The Last Raid (2)

The Death gods have always shown up, picked up the souls they needed to get, then went on their way – never noticing they were seen. If they do know he can see them, they at least never bothered with him before.

Looking up at the unnatural black cloud, Haalfrin knows from experience this is the sign of a death god appearing.

Sure enough, the figure of a woman high up in the sky appears, and she has 2 large black wings on her back. In one hand is the same lantern all death gods seem to have which they use to carry away the souls of the dead to a faraway land where the gods are said to make their home.

In Freyya's other hand is a long silver spear. It's said she uses this weapon to beat down spirits who are unwilling to go with her. Rumor has it that if you defeat her in battle, she'll be willing to let you remain in the realm of the living… though Haalfrin has never heard of this actually happening. She's a goddess after all, and she must be insanely strong.

"Looks like the killing's started already if the Reaper of battlefields just showed up," Haalfrin remarks as he makes his way further down the road. "I'd better hurry up before they finish the fighting without me.

Because of his slow pace, his lack of protection, and the fact that all the other raiders are far ahead of him, Haalfrin is targeted by all the guards atop the walls with their bows and arrows…

Haalfrin hears several zipping sounds as many arrows zoom past his ears, while others land around his feet.

Once Haalfrin looks to the side and sees an arrow hit a house about 20 feet away from him, the old codger can't take it anymore.

He turns around, holds up his middle finger, and screams out, "Oi! Nobody taught you to shoot!?" Out of anger, the old man kicks a bucket next to him… and he loses his balance – tripping rather ungracefully.

The moment he falls down, an arrow hits the wall behind right where his head was a second ago.

Instead of being scared, Haalfrin just struggles back to his feet bellowing out a loud laugh. "This is ridiculous. What bad luck."

He looks up at the goddess Freyya – nicknamed the crow goddess due to her black wings and her habit of circling the battlefields – waiting for the fighting to die down before she swoops down and picks up her prize and carries it away.

"Oi!" he calls out – not loud enough for her to hear, apparently, "I just prayed to you. Can't you listen and give those archers better aim?"

He shakes his head and continues his march after his clansmen.

The moment Haalfrin enters the baron's courtyard, he sees his clansmen fighting the baron's guards. The guards are still outnumbered, out-trained, and out-equipped, so Haalfrin isn't holding his breath for this battle anyway.

Instead, the old raider looks around the small battlefield and sees the chief's 14-year-old son cornered by a much larger guard. None of the other clansmen seemed to notice the boy's peril, so Haalfrin threw one of his belt knives at the guard.

With most of his dexterity gone, the knife only bounces off the guard's helmet instead of impaling itself in the neck between the helmet and the chest plate.

Back when he was younger, Haalfrin was praised by his clansmen for his impeccable knife-throwing skills, so seeing such an embarrassing failure from such a close range is painful for him.

The guard turns around and sees Haalfrin silently swinging a short sword over his head at them. The man easily dodges to the side, and seeing that his attacker is an old man, he sneers.

Feeling he's in a position of power, the guard steps back with his sword down – not even in any recognizable battle stance.

"Oi…" Haalfrin holds up his sword with both hands and points it at the guard. Frankly, Haalfrin considered letting the oaf cut him down… but that would defeat the purpose of coming here.

Haalfrin knows that if he lets himself be killed without fighting back, then Jenri, the Death god of the murdered souls would be his designated reaper – not Freyya.

Even still, it would've left the old man with a bad taste in his mouth if he let himself be killed by a brat with such a sloppy overhead slash.

Even if Haalfrin didn't move at all, the boy's attack would've only grazed his shoulder, so the old man barely nudged it out of the way. He then lifts his sword at an angle and hardly moves it forward – letting the boy's clumsy lunge carry most of the cutting force, as the boy's overextended wrist swings into Haalfrin's blade.

If Haalfrin had been younger, that boy would've lost a hand instead of getting a measly "paper cut".

Seeing he got injured, the young guard loses his composure, and his face turns bright red in embarrassment.

The boy then rashly charges ahead again, and Haalfrin shuffles again, nicking the soldier's hamstring and sending him to the ground, howling in pain.

While the boy's on the ground, instead of stabbing the boy's neck, Haalfrin just nudged him mockingly with his foot. "Oi. Does your trainer suck? Your buddies back there can't hit a giant's balls either.

The young guard looks up and sees Haalfrin holding his sword out and demonstrating, "You see this? You hold the hilt firmly with both hands, and when you swing down, you pull your non-dominant hand back sharply… like this. You won't use as much strength this way, and your blade will swing a lot faster too."