The Viking Decision

Battle-ragged steel spliced through another warrior’s skull, wetting the smattering of freshly fallen snow. Ulf whipped his sword back, throwing another line of red upon the earth. It was his thirtieth kill or so, though he wasn’t counting; only brash young warriors did that. At a certain point the kill count doesn’t matter anymore, just that you’ve survived as long as you have.

 

The battle had been raging for just more than two hours now. Fewer and fewer opponents appeared through the smoke and mist of winter war. Good, Ulf felt, he could use the rest. Maybe it was time to walk off the battlefield whether it was over or not. It was difficult to know when a battle was over so who would blame him if he left now? I thought I’d killed everyone, he would excuse himself if he had to.

 

Ulf’s broad, wolf-furred shoulders began to drop, a sign that he was losing his focus. No one came for him anyway. This likely meant his own brother was dead, killed in this very battle, fighting for the other side. This was all the more reason to abandon the fight. What kind of rulers were content to set brother against brother? Ulf snorted then spat on the blood-stained ground.

 

Njal shuffled his feet among the dead looking for any man late to dine in Valhalla. This one, moaning ever so faintly, This one is alive. Njal, a massive specimen at seven feet, picked up and lowered his elephant-sized foot on the skull of the fallen soldier. Not much effort was needed to crush the man’s head into the rock and dirt. A quick death? No, but Njal preferred not to dull his axe. Was anyone else left alive? Njal continued his survey.

 

The wolfkind, Ulf, squatted beside a fallen man. The warrior was breathing just a bit, enough to warrant putting a blade to his heart? The decision was in question because the soldier was covered in so much blood, mud, and dirt, Ulf didn’t know if the man were one his own. Regardless, death would probably be favorable in this case. Ulf dispatched the man to dinner.  

 

Njal heard the scape of a sword against bone a few meters away. The fog and smoke were thick, though, and obscured his view. He raised his axe and stepped over fallen men towards the sound. A shrouded figure appeared before him, standing up from the ground. It appeared the figure’s back was to him. Njal reared his axe and brought it down.

 

Ulf swung around just in time and raised his sword overheard just in time to parry the blow. His sword shattered and he fell to the ground on his hind. That was not an ordinary blow. Towering over him was not an ordinary man. “Njal? Njal! It is me, Ulf.”

 

Njal lowered his axe, but only a bit. He was still ready. “Ulf, I wish I could say it is good to see you. I was hoping you were dead.”

 

“I am glad you are not,” Ulf replied as he got up while Njal took a step back. “My brother, have you seen him?”

 

“I have seen him. He fought beside me. I killed the three men it took to bring him down. He dines in Valhalla,” Njal reported.

 

“Oh,” Ulf ejected the air out of his lungs. He nodded gently, “Thank you.”

 

“You are welcome.” Njal paused. “With you alive, Ulf, the battle is not settled.” The giant looked his adversary over. “You are unarmed. I do not wish to kill you if it is not a fair fight.”

 

Ulf was looking away from Njal when he spoke. “What you mean is that the gods frown upon cowards. Would you not prefer a few moments to mourn my brother, your ‘brother,’ before we begin?” Surveying everything but Njal, Ulf’s face shifted several times.

 

“Bjorn was a good man and deserves to be mourned. I will lament his passing after I have sent you to join him,” Njal said. “Please arm yourself.”

 

Ulf looked at Njal with no expression in his face. “Is that what you really want? You know what will happen if I take up a sword.” Njal’s shoulder’s tensed but he said nothing. Ulf looked away again. “You’ve never bested me in practice. Do you think you’ll best me now in actual combat?”

 

“I have no choice,” Njal grunted.

 

Ulf looked around as far as the fog and mist would let him see. Broken and bloodied bodies strewn across the field, his own brother among them. Both armies were decimated. And for what? What good did this serve? Was it the providence of ‘wiser’ men to say?

 

Ulf looked up at Njal as the big man choked up on his axe handle. “There is always a choice. Look around us, Njal,” Ulf threw a hand, exasperated. “We made a decision. We chose our sides. Does this result make sense? So many of our brethren dead.”

 

“What you say was our decision was the dictate of our lords,” Njal argued. “Disloyalty yields no rewards.”

 

Ulf nearly bent over with laughter. After a haughty breath, he stood straight with a smile. “Who are we being disloyal to if we do not finish the battle, our lords? Is it more important to be loyal to our lords or to our brothers? We have nothing in common with lords. Their idea of leadership is to set brothers against each other for their own pleasure. They use us as puppets to control more puppets.”

 

“Are you wounded, Ulf? Why are you stalling? There is not so much talking in combat,” Njal stated as he set his axe down in front of him with his hands clasped over its butt. “You only talk this much when you’re drunk. You know we are fighting to unify the kingdoms.”

 

“Then unify them!” Ulf chirped as he shooed a fly away, not being dead yet. “Let the lords squabble their way to a conclusion. How does killing each other here solve their problem? If I kill you,” Ulf pointed sharply at Njal, “Or you kill me, then our respective lord becomes a king? That may be convenient for them but they’ll be left with an army of one. What if we kill each other? There’ll be no one at all to defend the entire kingdom.” Ulf turned away and walked in a circle. He looked at the ground for a decent weapon just in case. “This is madness.”

 

Njal looked down. “Our division is made possible by those that would lead,” the bigger man mulled. “Those that do not want to lead should perform the duties assigned to them by their leaders, should they not?”

 

Ulf stepped to Njal and looked up into his face. He spoke lightly. “One does not need to lead others to be a leader, they need merely to lead themselves. Who will you follow blindly, a lord who watches the battle from afar, or yourself?”  

 

“Are we to return to our lords and tell them we have won the battle?” Njal asked. “They will figure out we have lied. What then?”

 

Ulf threw his head over his left shoulder. “There are lands to the east, across the sea. It would be a treacherous sail at this time of the year, but I wish not to stay here any longer.” The smaller man looked at the dead at his feet. “Never-ending war at the behest of presumably ‘wise’ kings? The lives of our kinsmen are not worth it. We deserve the right to live without being called to war on the whims of lords.”

 

“You will just…leave?” Njal cocked his head.

 

“And you could come. Bring your wife and child, as I will my children. Or you can tell your lord you have won the day. It is for you to decide. It doesn’t matter which lord winds up king. The future remains the same.”

 

“These lands you speak of, are they fertile?” Njal asked.

 

“Depends on the lands; some are harsh,” Ulf nodded. “Some of the eastern lands see mountains that spew fire on occasion, so I’ve heard from a traveler or two,” the warrior laughed. “So far as I know, however, no one there will want to kill us or ask us to kill each other.”

 

Njal picked up his axe and slung it over his shoulder. “Life is good for a high-ranking soldier such as myself. Your offer is kind, but not enough. I hope you forgive me.”

 

Ulf took a step back. “There is nothing to forgive, giant. You can tell your lord you have won the battle. I will travel from these lands never to be seen again.”

 

Njal smiled. “May the gods favor you, Ulf. I will be slow to return to my camp so that you may have more time. Thank you. I am glad we did not have to battle.”

 

“I am glad, too, Njal.” Within the blink of an eye, Ulf stomped on the hilt of a sword on the ground. The weapon flew into his hand and he rode it into the big man’s heart.

 

Njal’s eyes glazed over. His jaw dropped. He began to speak, blood gurgling up from his throat. But Ulf withdrew the sword and lopped off his opponent’s head before a word was spoken. The giant’s head hit the ground with a thud. The decapitated body slumped to the ground. The corners of Ulf’s mouth dropped as he tossed the blade aside.

 

“I am so sorry, Njal. This I had to do. Now the lords are weaker. I have staved off the inevitable for a few seasons, if luck will have it. Feast in Valhalla, old friend.”

 

Ulf turned and disappeared into the mist and fog as a pack of wolves descended to feast on the freshest bodies. Under cover of night he retrieved his wife, daughter, and son, and sailed for new lands at dawn where each one would preside as lords unto themselves.

 

 

All Rights Reserved © January 2022 John J. Vinacci