Jerry Autieri - Islands in the Fog

"You've made it so he only need hit you once."

"He won't hit me once." Ulfrik took back his sword and knife, then scooped his shield from the grass. Gunther slapped his back.

"Gods guide your sword," Snorri said. "And come back with that pig's blood on it."

Ulfrik winked, then stepped into the field to meet Hardar.

Ulfrik walked across the field toward Hardar, wary of traps, but Hardar merely came straight forward with his giant round shield in front and sword out to the side. At nearly a dozen paces, Ulfrik saw the smirk behind the cheek plates of Hardar's helmet. He gave no smile of his own, though felt the satisfaction of knowing Hardar considered him an easy mark.

He charged. The gap closed. He feinted a strike at Hardar's sword arm. Then he broke hard to the opposite side, gliding past. He ducked, feeling the swish of Hardar's blade over his head. Ulfrik spun around, nearly slipping in the boggy ground, and thrust at Hardar's back.

The point of the blade pierced the mail, and struck flesh. But he had only hit Hardar's shoulder. He grunted and twisted, pulling the blade out. Ulfrik had only scratched him. Hardar slammed forward with this shield, causing him to skitter backward. He slashed with a roar, but the blow clanged off the iron boss of Ulfrik's shield.

They both regained their footing, circling at arm's length. Hardar's smile had vanished. He pulled his shield tighter to his body. Ulfrik heard sporadic cheering and laughter. He screened the voices from his mind, looking for the next feint. He planned to tire Hardar, keeping him moving and circling in his heavy mail until he faltered and created a gap for the killing blow.

He stepped forward and Hardar charged with his shield out. His sword flashed as Ulfrik danced away, parrying the strike. He felt the crash of weapons shiver up his arm, and the blades screeched as they dragged apart. Ulfrik shuffled right, and Hardar swiped again.

He continued sliding right, Hardar chasing him with a flurry of pointless blows. He heard someone jeering Hardar, who pulled back breathing heavy and sweat blowing off his mustache.

"You are old and fat," Ulfrik said, baiting him. Hardar simply hunched behind his shield, protecting himself while he recovered. "Ingrid was a fine lay. She was glad for it, since you never satisfied her."

Hardar charged again, and Ulfrik barely pulled his shield in front. The collision of shields sounded like ships ramming each other. Ulfrik had hit the tender spot he had sought. "She's waiting for me to return. Her legs …"

Ulfrik found himself stumbling back and slipping to the ground. Hardar had pummeled him with his shield. He screamed his rage and drew back for a killing strike. Men on both sides of the field cried out in surprise.

Ulfrik flipped aside and sprang to his feet. Without mail to weigh him down, he was nimble enough to recover. Hardar's sword thudded to the dirt, though Ulfrik was out of position and unable to take advantage. He swiftly righted himself, dropped into a crouch behind his shield and kept his sword low. He expected to strike a lethal blow.

Hardar rolled his injured shoulder then cracked his neck. He huffed and blinked, but remained still. Not wanting him to recover, Ulfrik pressed the attack. He sprang forward as if to bowl him over. Hardar braced, and then Ulfrik fell to his knees. He stabbed up under the shield, and his blade sank into Hardar's arm. Ulfrik was rewarded with a splutter of blood and a screech.

He twisted the blade, but Hardar tore back. More blood splashed to the ground, and Ulfrik jumped upright. Despite the injury, Hardar managed to thrust down. He caught Ulfrik's shirt, slashed it along his arm and nicked his thigh. Ulfrik grunted at the burning pain, but the wounds were superficial.

As the two staggered away from each other, Hardar's shield arm drooped. He shook his head like a bull, tossing the shield to the side. Ulfrik saw his handiwork. His thrust had traveled beneath the cuff of Hardar's mail sleeve and the blade had impaled the meat of his forearm. His hand was slick with blood, fat drops pattering on his boot. He pulled the wounded arm close to his side.

"Do you yield, Hardar?"

"Not if I'm still talking, maggot."

Ulfrik lunged, screening himself with his shield and striking for Hardar's undefended side. Mid-stride he saw Hardar slip his foot forward. Ulfrik jinked left to avoid the trip. He looked up, and Hardar smiled.

His bloody hand shot forward, and a cloud of glittering dust exploded in Ulfrik's face. Reflexively he pulled up his shield, but the dust was mixed with iron filings. The heavier filings washed across the shield into Ulfrik's face. Without cheek plates and nose guard to deflect them, the filings shot into his eyes. Pain and terror from sudden blindness ruled him. He staggered away, dropping his sword and shield, clawing at his face and rubbing his watering eyes.

Something hard pounded his head, dazing and toppling him into the mud. Though both eyes were still tightly shut, he saw white flashes. Sounds became muffled. Time slowed.

His heart beat wild and strong, a dull thud in his ears. He searched for the reason he lay on his back in the grass. He could think of nothing. Then he felt the tears, the rush of snot from his nose, and the fire in his eyes.

He remembered. Fighting the impulse to shut his eyes against the gritty junk filling them, he looked up.

Hardar held his sword over head in both hands. One of his arms drained blood over Ulfrik's body. Hardar's fierce eyes were wide behind his helmet.

"Now you die, Ulfrik," he roared.

He pulled back and then began to swing down. Ulfrik, still addled from the head blow he had been dealt, could not react in time.

A throwing ax spun across his vision, sinking with a meaty chop into Hardar's chest. He pitched back, the ax blade protruding from beneath his left shoulder. He screamed, dropped his sword and grasped the ax handle. Then he turned and collapsed.

Battle cries filled the air. Still on the ground, Ulfrik heard the thud of footfalls from both sides. He felt the ground shudder as the two forces charged, the duel having ended in dishonor.

His head still swam; the sides of his vision were crusted white as if he looked through ice on a frozen lake. He knew he had to stand. A man on the ground during battle was as good as dead. He would be hacked and stabbed before he could rise again. So he climbed to his feet, fell around in a circle rubbing his eyes desperate for relief. Forcing them wide open, he saw Snorri and Gunther leading the charge. He whirled around and found the opposition closing the distance.

Galvanized by the impending clash, he snatched his shield and drew his long knife. Hardar lay in the grass with arms splayed out, his chest heaving and his breath a labored sucking noise. Ulfrik stumbled forward, then dropped to one knee beside Hardar. He put his blade to Hardar's neck.

"Yield and you might yet live." He watched the ax rise and fall with Hardar's breath. Blood poured out from the mail, running back over his neck and staining his hair red. Hardar's eyes met his.

Pain bloomed in Ulfrik's hip. He snapped his head down. Hardar had driven a knife deep into his flesh. Seeing the wound increased the pain. Hardar then drove his elbow into Ulfrik's chin. He bit his tongue, coppery blood springing into his mouth, and he fell astride Hardar.

Snorri and Gunther had arrived, and formed a screen around the two. But the attacking enemy clashed with them, and the horrid cacophony of battle filled the air. Ulfrik could count on no other help from them. He flipped over and threw himself atop Hardar. He held down Hardar's good arm and raised his knife to finish him.

Hardar's free hand gripped the knife still in Ulfrik's hip and yanked. A streak of fire flashed through his leg and side. Ulfrik's strike faltered and Hardar rolled away. Tears streamed down Ulfrik's face, from the pain and from the grit in his eyes. Through the mess of his vision, he saw Hardar sit up and pull out the throwing ax.