The Darkest of Nights - Part 8

"YIVGAMOR!" A loud bellow echoed out. It matched the warhorn in its noise. At that order, the Yarmdon all raised up their shields, and crouched, but the leader didn't move.

Gorm stood there, the same broad smile on his face, as Jok and Kursak were both forced to cover him with their shields in his place. Jok frowned bitterly. He could hardly reach Gorm's head, even with both his arms fully extended. And now, because of his leader's arrogance, his own body was left open to attack.

The arrows came thudding down, their ruthless tips embedding themselves straight into the wood. Not a single cry rang out. Not a single man was wounded.

"You wasted your shields on me, younglings," Gorm said with a grin. "I am touched. But you need not bother. No spear, no sword, no steel will ever pierce my side."

"You say that…" Jok murmured. He said that every time. But it was their duty to defend their commander. Even Kursak was not bold enough to leave his commander undefended in open arrow fire.