The Siege of Firnstayn II. - Battle on the Fjórd

Skjalddís appeared as if exchanged for another onboard of the Frost-Gale. She jested with the men and gave orders who was to stand on the front-line. The Frost-Gale had little in common with the ships that were made to sail over the ocean. It was far more slim and more agile, served space for fifty men.
  On all eight ships of Firnstayn, the sails had been hoisted up to not become a nuisance for the men in the coming battle. Also the oars had been retracted and safely stored. On the stern of the long ship they had raised the banner of Firnstayn.
  Two warriors helped Brúnjulfr into his hauberk. The wonderful worked armor from the dwarven smiths had actually belonged to one of his forefathers and did not find the same glory upon the old man. All other wore chainmail and round helmets with long nasal protections. Chain-links should protect the throat.
  Also Skjalddís had exchanged the fur around her shoulders for a pair of pauldrons. In the moment that she wanted to don the helmet, Brúnjulfr appeared next to her. »I wanted always to ask you whether it is true that each one of your braids is woven for a dead man that you have slain.«
  »It is true«, answered the Jarl shortly.
  »Then you are a dangerous woman.«
  »Such men and women we will need today.«
  From the cliff sounded horns. The first ship of the Easterlings set sail towards Firnstayn. It was an impressive vessel with three masts and a high up swung stern. Only moments later, four more ships shifted their attention to the village.
  Apprehensively did Skjalddís observe the high bow-forts. The assailants would stand several steps above them. The crow's nests appeared immense to her. Each held five archers. From so high above, they could choose their targets from a wide surrounding.
  Firnstayn's first tower fired a hail of arrows. It missed the first ship that was sailing on the middle of the Fjórd by fifty steps.
  Brúnjulfr gave Skjalddís a large, red round-shield. »You will need that one, Fire-Drake.«
  The Jarl shoved her arm through the leather straps and drew them tight until the shield sat strongly to her arm. »Let us welcome them«, she called out and raised her shield before her chest. Then she struck with the flat side of her axe against the metal stud. Along the entire line of battle, the warriors followed suit. Ear-deafening noise echoed from the cliffs of the Fjórd.
  The rattling and the shouts of the men brought Skjalddís blood to boil. Should those damned Easterlings come! They would find their masters in the men of the Fjórdland.
  Ever more ships appeared before them. They aligned themselves in a broad wall and were still four-hundred steps away. Skjalddís could see the helmets of the enemies shimmer behind the bow-fort.
  »Look upon us, Béma!«, Brúnjulfr called from the depth of his lungs. »Let our wooden wall be strong so that the bravery of our foes shatters upon it!«
  On the hostile ships sounded trumpets. Movement came up in the nearest ship.
  »Shields up!«, called Skjalddís. A hail of arrows came down upon the long ships.
  Quickly did the round shields form a save roof. Arrows were drumming upon them. Some men went to the ground, but the battle-line on the long-ships did not falter.
  Hail for hail followed now. Ducked underneath the shields, it was impossible to observe how the enemy ships closed in. Skjalddís had the feeling that an eternity was passing. Hot sweat ran down her neck.
  A projectile struck through her shield and missed her arm sharply. The sand that the Northmen had spread on the deck of their ships was dyed red from blood at some spots. The arrows found holes in their shield-wall.
  Suddenly the ship was trembling as if an earthquake would shake them. Some men were being torn from their feet, gaps opened in their defenses. The ships had clashed. The vessels of the Northmen and the Easterlings stood now bow against bow, alike to angry harts that had entangled their antlers in single combat.
  »On your feet!«, Brúnjulfr shouted. »Archers take ten steps back! Bring down these snakes from their crow's nests!«
  The lightly armored bow-men had sought for cover behind the shields during the hails. Now they walked back and sent their greetings to the enemies in turn.
  A spear struck the bloodied planks next to Skjalddís and shook from the impact. Now, that the shield formation was broken, the Jarl could finally see the enemy again. Broad planks, equipped with iron teeth were being lowered and bit unto the frames of the northmannish long-ships.
  Everywhere along the line of battle, such planks descended. Above Skjalddís' warriors appeared fighters in white hauberks that were hiding behind large, drop like formed shields. Each of the shield was black and bore a flaming eye.
  The war-cry of the Easterlings rang up and then they stormed down the bridges.
  Shield on shield did they meet the defenders. Skjalddís' axe, once wielded by her ancestor Mandred, first Jarl of Firnstayn shot down in a glimmering arc. The weapon was cleaving shield and helmet of the first assailant. With a strong pull, she freed the axe and led a backhand swipe over the shield-edge of her next enemy. Crunching did the dwarven steel strike through the nasal protection.
  Next to her did Brúnjulfr fight like a wild bear. Soon the ground was covered with dead and dying ones.
  A sword strike splintered Skjalddís' shield. With a jolt she disarmed the man, whose blade got stuck in the wooden ward. Her axe drove into the unshielded flank of the soldier and through the ribcage.
  In one feral leap, Skjalddís landed upon one of the bridges. The cloven shield she threw aside. Then she grasped her axe with both hands. Like a berserker she fought her way towards the bow-fort, followed by three men who covered their Jarl with their shields from approaching arrows.
  As she reached the end of the boarding plank, the Easterlings stood so close next to one another that they could not even raised their shields anymore. In blind wrath, Skjalddís struck them from above. Swords and spears shattered against the dwarven steel. Then she jumped amidst her enemies. One of the tall and heavily armored soldiers she grasped by the helmet and stung with the thorn of her axe from below into his chin and into the skull. Falling, the warrior took two others with him to the ground. Panic grasped the hearts of the Easterlings on the bow-fort. Under shouting, the soldiers sought their safety in taking flight and did not even refrain from jumping over the reeling and into the water. Given their armor and the low temperatures, they signed their own death warrants.
  Moments later, the entire front of the ship was being held by the Northmen. Gasping for air, Skjalddís glared towards the main deck. The surviving soldiers had retreated. With eyes distorted by fear they looked up to the tall woman that had to seem to them like a giant.
  »We must fall back«, sounded a rough voice at her side. Brúnjulfr had fought his way unto the enemy ship as well. The old warrior pointed to the north. »They have found a place where they could land outside of Firnstayn. The cliff could not hold them. And so far they have only lost a single ship.«
  From the ship out, Skjalddís had an ideal vantage point. The battle-line of the Northmen had held strong. But death had reaped many of them.
  One of the ships of the Easterlings that came too close to Firnstayn had suffered the burning projectile of a dwarven ballista and was now sinking. A pillar of smoke rose from the carcass of the vessel.
  »Back unto the long ships!«, Skjalddís roared loudly. »We will hold them off elsewhere!«