The day was coming to a close. The sky was growing dark, yet the sun had still been high in the sky. In fact, they had been fighting for some time, but they couldn't have been fighting all day. Brenjulf wasn't the only man to notice this. Even the Åscatorians had ceased their fighting and wondered at the sky. No stars. No moon. No sun. What in the name of all the gods was happening? Men muttered to each other anxiously. Some called out to their friends, stricken with a sudden panic. In that moment, all focus on the battle ceased as screams pierced the air. Blood curdling screams of pure terror. The screams came from both sides. Ørkadian and Åscatorian. The sound of men gurgling as they choked on their own blood brought home the reality of what was happening. They were under attack. Under attack from an unknown source. Men were dying. The army was scattering blindly. The unforeseen assailants were indiscriminately slaughtering the Valkrygan men present.
