The Son Of Ragnar



The cloaked individual standing behind Tyr, his shadow unfortunately gave him away as Tyr could react in time to his attack, although he did lose a single strand of dreadlock.

He rolled away from the assailant before equipping his two axes, but one could tell just from a look that Tyr was in no mood for this. 

An attempt had been made on his life? They had to be more to this than meets the eye because there was no reason one would want to kill him, was there?

Of course, there was, he was the leader of an entire army, and not everyone would be pleased with this, not even his supposed comrades. 

He was an outsider in the end, a title he was familiar with as it hung over his head all his life. 

"Who are you?" Tyr asked but part of him knew he would never get an answer to his question.

He was a tad bit disappointed but his question was received with an attack from this assassin. 

Tyr could easily call for help but that might allow him a chance to retreat but if whoever this was was confident that he could kill him, then he must be a skilled warrior. 

The weapon of the assailant was a curved blade in the form of a crescent moon in his right hand, dripping with a strange purple liquid.

Tyr knew whatever it was, it could not be good, and had no intentions of finding out what it was, Tyr blocked the attack from his left with the ax in that respective hand and swung the ax in his right hand in a bid to cut open his lower torso but the enemy was light on their feet, easily evading this by jumping over Tyr, balancing over his shoulder by placing his left hand on it. 

He landed behind Tyr while still holding onto his shoulder, throwing Tyr over himself and into the ground, disarming him the moment he made an impact. 

Tyr grunted in pain but he did not even have time to collect himself because the assailant's blade was descending on him from above. 

He managed to dodge it, but now Tyr was without a weapon and all it takes was a single scratch.

Things were not looking good, and he could sense the situation was getting dire. 

But should he fold? Absolutely not.

He could not afford this person getting away because he displayed skills that no one so far has but he was also aware that the could be anybody. 

The person charged at Tyr once again, Tyr was not so proficient in hand-to-hand combat but he had no choice in the matter. 

He braced himself for the onslaught and the onslaught did come, Tyr was dodging the slashes but each came closer and closer to him.

He knew eventually the blade would touch him but he was so lost in thought that he did not make up for his environment, he found his back quite literally against the wall.

And then it happened, the blade's tip had planted itself into Tyr's shoulder and whatever it was covered in, made its way into Tyr's body. 

Tyr managed to kick whoever it was back but what he suspected was confirmed, this would have the potential to be fatal and he stumbled back.

The assailant would not have minded his head but if he could not get it, then they would settle for the next best thing. That was the purpose of the poison. 

The assassin soon vanished and escaped through the tent as someone from outside noticed something was off and called out to Tyr. 

Tyr could barely remain conscious, his vision was blurry and his throat clasped shut, he could not even breathe as he fell to the ground. 

"You will be dead in thirty minutes," This was the last thing the assassin said, right before he fled the scene. 

"CHIEFTAIN!! STAY WITH ME!!" A voice called out to him but it was no use, Tyr was no longer "there".

-

Skaði arrived at camp just before dawn, she was uninjured but what was more puzzling was why she was alone. 

She was nervous because such a thing has never happened before, and that was Sighvatur losing this many men before, but this was not even the worst part. 

Sighvatur welcomed her return and granted her a private audience with him to discuss what had happened.

Sighvatur assumed that Sturla had sent her back to inform them of their victory because in his eyes, there was no way that he could have died yet he did. 

"Chieftain…" Skaði began the conversation, her time was shaky as she did not know how to tell him about their humiliating defeat.

"How many did you lose?" Sighvatur asked, he assumed the loss was what was making her uneasy but he never put a loss into consideration.

"Chieftain… It is Sturla…" Skaði wanted to deliver the news but she could not muster the strength to do so. 

"What about Sturla? Did he get carried away and kill the child? Sighs! I was afraid this would happen…" Sighvatur was jumping to conclusions without even letting her say what she had planned to say but this was partly because she was beating about the bush. 

"STURLA IS DEAD!" Skaði opened her mouth at last to deliver the dreadful news. 

"Sturla is dead, Chieftain…" She reiterated with tears in her eyes and Sighvatur's majestic body frame slumped.

"My son is…dead?" Sighvatur repeated in disbelief, and he just started chuckling hysterically but that chuckling soon stopped. 

The anger in his eyes and the blood-curdling aura that surrounded him made Skaði momentarily pass out; she could not believe he possessed such rage. 

Sighvatur had enough of sitting around and playing casualty control.

"Who killed him?" Sighvatur's voice was calm but it was filled with malicious intentions. 

"It was the boy…" Skaði said, pausing as she raised her head to look her Chieftain right in the eyes. 

"It was Tyr Ragnarsson but I have taken the necessary steps to make sure he does not make it through the night, Chieftain!"