1My oath, bound in the blood in my veins, shall never be broken, not even by my death. – Vow of the Bloodsworn – Fourth Passage, Line 1
“Three giants,” Cael said. “They’ll be on us in twenty minutes, maybe less. Unless they change their path, it’ll take them directly in sight of this ridge.”
Victra muttered darkly under her breath as Mars grunted. “Just our luck,” he said.
Victra quickly ran through the path she had taken earlier in her mind, reexamining the landscape for any hidden alcove or protected haven.
“We should take this opportunity,” Fenris’ voice cut through her focus. She fixed him with a critical eye as he continued steadily. “This is our chance to blood our swords early, so to say. Let us know exactly what it is we are up against. And this will let us know what the retaliatory response might be.”
Victra hesitated, caught between the wisdom of what the northman was saying and her own instincts that screamed for more information, the perfect ambush.
Fenris lowered his voice to dangerous levels, holding Victra’s gaze firmly, but without challenge. “We dinnae have the luxury of time for more scoutin’. We’re already behind, and ye and I know we’ll learn far more about our foes by meetin’ steel with them.”
Victra nodded once, and banished her misgivings. This wasn’t the time to waver between choices. She was given command, she needed to make a decision and stand by it, regardless of whether it was the right choice.
“Secure the horses,” she said to Mars, “but have them ready to ride if we need to. The rest of us, only what we need. We move around the west to meet them before they make it here.”
They moved swiftly and silently through the long grass. Victra wove a path, the others following one by one behind her as the landscape shifted in the warm breeze around them. The huntress glanced upward, watching as the sun continued to dip towards the horizon. Not as much as she had hoped, but it would at least be more at their back than their faces. Judging the distance, she moved more northward towards a taller rise, hoping it would be enough to let the slowly setting sun obscure their forms from the approaching giants.
Victra motioned to the sides with a hand, not bothering to look. She heard the soft rustle of her companions moving around to her flanks, trusting them to know their positions. Peering through the gently swaying blades of amber grasses, Victra saw the unmistakable forms of three giants moving at the base of the hill. Her eyes narrowed as she focused on the parting grass in front of one giant, and caught the shape of massive wolves moving low to the ground. A gust of wind on her face evoked a small smile, luck still favored her.
The giants were less than three hundred yards from them, but still Victra remained unmoving. She knew her own limitations with a longbow, but there were three. And all three needed to die swiftly, and silently. No alarm could be raised. So she waited, and she watched.
Three massive, broad and muscular forms. The giants were pale-skinned, each standing more than ten feet tall. Two were clearly male, with matted brown hair, long moustaches, and tangled beards. The third looked female, their face absent of any beard, and only a single, thick blond braid of hair fell from their head over one shoulder. All three had the same heavy slab of a forehead set above small, dark eyes. They were clad in thick cloth, a mix of rough-spun brown or dyed blue, and each had strips of fur and pieces of metal armor affixed to heavy leathers. Two carried spears, one with a round shield of wood. The third carried an axe with a long blade over his shoulder and held in his other hand a thick knot of rope that stretched out to the three massive grey and white furred wolves.
“They’re frost giants,” Fenris’ low voice came from beside her. Victra didn’t move, but she hadn’t heard him there. The northman was silent as a thought, even his voice shifting with the sounds of the grass and wind to barely make a sound. “That rune on their shield marks them as oathsworn to Draekan, Jarl of the Northshore clans. This will be a good fight.”
Victra clenched her jaw, and felt the infectious anticipation in his voice. The giants moved closer, their long, powerful strides parting the grass effortlessly. A gust of wind blew from the west, and Victra saw the wolves turn their heads to follow it eastward. The giants were less than a hundred feet from them. Victra gave a glance to the side, but Fenris was not there.
Matron guide my hand, Victra prayed silently. Receive the gift to send unto you. She felt to her side, rubbing the silver raven medallion that hung from her belt. Gently tucking it between folds of cloth, she cleared her mind, letting her senses stretch out.
Her instincts flooded her body with a rush of adrenaline, and she reacted without thinking. It was years of stalking the wilds, of being the huntress and the hunted. The moment was now.
In a single motion, she came to one knee, her beautiful longbow already at full draw. The pale wood flexed soundlessly, the arrow fletching as gentle as a kiss on her cheek. By the time the arrow was in flight, another was already nocked.
In the span of a heartbeat, three arrows found their mark. One carved deep into the shoulder of the female, causing her arm holding the shield to droop. The other two caught the beast handler high, one beneath the clavicle, the other just above the collar of mail he wore. Immediately, his axe fell from his grip as a spasming hand reached upward, hot blood flowing from a body already dying.
A flurry of movement followed. On Victra’s left, Mars and Iden burst forward. They reached the giant as he turned, his spear raised in discipled readiness. To her right, the dark shape of Cael rose to his feet, and with a faint buzzing sound reaching Victra’s ears, she saw the flash and concussion of grass around him, but heard no sound. A spray of metal and blood from the giant woman marked a hit from Cael’s contraption as crimson spread from her side. As her eyes darted from side to side, Victra watched as Fenris broke from his hiding spot, twin axes in hand as he charged the giant.
Raising her longbow, Victra sent one last arrow into the eye of the dying giant. The body pitched forward, and Victra knew it would not get up again. She shifted focus as Iden and Mars danced around the remaining male giant. His spear kept them at a distance, but neither man was afraid to take a wound. Mars already had a line of blood across his chest, but Victra could tell the wound wasn’t deep. He feinted, drawing the giant’s attention as Iden rushed to the other side. The armored knight of the Archpaladin was a fury of metal as his axes flashed through the air, and Victra saw blood run down the giant’s leg from rent armor. A bellow of pain, and the giant spun, the butt of his spear catching Iden in the chest. He was flung through the air, and landed heavily nearly ten feet from where he had stood.
Seeing her opening, Victra raised her bow, and an arrow sung through the air. It caught the giant in the hip, and immediately, he fell to one knee. Victra saw crimson spreading, and knew her shot had been true. Mars was already in motion. Seeing the giant immobilized, he rushed forward, swinging his great maul. His momentum carried him forward, and with a great crack, struck the giant full on the side of the head. The giant went stiff, his shoulders dropped, and collapsed.
Reaching for another arrow, Victra turned to the last giant. She was circling Fenris, her spear raised high as he matched her movement with his shield facing her. She thrust down, seeking to impale the much smaller man. Fenris reacted instantly, sidestepping and punching down with the shield, driving the speartip into the ground. He dashed forward, closing the distance as he struck out with the shield again. His momentum shifted the giant’s balance, and he swung with the axe. A deep cut to the leg, and Victra saw it was deep. The giant began to pitch forward, and Fenris swung again, his axe meeting the woman’s side with a heavy crunch.
The axe stuck. Fenris gave one furious wrench before the giant’s meaty fist collided with his chest, and he crumpled back into the dust. Victra raised her bow, an arrow cutting through the air. It was low, and struck the heavy cloth of the woman’s chest. Victra felt dread rise as the giant’s spear pointed towards Fenris’ slowly rising body.
The giant grunted, and rather than move towards her stunned foe, she reached to her belt. Victra quickly reached for another arrow, her fear multiplying as she saw the giant raise a curved warhorn to her lips. She drew back the bowstring as the horn met the woman’s lips. The arrow lept into flight, but Victra knew it would be too late.
The warhorn shattered, a spray of material lacerating the giant’s face. No sound came. Barely a moment later, Victra’s arrow carved a line across the giant’s cheek, barely missing its mark. Victra looked to her right, and saw the silhouetted shape of Cael lowering his firearm, a gentle drift of smoke rising from the barrel. No report of the weapon, and no alarm from the horn.
Turning back to the giant, Victra was already reaching for an arrow as Fenris pulled himself to his feet. The northman had dropped his shield, and his bearded axe remained in the side of the giant in front of him. She had stumbled back, her face bleeding from a multitude of cuts from the shattered warhorn, and staring at the mangled flesh of the hand that had been holding it. The flash of metal in Fenris’ hands heralded new weapons, and a blur spun through the air. The giant’s head snapped back as a throwing axe crunched into her face. Her head lolled forward, and her massive, muscular body toppled to the ground.
Knowing the fight was far from over, Victra spun with the bow raised, eyes immediately falling on the three northern wolves. All three snarled but did not advance. Then Victra saw the thick ropes tied around their collars leading back to the first giant, whose body had pitched forward and trapped the leads beneath his bulk.
Finally a little good fortune, Victra thought coldly as she raised the bow. The wolves growled and strained, pulling against their restraints, but massive as they were, could not free themselves.
“Wait!” Fenris’ voice cut through the air, causing Victra to hesitate. With one eye, she saw Cael had similarly turned to face the wolves.
Suddenly one of the wolves, larger than the other two, caught his lead in his mouth and wrenched his head powerfully. The body of the giant shifted, and the wolves all sprung forward, spreading into a wide arc as their lips pulled back in snarls.
As Victra prepared to release an arrow, Fenris had already closed the distance and placed himself between the wolves and Shattered Silence. The northman’s hands were empty, and as he drew closer, he slowed his steps. Almost matching the low, stalking movements of the wolves, Fenris faced the large wolf. Seeing him that close, Victra realized how massive the beasts were. Fenris stood at least half a hand over six feet, and the large, grey furred wolf was nearly looking down at him. Victra heard the growls drifting on the wind, and narrowed her eyes, but did not move.
Fenris’ voice came softly then, speaking a language Victra had never heard before. It came strongly, even in quiet tones, and somehow didn’t sound as harsh as the northman’s usual speech. Victra watched as the wolves seemed to respond to the word, the curled lips relaxing, and one of the wolves cocked its head curiously. Fenris remained unmoving, his attention fixed on the large wolf.
Suddenly Victra recognized not the language, but the reactions. It was not dissimilar to the same manner as when she spoke to beasts of nature in the eldar speech. A language understood through all nature. As Fenris spoke, low growls rumbled from the wolves, but Victra watched as they stayed low and began to move towards the northman.
Her curiosity overwhelming her, Victra lowered her bow as the large grey wolf reached Fenris. He raised a bloodstained hand, and the wolf sniffed, then butted its head against it. Fenris slowly reached to his side, and Victra saw a glint of metal as he drew the broad seax. With a single quick cut, the blade flashed and the heavy collar fell from the wolf’s neck. It danced back, another low rumble coming from it.
Fenris continued to speak soothingly, and gently moved to the other two wolves, cutting away their collars and leads. As the last one bounded back to the others, the grey wolf fixed Fenris with a look, its golden eyes brilliant in the dying light. Then they turned and fled into the grasses, vanishing from sight.
Fenris stood still for a moment longer, and Victra dashed over to him. “What was that?” She asked, finding herself suddenly out of breath. She studied the man anew as he continued to stare out over the plains.
A smile was on his face, far more gentle than she would have expected. “They are nae hounds,” he said. “The wolves of the north are nae to be trained. Such beasts are either broken by pain or fear, or it is said they can be bonded, if the legends are to be believed. They are intelligent, and they strive for their freedom and that of their pack. What those giants are doing is nae for the wolves.” His voice turned hard. “They see them as tools, nae partners or equals.”
Fenris turned, meeting Victra’s gaze. He grinned, his expression suddenly wolflike. “Perhaps they’ll think differently when they dinnae have them bound in chains.”
The Writer in White 