Daughter of Fire and Ice (31 page)

I collapsed beside her as my breathing gradually slowed.

Helgi limped in and hurried forward as I looked up.

I realized I hadn’t planned what to say to them. So much of the story was bound up in secrecy.

‘Has there been an accident?’ Helgi asked anxiously.

‘No, but we’re in grave danger. Terrible, mortal danger. I’ve come to beg for your help. If you … we would be for ever in your debt.’

As I looked into Helgi’s face, I understood why Bjorn had sent me and no other to speak to him. I’d birthed their first child and healed their ills. Helgi would refuse me nothing. There was no doubt in his face or in his aura, only compassion and eagerness.

Haltingly at first, and then with increasing speed, I poured out our whole tale. It was essential to tell our friends the truth about who we really were. If I lied to them now, they would never trust us again. Bera looked amazed, but Helgi’s face stayed impassive until I reached the part about the ship arriving in the bay. Before I had finished speaking, Helgi was buckling on his sword. Then he leant forward and grasped both my hands.

‘Some of this Bjorn had already confided in me,’ he said. ‘You’re our friends. We’ll stand by you.’ Then he embraced his wife and was gone, hurrying out of the house, his limp barely noticeable in his haste. I could hear him calling for his men, giving orders. Bjorn would not be facing the assassins alone with a handful of slaves.

I could see Bera looked frightened. I felt guilty at once. I had brought this on these good people.

‘Did you have time to send for Olvir?’ she asked. ‘I’m almost certain he would relish a battle.’

‘Bjorn sent the ship across,’ I nodded. ‘If nothing else, the women and children who were in it will be out of harm’s way.’

Bera bowed her head and began muttering under her breath, invoking the blessings of the gods on her husband. I joined her in prayer, calling on Thor, the god of battle, to pity our plight and to give our men strength. As I prayed, Freya began to show me images once more. The ship was drawing closer. They were passing the island in the bay where the puffins nested. I could see the birds flapping wildly to get airborne or diving to escape from the boat. I couldn’t see the faces of the men on the ship, they wouldn’t resolve into features. But there was that familiar presence again. The man I half recognized. Who could it be?

‘It’s Thrang!’

The words burst from me, before I fully knew they were coming.

‘What is?’ Bera’s startled gaze was fixed on me. I opened my eyes and jumped to my feet.

‘He’s on the ship. He’s coming here with the killers.’

‘How do you know?’ asked Bera confused.

‘Freya showed him to me. I saw him.’

Bera looked frightened.

‘Surely he couldn’t have betrayed you?’ she asked. ‘He couldn’t be leading them here?’

‘I don’t know. I can’t understand it. I have to get back and warn Bjorn,’ I cried in great agitation.

‘No!’ Bera clutched my arm. ‘You’ll be running straight into danger. Stay here! There’s nothing you can do!’

But I pulled free and ran out of the house. The bay was spread out before me, and there, in the distance, was the ship. Even this far away from it, I could sense the thirst for revenge that had driven the men that sailed it across the sea.

The sail was idle, for barely a breath of wind was stirring. The men were pulling on the oars and the ship slid across the still water. So small and insignificant it looked at this distance. But it was an illusion. Our very own Ragnarok, our day of reckoning, had arrived.

Helgi and his men were walking in a line, heading for our farm. I could pick out their sober colours in the bright green summer landscape. I picked up the skirt of my tunic and ran like the wind after them. I’d never run so fast in my life. I ran until my heart was pounding in my chest and I couldn’t breathe. Then I slowed to a walk. The ship was drawing closer all the time, crossing the bay swiftly and silently. They were relying on the element of surprise. Well, I had spoiled that for them at least.

I could no longer see Helgi and his men. They must have walked fast. In fact I couldn’t see anyone at all at the farm. It all looked deserted. I felt sick with fear. What if we lost this fight? Even if we could win, how many men would we lose?

Thrang’s face rose again in my mind and quickened my pace. He had lived and worked with us all last winter. What was he doing on board that ship?

I was closer now, stumbling across the meadow where the cattle grazed, jumping the cowpats. Then I was weaving my way through the small trees where the pigs rooted. My tunic snagged on a branch, but I tore it free and kept going. I could scarcely breathe.

As I ran down the last slope towards the longhouse, a dark shape rose up in front of me, startling me. Before I could make a sound I was grabbed from behind and a hand was clamped firmly over my mouth. I was dragged down into the wet grass and a voice muttered in my ear.

‘Get
down
, Thora! You’ll spoil everything running about like this.’ It was Grim’s voice. I pulled his hand from my mouth.

‘I have to find Bjorn,’ I whispered desperately. ‘Thrang is aboard that ship.’

A muffled oath from Erik who lay beside Grim.

‘Whose side is he on?’ demanded Grim. ‘Has he been paid to lead them to us? How will we know whether to fight him or welcome him?’

‘I can’t be sure; I don’t know,’ I replied breathlessly.

‘You can’t go to Bjorn now. You’ll be seen. The ship is almost in.’

Faintly, in the distance, we heard the crunch of gravel as the shallow-draughted warship beached.

‘Here they come,’ said Erik, wiping his sweaty hand on his tunic and taking a firmer grip on his sword. I could see he was shaking with fear.

‘May Thor protect you, my friends,’ I whispered to them both.

I’d barely finished speaking when we heard scrunching footsteps as men jumped off the ship. Then there was silence. In only a few moments more, we saw the men. We had a clear view of them here, as they moved silently up from the shore, swords and battleaxes in hand. They looked more like sneaking assassins than righteous warriors. They gave no warning cry, no challenge. One man carried a burning torch and the sight of it sent a shiver of terror down my back. They were planning to burn the house.

I had a broken view of them through the trees as they fanned out approaching the house. I counted them. There were sixteen. Where were the last two?

I saw Bjorn rise silently out of the undergrowth behind the last man as he passed. He cut the man’s throat before he realized he had been attacked. He fell without a cry. His companions noticed nothing and continued walking. My heart was hammering but I lay absolutely still. I was too close for safety.

Bjorn had ducked down again. The next thing I saw was a rain of arrows falling upon the attackers. One man fell, another clutched his arm with a loud cry. The rest of the arrows fell harmlessly to the ground. There was a collective roar of rage as the men realized they were being ambushed. The leader spoke at last.

‘Where is the false chieftain? Come out and fight! Don’t skulk among the bushes like the escaped slave you really are! Face us, if you dare. We’ll teach you to steal my kinsman’s name!’

If he expected to provoke Bjorn into showing himself, he was disappointed. The only reply the man got was another shower of arrows. One more enemy fell, clutching his leg. There were still thirteen uninjured men and two more somewhere. Where was Thrang? He wasn’t here. As I scanned the faces of the enemy, I saw a face I knew. It was Arn. He was the informer, not Thrang. He’d brought these men here. Well, he had made his suspicion of Bjorn clear. But I hadn’t imagined he would have travelled all the way to Norway to incite Svanson’s kin to vengeance.

I felt my stomach twist with anger against Arn. All this destruction had been wantonly brought about by him. Our lives were hanging in the balance because of one man’s vindictive nature. No doubt he had been richly rewarded for his information.

A movement drew my attention from Arn. The man with the burning torch ran forward and made for the house. A companion ran on either side of him, shields raised to protect him.

‘Stay down now, Thora,’ breathed Grim in my ear. ‘This is going to be dangerous.’

As he spoke, I heard the cry of a seabird. It was a signal. Our men and Helgi’s rose suddenly out of their hiding places and rushed at the attackers. I stayed where I was, pressed to the ground, hoping not to be seen. A woman had no place in a fight. There was confusion all around me. The clash of iron on steel was horrific. There were shouts and screams and the ground shook with stamping feet as men ran and fought.

Without giving myself away, I twisted to try and see if the men with the torch had reached the house. Helgi and two of his men were fighting a desperate battle with them. As I watched, the torch man leaned back and flung his deadly weapon up onto the roof of the longhouse. It lay there smouldering for a moment. I felt my stomach lurch with dread at the sight of it. That was our home. If it burned, there was no way of replacing it.

With a shout, Bjorn ran towards the house. Dropping his sword, he leapt up, catching hold of the eaves, and swung himself onto the roof. He clambered swiftly across it and grasped the burning brand, stamping on the smouldering rushes where it had fallen.

The leader of the men in black stepped forward and addressed him.

‘A stupid mistake,’ he sneered triumphantly. ‘Now you have no weapon.’

‘Wrong,’ shouted Bjorn, and jumped down, lashing out at the man with the torch he now held. The man jumped back.

Two men blundered into my line of vision, locked in combat, a sword against a battleaxe. I could no longer see Bjorn. I saw Helgi defeat his opponent near the house, striking him down. The man screamed, then lay still. I put my hand over my mouth, sickened. Battle was ugly.

I searched frantically for Bjorn. Somehow he had his sword back, but he was fighting for his life against a giant of a man. With a shock, I recognized the scene from my vision. This was the man I’d seen kill Bjorn.

My body froze in horror. I wanted to move, to help somehow, but I lay rigid and helpless on the ground. Bjorn’s time was very near now. He was fighting hard. Although he wasn’t an experienced swordsman, he had my father’s sword. That gave him an advantage over any opponent. Even so, I saw him beaten back by the ferocity of the attack.

I could see nothing but Bjorn and his opponent. My ears told me the battle still raged all around us, but I had eyes only for this one fight. Bjorn parried a fierce strike and stumbled back, falling to his knees. He was up again in a flash, but his opponent used the moment of weakness to press close. The huge man was raining blows down on Bjorn, driving him back towards the house, practically pinning him against the doorway. Any moment now, Bjorn would fail to deflect one of the blows and he would be struck. Sure enough, a second later, the sword caught his arm, ripping open his sleeve. Bjorn fell back, his face contorted with pain. I saw blood spread swiftly down his sleeve, dripping onto the ground.

With a cry of triumph, his opponent rushed him, swinging his sword furiously. Bjorn thrust at him, missed, and fell to his knees. The huge man lifted his sword. Time slowed. I recognized everything from my terrible vision. Somehow, I dragged myself to my feet, crying out.

‘No! No!’ I screamed.

The sword was held aloft for a moment. Bjorn’s opponent was enjoying savouring his advantage.

‘You killed my cousin, you filthy slave!’ he yelled.

The man was staring down into Bjorn’s fearless eyes. Then, with a cry, he began to swing his sword down to deliver the final blow.

I started to run towards them, heedless of the battle raging around me. But someone else was closer and quicker than I was. Ragna threw herself through the doorway, flinging herself between Bjorn and the sword.

‘Don’t kill him!’ I heard her cry out.

For a split second, I thought the giant man would stop. Then I realized the sword had a momentum of its own now. It sliced down, cutting into Ragna with a sickening, tearing noise. Her blood flowed dark and red into the ground.

Before the killer could lift his sword to strike at Bjorn again, another man dressed in black appeared out of nowhere and rushed at him, sword raised. A large man, with familiar bushy hair. He ran the killer through with his sword, pushing the blade home. The enemy fell and died, his face frozen in a mask of fury and pain.

His assailant reached down a bloody hand and pulled Bjorn to his feet. It wasn’t until he turned that I saw it was Thrang. Thrang with his hair dyed black and his beard cut short. Where had he appeared from? Thank Thor that at least he was on our side after all.

There was a mighty battle cry behind me, enough to strike terror into the bravest heart. Everyone turned to see Olvir running towards us. He had a huge axe in his hands and his full battle rage was upon him. Olvir wielded his axe furiously, slicing one man’s head right off and severing another sword arm at the shoulder joint.

The tide had turned. The assassins, their plan in shreds and their force decimated, turned and fled back to their ship. But there was no stopping Olvir now. He chased after them, bringing them down, one by one. I saw Arn fall, the battleaxe in his back, and I turned away, weak with relief but sickened beyond bearing. The smell of blood and the screams of the wounded filled my senses.

As I turned back towards Bjorn, he knelt and raised Ragna in his arms. She was the colour of whey and limp in his arms. Her wounds were horrific. I moved towards her to see if there was anything I could do to help. She reached up a hand to touch Bjorn’s cheek. Then she saw me. ‘Save me,’ she begged. ‘I don’t want to die.’

‘I’ll do everything I can for you,’ I promised her, dropping to my knees in the blood and the churned up earth beside her. ‘Don’t be frightened.’

I reached out to examine the wound, but before I could do more than pull a flap of her torn tunic aside, she gave a choking sound, and died.

Bjorn looked grey and shocked under the grime of battle. He looked up and met my gaze, and there was pain and horror in his face. I reached out and closed Ragna’s eyes. Bjorn knelt there, helpless and lost, still holding her.