Chapter 10 - Hedda
Hedda crouched in the dim predawn light, half hidden by a scraggly bush, her hand gripping the haft of her glaive tightly, eyes scanning the twelve foot stone wall thirty strides to her front. She readjusted her steel helm and glanced back at the small group of soldiers similarly hidden behind her. Her heart thumped with excitement and she could taste the faint acidic tang of adrenaline on her tongue. She wished her shieldbearer Jon was with her - his easy smile always had a way of calming her pre-battle nerves, but, to her lover's dismay, he, along with a few others from her warband, had been ordered to stay behind from this raid. The host had reached the foothills of the shrouded mountains after a week and a half rapid marching across the steppes. As they waited for the orc and goblin tribes to join them, Gunnar had selected a mixed force of warriors to assault a nearby Free City trading post. Garrisoned by a company of Free City legionnaires and fortified with a stone wall, the trading post posed little threat to the warhost, but could not be skirted lest messengers be sent back to the cities with news of the war host's approach. The troops Gunnar had selected were numerous enough to overrun the fortifications with ease and comprised a mix of experienced troops from all the gathered races to provide an easy, unified victory that would raise the spirits of the entire army.
The blonde spear-maiden watched three dark specks circling high above the wall she crouched near. Slowly, the specks grew larger and resolved into the form of harpy warriors. Two carried large bundles of rope in their talons. The third, descending slightly faster than her feathered comrades, had a long, curved knife in each hand. The patrolling legionnaire was oblivious to the knife wielding avian as she alighted delicately on the parapet behind him. There was a brief flurry of movement and a moment later the harpy warrior was standing on the battlements, beckoning her comrades to her. A moment later, Hedda was loping towards the wall, glaive strapped over her back. With as much stealth as she could muster, she scaled the rope the harpies had lowered and was soon atop the wall, crouching low next to the dead legionnaire and surveying the compound.
Her group's mission was to secure the small gatehouse to permit the entrance of the minotaur, troll and centaur component of the raiding force. Another force of smaller humanoids - goblins, harpies and barbarians - would be securing the rear gates while more mixed units patrolled the exterior perimeter, ensuring no messengers escaped. A goblin hunkered down next to her, stringing a short recurve bow made of horn, while the last of her small force assembled atop the wall. With a curt hand gesture signalling the small group to follow her, the northerner unslung her glaive and set off at a low run along the battlements towards the gatehouse.
She was ten yards away when the door that led into the second floor of the gatehouse from the parapets began to open. Hedda lengthened her stride, breaking into a sprint, glaive held in both hands and levelled at chest height. The legionnaire opening the door caught the blade in the chest, her overlapping banded armour deflecting the thrust upwards even as she fell backwards into the room she had been exiting, until the weapon's point found her neck and bit deep. A crimson arc of arterial spray preceded Hedda's entrance into the guardroom. Three more legionnaires were clambering to their feet, their faces locked in a rictus of shock.
Hedda kept her momentum, letting the point of her blade dip downwards with the collapse of the dying guard whose throat it was embedded in. Leaping over the bleeding legionnaire, she pushed her right hand out, twisted at the waist, and smashed the heavy oak haft of her pole-arm into a surprised guard's face. The average legion trooper didn't wear a closed face helmet and there was a solid crunch as the stunned trooper caught the heavy wooden shaft with his teeth. Two more warriors followed Hedda's charge through the door - immediately behind her, a goblin with a buckler and mace came hurtling into the second story guardroom and quickly barrelled into the nearest trooper. Another northern barbarian with a heavy hatchet in each hand came running in on his heel. The short goblin's charge took a startled elven legionnaire in the knees. There was a clatter of metal plates on stone as the elf tumbled backwards, followed by a sickening thud as the goblin's heavy iron mace went to work. Thanks to the greenskin's diminutive stature, the barbarian was able to throw one of his hatchets over the goblin's head, but the banded armour of the legionnaire he was aiming at easily turned the hurried cast. The legion soldier scrambled to draw his sword and began shouting as he did so. No sooner was his blade in hand, however, when a heavy, sideways blow from Hedda's glaive caught him in the shoulder and dropped him to his knees. Her goblin comrade stepped in quickly and finished the stunned guard with an upwards swing of his mace that caught the hapless trooper on the chin.
The axe wielding barbarian quickly stepped over to the windlass in the centre of the room and began cranking the main gate open. Hedda took a moment to glance out of one of the arrow slits to see the main assault force running towards the now defenceless fort. Centaurs with spears and bows, trolls with their iron throwing shot and heavy clubs and minotaurs with mighty two handed weapons and oversized crossbows charged into the stone walled trading post. The legion guards, mostly asleep in the barracks, could do little to resist, and, aside from the guards killed on the walls and gatehouses and a few holdouts in the officer's quarters attached to the main merchant hall, the warhost soon found itself in possession of the trading post, a motley group of merchants, their servants and bodyguards, and almost a hundred human and elven legionnaire prisoners.
While the prisoners were searched and organized, a runner went back to inform the host of the victory and by mid-afternoon the main body of clan warriors had arrived and were setting up camp in and around the trading post. Gunnar and the host commanders settled themselves and their personal troops in the officer's quarters and barracks and Hedda stood on the battlements near the gatehouse she'd seized watching them enter, expecting to see Bann accompanying the Running Grass command squad. She hadn't seen her friend for many days and was a little surprised when she could not count him among the commanders and their staff that were entering the compound.
"Sounds like it was a tidy little fight," came Jon's voice from beside her. The brown haired barbarian was leaning in the open door to the gatehouse. "A hundred prisoners for only a few wounded. Well done."
"Feh," shrugged Hedda. "Wasn't much actual fighting. They didn't really stand a chance."
"Still, there's some real beds in here," said Jon, jerking his thumb over his shoulder to indicate the gatehouse behind him. "Beats sleeping on the ground. They found a lot of wine and ale in the trading post too. Gonna be a fun night."
Hedda smiled at her lover as he sauntered over to where she was leaning on the stonework. The handsome barbarian leaned an elbow on the parapet next to her and slid his other hand under her kilt to give her ass a firm squeeze.
"Jon Bough-breaker," she said, voice heavy with feigned disapproval, "I'm out all night fighting battles and conquering castles and all you can think about is drinking and fucking when I get home."
"Sorry, ma'am," replied her shieldbearer, attempting to stifle a grin and failing miserably, "I just thought you'd need to unwind after working so hard."
"Let me catch some sleep for a few hours and then come find me, you incorrigible rogue," said Hedda, "and you better have a hard drink and a stiff dick waiting for me when I get up."
"Yes sir!" said Jon, saluting, as Hedda turned and made her way toward the gatehouse and a real bed.
"Oh, hey, see if you can find Bann too," she added as she reached the door. "Haven't seen the guy in ages - it'll be good to share a drink with him."
A few hours later, Hedda opened her eyes as her ears filled with the sound of Jon's terrible singing. Through the arrow port on the other side of the gatehouse room she could see the sky growing dark. Her shieldbearer was sitting at the wooden table that occupied the centre of the gatehouse, wearing only his boots and kilt. His feet were resting on the table next to two flagons and a tin plate with what looked and smelled like a delicious roasted mutton haunch. The succulent aroma was tainted by the horrendous tones of Jon's voice as he drunkenly belted out a ribald melody.
"Oh! The lumberjack's daughter likes really big trees,
Really big trees!
Really big trees!
Oh! The lumberjack's daughter likes really big trees,
Just like the one down between my knees!"
Hedda lifted her head and propped it up on an arm as Jon continued on, oblivious to the racket he was making.
