Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

THIRTY-TWO

☾

"You remember the signal?" Ingemar glanced back at me, tall and proud atop her horse.

"I do," I nodded, "two burning arrows across the sky. Do not worry. We may be young, but this is not our first battle."

Ingemar smiled thinly, sliding off her horse to join her men in walking up Letham Hill, "I know. That is why I do not worry."

Saga sniffed as the woman marched away, towering over some of her men, "I do not know whether to like the woman or hate her."

I watched Ingemar yell at her warriors, inspiring them as they walked, "Whatever you feel for her, you have to admire her."

Saga raised her brows in agreement, "Eighty successful battles is no small streak."

I looked over the warriors heading up the hills to the ones heading East. I could not see Uhtred and his men, and partially, I was glad because our well wishes had been sweet. Another part of me wished to see them again; I had grown used to them being nearby.

And, I wished to see Sihtric.

"Come on," Bryngerd gruffed, "we must leave the horses and take our positions. We will not have long."

She was right; Bishop Auckland was only slightly closer to Letham Hill than Dunholm. Daga would be here before we were ready to face him and before our prayers had reached the skies.

I slipped off Helios, leading him into the trees before tying him up beside Sunchaser, whose blonde coat was covered in runes Saga had drawn.

"Make for the line," Saga ordered, her voice booming and serious, "sixteen warriors to a row! Prepare your swords and your shields!"

"Odin is with us!" Bryngerd added on, "Do not fear!"

I swallowed, coming out from around the trees. 

My father always made legendary speeches before his battles, speeches that were spoken of for months after the dead had been buried. I had never done that before, but I wanted to inspire my warriors after they had come such a long way to help me.

"Saga," I called out, drawing the attention of the woman.

"Yes, Jarl," Saga's turned to me rigidly, fully in her role of a commander.

"I wish to go to the front of the line," I told her simply, "I want to speak to our warriors."

Something flashed across Saga's eyes as though she was suddenly hit by nostalgia. She bowed curtly, "Yes, Jarl. Follow me."

I matched her long strides, my armour rattling as I walked and alerted the warriors of our presence.

"Silence!" Saga demanded as we reached the first row, "The Jarl wishes to speak!"

There is nothing quite like having eighty sets of eyes on you, staring through your soul, waiting for you to say something, anything, that will convince them that death is not something to fear. That will reassure them that you are worth fighting for; to plead with them to stay when the enemy arrives.

I opened my mouth slowly, wetting my lips a few times, "Warriors,"

Soft neighing could be heard from the horses nearby, and the final clangs of armour echoed as the last row was set up.

"Strong start," Saga mumbled lowly, for a moment turning back into my friend, a flutter of mischief crossing her face before she straightened out again.

I took in a deep breath, "We have not had long together. You do not know me, but you have offered to fight for me, and for that, I am eternally grateful." I tried to look at as many warriors as possible as I spoke. "I can not tell you all the reasons you should follow me because truthfully, I do not know myself."