╝ 𝑡ℎ𝑜𝑟𝑛𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑎𝑑 | | 𝑛𝑜𝑤 𝑜𝑝𝑒𝑛!

Rather instinctively, at the sound of approaching footsteps, the twins fell into their battle positions. Freyjr stepped forward to stand slightly in front of Freyja, although neither of them was properly equipped for battle. Odd that they would immediately prepare for a fight, despite being in their own home, surrounded by their clan, but such was the nature of Freyjr’s reckless idea that Freyja was even more on edge. As connected as they were, Freyjr picked up on his sister’s mood and responded instinctively. They relaxed a bit when it was Idunn who came around the corner, but Freyja’s sharp eyes studied her fellow clanmate carefully.

It wasn’t that she did not inherently trust Idunn – she did. The fact that she trusted Idunn to watch her back (and by extension, Freyjr’s) in a battle spoke volumes, but she was already on edge from Freyjr’s insane idea. Brandr had already announced the season’s raiding plans, and it had been made clear that the monastery her twin was interested in was not on the list. It was more than foolhardy to even consider going against the jarl, let alone plan on doing so, but Freyjr was as stubborn as a mule. His middle name should have been reckless, for he lived up to it well. Freyja always had to make sure he wasn’t getting himself killed.

“Oh,” Freyjr responded, clearly sounding relieved. “It’s just you, Idunn. I thought you were someone else.”

Yes, Freyja thought to herself. Someone like our father. There was no telling how Brandr would react when – if – the twins returned with their raiding party.

“Where are you two going?” Idunn asked. The twins shared a look, communicating to each other, before Freyjr answered her.

“To that monastery,” Freyjr responded. “The one that traveling merchant told us about.”

“Whatever it is, we should go before the fog clears. Otherwise the whole clan will see us floating downriver.”

“Agreed,” Freyjr responded. “Freyja, untie the ship from its mooring. Idunn, help me unravel the sails. Until we leave the inlet, we’ll have to—” he cut off suddenly, staring at something over Freyja’s head. She whirled soundlessly to face yet another eavesdropper. Gunnar Bjornson, who served as one of the clan’s blacksmiths. She narrowed her eyes at him.

“Sorry, couldn’t help but overhear.” Freyja snorted slightly at that; Freyjr gently elbowed her ribs, silently telling her to shut up. Gunnar’s next decision could make or break their little adventure before it even started. “I suppose I might as well come along. Nothing better to do today, and the jarl would skin me alive if he found out that I knew of your plan and let you go alone.”

Freyjr ground his teeth slightly. Brandr was protective of his children to a degree, considering Freyjr was next in line to be jarl. It irked Freyjr, as he saw Brandr’s need to keep his children out of most battles as a slight against his character. In Freyjr’s mind, his father thought of him as weak and incapable.

“Of course, Bjomolf would be coming as well.”

“Fine,” Freyja replied. “In that case, you can help get the oars ready. We set sail in a few moments.”

With that, the female spun around and headed towards the ship’s mooring point. Freyjr inclined his head to Gunnar, and walked down the dock, swinging himself gracefully into the ship’s interior.

As Freyja released the final knot of the ship’s mooring it rocked a bit, swaying more as the waves gently brushed against its hull. Smoothly, Freyja kicked off the dock in the same motion that she leapt into the ship, landing near the stern. Her brother extended his arm to catch her as well, and gave her a nod of thanks. Freyja moved towards the front of the ship, taking a seat next to Idunn. She also lifted a pair of oars and lowered them into the water, moving them back and forward in a rhythmic manner, careful to remain as silent as possible. Freyjr took up his position at the steer-board, grasping the handle with his right hand while he held one of the ropes that kept the sail furled in his left. There was an eerie silence upon the river as they drifted along, with fog surrounding them on all sides. The fog was thick enough to obscure not only their departure, but also the entirety of the world around them. His vision was reduced to the ship and its inhabitants.

“It’s about time you three get a decent chance to prove yourselves,” Gunnar said. Freyjr gave him a nod, and Freyja glanced at him over her shoulder, but neither immediately responded. “I, for one, think you’ll do great.” The older warrior then turned his attention to Idunn. “I’m surprised your brother isn’t with you. I don’t know if he would want to join you or scold you for going on this journey.” The ship lapsed into silence again, as Freyjr turned his attention back to watching the horizon. He could not see it, of course, but a lifetime of spending time on the water had instilled a near-perfect sense of direction in Frejyr. He flexed his hand around the rudder. Nearby, he heard Gunnar begin to hum a soft tune, although his voice was not loud enough to alert the clan. Freyjr watched as Idunn and Freyja seemed to fall into a rhythm, moving their oars in tune with Gunnar’s song.

Finally, the ship lurched forward, and Freyjr breathed a sigh of relief. They’d caught the current, and he watched as the dragon’s head that was positioned on the stem of his ship cut through the fog at a swifter pace. A few more moments passed, and when the current’s grip tightened and began to pull the ship along at a swifter pace, Frejyr pulled back on the rope he held in his left hand. With a soft whoosh, the main sail unfurled and billowed outward, catching the wind almost instantly. Emblazoned upon the blood-red fabric was the clan’s sigil. He watched as it swelled and rippled in the breeze.

“We can bring in the oars now,” Freyjr called, projecting his voice just loud enough so that the others could hear him. “The wind will carry us now.” Freyja did as he suggested, pulling her oars out of the water before stowing them on the floor of the ship. Freyjr began to relax, his internal tension easing with each bit of distance put between them and the clan. There was next to nothing Brandr could do to stop them, now.

Their adventure had finally begun, and Freyjr’s chest expanded with a deep breath as excitement filled him.

While Freyjr and Gunnar strategized, Idunn peered over the edge of her shield in the direction of the monastery. The adrenalin in her veins drew her senses into sharper focus, and now she noticed the fuzzy outlines of the archers standing at the top of the hill. There were four or five silhouettes. She doubted there were many more warriors, unless the priests had somehow been tipped off about their plans. She was unsure of how that could have happened given the spontaneity of their exploits—which was one benefit to not having a plan at all.

“Let’s all stick together,” Idunn whispered, glancing at Freyjr. “We don’t know how many men they have, and we’ll have a better chance if we move as one. After all, they already know we’re here.” Then her attention shifted to Gunnar. “But you are right, the priests are their weak point. Perhaps if we move swiftly with an eye toward the church, we can beat the guards inside and take a hostage.”

The rain of arrows had halted. Idunn could see the archers standing by. If she squinted, she could make out one of them reloading his quiver. “Let’s go now,” she hissed under her breath. Before anyone could protest, she left the safety of their cover. She crouched as she ran, holding her shield so it would protect her body and head. Her legs were vulnerable, as were her sides, but she knew she would be harder to hit the faster she ran. Besides, the element of surprise was all they had in their favor.

A quick glance back was all she needed to know the others were following close behind. Idunn ran up the hill as quickly as she was able, elongating her strides as she heard the archers begin to exclaim. One bow string snapped, and an arrow narrowly missed her hip. Soon the top of the hill came into focus, and she could see three or four men exiting from a wing of the cathedral. These were not archers but men carrying swords. Their leader paused, making stunned eye contact with Idunn from afar, and shouted something indiscernible to his companions.

“This way!” Idunn exclaimed as she veered in the opposite direction, toward the terrace where the archers stood. She remembered a lesson from her brother: eliminate the ranged weapons first to avoid surprise arrows to the back. There were four of them that Idunn could see, one for each of them. The first was a man with a stocky build. Idunn was close enough now that she could see his whites of his eyes. He reached for a weapon at his hip, but he was too slow at the draw. Idunn coiled in one motion and threw her spear. It hit him squarely in the chest, the force strong enough that he tumbled off the edge of the terrace. Idunn’s face broke out into a smile which quickly vanished as her eyes fell upon the second man. His body and face blurred—all she could see was the tip of his notched arrow pointed at her.

"Your plan is reckless and foolish. You wish to charge headlong into an unknown number of enemies, right into their volley of arrows, with no regard for the lives of the warriors with you. Not only that, but you also completely ignore a good plan that would keep us all alive and not involve any fighting. Don’t get me wrong, I love to fight, I’ve done it for well over a decade now. With that being said, us Vikings only prefer to fight if the odds are in our favor, and right now they are not. One day you will be the earl, but right now to see nowhere near ready enough to lead. A leader needs to listen to sound advice and they need to not needlessly throw their warriors lives on the line like they are just pawns.” Gunnar hissed, before continuing, “Perhaps your father was right to keep you away from the raids.”

A dark look passed over Freyjr’s expression, and his blue eyes became has cold and hard as ice. He stared at Gunnar for a moment without saying a word, as rage and hurt began to build within him, burning hot and boiling his blood. He felt Freyja at his side, felt her gently touch his arm. His jaw clenched and unclenched several times as he struggled to reign in his temper. Gunnar’s words were harsh and only served to stab deep at Freyjr’s insecurities. He stared at the older man, and his gaze grew darker with each passing moment. “Careful,” he warned, voice flat and emotionless. “You overstep your bounds.” He turned away from Gunnar, dismissing the older man, and faced his twin. Freyja’s gaze searched his face for a moment, before she gave him a nod. Later. They’d deal with it later. Over Freyjr’s shoulder, Freyja shot Gunnar a dark look as well.

“Let’s all stick together,” Idunn murmured, breaking through the tension. It did little to settle Freyjr’s temper. “We don’t know how many men they have, and we’ll have a better chance if we move as one. After all, they already know we’re here.” She glanced at Gunnar and continued. “But you are right, the priests are their weak point. Perhaps if we move swiftly with an eye toward the church, we can beat the guards inside and take a hostage.” As childish as it was, Freyjr found his temper irked a tad bit more by Idunn even acknowledging the older warrior. After a lull in the hail of arrows, Idunn lurched to her feet and charged forward, still wielding her shield to block any other arrows. Freyjr and Freyja followed close behind, although the split into smaller groups once they reached the gate.

Freyjr lowered his shield and lunged forward, slamming the heavy wooden object into the chest of one of the archers. He heard the crack of bone and saw the man crumple, but paid him little heed, pivoting on his heel to block the sword of another. Behind him, Frejya had abandoned her shield and had resorted to wielding her axes. The twins worked in harmony, with each guarding the other’s flanks and back; Freyja’s axes were a whirl of metal, used as both defensive and offensive weapons. Freyjr’s sword sliced through his enemies with ease, and his shield served well to block their weapons. He used it as another weapon, swinging it outward to knock someone off their feet. The man staggered backwards and tripped over one of his fallen comrades, tumbling back down the stone stairs that lead to the courtyard. Gradually, the four Vikings made their way through the monastery guards, creeping ever closer towards the inner courtyard. His anger drove him on, lending strength and fury to the blows of his weapon.

Nearby, the desperate ringing of bells cut through the din of battle.

The twins continued forward, battling their way towards the chapel in the center of the courtyard. They had not yet made it down to the main level, as their path was blocked by a group of soldiers. One of them swung his sword towards Freyjr, and he barely managed to jerk backwards, reflexively closing his eyes. White-hot pain washed across his right eye, and for a moment he was worried that he’d lost the eye. When he opened his eyes again, and the right half of his vision was not obscured, he was relieved. Of course, the vertical slash running from the middle of his forehead, down over his eyebrow and eye, and running towards the middle of his cheek made it clear how close he’d come to being in deeper trouble. He blinked the blood out of his eyes and retaliated, stepping forward. He slammed his shield forward, straight into the man who’d struck him, and continued forward. His opponent staggered, flailing his arms widely as he fell backwards, tumbling down the stairs. In desperation, he grabbed at his fellow soldiers, but only succeeding in dragging them down with him.

With a shrill cry, Freyja ducked around Freyjr and launched herself at the group of soldiers, slashing at them with her axes in a whorl of godlike fury. They’d struck her brother – drew blood! – and Freyja’s fury had been stirred. She danced through the group as though she were made of wind, twisting and turning with a speed that the soldiers clearly hadn’t been expecting. One tried to strike at her back, but in a flash she’d turned, crossed her axes in an X, and shoved him away. In a few heartbeats, the battle was over, and Freyja stood above her quarry, glaring down at them. She spat a curse towards their mangled forms, and turned back to her brother, giving him a nod. Once again, the pair were on the move, and within a moment had joined Idunn and Gunnar in the garden. Idunn picked up a flowerpot and hurtled into a nearby window, before leading the way into the chapel.

As it was relatively safe in the chapel, Freyjr sheathed his sword and looped his shield over his back again, taking a moment to peer around. There was an abundance of decoration here; silver and golden candlesticks lined the walls and tables and the altar. Freyja and Freyjr moved through the chapel, grabbing the candlesticks and tossing them towards a large pile as they did so. Freyjr moved towards the altar, where a large book was laying open. He flipped through the pages, unable to read the language, but to his delight he found that the book had been bound in fine leather, decorated with more silver, brass and gold. He picked the book up and tossed it in the pile, before Gunnar called him over.

Despite his irritation with the older warrior, Freyjr assisted him in moving the table. He let out a soft hum at the sight of all the treasure; Freyja came over and assisted him in removing the chest that had been secreted away. He heard Gunnar mutter something, but ignored it, focusing instead on prying the lock of the chest away.

“This has to be all of it, no way we could carry any more to the boat,” Gunnar said suddenly. “We better hurry and find a way to get out of here and get this loot to the boat.” Freyjr narrowed his eyes, but didn’t immediately argue.

“Search the rest of the building,” he told the group. “Perhaps there’s a priest or someone here we can use as leverage.”