Kalen hovered at Cenric’s back, using the spear to jab at any man who came too close.
Cenric could hear Hróarr and the other men yelling war cries, but beyond that there was only the fleshy targets in front of him.
The raiders faltered. Cenric and the mercenaries advanced. Cenric’s foot caught on a fallen body, but he kept his footing. They pressed forward.
The raiders broke, turning and running back to their longships.
Cenric and the others gave chase, charging down the hill toward the water. They cut down raiders as they were able to catch them, bellowing and roaring the whole time.
The raiders fled, not looking back. They were like polecats who had tried to raid a henhouse, only to find it guarded by bears.
The raiders scrambled aboard their ships, trying to shove the vessels off the beach and back into the water. Hróarr’s men swarmed the nearest vessel, cutting down the raiders who struggled to reach it.
To their credit, the raiders put up a fight, slashing and stabbing. Cenric’s allies pressed in close around him, though not quite in formation.
The nearest ship jostled, men scrambling to leap aboard and take the oars while others worked to push it free of the riverbank.
Cenric pursued, wading into knee-deep water after their quarry. He cut down the first man he reached, his sword shearing through an unarmored back. Cenric swooped on the next, stabbing through the raider’s spine.
A rope flew over his head to loop over the prow of the ship. Several of Hróarr’s men grappled it from the beach, using the rope to stop the boat from going back out to sea.
The raiders inside the ship spun, turning to stab down with spears at the mercenaries on the ground.
The flash of a spear in the moonlight dove for Cenric’s head. He raised his shield at the same time a spear shot past him, stabbing up into the man overhead.
Kalen was putting his borrowed weapon to good use. The boy yanked the weapon free, ready to strike the next man.
“Good hit, Kalen!” Cenric shouted, grinning fiercely as he cut down another raider.
The rope around the prow dragged the boat backward and Cenric scrambled out of the way. Kalen skittered close behind him.
Hróarr’s mercenaries leapt up on the other side of the ship, hacking and stabbing anything onboard that moved.
Past them, Cenric made out the dark shape of the second longship fleeing back down the river. Cenric hoped they would spread tales of a well-defended and well-armed Ombra.
Slogging back to the shore, Cenric picked out Hróarr’s dark figure towering amongst the other men.
“Are we getting paid?” Hróarr asked, humor in his tone.
Cenric laughed under his helmet, out of breath, but riding the euphoria of victory. “You’re getting paid.”
Sunrise saw the villagers of Leofton reluctantly thanking their lord as they piled the bodies of the raiders in midden heaps.
Hróarr’s mercenaries had killed some twenty or so raiders, probably over half of the group that had come on the two ships. The raiders had likely matched them for numbers last night, but these were poorly armed men, probably farmers who had been able to find weapons and ships.
None of the men had armor beyond a few leather breastplates and bracers. A few of their weapons were halfway decent, but they had never stood a chance against veteran mercenaries.
Among the defenders, the only man among them who wasn’t a veteran was Kalen.
Kalen sported a new silver ring, proudly displayed on his forearm. He’d only killed one man, but he’d been steady and fought for his lord when it mattered. It was only a matter of time before he would earn his own war-gear.
Snapper ran in circles, barking at the village children in some game only they understood.
Hróarr’s ship had been hidden downstream, but it had been dragged out and they were preparing to head back.
“I don’t think that headman is grateful,” Hróarr muttered, looking over to the elder in question.
Cenric shrugged. “So long as he remembers to pay his tribute, I don’t care.”
