses, looking Iza over with something lost in his expression before he adds, "And we will follow your direction."
Iza feels the weight of that promise like a boulder on her back.
She does not falter.
Her feet carry her through the village, rushing from door to door as she explains – breathless and anxious and thrumming with anticipation – that the Chieftain has ordered an evacuation. Take what you can, she says. Take what you will need, she says. Take what will help you survive, she says. And all the while, she keeps tabs on Eko, who has gone to the dragons to rally them, to prepare them for what is to come.
We are ready, Eko says reassuringly.
Iza can only hope that is true.
By the time she finds them in the mass of the village frantically gathering their belongings, preparing to escape, the riders are already in the process of preparing themselves for the oncoming battle. Róża has managed to find some heavy leather armor that is snug enough to fit over her torso and her arms, but she is much less protected than Emebor, Jaspar, and Jakob, who are all decked in some assortment of metal chain with additional leather plating. It is much more than Iza has, which is only the tunic she slept in and windswept hair.
For all her talk of impending battles and training, she had not spared a second thought about armor. She is glad to see that the others have, even if it leaves her bereft. However, she does not have the time to resign herself to being without armored protection, as Róża is quick to grasp Iza's wrist, dragging her to a vaguely private space between two buildings, where she then shoves pitch-black leather armor into Iza's arms.
"Edvard had it commissioned," Róża says by way of explanation. "It is Jakob's work, so if it does not fit, complain to him."
The leather armor does fit, not perfectly but close enough that none of it risks slipping off. Róża assists in the armbraces on her forearms, which are strapped on with the same iron-wrought buckles that hold the rest of the armor over her chest and hips. While she helps, Róża is quick to fill Iza in on certain worries she has overlooked – apparently, Alise and Carlisle have already made it onto the boats, escorted by Edvard while Iza was spreading the word of evacuation. Iza nods, silently glad, and moves to pull on the next piece of armor. Iza is pleasantly surprised to find that there is even a skirt made of leather straps that is much more elaborate than the split-seamed brown leather dress Róża wears. Iza wonders when Jakob had the time to fashion any of this, and thinks that maybe Wilhelm helped more than a little.
She is grateful to have it, and says as much when the girls return to the other riders, who are now surrounded by their respective dragons and Edvard. Upon seeing her, Eko is quick to circle around Iza protectively, her tail lashing as her dual-toned eyes glare up at the mountain. Iza follows her dragon's gaze and sees what has caught Eko's attention.
The entire face of the mountain is crawling with dragons. And even from a distance, Iza can see that an awfully, terribly, horrifically large dragon is perching himself on the highest peak – a king sitting on a throne he has stolen.
It makes Iza angry, knowing that Dagmar is still injured, still recovering, still trapped in that mountain under Nidhogg's iron claw.
It makes her livid, knowing that her people, her village, must evacuate their home because Nidhogg would have them all burn for no other reason than his own malice.
And it makes her determined, because as she looks up at that terrible tyrannical dragon, she knows how she is meant to break his chains. Not kill Nidhogg – no, that is a pleasure that the Gods will enjoy. All Iza needs to do is evict him from his stolen throne and cut his ties to the dragons under his thrall – because when those dragons are free, she knows they will turn on their once-master and force him to flee. She knows it as well as she knows her own names – and Iza, Skuldsdottir, and Changemaker are all in agreement of what must be done.
Iza looks up at Edvard. "Will you ride with me?"
Edvard dips his head in agreement, his entire body poised for battle.
Emebor, naturally, is the first to speak up. "What of the rest of us?"
Iza's eyes rove over the riders, her ears tuned to the rushing of the villager as they hasten to get themselves onto boats. To the riders, she says, "I have a few ideas. But first, we need to speak with the Chieftain."
They find the Chieftain coordinating evacuation efforts near the Great Hall, where he is arguing with one of the more stubborn Elders. They arrive just in time to hear her father say, "If you want to be an idiot yourself, then so be it, and I hope that you burn as painfully as each headache you give me. But for the rest of us, we will be wise and know to save ourselves. Get on a boat or do not, I cannot be bothered to care!"
Jaspar whistles low in appreciation, and Emebor nudges his ribs with an elbow with a wide grin.
With their fool-headed leader cut down, the people who stood shakily beside the Elder and who pale at the sight of the riders and dragons, are quick to rush toward the docks, weighed down with their own bundles of food and clothing. The miserly Elder turns his nose up at them all, glares at the Chieftain, and stubbornly disappears into the Great Hall, the heavy doors slamming behind him.
The Chieftain rubs his face, rolls his eyes, and then greets his daughter with some strain. "Those who can fight are gathering near the forge, collecting any additional weapons they can find," he tells her.
"Then we will wait," she replies. Iza turns her eye to the rapidly quieting village and looks toward the docks, where dozens are clamoring onto all the boats that are available. She thinks the boats may be overloaded, but they should be able to get far enough, given the right help.
Iza turns to Eko. Those boats need to be in the deep waters before the battle begins.
I understand, Eko says. She chitters at the other dragons and then, as one, the small group take to the skies toward the docks.
"What are they doing?" Jakob asks in confusion.
Iza lifts her chin, not even bothering to look away from where the dragons are pushing or pulling the boats through the fjords and toward the ocean – either by tooth or claw or, in Kaldr's case, great sheets of ice that rock the longboats forward in surges. "Helping," she says simply.
Around them, the village is quiet, except for the nearing sounds of whatever remaining warriors have decided to stay. When they return from the forge, all the Raiders look to the Chieftain for guidance on what to do next, but the Chieftain only presses his lips together, steps back, and says, "Izabela is our strategist."
His declaration is met with some feeble protest, which is buffered by the way two of the youngest, most promising warriors in the village do not drift from Iza's side. In particular, Edvard's unwavering support and the fierce glare he delivers is enough to shut more than one mouth.
"Aye, then what do we do?"
Calm settles over Iza's skin. She opens her mouth, surety in every syllable that passes her lips. "This will be the best arrangement…"
A/N: I'm breaking the battle up into two chapters. There was a big hint about the next chapter in this one, but it's okay if you didn't catch it! Now, with the village evacuated, all important people accounted for, and everyone willing to follow Iza's order...Let's see what happens next!
As always, be brutally honest. I can take it.
~Rae