In the quiet moments waiting for the gate to open, Herleif was beginning to wonder if allowing Ragna to join Priscilla and Skuld had been a mistake. A capable woman, Ragna, and a skilled fighter, but prone to her fits of rage just like any Óðinn-touched Berserker.
The minutes passed into hours outside the walls since the three women had departed, and each time Herleif closed his eyes, he could just see Ragna trying to bury one of her axes in the Peacekeeper's skull for some reason or another. It was too late to change things now, though, and he would simply need to follow the same advice he had given Judith earlier and have faith that they would succeed.
Then came the loud creaking of gears from the gatehouse. Herleif lifted his head over the barricade and saw with a great sense of relief that the gate was slowly opening.
"Weapons ready!" he shouted while leaping up onto the barricade to rouse his warriors to battle. "We move to attack!"
With a great clamor of steel and hefting of shields, his warriors all emerged from their hiding spots behind the deserted buildings of Cinder Mill with a great war cry given up to be carried on the wind over the high walls of the forge to their enemies. Herleif smiled, watching the gate open more and more. They had done it - a gamble, to be sure, but one that had paid off in the end.
"Prepare to charge!"
There was the clanking of armor as someone climbed up next to him, and he turned to see Judith ready to lead her legion toward the gate. She looked at him and nodded, longsword in hand. He frowned at her but nodded back, determined to see things through even if he needed to fight with a Knight by his side.
With a point of his sword toward the gate, he bared his teeth and roared out his command. "For Bilrost!"
All at once, the warband rushed forward, Vikings and Knights together, the pounding of their feet matched only by the sound of their war cries filling the air. Never one to lead from the rear, Herleif jumped from the barricade and bounded up the path to the gate at the head of the charging horde, hearing Judith's armor rattling just beside him as she kept pace.
It was when they were halfway up the path that his determination shifted to panic, surprised to see that the gate was beginning to close again. He saw it falling shut, the heavy metal standing firmly in their way once again, leaving them exposed out in the open to arrows from the wall. Even if he had known how, there was no way he would be able to stop all of his warriors from making the charge now that they were so close, leaving them the only option of getting there before the gates shut completely.
"Hurry!" he shouted over the cries of his warriors, putting on a burst of speed.
"Come on!" Judith encouraged, pointing her sword toward the forge just as darkly armored figures appeared between the merlons atop the walls. Moments later, arrows hissed through the air, followed quickly by the screams of those they struck. Men and women fell shot to the ground, leaving gaps in the crowd where they had stood before being swallowed up like stones thrown into the ocean.
Herleif gave a growl of frustration as he ran for the gate, but just when he began to fear that all hope was lost, it began to open again, slowly rising to grant entry for him and all the rest, but still at just a crawl. Whatever was going on up in that gatehouse, he hoped that it would happen just a bit faster. He was nearly there, heart pounding in his chest, desperate to see his warriors through the gate and into the forge, but it just wasn't opening quickly enough.
Running headlong at the gap, he held his shield tight against his chest and ducked to slip beneath the heavy iron bars suspended in the air. He hit the ground and rolled, dirt spraying around him as he moved to spring up again, and then the wall that had loomed before him was now behind as he passed through the archway of the gatehouse and into the yard beyond. A satisfied smile spread across his lips and then disappeared just as quickly when he saw the gathered soldiers of the Divine Pyre standing before him alone and realized that he may have acted rashly in his haste.
"Shit..." he muttered just as a foot soldier ran at him with a lowered spear.
Knocking the spear point away with his shield, Herleif stepped in and slashed at the soldier's face with his sword. The foot soldier screamed as steel cut into flesh, but there was no time to see if the wound was fatal or just a graze before another came at Herleif from the left, along with another on his right and another before him. They came at him from all around, which did nothing to improve his already sour mood, to say the least.
Determined not to give up without a fight, he blocked and cut, backstepped and stabbed, giving a roar of challenge as he felled one man in a spray of blood and gore only to have another take their place.
A Pyre Warden stepped forward and gave two quick slashes of their sword that knocked against his shield. Herleif snarled, forced backward by the attack, only to slam into the fortress wall behind him as the Pyre soldiers closed in from all sides. With a savage cry, he swung out with Sólareldur and shield together, trying to give himself space to move. One soldier took the shield's rim to the chin and fell, but the Warden simply blocked Herleif's sword and came again, pressing his advantage to run him through.
Just as Herleif thought this would be his last gasp of breath on Miðgarðr, the Warden was swept sideways by a shining blade that sheared into his neck. Blood splattered over Herleif's face and helmet, but he was already moving on instinct as he stabbed one surprised foot soldier right through the chest. A gap was made open for him, and he fought like a cornered animal to be free, severing another soldier's sword hand at the wrist as he pushed his way back into the fray.
There was a flash of white and red with the glimmer of silver steel, and Herleif thumped his shoulder into Judith, seemingly the only other person who had made it past the gate with him, and the two fell back to back against each other to face their foes.
No words were said between them as they pressed up tight, each supporting the other without hesitation or thought. A lifetime spent as hated enemies was forgotten in an instant, the two of them moving and fighting together as one, Herleif blocking as Judith stabbed, the Lion Flame Commander parrying a sword strike to let the Bilrost Jarl spill the soldier's guts. Their enemies came at them again and again, only to end up as corpses at their feet when no weakness in their deadly partnership could be found.
Judith shoved a soldier away with her shoulder and swiftly struck them down before sidestepping a spear thrust that narrowly missed her head. She grabbed the shaft and yanked hard, pulling the wielder close to strike at them with the pommel of her weapon, crushing their nose to a bloody pulp before pressing her sword blade to their neck and slicing it open. Another Pyre soldier rushed up on her from the side, but Herleif saw them coming and stunned them with a quick headbutt and thrust his sword into the man's side. The world was a blur of red steel and surging black armor, all of it happening in mere moments as the Pyre came on again to overwhelm them with their numbers.
Herleif put himself in front of Judith and pushed her back, holding his shield firm against a flurry of hacking swords and stabbing spears, not letting anything pass but knowing there was no way he could keep up his defense for long.
"Come to me, you níðing bastards!" he howled, stabbing over the rim of his shield while Judith guarded his flank.
"Brother!"
A loud roar rose over the clamor surrounding them, and Herleif looked to see Gunnar coming through the gatehouse, his deadly axe already held in mid-swing.
The axe slammed into an oblivious soldier's back, cleaving him from shoulder to waist, and Gunnar quickly grabbed another soldier by the neck before tossing him away like a petulant child. Ragnar appeared behind him, all feral passion and bared teeth as he threw himself at the enemy without care, twin axes cutting a shower of blood in his wake. Helge came after, laughing as she dropped down on all fours to lunge at a screaming man and pin him to the ground, stabbing at him wildly before going for another.
Herleif beamed at the sight of yet more Vikings appearing out of the gate, like the Einherjar rushing forth from the halls of Valhǫll for the last battle of Ragnarǫk. It was just a trickle at first, one or two at a time, but then the trickle turned into a stream, and then a flood, until at last, a great horde of screaming mad warriors came rushing into the fortress to meet the Divine Pyre in battle. Among them came Marcelo, Coal, and the rest of the Lion Flame Knights, all standing shoulder to shoulder with the warriors of Valkenheim against the usurpers. A strange sight to see in these strange times, but to Herleif, nothing could have been more glorious.
"They did it!" Judith cried out excitedly, leaning against the fortress wall to take a breath as the Pyre soldiers who had hemmed them in were pushed back by the unstoppable horde, giving them a moment's reprieve. "They opened the gate!"
"I never had a doubt," Herleif said, panting right alongside her, but he couldn't help but give the Warden a sly grin. He looked about at his warriors that surged in from the gate, watching as they spread out to raise a shield wall and take on the Pyre Knights who had come to stop them.
"Push them back!" he shouted, thumping the backs of his warriors as they ran past to join the fight, but then the terrible hiss of arrows began to rain down on them once again from above. Herleif quickly diverted the next few warriors to rush in, pushing them toward the stairs to deal with the archers still on the walls. "Go! Take the ramparts! Cut them all down!"
A hand fell on his shoulder, and he whirled about to find Judith leaning in close, still having to shout to be heard over the battle din.
"The Pyre line is about to break!" she said, pointing with her sword toward the wavering line of Pyre soldiers and the Bilrost warriors about to overwhelm them. "We need to find the hostages before they are caught up in this!"
"We fight until the forge is ours!" Herleif shouted back at her, not wanting to lose any of their momentum against a weakening enemy.
Judith shook her head, metal gauntlet gripping his shoulder tight. "And will your warriors stop to see who is an enemy and who is innocent?"
Herleif bared his teeth, in no way appreciating Judith's insinuation that his warriors would commit mindless murder but not wishing to hold his warriors back from the task at hand either. "My business is finding Chaldeon! You and your Knights are free to do what you must!"
Judith cocked her head as if she wanted to argue, but the sight of movement above her made Herleif look up and found a sight that brought a smile to his lips.
"There!" he shouted, directing Judith's attention above. Up on the ramparts, screaming like warriors of the Allfather's own Wild Hunt, was Ragna, Priscilla, and Skuld, along with a dozen furious-looking women all stabbing and bludgeoning at the archers with pickaxes and shovels. "No need to worry about the hostages, it seems. Your task looks to be complete already!"
Judith stared up at the group of fighting women as if witnessing Freyja's magnificent Valkyries descend upon the battlefield with her own eyes. "That cannot be all of them. There are surely more to find, and I am going to find them," she said, looking back to Herleif. She paused, eyes shining from within her helmet as she lingered. "Normally this is the moment where I wish that God would be with you!"
Herleif gave an amused snort and grinned. "Normally I would wish you victory or Valhǫll!"
Judith glanced over to where the Lion Flame was pushing the Pyre back alongside Bilrost Vikings, the two forces fighting together just as she and Herleif had done at the start.
"It is the thought that counts, I suppose," she mused.
They looked at each other for another moment before she offered Herleif her hand. He narrowed his eyes at her warily, then gripped her forearm just below the elbow while she did the same to him.
"If you die, die well," he said to her, "and I will hope that your Heaven is as much the paradise that you say it is."
Judith nodded, giving his arm a squeeze. "And if you find yourself drinking mead from a cow's teat with your gods, make sure you sing about how hard the Lion Flame fought alongside your warriors this day."
"It's a goat, not a cow," laughed Herleif, squeezing Judith's arm and giving it a shake before they parted, "but perhaps I will sing of your saga to my ancestors, Commander. It would be an honor."
Judith touched her longsword to her chest as she backed away, then turned just as Marcelo came up to her, and she quickly went with him to give her orders to those who gladly followed where she led.
Herleif was still chuckling as he turned to his warriors, somewhat surprised a Knight might know anything at all about the goat Heiðrún and her wonderful teats full of mead.
That was a meaningless thought for another time, though, as his attention was required elsewhere. There were still yet more of his warriors rushing into the fortress, but the arrows had stopped falling from above. The Great Forge was surely theirs, even if the Pyre didn't know it yet. The fight still raged on, and he had no doubt that, just like before, the Divine Pyre would fight to the last man.
"Gunnar!" he shouted, looking about until his brother appeared from the crowd, gore spattered, and with Coal accompanying him, looking equally as bloody even despite all the red he wore. Herleif raised a brow at seeing them together, knowing Judith would be rallying the rest of the Lion Flame to her cause, but said nothing about the Conqueror standing with his brother instead. "I have a fortress to claim, brother. Find me Chaldeon, alive."
"It goes against my better nature, but alive it is," Gunnar assured him, then looked to Coal and jerked his head toward the imposing fortress keep where hammers could still be heard ringing over the battle.
Herleif watched them rush off together, silently wondering to himself what sort of future awaited the Lion Flame once the raid was finally over. Judith had already expressed her intention to settle in Valkenheim, forsaking Ashfeld for the rest of her days. Whether she and her Knights would live as disgraced exiles or perhaps indentured servants to Erik was hard to say.
What struck him was the odd thought that perhaps there was a small chance they could exist together in peace. Maybe as friends, even. But he knew that was a far-fetched idea at best. More likely for the Allfather to regrow his missing eye and give up Ásgarðr to the jǫtunn than for Vikings and Knights to live together in harmony. But it was a nice enough thought, nonetheless.
Now was not a time for friendship, though, but a time of war.
Gripping Sólareldur tight in his hand, he rolled his shoulders and pushed his way into the crowd of warriors to head toward the front of the line where the fighting was the fiercest. He wondered how many would be drinking Heiðrún's golden mead by the end of the day, and no matter how badly he wished to return home to his family, he could simply not bear the thought of letting them fight and die while he stood safe at the rear. A Warlord is the shield of his people, and a Jarl doubly so. How could he ask them to lay down their lives to take this fortress, or for Judith's people, if he was unwilling to do the same?
"You call this a fight, you sniveling, mange-ridden pups?" he called out as he made his way to the front, stepping into the battle line as casually as if he was joining a table full of good friends to share a drink. A cheer went up as the Bilrost warriors saw their Jarl standing among them, raising his sword and shield with theirs, and Herleif gave a cheer of his own as he met the Divine Pyre in a storm of steel and blood. "Let us show these piss-drinkers what a real fight is! Earn your place in Bilrost's saga, my brothers and sisters! This day is ours!"
Emboldened by their Jarl's words, the Northmen gave a great war cry that drowned out even the most agonizing of screams from their enemy. The call to push forward rang throughout the line, and as one, they pressed against the weakening strength of the Pyre as more and more black-armored soldiers fell dead at their feet, the bodies left to be trampled beneath the Viking advance.
"Victory or Valhǫll!" Herleif shouted, rushing forward with his shield and feeling the soldier before him fall beneath the power of his charge. His warriors rushed with him, breaking through the Pyre line like a spear point through chainmail and into the body beneath.