As the flanking groups of Northmen were closing in on the sides of the enemy, Jon Berskaggr's group had closed the distance as well and were only about 10 yards away. Keeping his dark red shield high, Jon summoned Gungnir in his right hand and launched it towards the first man he saw. Gungnir hit the man's shield hard, but slightly off center to the left, just missing the iron reinforcement in the center of his shield. The spear tore through his shield like it were just a thin piece of paper and ran the man through, piercing his heart and ending his life instantly. Jon watched as his body went limp and a gap in the shield wall formed, where the man fell.
Jon summoned Gungnir but only had time for 1 more throw before he had to draw his sword and clash with the enemies' shield wall. Throwing Gungnir at the man filling the gap, this time the spear hit dead center of his enemies shield. Bursting through the iron reinforcement like a knife through butter, it dropped the man where he stood. The enemy had no time to fill the gap as the Northmen were upon them in an instant!
BOOM!
The sound of the wooden shields smacking against the enemies shields was literally deafening. Ringing in his ears, Jon was not in the front most shield line, so his job was to push the men in front of him while protecting that man's head from above with his shield. Suddenly a pike from a few rows deep behind enemy lines hit his shield, bouncing off the smooth angles of his shield, it hit the gap between him and the man on his right. The middle aged man, did not even see the spear, before it was run through his jaw bone and into his neck. The man could not even whimper as his throat had been cut clean. Blood sprayed from his wound as he immediately clutched his neck and fell to his knees, a Northman from one row behind him stepped up to take the dead man's place. The cries of wounded men were all around him as Jon was pushing the man in front of him with all of his strength.
In seconds the enemy was besieged from all three sides and had nowhere to run, as the sides of the shield wall collapsed as fast as the Northmen were running. Holding the enemy in place for the men flanking them Golden isles men, Jon could see the wave of death and blood washing over the enemy. With their lines broken, some of the enemy again turned and tried to run, obviously scared of the painful death they were certain to meet.
Jon's cohort pushed through the broken lines as the enemy was now routed. The battle was not over yet, and the few Golden Isles men who were left were surrounded on all sides, being pushed into a defensive circle. The Northmen had no mercy as they slaughtered the few remaining soldiers.
Slowly, Jon's hearing had returned and he heard the cries of the wounded, some asking for death to take them, some crying for their families. The blood running down the hillside made the dirt into a dark, red tinted mud that clung to his boots, making them heavy. Jon felt many emotions in that moment. Empathy for his fellow Northmen, who fell and hatred for the Golden Isles men who felled them. Jon had his first taste of combat, even though the actual clash only lasted a few minutes.
Once the enemy wounded were killed and their bodies sufficiently looted, the Northmen horde tended to their wounded and then quickly packed up their camp and began to march to the South West, towards the village they planned to sack.
Marching all together in formation sounded scary, like fat raindrops falling hard against the ground. Armor and chain mail rattling, boots and hooves tearing up the ground it was something that would strike fear into the hearts of anyone in their path, before they were even seen.
As they marched, they were vigilant as some areas were narrower, and wooded, concealing good positions to be ambushed from. No ambush occurred, however they would remain ever vigilant.
After hours of marching, they came to a wide open field, where the Jarls all agreed would be a good place to camp for the night, as they could see someone approaching from the horizon.
That night went smoothly with no interruptions. The Northmen drank in celebration for their small victory, but even harder for their dead friends or family.
Raska turned to Jon after finishing a horn of ale and asked him about the spear he had summoned in his hand, saying that he never taught him that spell. Jon told him about his hard work learning the spell, but not about the circumstances he gained his knowledge from. Raska did not ask, but instead bragged on his son, telling the men around the fire that his spears killed a couple of men instantly, opening a gap in the enemy shield wall in front of them.
As the night drew on people were gambling, arm wrestling and of course fighting, luckily no one drew a weapon and left with only a few bruises or a broken nose.
As the camp settled into sleep, the watch changed as the men designated for 2nd watch could not drink, the men from first watch started a 2nd wave of partying and drinking. Jon did not partake but instead went to sleep, along with his father. Both of these men did not want to have a hang over in the morning as they were going to sack a village sometime tomorrow.
Day dawned and the usual activities took place. As soon as everyone was ready, camp was quickly packed up, fires snuffed out, and the horde marched on.