A ladder slammed against the wall abandoned by the Vikings of Bilrost without opposition, but when the first Ashfeld soldier poked his head over the rampart with a snarl on his lips and sword raised, he received the point of Skuld's silver spear in welcome. He fell away with a choked gurgle, no longer having a mouth to scream with, and plummeted to the ground below as his fellow soldiers climbed to risk life or death in the second siege of the Walled City.
"Archers! Bring them down!" yelled Herleif as he ascended the rampart.
More ladders crawling with soldiers like armored insects rose to assault the ramparts while the frantic warband rushed to meet them with pikes and bows, using both to dispatch as many of their attackers as they could before they reached the top. Arrows hissed as they flew from bowstrings to ravage the men surrounding the ladders down below, sending soldiers without shields running in fright and those with them huddling together for protection. The legions had sent their vanguard against the walls in the hopes of overwhelming the weary Vikings, and they had nearly made it to the wall without a fight before a frantic defense could be mounted against them.
Herleif cursed his foolishness for abandoning the walls and allowing their enemy to get so close. It had seemed like the only way to force Erik's hand and release Judith and her Knights back into his care, but now that the oath tethering him to the Golden King had been stamped into the mud, it was up to him alone to hold this stretch of wall and stand against the legions of Ashfeld before the city was overrun. They had just made it to the ramparts in time, but he still feared that any hope of holding the city would be lost.
"Pikes! Pikes! Push them back from the walls!" he ordered.
With Sólareldur in hand, Herleif charged the nearest ladder with his warriors at his back. A Warden in a green and yellow tabard jumped onto the wall and rushed to meet him, but Herleif charged forward with his shield. They crashed together, and Herleif roared his battle cry as he drove the Warden back against the wall. He thrust his sword around the shield's rim, striking against armor as the Warden kicked and punched to get free, pulling at the shield pressed against him while more soldiers scrambled up the ladder beside them.
Steel met steel, and soon, the screams of the wounded and the dying mingled with the enraged shouts of the attackers and defenders both. Heat and sweat became as oppressive as the pikes stabbing over the walls, and as the bodies began to fall, blood smeared the boots of those fighting over the corpses as they struggled not to trip or fall and give the enemy a chance to end them.
Herleif snarled as the Warden refused to yield. Try as he might, he could not find a gap in the armor as he kept the Knight pinned against the wall, and more than once, he nearly caught a metal gauntlet to the face as the Warden tried to strike at him over the shield. Shoving hard, Herleif punched his shield rim under the Warden's chin, hitting him again and again until the man was knocked senseless. He struck the Warden until he fell back limp against the parapet and then pushed the body over, sending him tumbling into the dust.
There was no time to celebrate, let alone breathe, as more Knights were fighting their way onto the walls. Ladders appeared as quickly as they were pushed away to crush the would-be climbers below, and trumpets blared as men yelled out their curses and hate at each other, crossing blades above the conquered city, but it was not enough to push the Viking defenders from the wall.
"Push them back!" cried Herleif, urging his warriors on. The Vikings of Bilrost surged forward to meet their enemy, howling northern curses and brandishing steel. Pikes were used to skewer those trying to climb the ladders and throw them back into the army below, and each Knight who attempted to set foot upon the city defenses first had to fight through a hedge of blades striking at them from all directions. Shields and spears closed in around those soldiers who had already attempted to create a foothold on the wall, stopping the flow of attackers before they could become a true threat to the city.
Herleif panted like a dog as he slammed his shield against one opponent after another, stabbing and slashing with his sword until blood coated his hand to the elbow. The world was a blur of pressing bodies and flashing steel, the smoke-filled air deathly hot in his burning lungs. He threw his head against any foe whose guard he couldn't break and downed them with a quick stab of his sword and wielded his shield to protect himself and those fighting beside him, blocking stray attacks and sudden thrusts before striking back with vicious intent.
Never had he fought in a more fierce battle in all his life, if only because he had almost let the enemy overwhelm them without a fight at the start. He and his warriors would give their all to make up for it or die trying, but the Valkyries had not come to claim them yet as screaming Knights were hurled from the walls and Bilrost banners still flew proudly in the air. His bannermen lifted their flags proudly and without shame, letting the Vegvisir Compass be seen by all who looked for guidance and bravery in the fight. Then, suddenly, the banners fell into shadow.
Siege towers rolled through the rising dust as the legions parted before their coming; six great monoliths black against the sun. Legion flags flew from their peaks, and animal hides coated their wooden frames to protect them from fire. Shadowy figures stood at the tops of each tower where archers waited to rain death on the walls from on high, and as each tower churned dirt beneath their wheels to create a storm of dust, the sound of voices echoed boldly from the soldiers amassed within to strike fear into the hearts of the Northmen.
The Knights of Ashfeld were coming in droves to lay waste to the northern horde, and they came singing.
If you want peace, prepare for war!
War is sweet to those who have not experienced it!
A cause of war... God wills it!
In times of war... the law falls silent!
A war of all, against all!
War is for the reckoning of all!
A right to war, the right of war!
Horrid war! You cannot hold me back...
Even if you wanted to!
If you want peace, prepare for war!
A war of all, against all!
Herleif cursed as the assault of ladders faded to make way for the towers. The warriors beside him cowered behind their shields and shrank back from the ramparts beneath the rising shadows. All their effort to hold the walls against the first wave could be undone in moments if he did not act quickly.
"Gather fire-flasks, quickly!" he shouted. The man beside him continued to stare dumbly at the towers, but Herleif struck him with his shield as an example to see his orders carried out. "Go! Valhǫll is no place for the deaf and dumb!"
"Herleif!" came a woman's shout from the stairs.
He turned and nearly choked on his heart as a group of black-armored Knights stepped onto the ramparts. It seemed like the Divine Pyre was back for revenge, but after a moment's panic, he realized that Judith was leading her Knights to assist him after rearming themselves. Their own armor had been stolen by Golden-Shield and most likely still held within the vault tower, so for now, they endured the insult of having to use what the cultists had left behind. Judith wore a black helmet and pauldrons and held an unfamiliar dark iron sword at her side, with Marcelo and the rest dressed much the same, but there appeared to be more than just armor scrounged from the heretical treasure trove that had been once perceived as scrap.
"I have a gift for you," Judith said as she approached, pointing back to three crates being carried up the stairs by her soldiers. "Perhaps these will help even the odds along with your infernal flasks."
Herleif watched as the crates were set down and their lids pried open, revealing four long metal tubes in each. He had not had a chance to see one up close until now, but the fire tubes of the Pyre were much more intricately designed than he first thought. Much like the larger weapons mounted upon ships and battlements, the tubes were forged into the shape of screaming eagles, but each had a large tank at the end to hold the Wu Lin's evil seiðr. A Lawbringer with a crimson breastplate and a black helmet carried a barrel of the Pyre's concoction to be used for the weapons, a last chance to rain fire against the Walled City's invaders before all was said and done.
"Are you sure this is a good idea?" Herleif asked. Skuld stepped beside him and took one look at the tubes before shaking her head. She said nothing, as usual, so Herleif decided that her opinion was moot. "Do we even know how these things work?"
"In desperate times, the Lord will provide. Now is the time to learn," said Judith. She picked one of the tubes out of the crate, handed it off to Marcelo, and then worked on passing out the rest. "Flint is needed to make a flame at the head of the phoenix, and the Pyre's mixture does the rest. Pump the bar beneath the cylinder here to build pressure, then press to release a gout of flame."
Herleif frowned, not entirely convinced, but gave the order for the cultist weapons to be dispersed among his warriors. The Northmen examined the metal tubes with uncertainty, but a moment later, trumpets blasted in the air as the shadow of the nearest tower fell over them. Arrows began to hiss through the air, striking down the unaware while the rest hid behind shields.
"Prepare for attack!" Herleif shouted. A shield wall formed around him as the siege tower grew closer while archers and those with fire tubes gathered behind.
Drums sounded the steady rhythm of the tower's progression as arrows flew back and forth over the ramparts, and flint was struck to light a flame in the fire tubes in preparation for the first volley. Herleif set his shoulders and held his breath as the sound of weapons beating against shields echoed from within the tower along with that accursed singing.
If you want peace, prepare for war!
War is sweet to those who haven't experienced it!
A cause of war... God wills it!
In times of war... the law falls silent!
A war of all, against all!
"Loose fire!" Herleif shouted from behind his shield.
An explosion rang out somewhere behind him as one of the fire tubes immediately burst into flames, consuming the Northman who had misused it and the warriors around him. A hole appeared in the shield wall as the blast tore across the rampart, just as the siege tower stopped before the wall. Herleif ducked behind his shield as flames licked overhead and shot Judith a withering glare that she purposefully ignored.
"It is now or never!" she cried as chains lowered the gangplank to unleash its deadly cargo. "Fire!"
The gangplank slammed down onto the parapet, and armored figures swarmed out of the open siege tower onto the wall, howling for blood. Ropes of flame and burning fire-flasks flew into the tower in response, bursting into flames that saw Knights and soldiers hurled from the walls and plummeting to their deaths below. Fire began to devour the tower's interior, but that did not stop the determined Knights from rushing headlong at their northern foe. Pikes and poleaxes came rushing at the shield wall to crash like a tidal wave of steel against cliffs of ironwood so that the wall became a press of bodies trying to push their enemy over the edge. The Northmen growled like beasts and hurled insults as they braced themselves against the push of their enemies, and in the blink of an eye, the ramparts descended into an undulating mass of stabbing swords and chopping axes over the line of shields.
"Hold! Hold this wall!" Herleif called, putting his shoulder into his shield to push against the Knight on the other side. He felt something sharp graze against his shin and knock against his leather greaves, but he thrust with Sólareldur and drew forth a scream and a gout of fresh blood upon the ground. "For your families! For Óðinn and the Spear Hall! Kill them all!"
A great cry rose up from the Viking line, loud enough to drown out the desperate yells of the Knights still pouring out of the burning tower. Shields splintered, and armor was rent as the two armies went at each other like vicious dogs. Herleif lost count of how many times he thought his arm might break against the blow of an axe or felt his helmet gouged by the point of a spear. Any number of weapons upon that wall might have finally sent him to Valhǫll, but instead, he continued to fight and coat his sword in more and more of his enemy's blood.
Nearby, he saw the flash of Skuld's spear striking over the shield wall at any Knight within reach. No matter how many pikes thrust back at her, she was never touched, dipping behind her shield only to attack again with astounding speed. He thought he could hear Ragnar and Ragna shouting somewhere in the battle din as well, each claiming that they had cut down the most Knights so far while some poor bastard was screaming to be rescued from the 'demon' biting at their neck.
Judith commanded her Knights to wield the fire tubes against their enemy with deadly precision. Her experience allowed her to counter the legion's advance as the Knights pouring out of the siege tower attempted to get another foothold on the wall. Each move they made was met with a burst of flames and a screech from the fire tubes. Marcelo was reciting prayers to his God as he refilled his fire weapon, again and again, to coat the tower in flames.
The Allfather would have his pick of mighty warriors to fill his hall at the end of this day.
The fight carried all along the wall, all along the city defenses, as ladders and siege towers assaulted the Viking resistance and pressed for any sort of weakness. Smoke choked the air from the towers, burning like children of Surtr while others stood unopposed to unleash the legions into the city. No mercy was shown, and no quarter was given. Blades swung, and men died—a war for all and against all.
Herleif knew it was only the beginning. As the sun moved through the sky, the fighting continued without end. Victory would not come easy. Death screamed at him with every sword strike or howl of fury over his shield. He fought with every ounce of energy in his tired body and more, pushing himself well beyond his limits. Deep inside his heart, he knew Valhǫll beckoned him. The Valkyries waited to take him away to the Spear God's hall, and he would die here, never to see his wife and children again.
He fought and prayed that this was not the end.