So, you want to hear about the Avalandi War, eh? About the clash of shields and the fall of heroes? It is a bitter tale, young one, but I can tell it, and tell it true. I was there.

                Come, take a seat by the fire and warm your bones. Yours may not be as old as mine but the cold bites, eh? Come, come, bring your mother another blanket, and another flagon while you're at it, telling a tale is thirsty work. Heh.

                Thank you, daughter. Your second braid suits you. You earned it. Now sit with your friends and I'll tell you of how everything changed, how the Old Ways died, of how we provoked the King of Kings.

 

* * *

 

                By Valathorien reckoning it was 585 years since the Year of Light, so what, perhaps a thousand winters since Ava walked among us during the Age of Darkness?

                The shoreline was in sight, the four spires of Thainan Seerage were rising from the morning gloom. Yes, I'm sure you know the name, and I'm sure the chroniclers will agree that this was where it all began. I'm sure they'll pass comment on the architecture too. I'd never seen the like, such stonework! The spires alone, twisted and spiked, were beyond anything I'd ever seen on the Isles, even the great Council Hall in Venenholm was put to shame. Heh, what barbarians we seemed in our longhouses and feasting halls. Down on the beach below, the acolytes were scattering into the dunes at our coming, and the bells of the Temple began their frantic peal.

                I was young, not long into womanhood, and I was keen. Grinning like a fool, I'm sure, as I pulled at my oar. I'd been to sea and earned my first braid long ago, but this was the day when I'd bloody my axe and earn the right to put a second braid through my long flaxen hair. I was determined to make it so.

                Aunt Lorretha stood in the bow, with two rope like braids through her long, russet hair, and her axe in her hand, while her Second, Halen, strode up and down between the oar benches encouraging us.

                Halen smiled at me as she passed and I grinned back. “Today is the day, Varla,” she said. “Will you let me put your braid in?”

                “I wouldn't want anyone else,” I told her.

                She beamed back. “But don't be a fool, young one. Stay close. Stay with the Shields.”

                I'm sure I scowled like a sulking child, but she laughed and moved on. Soon the order went up for oars to be pulled in, so I heaved mine up and out of the water as we cut through the surf and Huntress – that was Lorretha's ship – slid up the beach with a gentle bump.

                Lorretha turned round in the bow and offered us all a grin. She caught my eye and winked, then hefted her shield and cried “Ava!”

                We all took up the shout, and followed her over the gunwales. The shingle crunched beneath my feet as I landed in the shallows, and off to the left Feren was leading – yes, that Feren – he was leading his men from his own ship, perhaps a longship's length from us, and beyond him Rellik was doing the same. I gripped my spear and pushed up the beach. Ahead the Seerage guard, such as they were, were scurrying out into the scrub grass between their compound and the beach.

                Perhaps I should explain here that the Seerdom often employed a guard to protect their coastal temples from reavers like us, or even inland brigands, who were after their riches. They were well armed in many cases, but they were little more than watchmen and rarely put up much of a fight once we broke their shield wall. But even my inexperienced eye could tell there was something different about this guard. In their centre was a knot of men in full mail, one even wore scale, and they stood out – they looked professional.

                Heh. Young fool that I was, I took that to mean this Seerage had an especially healthy hoard of loot.

                To the left Rellik already had his Shields forming up and Feren was adjusting the centre while Lorretha was hounding us into line. We were the right wing, with Feren in the centre and Rellik on the left, and as we formed and jostled the Seerage guard simply watched from up the beach. The truth is, if they had come for us while we were forming, while we were clambering from our ships, they could have had us. That's when Shields are weakest. If they'd done that, they could have cut us down, watchmen though they may have been, and perhaps saved a great deal of sorrow. But they didn't.

                We formed. I was in the second rank, behind my aunt and Halen in the centre. You're well aware of how we fight, daughter, but your friends might not be, eh? Though I'm sure you all know of our round shields. They're made of linden, or fir, alder or the like, with an iron binding around the rim, if you have any sense, and a central boss of iron. They're light in hand and less inclined to split than heavy shields of oak. We stand together and overlap them – heh, well I'm too old for that now, but I used to! – but it is a solid wall, where your shield protects the Shield to your right, and oft as not your weapon does too. The front rank are always the best warriors, best armed, best armoured, and most experienced. They will use axes and swords for close work, while many in the second rank will carry spears to be used over the shoulder of the Shield in front. The ranks behind would be pressing into your back with their shields, their weight and yours creating a solid mass. That day we were three ranks deep, perhaps a hundred and twenty Shields from the three ships, and I was ready to spill blood.

                Feren stepped out of the line and turned to face us all. He was a handsome man, in his way, with a brown beard dashed with grey and a long mane of hair. He was a renowned reaver, leader, and killer too. He grinned at us all, a famous grin even then. “Ava guide us, and even spoils for all!” He cried, and we all cheered.

                That's when the thudding began. The bashing of axes and spears on shields. The stamping of feet. The guttural chanting. Ah-roo. Ah-roo. Ah-roo. Just like that, and we stepped forward, shuffling up the beach. My heart pounded at my ribs with every step, every thud and chant. Here I was at last, a Shield of Avaland. A Shieldmaiden. I knew my mother would have been proud, and I recalled the pride in my father's eyes as he gave me her old quilted jack and pothelm, before he sent me off with Lorretha.

                Was I afraid as we edged up the beach? Of course. But I was too young to appreciate the risks. I was too eager to prove myself to my shield-siblings, and too certain that I would become a famous Shieldmaiden. I am, after all, descended from Ava herself, on my mother's side. You don't believe me, boy? Well, I've seen close to a hundred winters now, and I'm still hale and hearty enough to bury this axe in your skull if I wish. How many old women can say the same? Heh, the look on your face!

                But anyway, the battle, eh? We edged up the beach, and I gripped my spear shaft so tight that I might have snapped it, and all the while the Seerage guards stood and waited behind their own oval shields. Having failed to sweep us from the beach while we were forming, it wasn't the worst plan, letting us come to them, but then the man in scale armour stepped out – their leader, and no doubt a noble. No normal warrior could afford scale! He stepped out and raised his sword and cried out in harsh Vephian.

                They charged.

                We halted. The cry of “brace!” swept through us and I took it up myself. Heh, a lass as green as summer grass, yet to bloody her blade, and I shouted it like I'd fought a hundred battles.

                They swept down the beach. From over our heads some of the rear rankers launched their throwing spears and I saw a few men tumble into the sand, and then they hit us. I'll never forget that first crunching impact, what a noise it was. Like a clap of thunder. And the weight of them as they piled in! It drove us back, my feet digging into the sand as we buckled and absorbed them. I was crushed between the shield at my back and Lorretha at my front, and the weight of our enemies. But we held. And what followed the thunderclap was the ringing of iron and the grunting of warriors. Aye, and the screams too. Once we'd taken the charge and held, the killing began. These men before us wore leather caps and padded jacks, and their blades came licking at us over the rims of our shields. I saw Halen bury her axe in a man's skull in a mist of blood. Another man swept in and his sword clanged on Lorretha's shield rim, scraped across her helm. I held my spear over arm, so I could jab over my shield and the shoulders of the front rank, and that's what I did. My spear may yet have been bloodied, but I knew how to use it. I could put that steel tipped head exactly where I wanted it. So, I did. I jabbed it forward like a striking viper and it sunk deep in the guard's eye and slid out just as quick. He slipped out of sight and I laughed. How simple it was! I jabbed again, and skewered a man's throat.

                Then Lorretha cried out. “Let's have them!”

                The chant rippled through us. Ah-roo. And we heaved forward. The guard were already backing away. Then they broke. We punched through their shields and swept among them, and that's the day I learned that broken men are the easiest to kill. We ran them down as they fled up the beach and, off to the left, I could see that Rellik had pushed through as well. Only Feren's foes remained. The men in mail. They were a tougher nut to crack, but Lorretha had already seen. She reined us in and we swept along the beach and came into their flank and rear like a swinging gate.

                These men were professional. Even as we bit into their ranks from behind and hewed them down, they did not relent. They turned like cornered animals, snarling and shouting. I was in the front rank now, by Lorretha and Halen, jabbing my spear and finding it hard to hit my mark. My spear was parried away effortlessly and then grabbed; the head cut off. My mother's spear. I tell you, my daughter, I was incensed. Even more so when, a heartbeat later, one of their spears grazed my cheek. Yes, this scar here. The blood ran warm down my face.

                I snatched my axe from the loop on my belt and hefted it over my shield at my mail-clad foe. He batted it away and I shoved forward with my shield, pushing him back into his friends. Ava was at my shoulder at that point. He stumbled on a corpse, I believe, and his guard fell as he flapped, and his eyes grew wide as he saw his end. My axe was wrought iron with a trailing steel edge and, let me tell you, it could cleave. It hit him in the face, just below the cheekbone, and took his jaw. I'll never forget the ruin of that man's face as he crumpled to the ground. Then I snarled like a beast, or so Lorretha would tell me later, and bid the next one to come and taste my axe. Heh, to be young and brave again.

                But, of course, a gap had been made and we poured in, and it was a bloody business. They fought to the last, and I don't think anyone who had been shield to shield with them escaped without injury. In the end only the man in scale was still alive, surrounded by the heaped bodies of his friends, or his protectors. He was battered and bloody, but alive, with Feren stood over him.

                “Hard fighting,” Lorretha grunted.

                “Too hard,” Feren agreed. “There'll be spoils in there to make it worth it,” he pointed at the Seerage with his bloody axe. 

                Already there were Shields running through the temple grounds, hounding the acolytes and ripping the place apart in search of wealth. There were men in the dunes too, corralling the ones that had fled there, and some were rifling among the dead.

                I was stood by Lorretha, bathed in sweat, my chest heaving, my right cheek smeared in my own blood. She smiled at me. “You fought well, young one.”

                Halen slapped my back, then grabbed my chin and inspected my cheek. “Very well,” she said, then shrugged. “You'll be fine. Get that washed with salt water.”

                “Very well,” Feren agreed. “She one of yours, Lorretha?”

                “My sister's daughter, Varla,” Lorretha replied, and I could hear the pride in her voice. I tell you; I could have cried at that. My mother did not survive her battle to bring me squealing into the world, so her younger sister, Lorretha, picked up the mantle. Her pride in me carried weight. “She is daughter to Helmar.”

                “The Winter Reeve?” Feren asked, a rise in his brow. “He is deemed a wise man even on Skarren.” Then he offered his hand. “You're a Shield now, Varla,” he said as I grasped his hand. “You've got Ava in you.”

                That feeling. That acceptance. How much it meant to me.

                At our feet the nobleman stirred, only for Feren to drive a boot into his ribs. Then he pulled him up onto his knees. “Your men fought well,” he said.

                The nobleman spat a glob of blood onto the sand.

                “You understand me?” Feren asked.

                The nobleman stared at him, hatred pulsing through his dark eyes. “Well enough,” he grunted. “What will you savages do with me?” He spoke in a thick Vephian accent. “I can be ransomed. I am important. My brother will give you enough gold to buy a kingdom–”

                Before I had time to blink, Feren buried his axe between the nobleman's eyes. “We're Ava's children,” he said, wrenching it free, “we don't want a kingdom.”

                Halen was pale and Lorretha's face was contorted with disgust. “That was ill done,” she said.

                Feren shrugged and offered a mischievous smirk. He had a quick smile and an easy laugh, but his eyes were mirthless.

                I moved away in search of my spearhead, hoping to find it among the bodies heaped around us. They were a bloody mess, a red ruin soaking into the sand, and it was grim work going through them, moving the corpses and lifting bloodied arms, but eventually I found it beneath the arm of the man I'd killed. It had been cut perhaps a hand's length down the shaft and I picked it up like a dagger, wiped the blood on the man's trousers, and tucked it into my belt with relief. I didn't want to lose my mother's spear in my first reaving!

                Inspecting the dead around me, I could see they all wore fine, tight linked, mail coats, and that the man I'd killed had a similar build to me, so I decided to take it. What a boon for a first reave. In fact, his jaw was hanging from him by a sinew and I confess it made me hesitate. But that mail was too fine, and the other men around him were too big, so I swallowed and set to it. It was as awkward as you'd expect, and Halen came over to help me with it, but when his jaw finally tore free, I started to retch. Ava give me strength; I can picture it now.

                It was as I was retching into the sand and Halen was chuckling that I heard a squeal of terror that snapped me to my senses. Running from out of the dunes was a young, dark skinned boy in torn acolyte robes. His bare arse and legs were showing and there were tears streaming down his face. Behind him a Shield came striding after him with a wolfish grin. The boy stumbled to the ground and men laughed.

                I shot up. I'm sure Ava was at my shoulder as I stormed across the beach, unthinking. I heard Halen call after me in confusion, in fear. The Shield was nearly on the boy by then, a big bastard with two short braids woven into his beard seen as there wasn't a hair on his head. I was to his side, and he was fixated with the lad. I confess, I didn't have a plan. I was driven by fury. It was plain to see what had been happening, what was going to happen. I put my shoulder into my shield as I neared and bowled into the man at full pelt and he went flying to the ground. I stumbled on impact and nearly went tumbling with him, but I managed to steady myself, then I grabbed the boy by the scruff of his neck and dragged him away, shoving him behind me as I raised my shield and hefted my axe.

                The bald one leaped to his feet and snatched his axe from his belt. “What the fuck do you think you're doing?” He demanded; his pale face had flushed bright red with rage. Men rushed to him, four or five of them, and raised their shields. Some of Lorretha's crew who'd been nearby were with me in an instant, their shields locked with mine. Halen was there moments later.

                “Do you know what we do with people like you in Kesburh?” I snarled back. “You dirty bastard.”

                He snorted. “Where the fuck is Kesburh?”

                Feren and Lorretha swept into the middle of us. “Everybody calm down,” said Lorretha.

                “What's going on?” Feren demanded. “You've got some guts lass, knocking my Second to the ground.”

                That should have made me waver, Feren was a famous reaver throughout the Isles and I'd picked a fight with his Second, but I was too enraged to care.

                “Your Second?” I spat. “This fucking rapist? You dishonour yourself.”

                Feren shook his head and looked to his Second. “That was ill done, Drell,” he said.

                Lorretha glared at him, smart enough to catch the mockery. Truth be told I thought she was about to cut him down, but Feren held up his hands.

                “Even spoils for all, eh? Let's all calm down and move on.”

                “He's not to touch him,” I warned, bolder than I had any right to be. “Or anyone else, or I'll cut his cock off myself.”

                He looked at me, and smiled that winning smile, the smile that made men follow him, the persuasive bastard. How slimy it seemed in that moment. “You've got guts, lass. I like that.” Then he turned to Drell, who seethed. “You should know better,” he said, and I saw a spark of anger in his eyes. But I saw he was angry that Drell had been careless, not that he'd tried to bugger a young boy, and I tell you that soured my view of him from that day onward, famous warrior or not.

                He turned to me and jutted his chin towards the boy who was curled up behind me. “He's yours,” he smiled.

                I was about to explode but movement to the right of us caught my eye.

                Coming down from the temple, I saw Rellik dragging a whimpering old man who wore long purple robes tied at his waist by a jewelled belt. The Seer. They're always well-tailored, are they not? While their flock starve at their door. Rellik dragged him over and shoved him down to the sand. Rellik's green eyes were alive with curiosity and amusement when he found us close to going shield to shield. “What you silly bastards doing?”

                Feren laughed. “Dividing the spoils.”

                I spat in disgust. Drell was still staring at me, his eyes brimming with hate. I knew I'd made an enemy for life, and I was fine with that. The dirty bastard.

                Rellik toed the Seer. “This one reckons the Lord of Wynham is nearby with his army. Near enough to hear the bells. Says a rider was sent out too.” He shrugged. “The whole isle will know by now.”

                “Is that so?” Said Lorretha, relieved, I think, to have a new problem. “Best grab what we can then. We're not here for a pitched battle.”

                “Don't have the numbers, either,” Halen agreed.

                “If he's telling the truth,” said Feren. “He might just want us to leave as soon as possible, to rush off and leave some of his riches behind.” He laughed. “These king worshippers are sly bastards.”

                Lorretha raised an eyebrow. “You want to risk it?”

                Feren grinned. “No. Let us speed things up.”

                The tension faded. For everyone else at least. Shields were lowered and people drifted back to their business. Drell stared at me a few moments more before storming off back towards the dunes. Lorretha came up to me and I hung my head. “I'm sorry,” I said.

                She smiled at me. “I'm proud of you. There's long been rumours, but I've never seen anything.” She studied me a moment. “You did well.”

                I felt embarrassed so I just shrugged. “It's not Ava's way.”

                “No,” she said with a grimace, “it's not. What will you do with him?” She nodded to the boy crumpled in the sand.

                “I don't know.”

                Lorretha squeezed my shoulder. “Take him from here. Show him a good life.”

                She walked away and I studied the boy properly for the first time. He'd got up onto his knees and was looking at me with green eyes wild with fear. He was small and lithe, with his black hair shaved short and tears streaked across his smooth face. He seemed utterly broken. I reached to help him up and he flinched away.

                “It's okay,” I told him. “It's okay. I won't hurt you.”

                He gave me a blank stare, his eyes trembling. Of course, he didn't understand me, so I reached for him again, carefully, ignoring his squirming and the wince he gave as he expected to be hurt. I lay my hand on his shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze. He opened his eyes and studied me. I saw fear and confusion.

                “Come on,” I said, and jerked my head towards the crowd of Shields where Lorretha was, and where Rellik had dragged the Seer. I offered my hand and, after a long moment, he took it and I pulled him to his feet and helped him straighten out his acolyte's robes.

                He followed me along the beach, close at my heels, and I felt like he would clutch at my shoulder if he had trusted me more. As it was, he just trusted everyone else less, and who could blame him?

                Lorretha and Halen were stood with Rellik and Feren by the bodies of the nobleman's retinue. Rellik had the Seer in an iron grip and Halen was holding a heap of mail in her arm. She thrust it at me with a smile as I approached. “Best get it washed, eh?” She said.

                I smiled, about to reply, when the Seer let out a great wail. “No!” He cried, wrenching free of Rellik and dashing over to the nobleman's corpse. He collapsed in a heap by the dead man. “Do you know what you've done? Do you know who that was?” He asked, with a good grasp of our tongue. They're always learned men, Seers.

                Feren snorted to suggest he didn't give a damn.

                “Who?” Asked Lorretha, I caught the disquiet in her voice.

                “Savages,” the Seer snarled. “Your homes will burn for this.”

                Rellik strode over and delivered a sharp back hand.

                “Who?” Lorretha demanded.

                The Seer clutched at his face and stared at her, almost relishing in our mistake. “That was Prince Threllik of Vepha, brother to the King of Kings!”

                Lorretha closed her eyes and Feren paled slightly. “Well,” he said, looking at each of us in turn. “Fuck.”