The Proper Art of Swordsmanship

My small party of warriors made quick work of the distance, not even pausing to kill any of the stray dead that we passed. If they got to close, I would cast a quick incendio, but not once did we slow, not until I rode Chudley right into the middle of the next battle.

"Keep close!" I shouted while blasting the dead away with hurried flicks of my wand. "We stop for nothing!"

Chudley plowed through a thick herd of dead warriors, making a hole large enough for my party to run right through before they could retaliate. I cast several banishing charms behind me for the safety of the last of our group, but I didn't stop or turn long enough to make certain that they landed. No, my eyes were dead set on the red shape unmoving in the snow.

I urged Chudley into a gallop, Alfhild cursing loudly behind me as she and the other riders followed suit. Dismounting before your horse has come to a complete stop is not something I would ever advise doing, but somehow I was able to keep my footing long enough to draw the Gryffindor sword and parry the dagger a dead man was wielding in my general direction. Chudley continued his momentum forward enough to start stomping on one of the crawling deceased zombie corpses that had been dragging itself closer to Gemini's position.

Parring another clumsy stab, I ran the corpse through and then kicked it off my blade with my boot before swinging and cutting another in half that Severus told me was closing in on my position…in between his admonishment of my swordplay. Apparently, Severus held several titles for epee fencing in the muggle world – and wasn't that something to learn – and two titles for combat swordsmanship in the wizarding world.

There really was nothing worse than a master of the art berating your stance in the middle of actual fucking combat!

"Turn, parry! Parry!" He shouted as I blocked a chipped and rusted blade with the flat of my sword. "I said parry, not block! Push back, twist, parry! Do you know the difference! Stop dodging and parry. Merlin, damn you!"

"You are not helping!" I shouted, twisting my wrist to crack the pommel down on the frail bone of the dead man's arm, exclaiming a triumphant sound when the bone broke and the sword fell, hand still attached and all. In the next moment, I blasted it apart with a hex and burned the remains as Alfhild and a few others continued to hold off the horde of dead and the rest of our party finally caught up.

"Set your feet correctly!" Severus shrieked as an undead…woman, I think…lunged at me with a sword almost as large as I was. How could something that looked like a stiff wind could knock over wield a blade that heavy?

Magic, probably…

"Brace! Put your left foot back! Your other left!"

"Do you think now is really the fucking time!" I shouted as I decapitated the sword wielding dead woman and continuing my swing to cleave into the ribs of another corpse. "We are in the middle of combat, if you hadn't fucking noticed!"

"Watch your language," Severus hissed, losing his balance, and nearly tumbling from my shoulder as I was forced to duck beneath the swing of an axe. "Dodge, dodge, dodge now!"

"Why the hell didn't I think of that?" I asked sarcastically as I continued to dodge the wild swings of the dead man. I threw myself to the ground and tucking under its legs to pop up behind it.

"Don't get smart with me. Parry!"

"Fuck your parry!" I replied as I thrust instead and thankfully killed the reanimated dead man just before it took my own head off.

I let myself breathe for a moment, catching Alfhild's gaze as she nodded to me and I was able to turn my attention away from the battle long enough to focus on the unmoving red shape that Hera was perched over.

"Gemini!" I called, rushing over to the downed dragon. Hera hissed threateningly as we approached, but Severus replied with his own little shriek and she warbled an uncertain sound before shifting to stand beside Romulus' larger form.

My hands skated over Gemini's warm hide, sighing in relief when I could feel his side expand with each breath he took. "He's breathing," I exclaimed as Severus climbed cautiously down my arm like a squirrel on a tree, tail wrapped tightly around my neck for balance, but not so tight that I couldn't breathe.

"Is he injured?" he asked, and I started to run my hands down his limbs looking for wounds or bones that were out of place.

"I don't think so," my hands came away dry, no blood to be found, and everything else seemed to be in place. "What happened?" I turned to Hera who was hopping around us, making that distressed little warble that twisted my insides and made me want to do something to fix it.

"Cold things," Hera replied and out of the corner of my eye I could make out a plume of flames that was no doubt another whelp setting the dead on fire, but I couldn't see through the storm well enough to tell which one. "Cold things come, strong sky wind, pull little brother down. Hit ground, not move."

"Not like us," Romulus chimed in, the lighter brown dragon pressing so close against Hera's darker brown hide that I couldn't tell which parts were hers and which were his in the blizzard. "We no hit ground. Only little red brother."

Their words were fast and jumbled, their anxiety making each syllable sound like a hissed shriek, but I didn't need Severus to translate. I shifted forward, feeling around Gemini's neck and head, worried that he might have injured his spine, but I couldn't feel any swelling.

"Knocked unconscious then," Severus concluded, and I nodded slowly. It was the only thing that made sense, and his lack of vision in his left eye made depth perception difficult. The sudden blizzard and strong wind must have knocked him off course and he hit the ground before he could correct himself, like the other dragons had done. "We have to get him out of here."

The only question was how…I couldn't leave the other dragons, nor the people that even now were struggling to hold back the dead as I assessed Gemini's damage. But I also could not, under any circumstances, leave Gemini here. Chudley whinnied loudly behind me, rearing and dancing away as some of the dead tried to swarm the poor horse, Ólafur's trusty axe halting their attack on the frightened animal.

That was when the idea came to me.

Chudley was a liability now that he had gotten me safely to where I needed to be. Maybe he could get Gemini safely out as well. "Chudley!" I called, despite knowing that there was little chance that the panicked horse would even respond to me. I struggled to stand; my legs tired from the hard ride to get to the lake as quickly as we had. I had never ridden anything but a broom for that length of time, and a broom had nothing on a rotund potbellied horse.

Rushing towards the scared beast, I seized his reins and pulled him down, casting a banishing hex on the nearest dead who tried to take advantage of the gap Ólafur had left open when saving my horse. I struggled with Chudley, trying to pull him towards the dragons while he tried to bolt away from the battle. He fought me for a long moment before finally calming enough to be led. His sides heaved, eyes rolling and nearly completely white as his nostrils flared, sweat foamed around his neck and sides.

Once I got him close enough, touching his cheek and sending gentle healing magic down my fingertips and into his tired muscles, I crouched back down and scooped the unconscious dragon up. I struggled now to lift Gemini – the second smallest dragon was still as large as a pony, a third of the size of Chudley – locking my hands under his wings and around his chest as I dragged the limp whelp over to the scared but thankfully unmoving horse.

Hera attempted to assist, scooping up Gemini's dragging tail with gentle teeth. But once I was next to the horse, I couldn't seem to find a way to get the damn dragon on him. Any spell I would cast to aid in this endeavor would just slide right off of his magical resistant hide, and I didn't have time to just stand there and cast until something took.

Romulus climbed up the saddle on Chudley's opposite side, pulling the horse slightly off balance before he set his legs and adjusted for the added weight. The brown and teal dragon craned his neck forward, getting his teeth around the single undamaged horn at the base of Gemini's skull and pulling.

With great effort, I started to lift the dragon onto Chudley's back, Romulus pulling from above and Hera trying to push from below. I hoped that we didn't exacerbate any injury he did have, but getting to safety took priority. I also hoped that Romulus' firm grip didn't snap the one horn Gemini had left, poor dragon really couldn't get a break.

The heavy weight of the red dragon suddenly lifted, and I sighed in relief as Loboda's form loomed over mine. His large hands found purchase along Gemini's hips and he used his far superior physique to manhandle the dragon into place. Romulus shuffled back onto Chudley's neck to make room as we positioned Gemini back legs over Chudley's rump, tail dangling down behind him, and chest partially into the saddle, wings splayed limply to either side of the shoulders.

The horse pinned his ears back in annoyance at the weight of the two dragons but didn't fight it.

Conjuring rope, I tied the red dragon down quickly, shooing Romulus off of the horse when it looked like Chudley's patience was finished and he was about to throw his head to dislodge the beast. Seizing the reins, I pulled Chudley's halter off so it couldn't be grabbed and used against him and banished the contraption back to the stables. I also secretly prayed that I didn't accidentally magic it to another dimension, like that one instance with Hermione's essay…which was a complete accident!

How was I to know that if I wasn't picturing anything in particular while casting the banishing charm it would send it somewhere far off into the ether and completely irretrievable? Well, lesson learned and all that. I really didn't think my hand could get any more sore after having to rewrite her essay, and then write mine, which I hadn't yet started, because reasons…also quidditch.

Ron had been laughing about it for days, but both of us agreed to never do anything like that ever again when it came to Hermione and her homework. I hadn't ever seen her so angry, not even the times where our misadventures had almost gotten her killed. Hermione livid and Hermione absolutely bloody furious were on completely different spectrums and for a moment there I actually feared for my life. So yeah, suffice to say it never happened again, and anytime I did have to actually touch her paperwork, I did so as if I was handling fine glass or a fabergé egg.

Chudley snorted at me, his breath hitting my face in a hot gust as I grabbed his cheeks and pulled his nose down so I could look him in the eyes. "Go home," I told him, pressing my command with magic so the beast would understand. "Take him home."

Chudley threw his head back and turned north where the village lay. "Severus?" I asked uncertainly as I saw the amount of dead between us and the upper valley.

"I'll clear a path and then return," he assured, touching his nose to my temple. "Promise me you won't do anything foolish before I get back," the command was firm but hollow. We both knew that I wouldn't be able to keep that promise even if I tried. And we both knew that I wouldn't make a promise I couldn't keep, so instead I kept my silence and Severus only grunted in reply.

"I expect you to be alive when I get back, Miss Potter, or Gryffindor will never recover from the amount of points I will be taking," his words were a silken threat, so similar to the days in class where they would be followed by another detention, and I found myself laughing wetly.

"No promises, but I'll do my best," I replied, sniffling to try and hide how suddenly wet my eyes had become. "And you know us Gryffindor's, we're very hard to get rid of, we are."

"See to it that you are," he replied, brushing his cheek once more against mine, but I couldn't tell if he was trying to comfort me or himself before he launched into the air. His small form fought against the wind, but despite the strength of the blizzard, he gained altitude.

Hera spread her wings, running a few paces before lunging and allowing the turbulent wind to pull her aloft. She struggled once in the air, the blizzard pushing her one way and then throwing her in another before she was able to get her wings steady enough for actual flight. Her heavier form having more difficulty than Severus' did. A flash of pale gold followed her as Roan nearly crashed into the dark brown dragon, thrown suddenly by the wind.

The two dragons squawked at each other, Hera rearing her head back to snap at Roan, but he was already too far away for it to be more than an empty threat. Romulus shrieked up at them from his position on the ground as they both leveled off, but he didn't take flight after them. Instead he galloped forward with his awkward double gait, spread his wings, and launched himself into the air to burn the dead that were pushing the circle of survivors dangerously close together.

Fire bloomed around the edge of warriors just as Severus began his stoop, an inferno bursting from his maw as he burned a path that Chudley took immediate advantage of.

The horse charged forward without hesitation – just as he had in battle – not even balking at the fire that hadn't yet died down. Chudley was moving faster than I had ever seen as the fire parted down the center just as he reached it, almost like a living thing, the sea parting for Moses.

I cast a quick protection spell after the horse, praying it settled before he got too far and then returned my attention back to the battle. Two people had fallen in the time it took me to evacuate the unconscious dragon, another woman was kneeling nearby, the leg beneath her torn to shreds as she kept the dead away with a broken spear. A man stood over her, trying to shield her as she slowly pulled herself away from the front lines.

A hand landing on my shoulder stopped me from going further as I tried to lend assistance and I glanced up at Loboda's solemn expression. I quirked an eyebrow at him curiously, even as I drew my sword once more and prepared for battle.

"You should have gone with your beasts," he told me, expression grim as the circle around us became tighter. Warriors were pushed together on all sides, their comrades hindering their own movements as the dead kept pressing.

"Then I would not be here to save you," I replied with a wry smile, shrugging his hand off and rushing to the woman who had finally dragged herself far enough behind the wall of fighters that she was no longer in danger.

I grabbed her arm, kneeling close as she looked up at me with a scared but hopeful expression. I didn't have time nor the energy to cast the advanced healing spell I would need to fix her leg, but I could at least get her to safety. Turning, I reached forward as if to grab something, using my magic to coax a riderless horse nearby to approach.

Thank you, Hagrid, and his Care of Magical Creatures class. It looked like it wasn't nearly as useless as Hermione kept insisting it was.

I noticed absently that it was the same bay mare that Alfhild had been riding. Alfhild herself was standing a few feet away, next to her father on his injured side. They had traded axes, her wielding the massive axe with two hands while Ólafur used her smaller axe with his one good arm.

Once the horse was close enough, I used magic to assist lifting the injured woman onto it, banishing the reins and halter as I had done with Chudley. The mare neighed loudly – shifting sideways in unease as she shied away from running through the path of fire – and I slapped her rump to force her to take the only available path away from the battle. She hesitated a moment longer before deciding that she really no longer wanted to be here and took off after my own horse.

The sound of hooves moved further away as I positioned myself to fill the hole that the woman had left behind. The dead had completely surrounded us, but with the aid of my magic, I was able to incapacitate them long enough for someone else with a weapon tipped in the strange black stone to kill them permanently.

I shifted from one point to another, rotating around our circle to keep the dead from overwhelming us, casting basic healing spells when I could and evacuating those too injured to heal. Soon we were out of horses, the fire Severus had set died into smoldering embers that were already being eaten by the snow, and those too wounded to fight were pulled into the center where they would be protected and out of the way.

Every few minutes I would send sparks up into the air. It was a risky move, the chances of drawing even more dead to us increased with every colorful burst above our heads…but it also drew the survivors still fighting, strengthening our numbers. And after a while, it also drew the remaining dragons. They took turns landing within our protected circle to recuperate before taking flight once more.

Guinevere was on her second turn of rest, Romulus circling lower, preparing for his. Loki flew with Solar, the bronze dragon the only one who hadn't rested yet, choosing instead to stay airborne, fighting against the harsh winds and blinding conditions as he strafed the field with dragon fire. But they were getting tired, and it was obvious with every sweep they took. They started to ascend slower, the fire burning out quicker, the distance covered shrinking with each pass.

"Harielle!" Alfhild called and I shifted back, giving the warriors around me time to fill the hole before I crossed over to the young woman. I stood next to her, casting a general low-level healing spell in her direction when I noticed a cut on her thigh even as my magic tugged uncomfortably at my core. My reserves were starting to get low and soon I wouldn't be able to cast at all. Capturing such a large amount of Severus' flame twice in one day on top of all the battle magic I had been throwing around was more than enough to wear me down.

"What are we going to do?" She asked, shouting the question at me even as she swung her father's axe low to cut the leg off of an approaching corpse. My sword followed a moment later to end its reanimation.

"We need to retreat," I replied quickly, stumbling as a man was pushed into me from the side by another dead wolf, its slobbering teeth jammed around the man's spear. I blasted the undead beast off, and another person finished it before it could get up again. The man stood slowly, tired or injured I couldn't tell, and I was about to turn away when I recognized him.

"Canute?!" I called as he finally found his footing. "What are you doing here?" I asked, sending a quick episky his way and wincing at the uncomfortable tug once more.

"What am I doing here?" He asked in disbelief. "What are you? You aren't supposed to leave the village!"

"I am helping!" I argued back, turning away long enough to spear a mostly skeletal corpse that had tried to launch itself over the first line to get to the defenseless injured we were protecting at the center.

"So am I," he shouted as he swung his black tipped spear into an undead…rabbit? What the fuck? Like seriously, what the actual fuck?

"You are not a warrior," I bit out with gritted teeth as I used what little reserves I had left to light an actual fucking polar bear on fire and kill it before it could plow through the front line. It fell and died only inches away from the warriors it was about to maul. "You don't even have any marks!" And it was true, his face was still bare.

Only a year or two younger than Alfhild, he was perhaps the next youngest person here, excluding myself of course. But he wasn't the only one that didn't have any facial scarring. I had seen several people I recognized from the village that hadn't yet gone through their rite of passage – or fýrst útskryft as it was called – but the situation must have been dire enough that they had pulled anyone who had the ability to wield a spear to fight the dead.

"Neither do you!" He shouted before grabbing my robe to pull me closer. My body collided with his front and I dropped my wand on reflex and brought my hand up to catch myself on his chest as he used his spear to kill a…oh Merlin, that was a child. It had snuck up on me during our argument and I hadn't even noticed.

She was perhaps five, maybe six years old, and her hair was once blonde. Half of her face was gone, the rest sunken in from decay. Her body collapsed as the black spear tip lodged itself deeply in her chest, and I couldn't stop fucking staring.

"Harielle?" Canute questioned, his grip tightening on my robe as I pulled my attention away from the little girl and back to him. His face was so close to mine that I could make out the tiny specs of brown in his hazel eyes. I could see the tightness around them, and I realized that he was just as worried as I was.

"I'm okay," I told him, fingers curling into his shirt as I swallowed thickly, but I didn't release him, and he didn't release me. I found it comforting as my legs started to shake. "I am okay," I repeated trying to convince myself just as much as him.

"If you two are quite finished!" Alfhild shouted as she brought the massive axe down and cleaved another undead in half. "We are in the middle of a fight! You two can fuck later!"

We broke apart quickly, limbs tangling as we stepped back, and I was surprised neither of us actually lost our balance. My face was burning despite the cold and Canute had found something far more interesting to look at that wasn't me.

"Th-that was not –"

"We-we-we weren't –"

And now we were talking over each other and stuttering like two students that a professor had found sneaking away into one of the covered alcoves. "Right," Alfhild commented dryly, her expression so neutral that I would have found it utterly hilarious if I weren't on the receiving end of it. "Do you want to join us," she gestured vaguely in the direction of where the dead were still pressing in hard on the front line of warriors. "Or do you want to gaze meaningfully into each other's eyes for a bit longer?"

"I would rather gaze meaningfully into yours if that is all the same," I replied quickly, and then instantly cursing myself afterwards. I always did get cheeky when cornered and uncomfortable.

"My sister's, you mean," she replied with a wink and just like that the tension was broken.

Smiling ruefully, I flicked my wrist to bring my wand back into my hand, gripped my sword tighter, and rejoined the fray. Those at the very front began their methodical retreat while those just behind stepped up to take their place and give them a breather. The next moment I found myself right at the front, Alfhild on one side and Canute at the other. I tried really hard not to compare it to how I felt when we had entered that little room on the third-floor corridor. Hermione on my left, Ron on my right, and a monstrous three-headed dog right in front.

The next second I wasn't thinking about anything except keeping Severus' promise as the next wave of dead collided right into us like a heard of furious hippogriffs. There might have been a lot more to actual swordsmanship, but despite what Severus said, hacking and slashing was proving to be quite effective, if not a little therapeutic. There was nothing like taking your embarrassment and aggression out on an enemy that didn't actually feel anything.

"We cannot keep this up," I gasped as Canute placed his hand on my shoulder and we stepped back to let the next group take the front. Alfhild had her hands on her knees, her father's axe laying on the ground as she fought to catch her breath.

"Here," Canute said, thrusting his spear at her. "Switch me."

She looked up through her loosened hair, forehead plastered with sweat, dirt, and blood. Her gaze on Canute felt like she was trying to measure him for something, but for what I didn't know. A moment later, she seemed to find it as she nodded slowly, taking the spear, and pressing the blunt end into the ground so she could lean on it. Canute kneeled, grabbing the handle of the axe, and bringing it up to his chest.

He flipped it around, adjusting his grip and bouncing it as he got familiar with the weapon. Alfhild's hand on his arm stopped him. "That belongs to my father," she told him, her voice solemn. "You will not lose it!"

He nodded once; his expression grim but determined. I felt like I was missing something important, or maybe witnessing something private. Perhaps the Thenns had a thing about their weapons, or maybe it had to do with his lack of markings…but who knew? It was just one more thing I would need to ask Loboda about when it came to their culture.

"I will wield it with honor," Canute replied, and it was Alfhild's turn to nod. She did so just once, before lifting her hand to slap it against his bicep and grip it tightly and just like that the moment was over. Seriously, every time I thought I was beginning to understand these people…

"Harielle," Alfhild turned to me, dropping her hand on Canute to lift the spear with both of hers. "What's the plan?"

I was completely baffled. What the fuck was she asking me for? I had no idea what the hell I was doing over half the time, and the other half I only pretended to know. I wasn't a leader, I wasn't a tactician, and I sure as fuck wasn't a battle commander. Something of my thoughts must have showed on my face because she stepped forward quickly, placing one hand where my shoulder met my neck, gripping it so tightly it almost hurt.

"You saved me and my people," she started, speaking low but quickly as the battle continued to rage around the little bubble we had made for ourselves. "You took us across the ice, you saved my father and his warriors, you brought us here safely. If it weren't for you, I would be dead three times over. You kept us alive, you gathered the other fighters here. We'd all be dead by now if you hadn't been here."

My cheeks flushed at her words and something in my stomach squirmed as she spoke. "It wasn't like that," I argued, wanting suddenly for her to be looking anywhere but directly at me. Her blue eyes were laser focused, not letting me look away for a moment, and I found myself squirming under her intense gaze.

"It was," Canute's voice drew my attention and I found my eyes flicking to his, trying not to sigh when Alfhild's gaze was drawn to him as well. "She's right, me and the group I was with were lost. We were surrounded, the blizzard turned us around and we were lost. We didn't know which way to go, until we saw your sparks. You led us here, you led all of us here," he released one of his hands on the massive axe to gesture to the group of survivors that were still fighting.

Every few moments, one of the front warriors would fall back to rest as someone else not as tired stepped in to take their place. The wounded and injured were pulled back and placed in the center where they could bind their wounds safely and not be underfoot of the living who were desperately still fighting.

"You brought us here…together," Alfhild's grip tightened briefly, pulling my eyes back to hers as she suddenly released my shoulder to curl her hand around the back of my neck instead. Her hand was surprisingly warm and dry, for how much she had been sweating, and her grip firm as she flexed her fingers, pulling me forward. My forehead met hers, in the way I had seen some warriors do to each other as a sign of comradery and respect. "Now get us out," she whispered, her face so close I could feel the puff of breath from each word. "Get us home."

Her words made something thick settle in my throat, and I had to swallow around it as tears prickled at the corner of my eyes. Her faith in me, their faith in me…left me feeling wrung too tightly like a wet towel, and my hand shook as I brought it up to grip the back of her neck in return. My wand was pressed against the base of her skull, but she didn't seem to mind. Instead, she bowed her head further and put weight behind the press of our foreheads, and I copied her. I let the feel of her breath on my face, the tight grip on my neck, her sweat soaked skin against mine, ground me.

I took a steadying breath, and then another as she tightened her grip for just a moment before she was pulling away. And just like that, I was no longer afraid. Straightening my shoulders, I turned my gaze from her blue eyes, to Canute's hazel, to the men and women who were still holding the line despite how tired and exhausted everyone was becoming, to the injured that were binding their own wounds and each other's before some of the less wounded rejoined the fray.

"We need to leave the valley," I told her quickly, a plan starting to form in my mind. "We cannot stay here, they will just keep coming, picking us off until there is no one left. We need to put a wall between us and them. The village is defendable, we have more people, more supplies, and can retreat into the tunnels if we lose the outer walls.

"We'll build barricades inside the village," I continued, remembering the lesson from Severus about traps – which had more to do with mental ones for the pesky legilimens than it did actual combat, but his lessons could usually be applied to more than one area – and how he had strategically placed things just so to his advantage. "Funnel them into chokeholds, get them into areas we can safely pick them off instead."

She nodded her head solemnly as if she had already known what needed to be done but was just waiting for someone else to tell her what to do. Raising her voice, she turned so she was facing towards the center. "Retreat!" Alfhild's voice carried far despite the wind and sounds of battle. "Back to the village, retreat!"

"Stay together!" I bellowed, using what little magic I had left to amplify my voice enough to be heard fully without it seeming too unnatural. "Retreat together, hold formation!"

Our group, now nearing fifty strong, started to move northward one step at a time. Those nearest to the center assisting the injured and trading out periodically with those at the perimeter who were facing the worst of the onslaught. Alfhild, Canute, and I would occasionally shout direction or orders if the group started to spread out too far, or bunch too close. After a while, other voices joined ours and I could just make out Loboda and Ólafur on the opposite side keeping the warriors together in a steady retreat.

We had successfully moved nearly a full kilometer, back to the most northern part of the lake, where the waterfalls were frozen around the stone face when another voice joined ours. "Hold your ground! Hold your ground, gods damn you!"

The Magnar was suddenly there, his group of men joining ours, forcing small gaps that the dead tried to take advantage of. I was forced to wield my wand once more to stop them from reaching the injured, and each spell tugged more and more at my core until the last incendio left me gasping for breath. Thankfully, Loboda was able to get the new people into our formation quickly and I dropped the wand to let it return back into its holster and instead used both hands to wield the sword of Gryffindor.

It was too tempting to use magic when my wand was in my hand, and I knew that if I didn't stop, I would be unconscious within the next few spells.

"We need to keep retreating!" Alfhild shouted as the slow northern shift came to a complete stop.

"You will hold your ground, girl!" The Magnar sneered at her as if she were a child and not a fully initiated warrior. It was degrading, and I felt my own hackles start to rise as Alfhild's face turned pale and she looked as if she had just been slapped. To be called girl, after she had endured the ritual of marking, after having bloodied her blade in both hunting and against the ultimate enemy, to survive for so long where countless others had already fallen…there was no worse insult he could have made.

"The valley will not be abandoned! Not while I am still Magnar!" He roared not only at Alfhild, but those who had been following her.

"Are you blind?!" I shouted, pushing Alfhild back to the frontline to fill the hole I left as I advanced on the Magnar. His gaze turned onto me, eyes hateful, dark brown pools of contempt as they bore into mine, but I refused to be cowed. "You will get everyone killed; we need to retreat!"

"Silence, witch!" He thundered, face turning red despite the freezing wind and snow. He lunged forward to grab my robe, similar to how Canute had before, but not to save me. Instead, he used his grip to pull me in close, his foul breath on my face and eyes narrowed. "Your words are done poisoning the ears of my men. How many did we lose because of your voice? Your magic? How many did you kill with your presence?! I should have burned you when you first set foot in my valley!"

"She saved us!" Canute was trying to press himself between me and his leader, holding the large axe off to the side so he didn't accidentally injure someone with it. His hand was shoving against us, trying to pry between the Magnar's grip. "We would have all been dead already if it wasn't for her!"

"Enough, boy!" He roared, releasing his grip so suddenly I fell to my knees as he backhanded Canute. The axe fell from his limp grip as the blow forced him nearly face first into the snow. "I will not be questioned by an unmarked runt! Keep your silence, or I will keep your tongue!"

"Stop it!" I yelled, standing so quickly I made myself dizzy as my wand snapped back into my hand and I pointed it right at the Magnar. "Look around you. The valley has already been lost," I gestured with my sword, but his gaze was fixated on the black stick I had pointed directly at his torso. His eyes were narrowed, but the pupils were blown and lips tight. He looked just as Dudley did…back when I accidentally blew up Aunt Marge.

It was then that I realized he was scared of me. He didn't know how much magic I had already used; didn't know how little reserves I had left. Just as the Dursley's didn't know I couldn't use magic outside of school for most of that first summer back. And me…well I was great at bluffing. This, I could use to my advantage.

"You would fight, have your people fight and die, for what? For some land? What use is land to you when everyone else is dead?!" I was shouting so loudly that it was gathering the attention of those nearest to us. "The valley is already lost, Magnar. We need to retreat!"

The words seemed to shake whatever fear he had, and his eyes flicked up from my wand to my face. The sneer that crossed his expression twisted it into something foul and I fought not to sneer back. I was trying my hardest to be the bigger person here, and if Snape's class had taught me one thing, it was that reacting less could wield the greater reward…if I could keep my head that long.

"We will not abandon the valley!" His voice thundered so loudly that I had no doubt every survivor could hear him. "We are Thenn! This is our home! And no dead or white walker or witch will take if from us!" He raised his axe at the words, and some of the warriors cheered with him.

I could feel my grip on the survivors slipping with each exclamation, and I knew right then that my strategic retreat back to the village, to the defense that I had already started planning, was done. There was no way that these people would listen to me, an outsider, a witch, when their Magnar said otherwise.

"We will put these dead fuckers back into the ground!" He continued, rallying even more to his side. "Our Gods will sing tales of our victory in their halls! And our names will be carved into the Stone of Heroes for centuries to come!" The cheering that met his declaration near drowned out the raging blizzard and I felt my heart drop as I lost what little hold I had left.

The Magnar was grinning as his people rallied behind him, those in the frontlines seeming to get a boost of energy and started to hack way at the dead with more enthusiasm, as if they hadn't been fighting for near half a day already. He sneered down out me with triumph, and I set my jaw to gaze up at him with every ounce of contempt I could portray. I refused to let him cow me, to let his words and convictions bully me into submission.

The smirk on his lips was an ugly thing, and when he leaned back down to whisper in my ear, I couldn't fight the shiver that raced up my spine. "And you, little witch," he hissed quietly, his breath tickling my cheek in a way that made me feel like I suddenly needed a bath. "You will be dealt with when we return victorious. As for the rest of you," he turned to Alfhild and Canute, who still stood behind me despite his uplifting speech. "You will hold your ground, or I will cut you down myself!"

The Magnar held his black two headed axe aloft as if to do such before he spun and buried it in deep into one of the dead. The battle continued to rage around us, a man nearby falling to the onslaught, and then another. Our steady organized retreat had ended, the fortitude and hope that we had given the group gone. The Magnar was determined to make this his last stand…and he was set on dragging down everyone else with him.

I couldn't let that happen. I needed to make a plan, and quickly. I also needed to stop thinking that if Severus were just here, I could ask the little white dragon to set the Magnar on fire and be done with it. It would certainly fix the immediate problem at least…

"Hvítm göngrind!" Someone was shouting, the phrase vaguely familiar though I couldn't remember Loboda teaching me those words. "Hvítm göngrind!" The cry in the Old Tongue came again, and I turned to find it, stepping back, and trusting Alfhild to cover me.

A woman, taller than any I had ever seen, with blonde hair and dark eyes, was pointing with her spear to something near the trees, panic and terror twisting her scarred face. My gaze followed her spear point, and I could just make out a shape exiting the forest. It was white, with skin dry like bark, strange black armor that reflected the light oddly, and blue glowing eyes.

The creature's eyes met mine, pale hard lips pulling into something that could mockingly be called a smirk. It made its way across the battlefield as if it was strolling through a woodland park, wielding that same thin blade that looked to be made out of glass – or ice, I suppose would be more accurate – that the other one had tried to cut me down with many months ago.

Behind me, I could hear the line breaking as the warriors began to panic. Someone ran past me, nearly bowling me over as he abandoned his position and started running in the opposite direction. More followed him as the being moved closer. Behind the pale creature, two more came out of the forest. All had the same black armor, long white hair, and glowing blue eyes.

All three of them were looking directly at me.