Chapter 14: The Farm Defense
Three nights later, the dogs started barking.
Not the casual alertness they showed when strangers approached during daylight hours, but the frantic warning that meant armed men were moving through darkness where they didn't belong. I rolled out of my sleeping furs already reaching for weapons, my enhanced senses straining to identify threats in the pre-dawn gloom.
Ragnar's household responded with the efficiency of people who'd spent the last three days preparing for exactly this moment. Thanks to Siggy's warning, we'd transformed what should have been a surprise attack into a carefully orchestrated ambush.
"Positions," Ragnar whispered, his voice carrying just far enough to reach prepared ears. "Remember—let them commit fully before we spring the trap."
I made my way to the predetermined position beside the children's shelter, where Lagertha crouched behind a wooden barrier with her shield and sword ready. Bjorn knelt beside his mother, gripping his training sword with white-knuckled intensity. Gyda huddled between them, trying to be brave despite the obvious terror in her young eyes.
"They're coming from the north," I murmured, pointing toward movement barely visible in the starlight. "Twelve men, just as Siggy predicted."
"Good." Lagertha's voice held deadly calm. "Ragnar's positioned our warriors to drive them toward the grain store, where the killing ground is prepared. You protect the children—nothing else matters."
Through gaps in our defensive barrier, I watched Haraldson's "outlaws" approach the farmstead with the confidence of men who believed they held every advantage. They moved in good formation, disciplined and coordinated in ways that genuine bandits rarely achieved.
But they expected to find sleeping victims, not an armed reception.
The attack began with fire arrows aimed at the main hall's thatched roof. Three blazing shafts arced through the darkness, designed to create chaos and drive defenders into the open where they could be cut down easily.
Instead, the arrows struck pre-soaked thatch that refused to ignite, and Ragnar's warriors erupted from concealment with bloodthirsty war cries that shattered the night's stillness.
What followed was less a battle than a slaughter.
Haraldson's men found themselves trapped in a killing ground where every approach was covered by archers, every retreat was blocked by armed defenders, and every tactical advantage they'd counted on had been turned against them.
But even a successful ambush involves lethal danger, and I soon found myself forced to choose between maintaining my secret and protecting the people I'd grown to love.
An axe-wielding warrior broke through Ragnar's defensive line, sprinting directly toward the children's shelter with death in his eyes. Lagertha moved to intercept him, but two more attackers flanked her position, forcing her to engage multiple opponents simultaneously.
I reached for my metallic manipulation abilities without conscious thought.
The charging warrior's axe head separated from its handle mid-swing, the weapon falling apart as molecular bonds I'd weakened during preparation failed at the crucial moment. His momentum carried him stumbling past my position, where Bjorn's training sword caught him across the hamstring and sent him crashing to the ground.
Behind us, Lagertha faced her own crisis as one attacker's sword thrust toward her unprotected side. A discarded iron gate that had been propped against the grain store suddenly toppled over, crushing her opponent and giving her the opening she needed to finish the other man.
"Stay down," I told the children, then reached deeper into my abilities as more attackers broke through toward our position.
Metal responded to my will like an extension of my own body. Scattered chain links rose from the ground to tangle enemies' feet. Sword blades bent at impossible angles when they struck targets I was protecting. Spear points twisted away from vital areas to score harmless grazing wounds instead of fatal strikes.
None of it was obvious enough to seem supernatural in the chaos of combat, but the cumulative effect was devastating to the attack's momentum.
Then I made the mistake of trying to protect everyone at once.
A thrown spear aimed at Ragnar's back. An archer drawing bead on Rollo. A wounded attacker pulling a hidden knife to stab Lagertha from behind. Three threats demanding simultaneous response, requiring more precise control than my Phase 1 abilities could sustain.
I reached for power that simply wasn't there.
The effort of trying to manipulate too much metal for too long sent lightning through my skull. Blood started flowing from my nose as my supernatural abilities hit their daily limit and shut down completely. The world lurched sideways, vision blurring as consciousness threatened to abandon me entirely.
I was dimly aware of hitting the ground hard, my legs giving out as exhaustion claimed its due. The last thing I saw before darkness took me was Lagertha standing over my collapsed form, her sword cutting down the final two attackers with deadly precision.
When I woke, gray dawn light was seeping through the shutters of the main hall's sleeping alcove. My head felt like someone had taken a hammer to it, and every muscle in my body ached as if I'd been trampled by horses.
"Awake?"
Lagertha's voice came from beside the bed. I turned carefully—any sudden movement sent fresh waves of nausea through my system—and found her sitting on a wooden stool with her bloodied sword laid across her knees.
"The children?" I managed to croak.
"Safe. Thanks to you." Her green eyes held understanding that made my stomach clench with more than physical pain. "Whatever you are, whatever those abilities cost you, thank you for protecting my children."
"Lagertha—"
"Your secret is safe with me," she said quietly, forestalling any denial. "I don't need to understand how you made metal move without touching it. I only need to know that when my children were threatened, you used every power you possessed to keep them alive."
The simple acceptance in her voice nearly broke me. Here was someone who'd witnessed my supernatural abilities and chosen to see protection rather than threat, loyalty rather than deception.
"The cost," I said finally. "It... exhausts me. Using the abilities too much, for too long, and they simply stop working."
"Good." Her response surprised me. "Power without cost is dangerous. Power that demands sacrifice teaches wisdom."
She leaned forward, studying my face with the intensity of someone memorizing details. "But next time, don't try to save everyone. Save the people who matter most, and let others handle their own battles."
"Is that what you would do?"
"That's what I did do." Lagertha's smile held dark satisfaction. "While you were unconscious, I killed the last two attackers myself. Sometimes the old ways work best."
I struggled to sit up, fighting through dizziness to assess our situation. "How many dead?"
"Twelve attackers, all of them. Three of our defenders wounded but alive." Her expression hardened. "Ragnar recognized several as Haraldson's men, despite their attempt at disguise. The Earl's game has escalated from politics to attempted murder."
"What happens now?"
"Now we prepare for war." Lagertha stood, testing the balance of her cleaned sword. "Haraldson has crossed a line he can't uncross. This ends with one of them dead, and my husband doesn't plan for it to be him."
The implications hit me like cold water. My choice to warn Ragnar had transformed a political conflict into open warfare. Instead of being pressured into serving Haraldson, I'd helped ensure that such service would never be possible.
"What you build with them is your choice," the Void had said of my powers. Looking at Lagertha's bloodied sword and remembering the terror in Gyda's eyes, I realized I'd made my choice. I was no longer a neutral observer trying to survive in the Viking world.
I was a participant, committed to protecting the people who'd become my family regardless of the consequences.
"When the war comes," I said finally, "I'll be ready."
"I know you will." Lagertha moved toward the door, pausing to look back at me. "But remember—you're not fighting alone. The bonds you've built here are stronger than whatever abilities make you different. Trust in that strength, and it won't fail you."
After she left, I lay in the growing daylight trying to process the night's events. For the first time since awakening on that frozen beach, I'd used my powers openly in defense of people I cared about. The cost had been severe—exhaustion, exposure, and the uncomfortable knowledge that my secret was no longer entirely secret.
But looking at the sunlight streaming through clean windows into a hall where children would play safely today, I found that I didn't regret the choice.
Some things were worth fighting for, regardless of the personal cost.
The question was whether I'd live long enough to discover what other prices my newfound commitment would demand.
Author's Note / Promotion:
Your Reviews and Power Stones are the best way to show support. They help me know what you're enjoying and bring in new readers!
Can't wait for the next chapter of [ Arrowverse: The Survivor's ]?
You don't have to. Get instant access to more content by supporting me on Patreon. I have three options so you can pick how far ahead you want to be:
🪙 Silver Tier ($6): Read 10 chapters ahead of the public site.
👑 Gold Tier ($9): Get 15-20 chapters ahead of the public site.
💎 Platinum Tier ($15): The ultimate experience. Get new chapters the second I finish them (20+ chapters ahead!). No waiting for weekly drops, just pure, instant access.
Your support helps me write more .
👉 Find it all at patreon.com/fanficwriter1