Blades of Wolfsbane - episode eighteen

A story in the Ravenglass Universe.

A tall man covered in furs and boiled leather armour ducked through the door and peered at Ragnar through his helmet.

Ragnar’s breath caught at the sight of the raider’s long-handled axe, its gleaming double-head as large as one of the boys’ training shields.

“Boys.” The man looked past Ragnar, his accent thick and guttural. “They use boys to guard the house?”

Ragnar shot forward and slashed his sword as a distraction, before driving his dagger into the man’s thigh.

The raider roared with pain and staggered forward, his huge axe slicing the air and missing. “Going to split you in two.”

With eyes wide, he lumbered forward and brought the axe up for another strike.

The axe sailed towards Ragnar.

He hopped back and shifted his stance, overbalancing the raider when he tried to correct the axe’s path. Its head smashed into the clothing trunk.

Ragnar thanked Creation Maja hadn’t hidden there.

He spun into the raider’s guard and dipped his dagger into the man’s side, sliding through his skin and muscle with surprising ease.

The man stiffened and tried to pull away, but Ragnar pressed the dagger deeper, angling it upward, shredding the man from the inside.

Warmth flowed over Ragnar’s hand before the raider collapsed to his knees, blood spraying from his mouth in a pitiful gurgle.

Ragnar dragged his dagger clear as a second figure filled the doorway, this one taller, wearing light armour and wielding a curved shortsword.

The raider stepped over the body of a household guard and met Ragnar’s gaze. He charged forward, slashing his sword.

Ragnar hopped back, knocking the sword aside with his own, and made a back-handed cut towards the man’s belly.

Dodging the swipe, the raider’s free fist caught Ragnar’s already bruised face.

Shaking away the pain, he aimed his dagger at the man’s eyes.

It missed, but slashed the man’s nose and cheek, drawing blood and peeling his flesh open.

Screaming, the man clawed at his flapping cheek and backed towards the door.

Ragnar pressed his advantage, unwilling to let the man get away.

The raider tried to fend Ragnar off, blocking his blows with his sword.

Ragnar sliced a line from the man’s right shoulder down to his left hip with his sword, forcing him to double over and expose his neck.

Ragnar buried his dagger into his throat, tearing through the windpipe.

In less than a heartbeat, the man slumped face-first to the floor, dead.

Ragnar met the eyes of a pale man huddled into himself at the far end of the corridor, his severed hand leaving a stump of blood and bone.

Without a word, Ragnar advanced on the man, who tried to scramble away.

“This is what happens to those who try to take our home.”

He thrust the sword into his chest and pulled it free.

Life evaporated from the man’s eyes, snuffed out like a candle.

The hallway stood quiet, save for his ragged breaths and thundering heart.

He turned back to the chamber. “Maja? Are you alright?”

She appeared in the doorway and stared at the bodies.

“You should get back under the bed. We don’t know if this is over.”