The ground beneath Bjorn's boots bucked, throwing the Viking commander off the steps and hard into the courtyard.
A shockwave of displaced air and pulverized dust blasted over the huddled thousands of soldiers, suffocating the morning light.
For a long minute, it felt like the entire world had been buried in a shallow grave.
Slowly, the choking gray dust began to settle.
Bjorn groaned, his ears ringing with a painful whine.
He pushed himself up from the mud, spitting grit from his mouth... he looked around the courtyard.
Men were coughing loudly, waving their hands in the air, but miraculously, nobody was crushed.
Thankfully, Bjorn knew it... he had seen the angle of that bronze barrel, and his veteran instincts had screamed at him to move his men.
His split-second decision to evacuate the southern wall had just saved the lives of a thousand elite soldiers.
"Is everyone alive?" Hakon roared, "Sound off, you bastards! Who is bleeding?!"
