Legends Never Die: Shining Stars (ch. 38) (Patreon)

Strength surged in my limbs, the edge of exhaustion I had felt fading away to be replaced with power. The injuries that I had suffered seemed to close, or at the very least, they stopped bleeding. It didn't go unnoticed by the Paladins, who narrowed their eyes in response, but they said nothing of it. Roland leveled his blade at me while Rinaldo tried to hide the wound under his armpit that leaked blood down his chainmail and armor.

It was Thorkell that broke the brief standoff, throwing out the weighted net that spread out in an attempt to tangle Roland. In the center of the Dutch army, we almost had a small clearing to ourselves simply because no one wanted to come close to the Paladins. The vigor and bravery they showed was nowhere to be seen. They were content to leave them to us, and I suppose I should be grateful that they hadn't run. Regardless, despite the limited amount of space, Roland seemed to sense the action from behind and raised his shield up to catch the net.

In that same moment, I surged forward, my seaxes in hand as I focused on Rinaldo. Kill the wounded one first, then deal with Olivier. Roland would have to come last. Rinaldo seemed well prepared for me, and despite his injury, I saw that it didn't hinder him in the slightest. His thin blade lashed out while Olivier flanked me from the side, his spear darting out, but I was able to dodge it thanks to my expanded vision. It was odd, but I quickly got used to it.

Something that Rinaldo didn't seem to expect, because I saw surprise flicker across his face when one of my seaxes struck out at his throat as the other parried his blade. He leaned out of the way, avoiding the deadly wound, and took a half step back while I pressed onward. Halstien threw out a net of his own, roping the Paladin when his focus was on me. "Honorless dog!" He snarled at me, his sword caught in the net as I pressed the attack.

He wasn't wrong. Not in this case. This was trickery that even Loki would find distasteful. I doubt this stain on my honor would ever truly be washed away, regardless of the circumstances, but there was so much more at stake then my honor. Our very way of life -- our gods -- were under threat. I had racked my brain for weeks, thinking how I could possibly hope to defeat the remaining Paladins. Or how I could hope to defeat even two at the same time.

I trained. I took my boons from the gods. I prayed for wisdom and I sought advice. There was no way I could win and keep my honor intact. And I absolutely must win. I couldn't be so deluded that I would emerge victorious because it was the will of the gods. They threw challenges my way so that I could surmount them with my own will. They might wish me to be victorious, but I knew by now that I couldn't expect their guiding hand on my shoulder.

Morrigan would be quite proud of me if she could see me now.

"None of us have the right to talk about honor on this field," I snapped back at him, and in my expanded vision, I saw Roland move. The net was tangled in his armor, the hooks catching on his chainmail, but it just didn't seem to matter to the Paladin. He reached out and heaved, grabbing the net that a half dozen men and Thorkell were holding onto, and pulled. My stomach clenched when I saw that the dozen men were yanked forward, collapsing, and the only thing stopping them from being dragged through the mud was the fact that the rope snapped.

Roland's strength was monstrous, I realized, pressing the attack on Rinaldo, who deftly fended me off while Olivier was trying to put me back on the defensive. As Rinaldo took another step back, Halstien saw enough. He charged forward, tackling Rinaldo to the ground, and for the action, he found a dirk in his gut, but he didn't seem to mind. I leapt on Rinaldo, plunging one of my seaxes down into him. It found purchase between one of his ribs with a power attack, sliding all the way into the hilt, but I was forced to leave it there when Roland approached.

I grabbed Halstein and threw us both to the side, narrowly avoiding death as his blade lashed out at us. I rolled to my feet but Halstien seemed to just now notice the dirk in his gut, collapsing to a knee. Roland was on us a split second later, his shield gone as he lashed out with a gauntlet clad fist. I started to dodge, only to find my feet grabbed by Rinaldo, pinning me in place.

A split second later, I felt my bones snap and my ribs break when I tried to block the blow from Roland. My feet were ripped from my boots and I only realized I hit the ground when I came to a stop, pure blinding agony radiating from my side. I didn't have anything to compare it to, I realized, gasping for air that seemed to refuse to enter my lungs. I had been struck plenty of times in my life -- by my father, my brothers, by the many enemies that I had faced. I had even seen a man get kicked by a horse, once.

Those comparisons fell dreadfully short as I tried to get my feet underneath me. For the rest of my life, however long or short it might be, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt that I would compare every other blow I experienced to that punch.

Somehow, I managed to rise to my feet, but my arm was a lost cause. It was bent backwards and I could see a bone straining against the skin. Oak flesh was probably the only reason it didn't pierce through. With my one hand, I gripped my seaxes, seeing Roland approach. Oliver and Rinaldo were fending off desperate attacks, and I guess you could say that Roland was as well. Arrows punched into him from my archers, impacting his sides, back, and chest, but he hardly seemed to notice them as he strode forward, an expression of fury on his face. In that moment, I had no doubt in my mind. This was what people felt like when they encountered me.

Only a great deal stronger.

"You're standing. Good. You deserve to die on your feet," he told me, hacking through a handful of my men that tried to slow him down. They died in a splash of blood, Roland hardly noticing their presence. He killed them like they were just ants that he had stepped on a leisurely walk.

Swallowing thickly, I prepared myself to fight. I thought I would have to kill the others to hope to stand a chance against Roland, but it seemed like it was the opposite. I should have focused on Roland to try to kill him first. Comparatively, the others would have been easy pickings. My ribs throbbed with pain and they felt worse than any wound I had ever experienced. The only reason I was able to move at all was the certainty that I would die if I didn't.

When he neared, the pain seemed to vanish entirely as pure death raced for my neck. I threw myself to the side, rolling to my feet, and just narrowly avoided a downward slash. Lunging forward, I went for the throat, only to be forced back when Roland nearly took my head off. Olivier was approaching from behind and I couldn't see Halstien any more. Stumbling a step back, I threw myself to the side when Olivier lunged from behind, rolling past him and managing to drive my seaxes into the back of his leg. He cried out in pain before collapsing, and despite Roland baring down on me, I went to finish him off.

I went for his throat, but Olivier blocked it with a hand. The opportunity was lost, but Roland was there a split second later, lashing out with his blade. I couldn't dodge it, so I reacted on instinct. I caught the blade with my seaxes as I threw myself forward, planting a foot on Roland's chest and kicking off of him. He didn't so much as stumble. The action saved my life, the force of his swing throwing me to the side, but I was whole. Barely.

I was wounding them, but I wasn't able to kill them. Roland stayed near Olivier, who struggled to stand. Despite his weakness, none dared to approach because of Roland. My side was starting to scream in agony, and looking down, I saw that my seaxes was done for. The blades weren't  cut in half, but they were bent almost in half. While I looked at the two Paladins, I searched the field for a weapon to use.

My heart fell when I saw Halstien on the field, cut from his shoulder to his gut. The dirk was still sticking out of him. Thorkell was approaching my side, but I held up a hand. "Thorkell. Tell King Widukind that we need to win the battle today," I told him. If I didn't die on this field, then there was no hope that I could fight in the battle tomorrow. King Charlemagne would smell blood in the water and unleash his Paladins upon the army. I'm not certain we would lose because of it, but the losses would be devastating, to say the least.

I could see Thorkell wanted to refuse the order, but he nodded all the same. Behind Roland and Olivier, I saw Halfdan with a bow and arrow, ready to fire at Olivier. Where was Rinaldo? I couldn't see him. I didn't dare hope that he had been killed, but he was sporting two wounds that would have killed anyone else.

"God has willed that we shall win this day," Roland told me with a sense of finality. He sounded so certain of it too.

"If you managed to get the charge off, then maybe," I refuted. I couldn't see the vast battlefield, but I knew that the Franks were exhausted. The Paladins were a terror on the battlefield, and they could thumb the scales in the Franks favor, but just like me, they couldn't single handedly hold back thousands of warriors. The Frank army was reaching the end of their rope. Break them here, run them off… and I would love to see the rest of the Paladins fend off near twenty thousand men.

Roland's eyes narrowed at me, and I saw that I had struck a nerve. He glanced at Olivier, who was gingerly keeping his weight off of one foot. Seeing that his compatriot was fine, Roland marched forward. As soon as he did, Halfdan released the arrow at Olivier, who whipped around to block it. At the same moment, I dove for Halstien's corpse, ripping the dirk from his stomach and flipping it in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I flung it at Olivier. Roland swiped at it in the air, tearing through it, but it didn't matter.

He wasn't used to things being thrown with my strength. The two halves still sailed to Olivier, who whipped around to block one. The other continued forward, the blade of the dirk punching through his eye and into his skull with enough force that his head snapped back. Roland glanced back at Olivier, as if realizing his mistake, leaving me enough time to grab hold of Halstien's Dane-axe.

I saw a muscle clench in his jaw and fury in his eyes as he whipped his gaze back to me. I lunged with my Dane-axe, using a Power Attack and our blades met. The swipe through the axe was far cleaner this time, more so than Roland was expecting, letting me jab upwards with what was left of the axe. I hoped to slash his throat, but I only managed a small nick on his cheekbone. I was forced to throw myself to the ground when he came back with the back swing, sending nothing but pure agony through me. Halfdan saved my life with another shot from his bow, impacting against Roland's wrist as he swung down.

I scrambled to my feet, narrowly dodging another attack. A swipe from Roland took the head of my axe completely off, leaving me with just the haft. His attacks were coming faster and I was getting slower despite my attempts to keep pace. The fury in his eyes only seemed to grow with each narrow miss, his lips pulling into a thin line as blood slowly dripped down his face.

Then I heard the sound of horsemen and in my expanded vision, I saw the source.

Norsemen rode through the Dutch army, letting loose a war cry, and they charged directly at Roland. Two hundred horsemen, I realized. They weren't here for the Franks that were trying to cross. They were here exclusively for the Paladins.

And when I saw Roland turn to them, cutting through a man and his horse with a single swing, I didn't think it would be enough.

"Wolf-Kissed!" I heard Grimar of all people shout out, looking down at me as his men charged Roland. The Dutch learned quickly to fear Roland, but the Norsemen didn't know that they should yet. But they were swiftly learning, because their charge broke on Roland like a wave against a stone. He planted his feet, swung his blade, radiating an aura of terror so fierce that the animals took notice of it. The warhorses treated Roland as if he were a wall of spearmen, bucking at the idea of charging straight into him.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to feel any relief for his arrival. I was injured and unarmed. If Grimar ever had a hope of killing me, then it would be now. I could see him considering it as he looked down at me, his gaze flickering to my injuries.

"Saving you, it would seem," he remarked, not sounding particularly happy about it either. He closed his eyes briefly, seemingly coming to a decision, "I gave you my word that I wouldn't try to kill you until the war is over. I intend to keep it. For better or for worse, we need you to win the battle." He told me, shifting away from me to look at Roland, his lips thinning. Only then did I let my relief bleed through.

Grimar… was a more honorable man than I gave him credit for. And that shamed me.

"I can't deny the might of their God's champion," Grimar remarked, seeing the body of a horse slam into Roland after he beheaded it, only for him to shrug it off. He seemed genuinely unstoppable.

"... Every time I thought I'd never come closer to death, he took another swing at me," I admitted, forcing myself to stand. "I managed to kill one, and the other is severely injured, but him…" it made so much more sense to me now, for better or for worse. I had had no idea what I looked like from the outside looking in. Before, the only one that could compare to me was Astolfo, and when we fought, we were evenly matched.

Now I understood why people could look upon me and mistake me for a god.

"King Widukind received your message. His orders are to hold Roland back. It seems that you were bait, Wolf-Kissed," he told me. Meaning that King Widukind had another plan in place? I hadn't known that. However, by now, I had learned to expect it. Both that King Widukind had another plan and that he was using me as bait. It did seem to be his go-to strategy.

"How much longer?" I asked him, the pain in my arm slowly getting worse. I grit my teeth against it but it was a terrible and sharp pain that I couldn't ignore now that I wasn't fighting for my life.

"Whenever we hear the Frank's signal to retreat, I suppose," Grimar answered, his tone aloof, though his expression was grim. Roland was splattered with blood, his white cloak dyed completely red to the point that it was soaking wet. The Norsemen had well learned the lesson that they should fear him as he stood on top of a small mountain of corpses. Above us, he looked down, his gaze finding mine as if he knew exactly where to find me in the crowd of people.

The Franks signal to retreat? I could only hope that it came soon.

Halfdan appeared from behind me, his gaze lingering on Grimar but he passed me a hand axe. We had to hold out. But that seemed like an increasingly impossible task when Roland began to descend from his mountain of corpses that seeped rivers of blood. The Norsemen that charged him with such bravery were every bit as skittish as the Dutch now. They circled around him as he descended, idly breaking off arrows that were in his armor as he did, tossing them aside without so much as a twitch in expression.

Keeping him here was without a doubt the single most difficult order King Widukind had ever given me.

It was Grimar that spoke, "Do you fear death, men? Do you not welcome the chance to prove your valor before the gods?! How can the Valkyries notice you on this great battlefield if you whimper like kittens? Charge!" Grimar roared, jumping off of his horse and holding his Dane-axe high. His war cry was met with many others that copied the action, the fear fading away as many realized what a chance this was.

The Valkyries would surely be watching such a man. Normally, it would be a great offense to interfere with such a battle. It could steal the gaze of a Valkyrie from a warrior, but against such an enemy, even dying at his blade would be a glorious death. Grimar had decided how we would survive the battle. Burying Roland in so many men that he was crushed under their numbers.

And I think we both knew that it wasn't going to kill him.

"I'll occupy Rinaldo," I decided, trading a glance at Grimar, who met my gaze for a brief moment. We shared a nod before parting.

Rinaldo wasn't faring as well as Roland was. The wounds that I gave him slowed him immensely, but even as blood poured down from under his armpits, he still wielded his blade with deft grace and slaughtered anyone that dared to come near. His expression was bloodless, sweat dripping down his face with every movement, mixing with the mud. His breathing was ragged and through the sounds of war, it sounded wet. He was badly injured. Then again, so was I.

His gaze seemed to find mine as Halfdan took up a position behind me, drawing his bow and aiming an arrow at Rinaldo. The Paladin of Charlemagne simply flicked blood off of his blade and strode toward me. My arm and ribs throbbed with agony. Enough so that I wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and cradle my injured arm. It hurt. Would I be able to fight with the injuries that Rinaldo sustained? Maybe? I think it entirely depended on if I felt them or not.

Honor demanded that I face him in single combat. He had no Olivier or Roland to support him now. I didn't see any more Frank cavalry, but I did still hear sounds of fighting. Reaching up, I lowered Halfdan's bow with an axe, earning a sharp look from my brother.

"There's a time and a place for honor, little brother. It's not worth your life," he told me and there was a part of me that agreed with him. A part of me that wanted to sound a war cry, have the men charge, let Halfdan shoot him and leave him to die. At the start of the battle, Roland said I deserved a bible death but he couldn't deliver me one because winning mattered more. I agreed with him then because I was outnumbered.

But this was different. "People look up to me," I told him, striding forward as the Dutch parted for us. "If I don't uphold our ways, then for what reason would they?" I asked Halfdan, and I could tell that he was annoyed that I was right. It was something that I had thought about since the Jarls began to question my place in the law. The death of Alef's family made me question my actions and the implications of them. King Widukind calling me out on how I carried myself…

I wasn't a normal man. Not anymore. Gone were the days that I was a boy on a farm with a bit of renown to my name. I was something more than that. Not a god, but more than a man. A symbol. And I must be aware of that fact at all times.

The last Dutchman vanished between us, leaving Rinaldo and I to face one another. His breathing was heavy as he met my gaze. "My apologies," he said, placing a hand to his chest and making a small bow. "My words before were ill spoken. You are a man of honor, Seigfried. It is a shame that you shall die here," he said, brandishing his blade.

I inclined my head, accepting the words and readying myself.

The duel began.

My duels with Astolfo were something of speed and grace. Both of us light on our feet, dodging and blocking countless blows. My duel with Rinaldo was a brawl between two drunks in the mud in comparison. Our attacks were sluggish and slow, our injuries apparent to anyone that watched. I couldn't use an entire side, my dodging was stilted and clumsy because of the pain and the mud. Rinaldo was no better, his attacks were faster and stronger than a normal man, but to me, I saw how dreadful they were. Blood streamed down his armor, his footing shaky and uncertain. More than once he stumbled from a blow.

And more than once I nearly fell flat into the mud when I overextended.

It was nothing like what the legends told, I thought to myself, nearly losing my nose when my feet refused to leave the mud that enveloped them. I swung up with my axe, forcing Rinaldo into an awkward block that made a pained grimace pass over his face. Yet, the men around us couldn't seem to tell the difference as we traded blows. The pain from our injuries growing and throbbing until it stole our breath away. Our duel continued to devolve as the minutes went by, going from blows that regular men couldn't hope to copy to attacks and blocks that wouldn't be out of place from a drunkard.

Still, men cheered. They would go home and their children and wives to tell them of this great battle between two legends that they witnessed with their own eyes. The story would be so twisted and grand that I doubt I would be able to recognize myself in it, if I didn't die here. The thought managed to startle a laugh out of me as I swung at Rinaldo.

His eyes narrowed at me and despite it all, I had to share the jest. "They think we're gods among men. If only they knew the truth," I told him, my chuckles making my ribs ache. I think I might have been mistaken thinking that they were broken, but I did feel a very sharp pain every time they moved.

Rinaldo blinked, a small laugh blurting out of him, something that seemed to catch him by surprise. A smile fought its way onto his face as his chuckles grew, both of us keenly aware of the state we were in. He couldn't help it either, I saw, when he began to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea.

Even as we continued to fight, we were laughing. He laughed because I laughed, and now I was laughing because he was laughing. It certainly didn't help our fight -- that was for certain, because it only got clumsier and clumsier.

It was over the sounds of our breathless chuckles that we both heard it.

The sound of a horn.

I didn't recognize it…

But Rinaldo certainly did.