Dakota Viking Sends: First Raid

Ein Wikingerüberfall¹
Ferdinand Leeke (PD)

Yes! Face to the breeze, Lura could smell the green coming off the land, a day, maybe half? Bright blue sky, cobalt blue sea, freshening breeze, a shiver of spray, by Odin’s Eye he loved sailing!

The sky was just barely darker to the steer board side, an almost imperceptible shadow, caused by land blocking the light reflecting off the sea. Gulls were working the rolling waves for a couple days now, almost there, then to find a town.

He was young, on his first time going Viking, his pater told grand tales of going Viking to the east. There had been trade and a few raids west, now his Jarl wanted them to raid and bring back what they could from those seldom visited shores.

The voyage gave him time to further hone his axe, a simple woodcutters axe, not a gleaming war-axe like some of the older men had, and certainly not a sword the wealthy men carried. A belt knife saex,² a man-tall simple spear his brother had carried, and a rough hewn wood shield with a crude hammered center boss, his most important possessions.

The men had practiced together for several weeks, different attack and defense techniques, and he was sparring on board with others when he could. Some had a bit of armor, mostly leather with rings or studs attached. Most just wore wool pullover jerkins or cloaks. The wealthy elders, well, they had more.

Row in calm sea, hang onto the wind. They were pulling the land up from the horizon. Always on to that western shore …

Fishing boats, two men pushing oars, no match for our 30 and sail. Hard to understand their strange speech, we think their harbor is around those headlands. These two have nothing we want, we leave them with their nets, to think about the fate of our destination. Keep pulling those oars. The current really rips around these headlands, fast water and choppy waves, PULL! Make the turn into the smoother water of the inlet, now we can speed up, steady pull don’t rush, don’t tire yourself. Smooth, pull, glide, repeat. Skipper readying for the beach, barking orders.

Thud, THUNK, zip, THUD, thud, whiz, thud! THUD!

Arrows!

So close, a couple more pulls, grind into the beach … All stop, everybody out. Scramble for weapons and shield, over the side.

Splash into the cold, up to his waist, Odin’s Balls it was cold! Run! Splashing ashore, looking to form a line. The arrows were coming more slowly, and some of our archers were firing from the boat. An arrow struck his shield, hard … then another stuck deep, they were targeting HIM!

Glance to the side, his buddy Vasvik has one in the lower neck bleeding terribly, then one appears in his eye, his friend is gone. Rage! Ignoring the practice they’d done, he charged alone at the source of the arrows. He broke the shaft off as he ran, a low guttural roar rose up rising to a tenor crescendo as he ran … THUD!

“Bastard!”

There he was, between the fishing skiff and the hut, nocking another arrow. Rage! Right arm swinging the axe down from above, shield parallel to his path. The hapless archer looks up just in time to see the huge bearded barbarian barreling into him, the archer’s world goes dark forever as the axe buries itself in his poor skull.

Squelch. Lura ripped the stuck axe from the downed man’s skull, roared in triumph at his first kill and trotted onward looking for more. There was a shield wall forming on the rocky scree, but as he was well ahead of it, he went hunting. Slipping around huts and boats, he saw the town defense setting up, ragged, spears, axes, farm tools. He stayed still until they started walking toward the beach, then he slowly followed, taking in the feel of the crowd (who was confident, in charge, and who were slightly better than cowards.)

“His” shield wall walked forward shouting curses, “their” crowd started yelling and waving their weapons. An occasional arrow still zipped out from both sides. They stopped, Lura charged, two of the best dressed and armed men were standing behind the crowd, one had a sword and shield, the other some kind of boat hook on a man length pole. He held his spear in his left hand along side his shield boss ”handle,” as he ran he swapped the spear and axe.

Getting to contact range he bellowed an oath and drove the spear into the sword bearer’s ribcage, his momentum pushing the spear out the other side, He let go the spear. Right hand grabs the axe and with a backhand blow drives the blade into boat hook’s right shoulder at the base of the neck … Hook drops.

Shouts, yelling, he’s been noticed, a few turn. Lura takes a fresh grip on the axe handle and stares into the eyes of those who turned … thinking, “that one is serious, that one is looking for a way to get off the line and just face one, and that one … you could get to run if you yelled.”

He locked eyes with serious man, charged and roared, flicker of fear in “serious'” eyes then cold determination. He was going to fight! But what was his weapon? A boat builders wooden sledgehammer? No shield. Lura swings low for the thigh, but is driven to the ground by a crushing blow from that same hammer.

The shield breaks on impact and his wrist has a strange numb/pain in it. Calling out a war cry Lura swings his axe at “hammer’s” shin, glancing blow, saves him from getting crushed and lets him get to his feet. “serious hammer” is doubled over, but comes back to the task at hand instantly. The one who he could have dispatched with his voice is gone, running down the beach.

The middle one looks like he’s having second thoughts. Lura screams at him and turns to attack the “hammer”. He reaches behind his back and pulls his long bladed saex. Axe in the right, saex in the left, (though his left hand has no strength) he mock charges at the second guy with the spear and shield, then turns directly into a swinging sledge, dropping and bending out of the way, sends the edge of the huge mallet bouncing off his head.

He had started his swing, the axe almost buried in “hammer’s“ side, almost, broke a couple ribs and doubled "hammer" over. Lura was dazed from the glancing hit, “middle guy” screeches and runs forward with his spear. He holds the saex up in front as he prepares the axe swing.

Swing, knock the spearpoint just to the side, saex up, slicing anything exposed as they pass, one step to the right and bury his axe into the spine, pull the axe, body still twitching. "Hammer" is stilled with a hard axe strike to the base of the skull.

Others have turned, then a mighty shout roars out, his men advance toward him, defenders dying and running in equal numbers. Cut down some of the slower ones, but there is no honor in that. Let the rest go. Shouts and screams, hearty laughter and bellows of triumph.

Lura turns, looking for his brother’s spear, actually it was his now, but it reminded him of his big brother. There, sticking out of the swordsman in the red cloak, was (his) Sven’s spear.

Quickly he surveyed the scene, sheathed his saex, grabbed the spear shaft and pulled … He set the axe down and used both hands, his left wrist hurt badly. A couple of grunting pulls and an extra set of hands came to help.

“Konrad, thank you,” when they pulled the bloody shaft free.

“You hit them from the rear when they stopped us ... they broke.”

Konrad reached down and pulled the deadman’s sword from its sheath.

“Decent blade… you earned it.”

Search the town. Not much, screaming, terrified women and children, some iron tools, pans, a little ceremonial silver, basic food stores. They took what they could, slaves could bring a heavy profit but you had to be wealthy to take care of a slave until it could be sold. They’d need to find a bigger town.

Pull back out to sea and down the coast, searching. The wind in his face ...

He loved sailing.

¹ A Viking Raid

² Saex = a small sword, fighting knife or dagger

Editor's note:  A splendid first post from our own Dakota Viking. Here's to more like this!