The storm raged around them, howling like a living beast. Lumberling and his group moved like shadows within the chaos, striking fast, vanishing just as quickly, dragging down elite Vikings one after another.
Then, the sky seemed to split open. A surge of power rippled across the battlefield, and the wind turned wild and violent, tearing at the banners and ripping through the lines. Thunder crashed, and lightning tore across the sky.
Lumberling lifted his gaze toward the heart of the battlefield, where the tempest was thickest. The air there twisted violently, as though the heavens themselves were collapsing.
"Sigvar is beginning to move," he said. He could feel the surge of divine energy even from this distance. His eyes flicked toward Duke Hadric's position where the storm boiled fiercest.
