Interlude

At this point in the story, my own recollection of the following events are spotty at best. I remember bits and pieces, literally and figuratively. So, I will include in this next portion of my tale, an excerpt from the journal of Raynar, another Housecarl in the service of Aelfric. He provides a far more accurate account of what happens next than what I can offer.

Chapter Three: The Benefits of Insanity

…And I thought the battle was lost! Trapped in the middle of a massacre, like an island amidst a raging sea. Our lord seemed confident though, and now I understand why. I've never seen the berserk fury before. Very few of us are trained in it's ways. Beornoth and Wraecwulf are the only I know of in Aelfric's household troop. It's an incredible, an frightening sight to see. As soon as they had consumed their mushrooms, both of them began raving, and howling like beasts.

Our men, who had formed a protective circle around our lord and the two berserkers, immediately stepped aside, as if afraid they'd lose limbs if they kept Beorn and Wulf from their prey. Cuthbert more or less confirmed this for me, when I mentioned this to him.

"It's not wise to get between wolf and his food, if you get my meaning, lad. You don't stop these men until they're dead or the effects wear off. When that happens, we'll have to carry them out."

He paused to kill a charging skeleton, and then continued.

"It's the rage. While they're submerged in the battle madness, they can achieve extraordinary things. They can take blows that would fell a sober man, lift things a sober man couldn't, and move faster than a man should. But that comes at a steep price. It can kill a man, or at the very least leave them as feeble as an old woman when the effects of the mushrooms wear off. And that's if they're not killed in battle. Even madmen like them are mortal."

I asked him how long the effects of the mushrooms lasted for.

"Hard to say. An hour, maybe longer. It depends. Those two know what they're doing, and they've been under the madness before. Perhaps as long as they allow it to control them."

I was about to ask him what he meant, when a spear almost ran me through. Cuthbert hacked the spear shaft, and I took the thrust on my shield. The…thing, as I've yet to come up with any proper labels for these foul creatures, stumbled with the lost momentum of his attack. I slammed my short sword in it's mouth and pushed. I still can't get used to the smell of their blood.

I risked a glance in the direction Wulf and Beorn had gone, and swore. I couldn't see the two berserkers, but they had left a trail of rotting breadcrumbs. Rotting corpses lay on the ground like cobblestones, and black blood ran like rivers around our feet.

"By the Light…" Cuthbert had evidently followed my gaze.

Aelfric looked pleased, and he grinned, and pointed the standard towards the opened path. "Alright lads, pick up the pace, we'll get out of this yet!"

I wondered how my lord was even still standing. He had been fighting with a broken arm, was bleeding from several minor wounds, and as far as I knew, hadn't slept since our flight from Capital City. What I didn't notice was that he was being supported by two men, and that he could barely walk on his own.

Our island began moving faster. Fortunately for us, the poor soldiers of Lordaeron were providing the Scourge with the distraction we needed to move more or less unmolested through the horde. But we weren't out yet.

Ahead of us, Beorn and Wulf came into view. They were fighting with one of the patchwork giants that had destroyed our shield wall. It was like watching two dogs fighting a bull. Beorn was nipping at it's heels, screaming half-words and foaming at the mouth. Wulf was trying to circle the monstrosity. I watched as Beorn threw his two-handed axe at the giant. The large, heavy blade slammed into the creature's face with so much force, it shattered the thing's skull. But still, it stood.

To my horror, Beorn was caught on a large meathook, chained loosely around the giant's arm. Cries of despair filled the air as we watched the abomination pull Beorn's limbs from his body like a cruel child pulls the wings from a fly. The whole time, though, Beorn kept hacking away at the thing with his sword, until he was nothing more than a limbless torso.

Wulf, however, seemed to not take notice of his comrade's death. He had used Beorn's brave sacrifice to get behind the creature. Howling like a madman, he started hacking into the giant's ankle. Black blood and green slime poured from the wound, and he worked the limb like a woodsmen felling a tree. By the time the creature realized his second attacker was still there, Wulf's rage-fueled blows had hacked straight through it's ankle.

With a gut-wrenching pop, followed by an even more nauseating slurping sound, the leg detached from the foot. Roaring through a broken mouth, the giant tried to keep it's footing, but a stump is hardly a foot, and it fell flat on its face. All of us cheered, and Aelfric waved the standard to a fro.

Ranting and raving, Wulf mounted the creature. Using his axe as a foot hold, he mounted the beast, staggering across it's flailing body. Gone was the calm, collected, and grim Wulf I knew. In his place was a man born of fury. His neck muscles were bulging, his eyes were wide with animal savagery, and his helmet was gone. Blood matted his golden mane, and painted his face crimson and black. I've never seen a man so savage looking. At that moment, he looked more like an orc than a man. I hope he will forgive me for saying that.

Tripping, stumbling, screaming, and gnashing his teeth, Wulf made it to the abomination's head. And he just hacked. And hacked. And hacked. And hacked. And hacked. Long after the giant had stopped struggling, he continued to hack until the head was nothing but a pile of tiny bone fragments, black brain matter, hair, and teeth. A few men lost their stomachs. I'm not ashamed to say that I had too.

The death of that patchwork leviathan was like flipping a switch for Wulf. He swung his axe one more time, and collapsed on the ground. None of us were sure if he was breathing. Aelfric, gave the order to move forward, and as we did, a couple men collected Wulf and his weapon from the ground and carried him alongside Aelfric. We were almost home free. Or well, close enough to be able to run home, so to speak.

And then that bloody Death Knight showed up again. I guess none of us were paying attention, so focused were we on reaching the 'finish line'. The first we knew of it's reappearance was an ear splitting shriek, as Hengist's arm, complete with his shield went flying. Then, without warning, it was amongst us, mace swinging in brutal arcs that shattered shield and bone. Our close knot of men broke, and we scattered, trying to escape the reach of that cruel weapon. The two men carrying Wraecwulf made a run for it, dragging the poor berserker by his arms. I suppose they had run at Aelfric's order. I sought my lord, as did whatever few of his household troops remained.

Aelfric was staring down the Death Knight, standard clutched tightly in one hand, and his longsword in the other. Four men stood in front of him, shields at the ready. I joined them.

"Been a long night." That was Cuthbert, who had somehow managed to survive.

Aelfric somehow managed to laugh at that, though we all knew how exhausted he was.

"You have one more chance, Baron Haraldson. I can forgive your earlier defiance. But look around you!" The creature, the Death Knight, spread its arms to encompass the slaughter around us. "You will not survive this. Kneel now, and your men can join you willingly as well. Otherwise, I am going to make you suffer."

Our lord remained silent, and the only response the Death Knight received was a wad of saliva on its gleaming black armor.

"Lads, you've served me, and Lordaeron well. It has been an honor to fight beside you, and I release you from your oaths of servitude, for service rendered honorably. Now get."

We all protested, but Aelfric would have none of it. "Did I stutter? You're no longer my soldiers, now get the hell out of here. I can take care of this bastard whoreson myself. But you cannot. And that caravan still needs protection, now more than ever. Go!"

Suitably chastened, we lowered our shields and started running. Before I departed, Aelfric stopped me.

"Tell Wulf my words, and tell him he's served me well. He won't be happy to know he's missed this. Light guide your way, son."

I shook his hand. "And may the Light protect you, Lord."

And I left. I felt guilty as I made the hellish run to catch up with the others. I never did see what happened to Aelfric, but I think it's safe to assume that he died.

It took us four hours to catch up to the caravan. As we came in to sight, various refugees surged forward to help us. I collapsed next to a wagon, suddenly numb and weak. I discovered that I had taken a blow on my left calf early in the battle, and never realized it. Fortunately, it was nothing serious, or I would have been dead long ago.

Only seven of us remain of all the Housecarls that went into that battle, as well as Lord Aelfric. There are a handful of soldiers that made it out as well, though they look worse than we do. Several are almost dead, and the rest are without weapons and armor. Of us seven, only Wulf is in bad condition.

As soon as we reached the caravan, we had him put up in a hay wagon, where a priest and apothecary awaited him. It was hard to tell what kind of wounds he had sustained, so covered in filth and blood was he. He remained unconscious for three days before he finally opened his eyes. While I was relieved that he lived, I was not looking forward to the unpleasant experience of giving him the news of Aelfric's death.