The rain had come again as they made their way around the high cliffs of the Great Forge, making the trudge through the trees and underbrush all the more miserable and cold. Ragna was soaked to the bone, shoulders hunched, leaping over fallen logs, and ducking under catching branches as she made her way through the forest. She labored with deep, smokey pants, like hot dragon's breath into the cool air, hot like the rage burning inside of her that she barely controlled in the calm stillness. A rage that was always with her and had been for years.
Ragna wanted to kill someone. She wanted to fight, to burn, to bite, and hack with her axes. She wanted to unleash the anger that had been with her since childhood. An anger that stuck with her like a sickness she had never been cured of or had never died from, even if she might have come close a few times.
She very much wanted to kill someone, but just as before every battle, she would simply have to wait, and that made her even angrier.
Squinting upward through the hazy mist to the forge high above on the cliffs, an anxious twinge of excitement ran down her spine, and her fingers twitched to grab hold of her axes and begin swinging.
"I'll say one thing for you tins," Ragna grumbled, following behind Priscilla, who in turn followed Skuld, who was leading the way through the trees, "You sure know how to make a raid slow and annoying."
Priscilla turned her head up toward the fortress as they walked. "I suppose what we lack in Viking ferocity we make up for with ingenuity and defense. A well-built stone fortress does fare much better against fire and battering rams than a wooden longhouse, no matter how many animal skulls and carved dragons you put on it."
Ragna curled her lip and gave a contemptuous grunt of laughter. "We have turned back plenty of your mad crusades and sailed our dragon ships down Ashfeld rivers to raid your castles and towns season after season. You are not as mighty as you think."
"I would have thought the civil war and rampant political strife had made that evident," pondered Priscilla, though she didn't sound like it mattered much to her. "Still, I will gladly take the protection of sturdy walls and strong armor over savage rites and battle frenzy any day. Cool heads and decisive action is what wins wars in the end, not simply believing victory will be delivered to you by divine right."
"Fighting wins wars. Wild, glorious, bloody fighting," snarled Ragna, neither understanding nor enjoying this Knightly way of thinking. "When your enemies lay dead at your feet, and your skin is warmed by the heat of their blood. When you hear the roar of the gods crack open the sky as they celebrate your victory! That is how wars are won."
"We must simply agree to disagree then."
Ragna picked up her pace to fall in step next to Priscilla, glaring to show she wasn't done. She was never done. Her anger was always there with her, just like her shadow.
"I disagree that we should agree on disagreeing. I will never agree with you on anything. Your castle walls are nothing. Your armor is nothing. The Allfather laughs at your cowardly ways of making war, and when the gates of the forge are opened, our warriors shall rush in and tear apart all that you have built here with steel and fire." She smiled then, looking about the trees as if she saw the world more clearly than her misguided companion. "Jarl Herleif will see this place brought to ruin, and our saga will only grow more grand."
Priscilla stopped suddenly, causing Ragna to walk on a few steps without her before she turned to look back. For a moment, the smaller woman said nothing, and Ragna silently hoped that Priscilla might want to fight now. Her hands dropped to her sides, fingers flexing at the ready next to her axes.
"Look up there," Priscilla said, raising her hand to point up at the Great Forge.
Ragna frowned, realizing there would be no fighting and only more boring talk, but she still looked up and squinted through the drizzling rain to the dark structure high above their heads.
"The damn thing is not even that old, not compared to most Ashfeld's castles," Priscilla continued, "It was commissioned by Apollyon once she had brought the other legions under her control. The largest forge in all the world, meant to supply the Blackstone war effort as she began her campaigns into Valkenheim and the Myre. She was defeated before its completion, but the Iron Legion happily saw it finished to continue the wars that still raged on. It has already fallen into Viking hands countless times over the years, along with Cinder Mill, and on occasion to the Samurai as well. Each time, we have taken it back with the price of our people's blood, only to see it given away to the Pyre who hold it against us now. Even that will not last though, not if we have anything to say about it. But what happens to it after we leave this place then, hmm? What purpose will it serve once we depart to rejoin the rest of the army at the Walled City? Who can say, honestly? And so I ask you, oh mighty warrior of Odin… who cares?"
Ragna froze like she had been stunned by a knock from an enemy's weapon. She was the kind of woman who focused on what was in front of her, on what she could throttle with her bare hands. All this talk of 'what if' just put her in an even worse mood. It didn't make sense to her, and the need to make Priscilla shut up with a hard punch to the face was becoming harder to ignore.
"Only stone and dirt," came Skuld's hard voice out of nowhere, causing Ragna to spin around and find that the Valkyrie had stopped to listen. "We must honor the dead."
Priscilla shrugged and dared to give a little laugh that echoed from within her helmet. "She may not say much, but at least she gets to the point of it. Skuld is right. Wars are about people. The dead and those who struggle on afterward. A castle is only worth how well it protects the people inside. Give me a saga that tells of how you would do the same, not burn and slaughter, and I will gladly listen to it with rapt attention. That is a tale worth telling if you ask me."
Ragna narrowed her eyes as she looked back toward the Peacekeeper, feeling as though she was being talked down to. That made her teeth grind together, made her skin prickle, and her body grow hot. Her way was not one of thinking for others. Her way was to give into her desire, to give into her battle lust, to be free and wild as the beasts that roam the land. She gave no shit for protecting others, for caring about people outside of her clan, her family. There was only blood to drown her enemies in. Blood, and the glory that came with it.
Still, there was that memory.
That one dark, harrowing memory from which her very being seemed to flow. The memory of her mother and the day she had been too small and weak to help her. Back before the rage had come, before her lust for death had made itself known. Before she had become strong with Óðinn's fury and had just been a powerless child.
Her mother had protected her then from the marching boots and sharp steel of crusading Knights. Protected her and Ragnar both without hesitation. No one had come to save her then. There was fear in that memory, a fear Ragna could never shake, no matter how hard she tried to hide it.
Her anger nearly reached a breaking point as she thought back to that day, the edge of her vision blurring red.
"The weak die," she growled in a low, threatening voice as she stepped toward Priscilla, the growl of one wolf challenging another. "The strong fight. There is only the call to battle and the call to Valhǫll that follows." Stepping right up to the other woman, she stared at Priscilla with wide, ferocious eyes. "Get us into that fortress, little girl. Óðinn calls me to wet my axes with blood and tear down your world."
Priscilla stared right back at her, unflinching. "I dearly hope it was not a mistake bringing you along."
"Do you really think I give a shit for what you hope for?" Ragna smiled with all of her teeth. "Helge's bones have set me on this path, that is all. If you think I fight on your behalf, then I am more than willing to dispel you of that notion right here and now." She was ready. Every part of her being was set to strike as Priscilla stared her down, to draw her axes and cleave them into this small, defiant woman and revel in the heat of her blood. She could almost taste it.
"The drain," interrupted Skuld, though whether she had chosen now to speak up to break the tension or just get a rare word in on their argument was unclear.
"Yes, I know that we're looking for the fucking drain," Ragna snapped, glaring over her shoulder at the Valkyrie. "Why don't you leave us to our little chat, and you can go look for it on your own!"
Skuld took a step to the side and pointed ahead with her spear. Ragna and Priscilla both craned their necks to see where she was pointing and found the drain they were searching for set into the base of the gray cliffs just beyond the trees.
"Ah. Well, why didn't you just say so?"
Priscilla took the opportunity to slip around her, shoulder shoving into Ragna's arm as she went. "Time to go."
Left watching her chance at confrontation walk away, Ragna bared her teeth and snarled in Priscilla's wake. She bristled, watching the Peacekeeper go, feeling an overwhelming need to bury an axe in the woman's back. Did the sneaking bitch know just how close she came to meeting her useless God just then? Ragna's entire body went tense, the muscles in her jaw clenched tight beneath the skin as she struggled to control herself.
Only after the moment passed was she able to breathe again. There was no need to kill Priscilla. She knew deep down that there was no use in it, no personal grudge. Ragna wanted to kill almost everyone she met at one point or another. For now, though, she would simply have to wait.
She didn't like how dark the tunnel looked or how small it was now that they were looking at it up close. They had managed to pull out the grate, all three grunting and growling until the rusted metal finally came free of the rock. Now catching their breath, they stared into the never-ending blackness within while murky, slag-thick water ran over their feet.
The idea of crawling through that tunnel certainly didn't sit well with Ragna, but if it meant she would get to kill a couple Knights once they got up to the forge, then she would do it. If only for that chance.
She shifted her eyes up to Skuld, who stood next to her, or rather she looked up at the tall, pointed spear that gleamed silver in the gloomy light.
"You best be careful where you point that sharp stick in there. I'm real particular about what I let prick me in the ass." Skuld turned to look at her with those fierce, beautiful blue eyes from behind that golden helmet, and Ragna couldn't help but look the tall blonde woman up and down, licking her lips and giving a grin.
"She has a point," added Priscilla, though with much less interest in the tall northern woman and more so in the spear itself. "Why not leave it here and use that knife instead? We can always come back for it later."
Skuld turned on her abruptly, and Ragna could have sworn she saw Priscilla jump a bit in fright. "Are you daft? She won't use that blade here." Ragna said.
Priscilla leaned forward to peer around Skuld to glare at Ragna, although it was hard to tell beneath that hood and helmet."Why not? A knife is a perfectly suitable weapon for any warrior to use. We all have one."
"It's not just about having it, it's about using it," Ragna explained. She sighed and shook her head. "From what we've seen so far, I have no doubt that there's not a single Knight in that forge worthy of being killed by that knife, and I'm sure she knows it too. Obviously it will be of no use here. I swear, you are more ignorant than a child."
Priscilla looked up at Skuld, who simply stared back, then drew her own knife from her belt, giving it a twirl and a few quick stabs into the air. "What is there to be ignorant about? A knife is a knife. Stab someone with it until they are dead, end of story."
Ragna gave an affronted snort of laughter, unable to believe the ridiculous words she was hearing. "You are so stupid! If Skuld does not kill a worthy opponent with that seax, then Ander Ottarsson will never set foot through Valhǫll, and Herleif's wife will have to live with the shame of her father's death forever. It's simple!"
Priscilla paused for a moment as she looked back and forth between them."What on God's good earth are you on about?"
"Your God has nothing to do with it!" Ragna shouted, nearly shoving Skuld aside to get her hands around Priscilla's throat.
Skuld rolled her eyes and shoved the two bickering women apart before ducking down into the tunnel, disappearing with both her spear and knife into the darkness. Ragna and Priscilla were left by themselves in the small, dirty creek, losing sight of Skuld before either of them could even utter another word.
"Great, you've upset a fucking corpse-maiden. Bad luck is sure to befall us now." Ragna growled, running a hand over the braids of her hair in frustration. "Do you choose to piss off everyone you meet, or is it simply your natural talent?"
"Being a Peacekeeper is not really about making friends," Priscilla said softly.
"Oh good," Ragna smiled, "Then I won't have to feel bad about still hating you when this is all over." She ducked down toward the water, sliding low into the tunnel, into the dark, and left the annoying Ashfeld dog to follow behind.
The crawl through the tunnels beneath the forge was long, wet, and even colder than the long and wet walk through the forest, but the worst part undoubtedly had to be the dark. It only occurred to Ragna after she had slid into the tunnel that it was supposed to be Priscilla leading them through the pitch blackness, guiding them with her oh-so-special Peacekeeper ways. She supposed that Skuld was doing a fine enough job in the lead, but the Valkyrie was as silent as the dead, saying nothing about where they were going or where the next turn through the stone-hewed passage was. If Ragna crawled straight into another corner only to feel Skuld's boot giving her a kick to follow one more time, she would scream.
"Just say something, woman!" Ragna exclaimed, her voice echoing in the narrow passage to fade away somewhere in the darkness. She had just crawled into another corner after following the direction she thought the Skuld was going and could barely even get her hand up in the tightly confined space to rub her sore nose. "What reason do you have for being so silent anyway? What sacred oaths hold your wretched tongue as still as a corpse?" She waited a moment for a response but quickly felt foolish that she had ever expected one in the first place.
"You should have let me go first," Priscilla hissed behind her. Ragna gave a disgruntled grunt and kicked backward, allowing herself a little grin of pleasure as Priscilla gave a sharp cry of pain. "Ow! That was incredibly uncalled for!"
"I fucking disagree," Ragna growled, wishing she could just kick her way out of the mountain right then. "Allfather, hear me from the depths of this accursed place. For you, I will kill a dozen of these weak and pitiful Pyre sheep. For you, I shall spill an ocean of blood if only you will let me see the everlasting sky again."
There was a sigh in the darkness behind her in answer. "Remember the mission, Ragna. We need to do this quietly. Our only goal is to get the gate open for Herleif and Judith, and that will be near impossible with the entire fortress after us."
Ragna's shoulders tensed, wanting desperately for the freedom to let loose her rage. "Curse Helge's bones. I'm sure she is having a good laugh at me now. This is the last time I let her daft Voices decide anything for me."
"That makes two of us," grumbled Priscilla as she followed, crawling in the muck of the dark tunnel.
Blissful silence fell over them then, kept company only by the sound of their panting breaths and sloshing through the slag from the forge above. Ragna was beginning to fear that they might never see the sky above their heads again, but the frightful feeling of fingers brushing against her hair from above made her yelp. She threw herself down into the muck and gave a feral hiss in a vain attempt to escape whatever had found her in the dark. A further tap, tap, tap on the top of her head made her go still, somewhat processing what was going on, and yet at the same time having absolutely no clue. Reaching out a cautious hand to grope in the darkness, Ragna realized that Skuld was no longer in front of her, but above. She dared rise up onto her knees, finding no stone ceiling to knock her head against. Instead, there was a clear space where she actually felt like she could move. There was another tunnel leading upward, and she pressed her hands to the wall and found a metal bar fixed into the rough surface.
"What is going on?" Priscilla asked behind her.
"There's a ladder," Ragna said gruffly, reaching up and finding another bar, then another. She laughed in amazement and then growled in frustration, feeling her reverence for the divine Valkyries fading away by the moment. "Just... fucking... say something!"
They came up into a mercifully large tunnel after their climb, complete with torches upon the walls to give sight to their surroundings. There was a large iron grate that Skuld had to move out of the way and was crouching silently on solid ground as she held it open to let Ragna slip out.
"Finally," Ragna muttered, looking around quickly and drawing both of her axes as she moved away from the drain. She felt a sense of sweet elation wash over her as she squeezed her fingers around the hafts of her axes and pulled them free, the weight of each one as familiar to her as Helge's touch or Ragnar's laugh. She took a quick look around, spotting gray daylight among the warm hues of the torches, and started after it. The light took her up a set of steps that led to a heavy wooden door, and she planted herself up against it to peer through the barred window from which outside light shone through.
"I can see Pyre Knights. They're marching some women across the courtyard." She shifted across the door, trying to find the best angle to see more. "Looks like they're taking them to some sort of barracks. Probably using it as a prison now, though."
Priscilla made her way out of the drain, letting Skuld slide the grate back into place after her. She ran up the stairs to the door, having to stand on the tips of her toes to see out. "Well, at least we will know where they will be. Better safely locked away than running rampant once the fighting starts."
Strangely, Ragna found that notion rather upsetting. The idea of being kept in a cage repulsed her, and even though these women were born of Ashfeld and could very well be taken as thralls under different circumstances, the thought of seeing them imprisoned by these Pyre dogs brought her no joy.
"You can't be serious?"
"I thought you said the weak die and the strong fight? Judith will see to their freedom. For now, we have other concerns," Priscilla answered curtly. Ragna set her jaw tight, knowing it would be so easy to kill the Peacekeeper now with her axes already in hand. But she realized that she was just angry because she didn't have a good answer, and so kept her mouth shut and her axes clean.
Skuld stepped up behind them, and Priscilla carefully unlatched the bolt on the door. "Stay low and stay quiet," she whispered, then paused for a moment to look at Ragna. "We get the gate open. The fighting comes after."
Ragna glowered at her but gave the faintest nod of her head. Priscilla opened the door, and they slipped out one by one, ducking behind bushes and railings, keeping to the outskirts of the courtyard.
Finally, within the walls of the Great Forge, Ragna realized that staring up at it from the base of the cliffs had done nothing to display the true scope of the Knight's ingenuity and craft. Ashfeld's many cities and castles were always an impressive sight to look upon before a raid began, but she had never seen such odd metal bars laid down in stone like a road for carts to roll easily across or gazed upon such massive water wheels turning under churning waterfalls spouting from the rock with misty white foam. Off in the distance, the ringing of countless hammers banged out their work incessantly, and everywhere there were workers moving carts full of weapons, dark armor, and freshly mined ore. With such militaristic output as this, it was no wonder that however many Knights she and her kin killed, there were always more ready to take up arms in no time at all. It was almost enough to strike her dumb in awe if she didn't want so badly to see it all torn down and burned.
"Keep moving!" yelled a man, his harsh voice cutting through the industrial clamor that filled the air.
The order was followed quickly by the crack of a whip, and Ragna snarled at the sharp sound, nearly standing up ready to fight before Skuld gave her a quick shove to keep her going. They were moving along the courtyard's metal road, keeping pace with some of the carts as they headed for the gatehouse on the other end of the fortress, but Ragna couldn't help but look back over her shoulder as the whip cracked again.
The group of women she had seen before numbered more than ten, which was as high as she could count. Anything more than that was just an enemy she hadn't gotten around to fighting yet. There were only four Pyre Knights escorting them to the barracks, though, clearly outnumbered by the prisoners they oppressed, but even a vicious dog can be made to fear the wrath of its master if struck hard enough, and the Pyre Knights were quite free with their whips.
"I said keep moving, wench!" The whip cracked once more, followed by the wailing plea of a scared young woman. "The next one strikes flesh, you hear me?"
"Please! Please, let her be!" Another sharp crack and the cry of a woman screaming out in pain. "Mother!"
Ragna felt a cold shard of ice shoot through her stomach at the sound of that desperate word. Turning on the spot, she peeked around a crate and spotted a Pyre Warden standing over a gray-haired woman cowering on the ground. The Warden had his hand raised, the whip slack and ready to strike again, ready to cut another slash in the woman's dress and leave a second sharp line of red across her back. Further away, a younger looking woman was being restrained by a Peacekeeper and a Conqueror, while a second Warden simply watched on and lazily waved the rest of the frightened women along to their confinement.
They all looked deathly scared while the young woman fought to be free of her captor's hands. "Leave her be, you bastard!"
The scent of blood was in the air; Ragna could smell it even at this distance, drawing forth the animal instinct to fight and to kill. Her knuckles were bone white as she squeezed her axes, but everything around her was slowly turning red. The world fell away into a rush of blood pounding in her ears, all except for a small voice in the back of her mind. The voice of a small, frightened little girl, crying out helplessly as she watched her mother thrown to the ground without mercy.
"Ragna," came Priscilla's voice, so far away and faint that Ragna almost didn't hear. The Peacekeeper put a hand on her shoulder, causing her to whip around with a savage snarl, but Priscilla only squeezed tighter. "Leave it. We are almost to the gatehouse." There was another crack of the whip, another pained scream, another desperate wail of fear. Ragna had heard that wail before, from her own lips, long ago.
She was shaking, all that fury she had somehow managed to keep in check now becoming too much to handle. That was good. Ragna wanted to relish the madness, to embrace that familiar rage. She wanted to be strong and free.
Most of all, and perhaps most unusually, she wanted to help.
"Fight for her," she said hoarsely, just barely loud enough to be heard. It took an effort to get the words out, her voice wavering with a rough and bestial note.
"What"? Priscilla hissed. Her grip on Ragna's shoulder became like iron, but it meant nothing now.
Ragna grinned. "She said fight for her. She saw it in the bones." Helge's last words before they parted, words she had thought meaningless at first but now reveled in them as if spoken by the gods themselves. "Óðinn has brought me here for a reason."
"Ragna..." Priscilla moved toward her, reaching to grab her with both hands, but suddenly Skuld was there with her spear, using it to keep the Peacekeeper at bay. "Ragna, no!"
She was already gone.
The world was a red blur as Ragna sprang out from behind the crate, startling some worker so bad he fell back on his ass as she bolted across the courtyard. Her boots fell heavily upon the stones, sounding the beat of her pounding heart within her chest for all to hear, and somewhere up on the ramparts, a man called out "Viking!" as she ran out into the open, but there was nothing now that would slow her down.
Letting her axes slip through her hands to grip the leather-bound hafts, she saw only the Warden and his whip. She smiled a wide, vicious wolf's grin, already seeing the kill in her mind. Her axes dripping with blood, and a dead Knight at her feet. It was all so beautiful.
The Warden spotted her just as she rushed up on him, so surprised that he made the mistake of dropping his whip and tried to draw his sword instead. She didn't give him the chance. "Wha-?"
Her axe blade slammed up under his chin, sending his head snapping backward with a metallic crack, chainmail links flying into the air in a gout of blood as his feet swept out from under him with the power of the hit. He made no more sound after that, simply falling with a clatter of armor to lay still next to the old woman he had been whipping.
In a perfect moment of silence, Ragna met the old woman's eyes as she cowered on the ground. She saw the fear there, that unmistakable look of someone who knew that they were about to die and could do nothing about it. Ragna had seen it a dozen times before in the warriors she had fought and killed and during the raids where she had cut down dozens in a haze of blood-mad frenzy. She had seen it in the faces of her kin who feared the pain that would usher them to Valhǫll. She had seen it in her mother's eyes in the moments before the longsword had pierced her chest.
On that day, Ragna had felt the power of Óðinn's fury overwhelm her completely. On that day, the people who had found her said that it had taken three grown men to pull her off the Knight's dead body while she growled and thrashed like an animal to attack the mangled corpse again and wailed in madness for days afterward with a wrathful anger no child should know.
The old woman stared back at her, eyes brimming with tears. She blinked, pushed herself up from the ground with shaky arms, then looked at the daughter who had cried out for her so desperately. Ragna followed her gaze, seeing the daughter past the other two Pyre Knights that were rushing toward her in the unearthly silence. It only took one brief look into the girl's eyes to recognize something so intimately familiar between the two of them, something so breathtakingly perfect.
Pure, beautiful, rage.
She had never before felt such a perfect moment of understanding with another person, a total stranger. It sent a chill through her more thrilling than any battle, more satisfying than any victory she had ever experienced before. Thunder boomed through the gray sky above as Thor's hammer struck twisted lightning through the clouds. The gods had given their blessing and, in return, demanded blood.
Ragna gritted her teeth, threw back her head, and screamed out a single mighty word as if to make the very sky crack above their heads.
"Fight!"
The daughter dashed forward, teeth bared like a hound on the hunt at Ragna's call. Eyes wide and angry, she lunged at the Peacekeeper from behind so that they fell to the ground in a cry of snarls and surprised gasps. The Peacekeeper's blades clattered from her hands as they hit the stones, and the young woman didn't hesitate for a second to scramble over her foe to make a grab for the dagger, her fingers just nudging the hilt as the Peacekeeper reached for it next. In a rush of movement, the dagger was snatched up, the two women twisting about, thrashing, snarling to throw one off or pin the other down. There was the harsh scrape of metal on metal, a desperate scream from them both, just before the Peacekeeper's voice was silenced by the dagger sliding through the eye hole of her helmet.
Ragna saw the girl yank the dagger free, her pale hand now red with blood, but the Conqueror was still coming at her. Sidestepping as the man lunged at her, Ragna swiped at the back of his knee with her axe but cut through nothing but air as he dodged away. He lunged again, bashing with his shield, arm held back and ready with his flail, waiting for the right moment to swing the spiked head around to slam into her head. Ragna laughed at how simple it was to hook the edge of his shield and pull him forward to throw off his momentum, controlling the flow of the fight rather than wait for him to attack. She ducked under the flail as he gave a clumsy swing and growled as she cleaved her other axe into his ribs. There was a pained grunt, but no blood, the Conqueror's armor stopping the blade from wounding him. Not that it mattered. The fact that he had chosen to meet her in battle at all meant that he was already dead.
The fury with which she threw herself at him was astounding, godlike. Already close, she caught him in a grapple and tackled the man before he even had a chance to take another breath, slamming her balled-up fist into his head and making that dark helmet crack against the ground.
Savage in her cruelty, deadly in her efficiency, Ragna threw up one axe and buried it in the man's shoulder, drawing forth a sharp yelp as she lifted the other blade and hacked it down over the top of his helmet. The mighty sound of the forge hammers was quickly drowned out by the relentless clang, clang, clang of her axe biting into the metal around his head, cleaving it open one blow at a time. Blood flowed and splattered from the gash she had torn, pooling over the stones, until his body gave a final violent twitch and went still.
"Die! Die!" Ragna snarled, not stopping until her arms, chest, and face were soaked with fresh, hot blood. "Die!"
There was a cry somewhere behind her, making her whip around and jump to her feet, axes raised to attack the next person foolish enough to come at her. But the only fool she saw was the last Pyre Warden, now struggling to fight off the overwhelming number of women that rushed forth to claim him. They wore no armor, only the dresses and simple gowns the Pyre had allowed them to keep, their only weapons being the dirty pickaxes and shovels that had been left carelessly about from the mines that supplied the forge. But just as the wolf pack can bring down the biggest elk in the forest, it was more than enough to stagger the lone Warden as he fought to get free.
The women all screamed and raged, returning the abuse on the Warden that had been delivered on them, but for the moment he managed to weather their attack and knock them away. It was difficult for him to wield his longsword with so many bodies pressed in around him, but he at last managed to grab one woman by her throat and shove her up against the wall of the makeshift prison, pulling back his other arm to run his sword through her gut, but Ragna got to him first.
Running up on the Warden from behind, she hooked one axe head around his throat and threw him backward, letting out her war cry as he fell. The other women jumped on him again, kicking and beating him with their tools, not giving him a chance to get up again as Ragna stood over him. Lifting both axes high into the air, she screamed with all her mad fury as she swung them down to cleave into his chest. Blood splattered over the clamoring women, coating them in red, but they never stopped assaulting the body until Ragna finally pulled her axes free.
In just a few violent moments, the Pyre Knights all lay dead, but Ragna held onto the glorious feeling of battle lust as she panted and smiled, blood dripping from her chin as she stared up at the sky.
"Óðinn!" she screamed with all her might, beseeching the Allfather to witness her triumph over her foes. She laughed and smiled at the haggard-looking women around her, finding in their eyes that same fear that she had come to expect in such simple people, saw it clear as day in all except one.
That young woman, the daughter, still had within her that same rage Ragna felt every day of her life. It was there dancing like a flame behind her scornful gaze, feeding her resolve, refusing to let her go back to the way things were. She first bent down to help her mother get up off the ground and then lowered herself again to pick up the thin sword of the Peacekeeper she had killed, still clutching the bloody dagger in her other fist. Her mother put a warning hand to her shoulder, but she shrugged it off without a care. There was no doubt of what her intent was now that the guards who had been keeping her in chains were all dead.
Ragna couldn't help but give a bark of laughter, stepping right up to the young woman and slipping a bloody hand around the back of her neck to bring her in close. "Are you afraid?" she asked, feeling the excitement bubble inside her. "All that precious fear, do you still feel it deep in your heart?"
The young woman looked at her, trembling beneath Ragna's touch with excitement of her own or from the cold. Her eyes were wide with shock, but her hands clasped tightly to the weapons at her side.
"Yes…" she answered in a shaky voice, nodding in stark amazement and confusion at all that had happened. "Yes, I am afraid."
"Good," Ragna assured her, baring her teeth as she held the girl tight. Surely it was her fate to be here, a moment of perfect understanding woven by the Norns, shared with a woman of Ashfeld no less. She touched their foreheads together and looked deep into her eyes. "Use it."
Turning about, she saw more Pyre Knights and soldiers rushing across the courtyard toward them, weapons drawn and shouting. Priscilla and Skuld were nowhere to be seen, but right then, Ragna didn't much care. The world seemed to slow down again, and she knew that there was no other place she would have rather been.
The wicked smile that spread across her lips as she began to run at the Knights was pure and genuine. Now, she could set her fury loose. Now, she could harness her fear into something no one could use against her. She was that scared child watching helplessly as her mother fought to protect her. She was that wild savage that would never be helpless again. She was mighty and Óðinn blessed. She was free.
Ragna wanted to kill someone. She wanted to fight, to burn, to hack, and tear with her axes. It was all she ever wanted since she had discovered how uncaring the world can be. Rushing headlong at the first soldier to meet her, she heard the screams of the women following behind. Screams that were clear, fearful, and full of earth-shaking rage.
With a wrathful cry of her own, Ragna lunged forward with both of her axes and felt her skin warmed by the heat of blood.
"Dammit!" Priscilla hissed as she ran. "Dammit! Dammit!"
She could hear the sound of fighting clearly now, trying her best to leave it far behind as she ducked and weaved among the carts to make it to the gatehouse. Right on her tail, Skuld was running with thunderous boot steps upon the stones. The sound made Priscilla's heart jump with every step. As if it wasn't bad enough that the feral mad Berserker had blown their cover, now she had a northern giantess practically inviting the rest of the fortress to come and find them with her stomping battle drums.
"Do any of you Vikings have the barest concept of what stealth means?" she snapped over her shoulder. Skuld, of course, didn't answer, which only made Priscilla all the angrier for how perfect that trait would be in a stealthy situation. "I should have just come alone."
A Pyre soldier stepped out in front of her from a guard tower overlooking the cliffs, his face going pale with shock to see her just before her sword stabbed into his side. The scream rising in his throat was silenced by her dagger, her body spinning around him with a flash of bloody metal, and she was off again before his body hit the ground. Another man came out next with a harsh battle cry and sword raised high, but Skuld was quick as lighting with a punch of her shield, slamming the man back against the tower doorway. He staggered, blinked, then gasped as her spear ran him through, another body left in their wake as they ran on.
Sharp-sounding horns were blowing in the air now, bringing the whole fortress to arms as Ragna continued with her daring and incredibly stupid head-on attack. The screams and battle cries never stopped, and it sounded like a dozen angry banshees were wailing deathly threats in the middle of the forge's yard as the Pyre forces came charging. Priscilla had little faith in how long a few women with shovels and mining tools would last against well-armed Knights, but she knew that if the gate wasn't opened soon and Herleif's warriors let in that she certainly wouldn't last long either.
She could see the gatehouse ahead of her now, a set of stairs leading to the upper ramparts where the controlling mechanism would be. Dashing her way up two steps at a time, she came face to face with a Warden who was most likely meant to be keeping guard of the controls but was distracted by the savage battle that had suddenly broken out within the fortress walls.
"Move!" she shouted, shouldering him out of the way while he was distracted and rushed inside.
"Who are...? Wait, stop!" The Warden called after her, aware now that the red-clad Peacekeeper who had just barreled past him was, in fact, not one of his volcano-worshiping comrades.
Priscilla didn't stop though, not even to see if the Warden was coming after her. Sometimes, when you had a job to do, there just wasn't the time to kill every single bastard who stood between you and your goal. Such desperate situations were certainly not ideal, but luckily, she had a strong and deadly Valkyrie on her side this time around. One, which by the sound of a pained gasp outside of the doorway, had just struck down the surprised Warden where he stood out on the stairs. Maybe on this one occasion, it was a good thing that she hadn't come alone after all. Not that she had to tell anyone else, of course.
"Dammit," she hissed under her breath as she spotted the gate controls. The whole thing was a giant structure of wooden beams, thickly knotted rope, and metal gears. The gate had looked imposing enough from the outside, but the control mechanism even more so. Luckily there looked to be only one wheel present to get the thing to open, a solid piece of stained wood with long spokes sticking out around its edge, so she and Skuld should be able to get the gate open if they pull together. "Skuld, come and give me a hand with-"
Looking back over her shoulder for the Valkyrie, Priscilla's heart dropped into her stomach to see that Skuld hadn't made it inside of the gatehouse with her after all but instead was locked in pitched combat with three Pyre warriors who were trying to get up the stairs. Skuld was using the narrow steps and her long-reaching spear to keep them back, and while she was certainly holding her own against them, it meant that Priscilla was also on her own with the gate.
"Dammit!" Turning back to the wheel, she threw herself at the spokes, gripping hold of two of them tightly and prepared to pull. "Alright... Alright, let us give this a tryyy-oooh, dammit!" She had pulled as hard as she could, with all the strength she had built over years of physical training, and the wheel had barely turned an inch.
"Christ in Heaven!" she seethed through gritted teeth, trying to pull again by holding just one of the spokes with both hands and using her minuscule weight against it. She grunted and snarled as she pulled, barely feeling that she was making any progress with it at all. But soon the spoke she held onto began to lower, and she was able to grab the next one to pull with strained effort, and down below, she heard the tell-tale creek of the heavy gate begin to slide open. "Nngh! Ah… one Peacekeeper... at Dalborg... ugh... my ass!"
Almost instantly, the sound of horns beyond the walls began to sound and echo through the air. Herleif had signaled his charge on the gate, and Priscilla could already hear the clamor of savage yells and dark oaths being shouted, along with the sound of tramping feet growing louder. She wasn't even sure she had gotten the gate open enough for one person to get through, let alone a whole raiding party, but that part of the plan at least was out of her hands now.
"Dammit, dammit, dammit!"
Then there were more shouts, closer this time from out on the ramparts.
"Vikings at the gate!"
"Archers, to the walls!"
"Loose!"
"You there, halt!"
That last one caught Priscilla's attention over the rest, as it most definitely had come from within the gatehouse with her. Looking across the room, she let out a pitiful groan at the sight of a black-armored Lawbringer running straight toward her from a second entrance she'd been too busy to notice, the sharp point of his poleaxe leveled to skewer her in the gut and take her off her feet. Instinct kicked in, and Priscilla let go of the wheel to grab for her weapons and defend herself, but before her fingers had even slipped half an inch off of the spoke she was holding, the heavy gate was already beginning to close again. With a much louder groan now, she jumped back onto the wheel, desperate to get it open before Herleif's warriors reached the fortress, while the Lawbringer drew closer and closer with each heart-pounding step. This moment was precisely why she favored stealth over all other forms of attack.
"Skuld?" she gasped weakly, all of her strength being put toward trying to get her hands around the next spoke and pull.
It took a mighty effort, but the sound of the rushing horde outside was louder than ever now. She was stuck between the mission she was sent to accomplish and the literal blade at her back. A classic end for any Peacekeeper caught behind enemy lines. At least she would never have to deal with the fallout of the Walled City, but of course, that wasn't a comforting thought as the tramping boots of the Lawbringer thundered closer.
"Skuld!?"
The Valkyries were warrior women meant to deliver the valiant dead to the golden hall of Viking gods, the divine shield maidens of Viking sagas revered all over the great north, so Priscilla wasn't sure why she had been hoping Skuld would come to her rescue now. But what else could she do? Hope that her own God would send her a guardian angel instead? Never in all of her days did she think that she would ever be that blessed. The Lord works in mysterious and often surprising ways, however, such as sending a guardian angel to her in the guise of a blood-mad Berserker and a dozen screaming women.
Ragna burst into the room with an ear-splitting yell, a wild cat's cry flying from her curled lips as she leaped at the Lawbringer with her bloody axes. "Kill him!"
Women with red stained pick axes and one that looked to be wielding a Peacekeeper's sword and dagger, followed her, all howling like animals as they charged against a fully armored Knight without fear. Ragna's first strike did nothing to harm the Lawbringer, her axes glancing off of his helmet with a shower of sparks, but it was more than enough to throw him off his charge, for which Priscilla was incredibly grateful. She grunted and pulled at the wheel of the mechanism, struggling to open the gate while Ragna and the women dealt with the Lawbringer in their midst.
Quickly finding his footing, the Lawbringer lifted his weapon and jabbed with the bottom end at Ragna's head, forcing her to back off from her next attack. Ragna snarled and jumped around, trying to find an opening while the other women moved in to surround him. He swung his poleaxe in an arc that narrowly missed Priscilla's head as she struggled with the wheel, keeping the women at bay while he slowly began backing away toward the other door.
Like a stalking wolf leading their pack, Ragna followed after, snarling through red lips, her gore-dripping axes gripped tight at the ready. She got close, but the Lawbringer lunged forward and shoved at her with the haft of his weapon. Just as quickly, Ragna ducked under the bash, leaving some other poor woman to have her nose crunched instead and sent sprawling with a cry. With a violent shout, Ragna threw herself at the metal giant, but he moved with incredible speed, snatching her right out of the air and throwing her to the ground. Another woman tried to come to her rescue, but the Lawbringer backhanded her across the face with a spray of blood and teeth from her cracked lips, scaring off the rest from trying the same.
Priscilla watched on helplessly from the wheel and knew that she was about to watch Ragna die. The Lawbringer drew up his axe, the blade shining bright before it would be brought cleaving down into Ragna's chest, but she had to look away. She had a job to do. Herleif and Judith were depending on her to get the gate open. Ragna, it seemed, had found her glorious death.
Muscles straining with the tension of the wheel, Priscilla squeezed her eyes shut and felt herself grow sick with guilt. She was supposed to be here saving people. "Dammit..."
Skuld flew through the air like a goddess of war as she appeared through the door, her golden helmet gleaming in the light behind her. Dashing through the group of women like a ship cuts through the sea, she landed hard beside Ragna and lunged forward again, throwing her full weight behind her shield and slamming into the Lawbringer before he could strike. He tumbled backward, arms and poleaxe flailing about as he tried to keep his balance and stay on his feet, but Skuld quickly swept his legs out from under him with a sweep of her spear, dropping him to the floor in a crash of metal plates.
One of the women cried out angrily as she ran right up to him and swung her pickaxe at his leg, the sharp point puncturing the knee plate and drawing forth a scream as dark blood flowed out from beneath dark metal. The girl with the sword and dagger fell to her knees beside the Lawbringer, stabbing violently at his armpit to get under all that armor, going at him like a mad savage with scarcely a trace of humanity left in her. He tried to reach up with his other arm and grab her, but two more women fell on him and pinned it to the ground while Skuld walked calmly over his fallen form to plant one furred boot on his chest. She gave the dying man no parting words as she lifted her spear and drove the blade deep into his neck with perfect precision.
"He was mine!" Ragna snarled as she sprang up to her feet, to which Skuld simply looked at her and shrugged as she gave her spear a yank from the bleeding corpse.
Priscilla didn't know if she wanted to scream for joy or just scream, but she could feel her burning arms growing weaker by the moment as she pulled at the wheel. She couldn't even move anymore, leaving the gate stuck in place.
"Help!" she squeaked. The gate was shuddering now down below, the wheel vibrating in her hands from the weight of all that metal, with perhaps an entire horde of angry Vikings banging on it now, demanding to be let in. "Please!? Gate! Now!"
Ragna turned to glare at her, looking as if she had no clue what she was on about before her eyes suddenly widened with the realization of what needed to happen. "Fuck, the gate! I almost forgot…"
She rushed to Priscilla's side, jumping up and grabbing the highest spoke to pull down. She bared her teeth and pulled, muscles bulging in her neck and arms, turning the wheel bit by bit, but not quick enough.
"Well?" she growled, angrily eyeing the women standing about. "Are you going to stand there all impressed, or are you going to do something to help?"
The women all came forward to surround the wheel, Skuld first among them as they all grabbed hold of a spoke and pulled as one. Even the women who the Lawbringer had struck had found the strength to help, though they both sprayed misty blood from her cracked lips and smashed nose as they panted with the effort. A dozen sweaty, blood-covered, filthy-looking women just saved from imprisonment, all grunting and growling together as they moved the wheel around. Down below the gate moved faster until finally there was a loud thud as the entrance to the Great Forge was left open to the Viking horde.
"Almost..." Priscilla grasped, spotting the locking mechanism for the wheel and sliding it into place. "There!" They all fell back from the wheel at once, Priscilla and many of the women falling to the floor exhausted. She dropped the rest of the way back to lay down, helmet thudding against the rough wood as she stared up at the ceiling, taking her time to catch her breath. "God be praised... Thank you. Thank you all!"
Ragna appeared over her, the ghost of a grin on her lips, while Skuld appeared next. "All according to plan," she said.
Priscilla wanted to say something snarky in response, but she was far too tired to think that quickly at the moment. Instead, she settled for a much more simple, "Fuck off."
Ragna at least found that funny enough to give a genuine smile this time as she and Skuld each took one of Priscilla's hands and hauled her up to her feet. Priscilla glanced up at the Berserker for a moment, her relief at accomplishing her goal giving away to burning shame. "Ragna... I... I had to get the gate open. When you fell... I just could not..."
Ragna stared at her blankly for a moment, only to give an amused snort as she caught her meaning and slugged her hard in the shoulder. "Don't go trying to make friends now. No friends for Peacekeepers, right?"
Priscilla gave a deep sigh, a little worried that Ragna might have wanted to strike one of those pagan blood oaths and seek revenge against her for not helping when she should have, but that didn't seem to be the case. It was odd that she might worry over a Viking warrior, a Berserker no less, but there was still the faint cold tinge in the pit of her stomach that she could have done more. "That is true. But regardless, I beg your forgiveness."
Ragna jutted her chin out and thumped her hand against her chest. "It was not my day to die, but the same can't be said for these Pyre dogs. We all have to meet our fate in the end, and I will fight on until I finally meet mine." She stared at her for another moment, eyes glinting from behind the metal face plate she wore. "Were you afraid?"
Priscilla hadn't been expecting that question and looked down at her feet as she gave it some thought. Finally she looked back up at the Berserker and gave a small nod.
"I use my fear. With the Allfather's magic it makes me strong. I suppose we don't always have to get along, but now I think we can at least be strong together until this war is done."
Priscilla considered that as well, her own smile hidden behind her helmet. "Agreed."
Now it was Ragna's turn to think for a moment. "I... disagree on agreeing with you," she began, face scrunched up as she thought it through, "but only because I said I would never agree with you on anything, ever." She gave a proud smile like it all made perfect sense to her and that there were no lingering hard feelings between them. Then, a rising clamor from outside the gatehouse caught her attention, drawing her over to the door. "Hel's frosty tits! The fight goes on without us. We're missing it!"
Priscilla sighed, not entirely sure she had much fight left in her at that moment, but then she had volunteered for this mission after all, so she didn't have a choice now.
"Dammit," she whispered, stretching her arms and shoulders, shaking away the fatigue.
"My lady?"
Priscilla turned to see that the young woman with the Peacekeeper's blades had approached her, now looking much less the warrior maiden and more the scared and mistreated peasant she was. A quick look around and it seemed as if the fight had fled the rest of the women as well, most of them still on the floor panting for breath, and all of them looking as if they had just woken up from a nightmare. The young woman lifted the sharp dagger and sword in offering, speaking softly as her eyes remained fixed on the floor.
"I took these off of one of the Knights in the fight. I don't know how to actually use them, I just simply..." She looked at her blood-stained hands, the corners of her eyes growing wet. "I wasn't myself. I shouldn't have these. Please take them."
"We will have to agree to disagree," Priscilla said after a moment, drawing forth her blades from their sheaths. "Besides, I already have my own pair. I think you should hold onto those for as long as you can. Hold onto them, and use them if you must. That is what a Peacekeeper's blades are for."
The woman blinked at her, the tears in her eyes glistening before she took a deep breath, jaw going tight. "I... I will. Thank you, my lady."
"Are we just going to stand here all day chatting like a bunch of clucking hens? There is no time for talk when the steel storm calls!" Ragna snapped, scowling at the lot of them. Skuld stepped forward and began beating the end of her spear against the floor, a steady thumping as she looked at Ragna and the rest of the women. Slowly, each woman sitting on the floor pushed themselves up to their feet, taking up their crude makeshift weapons again.
Priscilla shook her head at the young peasant next to her. "Maybe for now it would be best if you all stayed here until we cleared the forge. Defending yourselves is one thing, but fighting in a battle is quite another matter."
"We will fight," said the woman without hesitation. She straightened herself up as tall as she could and began to stomp her foot in rhythm with Skuld's spear. "We will not be controlled by our fear any longer." Along with her, the rest of the women began to stomp their feet or beat their weapons against the wheel, the sound growing stronger and bolder until it filled the room.
Priscilla could only nod in agreement. With a twirl of her blades, she began to thump one fist against the leather armor across her chest, falling in with the rest. She turned back to Ragna, nodding to her as well.
The sound of battle echoed harshly outside the door, fueling their fear and stoking the fires of their rage as they beat out the sound of thunder with their fists, like Thor's hammer striking the call to war. Ragna gave a bold and hearty laugh, holding out one axe to wave across the room at each and every woman there.
"I give no shit what god you pray to now. I only care that when you meet them, you wear the blood of our enemies upon your pretty faces!" Spinning on her heel, she snarled and peered out the door, watching the beauty of war unfold before her. "Kill them all! Show them your fury, and revel in their fear!"
They all screamed as they rushed forth from the gatehouse, Ashfeld and Valkenheim women alike. Together, they fell in with the rest of the Bilrost and Lion Flame horde. Together, they fought and killed, setting their fury free.