And then a strike to the liver and sword speared through the heart. In an instant, there was a pile of corpses.
Enjoy stories on m_v lem|p-yr
It didn't do much by itself, but it served to plug that gap that Gorm had created, to stem the tide of the angry flowing river that he'd sent towards Lombard.
With those men dead, spears made it in time to plug the gap. Two squadrons arrived, not needing Lombard's orders. They set themselves up on either side of him.
"To my rear," he corrected them. "Deal with any stragglers that get through. That giant has a range of three spearlengths – stay well outside of it."
The sergeants nodded and directed their men as they were told.
The whole wave of Yarmdon soon came crashing down, all of them attempting to spill through the gap.
"LEAVE SOME BLOODY ROOM! THERE'S PLENTY OF WALL TO ATTACK!" Gorm bellowed at them. There was a delay at the order. Far more than when Lombard had given his. But such was the trade-off. For a lagging discipline and a slow chain of command, the Yarmdon had an adaptability that was more akin to water.
Each man was a raging torrent of the same desire for glory that afflicted them all.
"CLEAR THE WAY!" Tolsey shouted urgently. He felt the same killing intent from Kursak that Lombard had felt from Gorm. He barked an order, rushing his men free of the danger zone.
Kursak's axe was already whipping behind him. Here too, his style was different from Gorm. He couldn't emulate Gorm's style – few could emulate anyone's style. It was known among the men of the Yarmdon that the war Goddesses' cultivated different flames, and she hammered different weapons. It was their task to find which weapon best fit their hand.
For Kursak, it was pure brute strength. Not strength belied by a deceptiveness, like Gorm, but merely the strength to split a mountain in two – or so, that was what his style aimed at.
The men retreated under Tolsey's direction, and an attack came blasting through where they were just a moment before. The chunks of the severed stakes went flying, as Kursak easily cut through them.
He gave a hearty laugh, seeing the retreating backs of the Stormfront.
"COWARDS!" He chuckled. "WHO ARE YOU, YELLOW HAIR, TO STAND HERE WHEN YOUR ALLIES FLEE?"
He pointed his axe at Tolsey as he spoke. Tolsey frowned, not understanding a word, but he could still make out the unbridled aggression.
"A COMMANDER, ARE YOU NOT? I SENSE IT IN YOU. THERE IS A DUEL TO BE HAND THEN! OFFER ME YOUR HEAD!"
Tolsey had long since drawn his sword from his sheath. His gaze was pointed towards Kursak's fur-covered feet. He knew as soon as the man took a step towards him, danger would ensue.
Weaker than Gorm though he was, Kursak was a terrifying threat in his own right. The men did not slow as he slowed. They did not yet afford him that level of respect – they knew they could slip through the gap he created, without receiving too many harsh words for their actions.