Chapter 24 Discovering Bjorn’s Confidence

The air above Skjoldheim was heavy with the lingering tension of the standoff below. Snow continued to fall softly, muffling the sounds of the kneeling barbarians and their grumbling loyalist counterparts. On the distant horizon, the rhythmic thrum of hooves broke through the silence, drawing the attention of the warriors standing atop the walls.

The gates of Skjoldheim creaked open as a column of Viking warriors arrived, their banners fluttering in the icy wind. Leading them were Bjorn Thunderclaw and his family, their presence immediately commanding respect among the defenders. Behind them marched two thousand disciplined warriors, their armor glinting faintly under the overcast sky.

As Bjorn dismounted, Eirik Stoneheart approached him, a wide grin breaking his normally stern expression. "Bjorn," Eirik said, extending his arm for a warrior's handshake. "You've taken your time."

Bjorn gripped Eirik's forearm firmly, returning the gesture. "And you've held well, Eirik. I see your walls still stand, despite the odds."

Beside them, Thrain Wolfsblood joined the exchange. "I was starting to think you wouldn't come, old friend," he teased his tone light despite the weight of the situation.

Bjorn chuckled, his voice a deep rumble. "You should know better than to doubt me, Thrain. Skjoldheim isn't falling today."

At that moment, Astrid, Liv, and Eira stepped forward, their smiles bright despite the tension. "Uncle Eirik! Uncle Thrain!" Liv called out, her tone filled with excitement.

Eirik laughed, clapping a hand on her shoulder. "You've grown, Liv. And braver too, if you're here for this madness."

Astrid grinned. "Father wouldn't let us stay behind. Besides, someone has to make sure he doesn't get himself killed."

Thrain smirked, ruffling Eira's hair. "You lot are as stubborn as your father. I hope you're ready for what's ahead."

The chiefs moved to the walls, overlooking the battlefield where the barbarians were divided. The sight of Gabriel standing among the kneeling warriors, his radiant wings folded behind him, was enough to leave both Eirik and Thrain momentarily speechless until now.

Eirik turned to Bjorn, his brow furrowed. "So, this is why you were so confident."

Bjorn nodded, a faint smile tugging at his lips. "Gabriel arrived in our village days ago. He's unlike anyone I've ever seen. He blessed our weapons, raised a barrier, and claimed this fight as his responsibility."

Thrain's eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Gabriel from a distance. "And yet, he doesn't seem to be fighting now."

"He doesn't need to," Bjorn said simply. "He's already done more than enough."

Eirik glanced at the two thousand warriors Bjorn had brought with him, then back to the 25,000 barbarians still standing. "Are you saying you intend to face this horde with only your warriors? That you'll take on these odds without his help?"

Bjorn's smile widened. "Exactly."

Thrain stared at him, his disbelief evident. "You're mad."

"No," Bjorn replied, his voice steady. "I trust my people. And Gabriel gave us the strength to win. You'll see soon enough."

Below, Gabriel stood among the kneeling barbarians, his calm demeanor soothing the tension around him. The men and women who had surrendered looked up at him with wide eyes, their faces a mix of awe and confusion.

"Rise," Gabriel said softly, his voice carrying over the field. "You no longer need to kneel."

One by one, the barbarians stood, their movements hesitant. Many of them still trembled, their fear of Ragnar and the loyalists evident. Gabriel walked among them, his presence radiating warmth and reassurance.

"You made the right choice," Gabriel continued, his tone gentle. "You chose life. And no matter what you've done, this is a new beginning for you. You will not be treated as Ragnar treated you. Here, you will be safe."

A young barbarian, barely more than a boy, stepped forward, his voice shaky. "What happens to us now?"

Gabriel met his gaze, his pale eyes softening. "You will follow me to a place where you can rebuild. Where you can find peace."

The barbarians murmured among themselves, their fear slowly giving way to hope.

Gabriel stepped back from the crowd and extended his wings, the radiant feathers catching the faint light of the overcast sky. As he rose into the air once more, his voice echoed across the battlefield.

"To those who remain loyal to Ragnar," he said, his tone sharp and unyielding, "your time here is short. I will not fight you again, nor will I interfere in what comes next. Your fate is in your hands."

The loyalists snarled and shouted curses, but Gabriel remained unmoved. He turned his gaze toward the Vikings on the walls. "Chief Bjorn and his warriors will decide the outcome of this battle. I will leave it to them."

Eirik and Thrain exchanged incredulous glances as Gabriel ascended higher, his figure disappearing into the gray clouds above.

"Is he serious?" Thrain asked, his voice tinged with disbelief. "He's leaving this to you?"

Bjorn crossed his arms, his expression calm. "Yes. And that's how it should be."

Eirik frowned. "Bjorn, this isn't just a skirmish. This is an army of twenty-five thousand men. Are you saying you're willing to fight this with only your warriors?"

Bjorn turned to him, his green eyes steady. "We were born to fight, Eirik. And Gabriel has given us the strength to do what needs to be done. This isn't a battle of numbers—it's a battle of will."

Thrain sighed, shaking his head. "You've always been stubborn, Bjorn. But I'll say this—if anyone can pull off a miracle, it's you."

As the chiefs returned to the longhouse to finalize their plans, the tension among the Vikings remained high. The warriors sharpened their weapons and inspected their armor, their movements steady despite the odds they faced. Above the battlefield, the snow continued to fall, blanketing the ground in a fragile peace.

Gabriel watched from the sky, his pale eyes scanning the scene below. He did not doubt that Bjorn and his warriors could succeed, but he knew the battle would test them in ways they couldn't yet imagine.

Far below, Ragnar stood among his loyalists, his crimson eyes burning with fury. Despite his injuries, he radiated defiance, his black energy flickering faintly around him. His hatred for Gabriel and the Vikings burned hotter than ever.

The stage was set, and the battle was about to begin.