Page 12 of The Last Valkyrie

My group scampered back from the emerging creature, a gasp ripping past my lips.

Axel’s head whipped up, eyes fearful. “Mind the ground!” he shouted. “We’re under attack!”

His axe came down a second later, severing the hand gripping his foot at the wrist, sending it skittering bloodlessly across the ground.

Still, the monster pushed through the dirt and mud, soil spilling out as his entire body began to emerge. It showed no pain, this thing. Its face was balding, concave near the scalp, with eyeless sockets and a dislocated jaw.

“Draug!” Kelvar shouted—

And the camp fell into chaos.

All around, the rustling, grating sound of earth being heaved and opened as bodies crawled up from the very ground we walked on. More cries of shock swept through camp, giving away our position.

My heart raced. It calmed to a low hum as I drew on my instincts and fell into a battle-stance alongside my men. All thoughts of my predicaments from home, Alfheim, and Vikingrune Academy drowned away as fear and aggression filled my veins and a curtain of violence fell over my eyes.

Though the undead creatures surprised everyone, they moved slowly. Clawing up from the ground meant they didn’t get the jump they’d hoped for.

The sounds of singing steel and serrated, ripping flesh dotted the camp, joined by a chorus of ghastly wheezes, growls, and snarls.

Two draug emerged in front of our group and were quickly cut down by Sven and Grim, who advanced from our shield wall and beheaded the monsters with their respective sword and axe.

Problem was . . . the creatures didn’t stop moving even with their heads gone. They crawled toward our group on all fours, attacking with blackened fingers and sharp nails against our shields and shins.

Axel ran deeper into camp, slicing and dicing his way through a small group of draug appearing before him. The battlelord moved expertly in precise, methodical movements. His axe was sharp but his mind was sharper, and with every blow to the undead revenants he Shaped a quick rune and finished off with a blast of fire into their faces.

The bodies went up like candles, screeching through ruined throats and organs. They created obstacles of human-sized torches all around us. The black night ended with a flash of red and orange in every direction.

Before leaving the fringes of our camp, Osfen shot us a look over his shoulder. “Use fire!”

Yeah, no shit, Hersir! Looks effective!“What about the forest?” I called out, motioning vaguely to the low-hanging branches and leaves that were just begging to light up and send us into smoky ruins.

“Burn the fucking woods to the ground if it means winning this!” Axel roared. “Whisperer! Get to Sigmund’s camp and tell him to delay the charge for the mountains. We are delayed!”

Kelvar gave a quick nod to him, then Magnus, and dashed off, vanishing into the darkness and heading north toward the front-tier regiment.

My group was left to our own devices. I worried for my friends in other parts of the camp. It was a good thing our devices were sharp and experienced.

“Let’s go,” I ordered. “Move slow and true.”

We crept out from our clearing, deeper into the woods, showing our backs to the foggy plains. Thick black smoke choked us. Already branches were alight.

Arne drew his iceshaping abilities and plastered trees we passed with ice sheets and waves of water to douse the flames and give us passage.

Corym took the lead next to Grim, me in the middle. Sven and Magnus protected our flanks, looking out, while Arne watched our six. Together, we shuffled through the camp, weapons out, eyes alert.

A man came running out of the dark.

Arne nearly shot him with an arrow, only pulling down his bow at the last moment as we noticed it was a cadet. I vaguely recognized the man, who gave us a fearful look before passing into the next clearing.

“Remember, they’re dead,” Magnus called out, speaking with experience as if talking about himself. “They don’t move fast. Any flashy shit like that last guy, it’s probably one of ours.”

“Probably, he says,” Sven voiced with a smirk in his tone.

Darkly, my group chuckled.

A nasty growl came from the left in a copse of trees.

Sven was there, tossing a firebomb from Muspelheim into the trees and lighting the emerging draug on fire.

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