“You didn’t insult us. You are right. Grímr and his men are savages. That’s why we came to end him and his recruitment of mercenaries,” Bjorn spoke up, taking pity on the man who looked to be close to his own six and twenty.
“Aye well, we werenae so impressed with what we learned the last time ye arrived. When we learned of Hakin’s plan to attack Rangvald’s settlement before Ivar’s, then him kidnapping Erik’s cousin Sigrid, we kenned we were in for a fight. I canna say how I understand why he thinks a seer would bring him victory.”
“After Leif and Freya, Strian, Tyra, and I sailed to Hakin’s home, we found few people there. Thank the gods Leif isn’t here to remember finding Sigrid bound to an altar, about to be sacrificed. Leif’s order to burn the settlement only riled Hakin more. You can’t be surprised that, after having no home and losing so many warriors to skirmishes with us, Hakin turned to Scotland to recruit mercenaries.”
“We tracked them to the border of Ross land but didna cross over. We suspect they came ashore on Mackenzie land, staying close to the border with our territory,” Andrew MacLeod spoke up. “They must want to stay close to the coast. Sutherland land is far too wide for them to cross and still have an easy escape route.”
“That means they sailed all the way around the tip of Scotland. They must have anchored their boats in the Minch,” Lorna looked to the west as though the coast were visible despite the distance. “MacLeod, did yer da ken this?”
“Nay. We havenae been home, Lady Lorna, since we discovered they’d crossed into Ross land. We sent a messenger with our suspicions but nae since we confirmed it.”
Lorna looked at her younger cousin, Alex. She seemed to assess him, and when he did not disappoint, she shared her thoughts.
“Alex, ye ken we canna all continue to ride on. If Grímr put in at Mackenzie land, then ye ken they are a good distance from Andrew’s home. It’s too far for Andrew to ride and tell his da and still help ye. Ye’re on better terms with the Mackenzies than the MacLeods are. Ye and Andrew must ride to the coast to let the Mackenzies ken what’s happening on their land, and if ye find them anchored there, ye must fire Grímr’s ships. They canna be able to leave Scotland with more fighters.”
Alex and Andrew exchanged a look and nodded. Everyone recognized that Lorna spoke the truth. If they burned Grímr’s ships, it would not matter how many men he recruited. He would be unable to leave Scotland until he had new ones built. That assumed he ever made it back to the coast to discover what happened to them.
“Grímr excels at this game of cat-and-mouse. Lorna is right. We must burn their ships in case they can hide then run back to the coast. We need these Mackenzies on our side,” Rangvald interjected.
“Without his wife Inga’s money coming in, he must be getting desperate. We need to cut off his means of escape.” Erik added.
“Aye, ma cousins have the right of it,” Alex nodded his head. “Then this is where we split up.”
Alex shook hands with everyone until he came to Lorna, who pulled him in for a motherly embrace.
“Lad, I kenned yer father, and I am glad he led our clan after ma father died. Ye remind me of ma da, which tells me ye are doing a fine job. Yer da would be proud of ye. I witnessed how well yer people live and how they both respect and like ye. Ye will help the Mackays prosper and thrive once again.” She gave him a peck on the cheek before she gathered her horse’s reins. She called out, “We ride.”
The Sutherlands led the Norsemen further south, and there was only a slight sense of trepidation as the Norsemen were forced to put their trust in a clan that had been adversaries to their only allies. Kenneth Sutherland ended any doubts the first night when he approached Rangvald.
He extended his arm to Rangvald saying, “We both stand to lose if the Rosses and these savages,” he winked, “form an alliance. The Rosses are kenned to be dirty fighters. They have the ear of our king, so they dinna need to fight fair. They will attack, then run back to the king to tattle, saying they were the innocents. When we fight them, we fight to leave naught able to tell the tale. I amnae in any mood to tell ma father we failed. He isnae a forgiving mon. I will lead our warriors to Ross land if I have yer vow ye will fight both Ross and Norsemen.”
Rangvald clasped Kenneth’s forearm and shook it vigorously.
“You have my word, which means you have the oath of every Norseman and woman here. They have sworn upon their sacred rings fealty to their jarls. That binds to any oath I make. Besides that, my people and Ivar’s have lost many at the hands of Grímr and his brother Hakin. There are many who came to avenge their loved ones. Me included.”
“Yer family tree is a wee complicated. Do ye mind explaining how ye all seem to be related to one another? I thought our clans were bad.”
Rangvald’s smiled died, but he nodded.
“Ivar was supposed to marry my sister Inga, but he refused. He was in love with the woman he’s now married to, Lena, who’s Freya and Leif’s mother. Even though I succeeded in bringing her home from Ivar’s, she was still sent to an arranged marriage with Grímr. Her need for revenge ate at her and ultimately cost Inga her life. She had an affair with a man from Ivar’s tribe.”
Strian shifted uncomfortably as Rangvald spoke of his uncle.
“The man happened to be Ivar’s second-in-command,” Rangvald continued. “He sold secrets to Hakin in exchange for a promise that he would have Ivar’s land. Long story short, Inga led Hakin and Grímr by the nose. She was the mastermind behind the plots, and she was the one to figure out how to pay for the mercenaries.”
“But she’s dead now, aye?”
“Yes.”
“How’d she die? I dinna suppose she came along with her men to the battles.”
“I killed her.” Rangvald looked Kenneth directly in the eye. “And I am not done getting my revenge.”
There was no one present who did not understand the significance to Norsemen of making an oath and vengeance. The pact was sealed.
It took another two days to ride far enough into Ross land to meet a sentry. There had been much speculation as to why the Rosses did not post scouts closer to the border. They understood when they crested a hill to find a warband of a hundred men waiting. The Norsemen and Sutherlands outnumbered the Rosses and had the advantage of fighting from the top of the hill. As Kenneth called his archers forward, Bjorn looked around, his intuition screaming for attention. The hair on the back of his neck prickled, and he sensed there was more danger lurking. Bjorn pulled his shield from where it hung on his saddle. He backed his horse out of the ranks as he scanned where they came. His eyes strained, but he was sure there was a glint of steel.
“To the rear! They surround us!” Bjorn called out as another warband raced forward. “Shield wall!”
The Norsemen on horseback dismounted and slapped their animals on their rumps before joining the others as they interlocked their shields and held them over their heads. Bjorn pulled Tyra next to him as the first arrows rained down on them. He had no time to catch whether she glared at him like he expected. He scanned for Erik and Freya, ready to defer to them, but he did not spot either of them.
“They rode too close to Kenneth. They are fighting with the Highlanders. Freya was picking them off with her bow,” Strian called several people down.
“Open and guard,” he said to Tyra and the man beside him. They tilted and lifted their shields as he stood tall enough to survey the oncoming force.
It relieved him to find the enemy was on foot with none on horseback. The Norsemen stood a better chance.
“Archers, prepare!” Bjorn called as he crouched down. “They advance on foot. We keep the shield wall no matter what.”
Bjorn thumped the hilt of his sword against his shield, and the others followed, creating an intimidating rhythm.
“Archers, release!”
As a one, shields parted as archers stood to launch their arrows. Those without bows held their shields to protect the archers until they crouched ag
ain. They repeated this pattern four more times before Bjorn issued his next order.
“Forward!”
Keeping their shields still locked together, the warriors stood and marched in unison until arrows pelted their shields. Screams of pain came from within the force, but they closed ranks as gaps formed and warriors fell away. They continued to progress until Bjorn called a halt. He ordered the archers to send another volley of arrows. Only moments later, more arrows sunk into shields and flesh.
“Open and guard,” he said once more. He stood just enough to peer through the shield wall and assess their enemy. They were much closer together than he expected. Once he crouched again, he issued his next set of orders to the Norse army. “We must stand and fight as one. Keep the shield wall, we fight back to back for as long as we can. We don’t stop until we defeat them. On my word.”
Bjorn stood and pointed this sword to the enemy then pounded his hilt twice.
“To Valhalla!”
The Norsemen surged forward with their battle calls as they beat their swords on their shields. Many guffawed at the look of shock, then terror, on the Highlanders’ faces. These were not coastal Highlanders. They were not used to facing the Norse.
Bjorn’s shield slammed into the first man he saw as he pushed the other man’s shield out of the way and thrust his sword forward. He withdrew it and moved on to the next man as his fellow warriors maintained the shield wall for as long as possible. He was aware Tyra was still by his side, but he did not dare look over to her lest he lose his head in the process. Strian’s voice came from further down the line, issuing orders to keep the fighters together.
As the next wave of Highlanders slammed into the Norsemen, the shield wall broke apart, and it became a melee. Tyra thrust and swung with ease, glad she was as well healed as she thought. The scar across her chest tugged, but she was as strong as she had been before her near-death injury. She swung her shield down on a man’s shoulder as she thrust her sword into his belly. She twisted when she sensed someone behind her. Tyra sliced diagonally and cleaved the man in half, relishing the blood as it splatted across her belly. She ran forward with the others as she collided with one Highlander after another. She glanced around and found she was no longer near Bjorn. She ducked as a sword cut through the air near her head. Tyra lunged forward, using her shield to break the man’s nose. When he stumbled back, she followed through, bashing his head with her shield until blood gurgled from the man’s mouth. She looked again, but neither Bjorn nor Strian were within her sight. Tyra had separated from the others, but she noticed Gunnhild struggled with a man twice her size. She fought valiantly, but the woman’s arm was already bleeding profusely. Tyra whipped a knife from her wrist bracer and flung it at the man’s throat. It embedded deep within, and a geyser of blood shot forward, spaying Gunnhild. She looked back in the direction from where the knife flew and found Tyra watching her. Gunnhild nodded before both women ran to each other, moving to fight back to back. There was no time for grudges if they wanted to survive.
“We must move back near the others before they cut us off. We are winning, but you and I will be dead if we can’t get back to the others,” Tyra panted.
“Agreed.” Gunnhild pointed her sword to an opening in the fighting. “There. On three. One. Two. Three.”
Both women charged forward, swinging their swords as men approached from each side. They stopped when they reached the main Norse force. Their chest heaved as they grinned at one another.
“Don’t think this means I like you, princess,” Gunnhild laughed.
“Don’t think this means I can’t beat your arse,” Tyra grunted.
“He’s not worth my efforts. He’ll never want anyone but you. Don’t miss your chance. Stop being a fool.” Gunnhild tossed at Tyra before running to meet an opponent head-on.
Tyra stood stunned for only a moment before necessity required that she focus or lose her head. She fought alone as she plowed through one enemy after another. The bloodlust coursed through her veins even as her lungs burned and her arms ached. Her legs shook as she braced herself against a man who looked like he would swallow her whole. She used her smaller size to her advantage, pushing her shield to protect her as she sliced her sword across the back of the man’s knees. He lurched forward as he collapsed. His weight was too much for Tyra to hold against. She fell backwards as the man landed on her. She struck out with her fists, as the man tried to wrap his hands around her throat. She jerked her knee up, trying to jam it against his cods. She made the man grunt, but it didn’t slow him.
“Don’t damage those. I’m about to use them when I stick my cock in you. I like having women on the battlefield. Much more enjoyable.”
The giant wrapped one massive paw around her throat as his other hand grasped her breast.
“And I shall geld you before I plunge my knife into your heart.”
She flicked a knife from her other wrist bracer. She brought it down with all the might her arms mustered. The man howled as it sunk into his shoulder.
“You shall pay for that, bitch.”
“I doubt it,” she pulled the knife free just before the man lurched backwards to gain leverage to plow his fist into her face.
She thrust the knife into his throat all the way to the hilt. The man’s eyes widened before his upper body landed upon Tyra. The man was dead, and his weight trapped Tyra until suddenly it was gone, and she was being pulled to her feet. Bjorn stood before her, a fierceness on his face she rarely experienced. Bjorn grasped the back of her head and pulled her in for a rough kiss that was over far sooner than Tyra wanted.
“Don’t die. We’re not nearly done with each other yet.”
Tyra grabbed a handful of his shirt and pulled him back in.
“Don’t kiss me unless I can kiss you back.”
She pressed a kiss to him before they broke apart prepared to strike the men running toward them. Bjorn slashed the man who charged him and looked back to where Tyra did the same the man approaching her. He reached back and hooked his hand into her belt. He tugged her with him as they covered each other’s back. Bjorn ran to where Strian fought beside one of Rangvald’s men. It forced Tyra to stumble over bodies even though Bjorn called out warnings. The last body she hopped backwards over was one she recognized. She looked down to find Fritjof’s sightless eyes staring toward the sun. She bent over and closed them before she, Strian, and Bjorn formed a triangle to protect one another. They fought together until there were no Highlanders left.
The three friends looked around at the Norsemen still standing and counted. They had lost a quarter of their force. Bjorn tasked a handful of warriors to check for wounded and to organize the dead into piles for burial. The rest trudged along the hill until they determined how the Sutherlands fared. Rangvald and Lorna joined them having fought at the other end of the line. The older couple looked as though they had gone for a walk. Tyra worried she might collapse on the spot while it appeared like Lorna had not broken a sweat. Tyra shook her head as Lorna wrapped her arm around the younger woman. They came to the top of the hill and realized the fighting had ended with the Sutherlands victorious. Most of the Highlanders who were their allies remained on their horses or stood cleaning their weapons. They breathed a collective sigh until a scream rent the air. Freya leaped over three bodies before sliding next to a man lying prone. She rolled him over, and the collective sigh became a collective gasp. Lorna took off, and the others struggled to catch up with the mother running to her son.
“Don’t you dare die, Erik, or I’ll cut off your cods,” Freya sobbed as she cradled her husband’s head and leaned over to feel his breath.
As the other reached the couple, Erik’s eyes fluttered open.
“If you do that, how will I ever plant a babe in your fine belly?”
Freya swatted his chest, making his cough.
“Not funny. I thought--”
“I know, my love. But not today. I wouldn’t leave the others to suffer your temper if I rudel
y died. Come here, princess.” He lifted his hand to brush Freya’s hair from her face. “Don’t cry. Your nose will turn red, and then I shall have a hard time taking you seriously.”
Freya hiccupped a laugh as she sucked in a deep breath.
“Help me up, princess.”
Freya pulled Erik to his feet as he wrapped his arm around his ribs. Lorna stepped forward to look at her son, but she respected Freya’s right as his wife to tend to him.
“Lorna, I believe we shall need you to tend to your son.”
“Let’s get him somewhere I can get a better look.”
“You know I’m alive and awake. I can hear you and speak for myself.”
“Hush,” the women barked in unison.
Nine
Tyra stepped away, relieved Erik only had the wind knocked out of him when he cracked his rib. She needed a moment alone to collect herself. She walked toward trees that grew just beyond the battlefield. Tyra whistled several times until horses trotted toward her. She recognized her own mount along with the ones of her friends. She wrapped her arms around her horse’s neck and leaned against it. She ran her hand along the smooth hair as the horse nickered and nodded its head. Tyra had raised the horse from when it was a colt, and they had the bond needed between fighter and steed. The horse rested its head over her shoulder as it nipped at her hair.
“Stop that, you silly man.”
“He’s a lucky one,” Bjorn’s voice came from over her shoulder. She looked back to find him stroking the flank of his own horse. Before she said anything else, Bjorn nodded and walked back toward the others.
Tyra stared at him with her mouth agape. She was sure Bjorn would have said something about the kisses they shared on a battlefield of all places, but he acted as though they barely knew one another. Once she stopped feeling flustered, she followed him back, leading the other horses to their owners. They spent the rest of the day and well into the night burying the Sutherlands who died and building a funeral pyre for the Norsemen. Each group faced their dead as they carried out their rituals. It was a somber crowd once they settled in to make camp. It was too dark for them to move on, and it assured them that no one lurked nearby. There was no guarantee if they continued to travel. Bjorn and Tyra both helped hunt while Freya tended Erik, whose injuries were not as grave as his wife made out. Lorna organized the evening meal while Kenneth Sutherland and Rangvald helped build the many cook fires that glowed against the darkening sky.
Tyra & Bjorn (Viking Glory Book 3) Page 9