by G L Roberts
Heardred allowed Hygid and Heoroth to follow the horsemen. They left with a total of one hundred men and women, leaving one hundred and forty with Heardred. Of those, he sent forty north to KirkHill, and forty south to WestHill. Sixty remained behind with Heardred, enough to return the boats to Götaland, Hansa thought. Leaving a boat behind would mean the islanders may learn the secret of the boats’ durability, and that could lead to an invasion of her homeland. The Albans had the sea to protect them on all sides, but Götaland only had the sea on one side. Other tribes had already encroached upon Heardred’s land pushing him ever closer to the sea cliffs. An invasion from the sea would be devastating to Heardred, diminishing his strength in the eyes of the other kings.
“Will you remain here with the boats, Father?” Hansa asked.
“A leader must be able to mount another battle another day. I will keep to the boats and remain the leader. Watch and learn, Hansa. You may yet have to lead the tribe.”
Hansa chuckled. “As much as you would hate to see a woman rule, I will take that as a compliment.”
“Take it however you want to. I only state the fact that I am again without a son.”
“For that I will never be forgiven.” Hansa wiped the edge of her ax on her tunic. She changed the subject. “Do you believe in the fire beast?”
“No. We would have seen something that big and powerful before now. No, the beast does not exist. The stories are just stories to cover something else. There is no beast, and there is no warrior to lead these sheep.”
“And what of the fabled jewel?”
“That is another thing altogether. Jewels exist. We have seen the blue and green ones in our own land. The fabled jewel is here and someday we will find it.”
“What would you do with it?”
“I would bring it to Götaland and hold it where the other tribes could see. All of Götaland would be mine to rule. Such a jewel would command thousands, even tens of thousands.”
“Let us hope the Albans have not already found it.”
Heardred laughed. “They wouldn’t know what to do with it. They are sheep, Hansa. They do not understand battle. They only understand crops and weather. Do not give them credit where none is called for.”
Hansa shook her head. She placed her ax in her belt and straightened her tunic. “There is strength here,” she whispered. “I can feel it in the air.”
Positioned behind a small wooden building that smelled like freshly cut grass, Hygid peered around the building toward the paddock. He saw the ten horses in the paddock but not the other twenty. Thinking that meant only ten men remained in the village caused Hygid to smile. He straightened up and walked out away from the building. He waved his men over and spoke quietly. “Ten here, probably hiding in one of the stone towers. See the light at the top?” As he spoke, Hygid motioned to the small window above. “They think they will be safe high in the stone.” Hygid pointed at a man. “You, take men and go into each tower. Kill whoever is in them.” The man nodded and spoke to several others. They separated and walked toward the brochs.
From inside the nearest broch, Hygid heard two things—the twang of steel on steel and the thud of bodies hitting the ground. No voices were raised, no screams from the Druids.
“At least they die quietly,” he said. “Come let’s see what lies inside.”
Arryn retreated back up into the middle of the tower. Below him lay three dead Norsemen. He waited.
Hygid walked to the middle tower. “Well, and what did the Druids leave us this time?” He stepped inside and nearly tripped over his own men. “What devilry is this?” Behind him a shadow passed, and he turned to see a door closing. Above, a door in the floor opened. Someone, bathed in a deep red light, stared down. “You cannot hide behind your Druid magic. Heardred will find you and you will all perish.”
“You may not live to tell Heardred what you saw. Behold, the Jewel that was lost.” Bryn stepped through the door and landed on the floor next to Hygid. She held her sword in front of her face, the jewels on the hilt glittered in the light of the crown. “Take word back to Heardred, he must leave Alban now or death will find him.”
“Ha!” Hygid took a step toward Bryn. “If I take this sword and that crown, Heardred will give me your island as a prize.” Hygid reached out to touch Bryn’s sword. In one swift movement, Bryn’s blade sliced off his fingers. He fell to his knees as he clutched his hand.
“Your stepbrother, Helstun, died when he tried to touch me. She reached out and ripped a brooch off Hygid’s tunic. “Return to your king and tell him only death awaits him on Alban.”
Outside, the men at the paddock heard the shouting in the broch and for a moment stood frozen in indecision. One of the men started to mount a horse and was met with an arrow in his leg. He cried out as he fell to the ground. Trapped, the men scampered to the walls of the paddock, attempting to climb out. As they did, arrows filled the air and found their mark—legs, backs, arms, and necks. From inside the small wooden shack, a cry rang out and four swordsmen finished what the arrows could not.
Bryn climbed the blocks back up into the tower.
Hygid stood and grabbed his sword. “I will not let a woman best me.” He started up the blocks behind Bryn, clutching at the rock wall with a fingerless hand. As he reached the door in the floor, Arryn’s sword met him.
“You were given the chance to live, Norseman,” Arryn hissed. “Now, it is too late.” Arryn thrust his sword through Hygid’s throat, pushing him back down on top of the other dead men. He climbed up into the tower and spoke to Bryn. “It may be that these Norsemen do not understand we mean to send them back alive. Perhaps they do not understand mercy.”
“They only know what has been told them about the inhabitants of this island. They believe us sheep, not wolves.” She glanced down to the dead lying on the ground. “Others will follow. Signal the archers.”
Lothan pushed the peat-filled cauldron down to the floor below. The flaming peat started to burn the wooden floor. From there the fire would burn through and fall to the bottom of the broch to burn whatever was piled up on the ground. The cauldron dripped the last of the oil on top of the bodies. Lothan took the steps two at a time to the top of the tower and called Demrahl to him. He climbed on Demrahl’s neck. “Take me to the forest.”
Bryn watched Lothan and Demrahl head away. “I need you at the coast, Arryn. “You know what must be done if we fail here.”
“As you command. I will wait for you at the coast, but do not put yourself in danger.”
Bryn touched Arryn’s arm, leaned toward him and kissed his cheek. “Go. I have sent word to Leus and he will meet you. The elves await you and FireSong.”
Arryn called FireSong and once on his dragon’s neck, he gave the command, “To the sea and the rocks that hide the boats, take care not to be seen.” FireSong flicked his tail in acknowledgment and lifted high into the sky.
“Meydra.”
“I am here above you, My Lady.”
“Send word to the others. Hygid is dead. Heoroth will try next for the horses. KirkHill and WestHill are sure to be attacked. Ask An Yun to be ready to carry Thalynder away.”
“Yes, Athebryn,” An Yun called. “Between the three of us, she will be safe.”
“Once I am sure that Heoroth is on his way, we will ask Malcolm and Pendelin to close ranks behind them. Where are Caraid and Kenna?”
“Kenna, Baendar, and Gement’s archers are using the Norsemen as pincushions, My Lady.”
“And you sound like you are enjoying that.” Bryn smiled. The jewel flashed and for a moment, her heart was light.
“The others are turning, Lady Athebryn,” Caraid called. “They flee east.”
“Take me to Kenna.”
Meydra landed on the top of the broch and waited while Bryn climbed on her neck. She lifted up, carrying Bryn to the back edge of the forest. Bryn walked into the trees as they parted before her. She ran her hands over the bark and caressed the leaves. As she appro
ached Kenna and Baendar, they bowed their heads.
“The small party is retreating. They will run into Heoroth and return here for the horses. Should any continue east, Malcolm and Pendelin will stop them at Aldourie. Tell the riders to drive them hard. By the time they reach Heoroth, they will swear they were being chased by Odin himself. I want Heoroth angered enough to seek us out here.”
“How many are on foot?” Baendar asked.
“Sixty. The other forty are on their way to their gods. Hygid is dead. Heoroth waits at the narrows.”
Baendar bowed his head and touched his fist to his chest. “We will be ready for the others.” He left Bryn and started for his men. Kenna took Bryn’s hand and held it. “You have started us on this path, and we follow willingly.”
“Your voice is full of concern. What troubles you?”
“Your presence in the field, Lady Athebryn.”
“Kenna, Kenna.” Bryn reached out and touched Kenna’s cheek. “How can I lead if I am not where others can see me? Come, we have work to do. We must prepare the other two brochs for Heoroth and his men.”
Kenna bowed her head. “I will light the fires for the other windows.”
Bryn started toward the horses when Baendar and one his men appeared, running through the trees. Bryn approached the man who knelt before her. “Do not kneel. Stand and face me. What is your news?”
The man stood and caught his breath. “One Norseman made off with a horse. He is heading east.”
Bryn touched the man’s shoulder. “Thank you for the news. Return to your post as there will be others coming soon.”
Meydra, tell IronHeart and FireSong that a rider approaches. Let him reach Heoroth.
As you wish, Lady Athebryn.
“The dead count is forty,” Kenna said. “If Heoroth turns the sixty, we will have eighty or so coming back. Those sixty will either have regained some determination, or they will be reluctant to reenter the village.”
“Eighty axes coming our way?” Baendar asked.
Bryn glanced back at the tower. “Eighty men and women who have yet to see our true strength. All on foot. We must allow some to take a horse and return to Heardred. Heoroth will be the one holding back. Do not let him escape. He is either to be taken prisoner or killed. Keep the archers and the horsemen hidden.”
“It is a good plan,” Kenna said.
“It was hastily devised, but it is good—for now. When we can convene our council and have time to study the maps and make better plans, less lives will be at risk.”
“The rider approaches the narrows,” IronHeart called to Bryn.
“He will give word to Heoroth that we were at Lochend waiting for them. This will serve us.” Bryn touched Kenna and Baendar on the shoulder. “Walk among your troops. Let them know we will hold these Norsemen accountable. I am going up to the tower. I want to be there when Heoroth arrives.”
Chapter Eleven
Heardred paced. He hated waiting. For the sixth time, he wiped down his ax and returned to his pacing. He could not meet the gaze of those gathered around him. Hygid had taken off after the horsemen before accepting the king’s counsel. In the past Heardred would have appreciated Hygid’s ceaseless energy. Of late though, Hygid’s rushing into the fray grew tiresome to Heardred. Now, in a time of uncertainty, Heardred scolded himself for allowing Hygid to move so quickly against the Albans.
And all he could do was wait.
“My King, a rider approaches,” someone called, taking Heardred from his dark thoughts. His heart jumped into his throat as he watched a rider dismount from his horse.
“What news?” Heardred asked as the man dusted off his tunic.
“My Liege, Hygid is dead and forty of the one hundred are dead or dying.”
Heardred grabbed at the man’s tunic. “Where are the sixty who survived?”
“They are making their way back here,” the man said and bowed his head.
“Where is Heoroth?”
“He is meeting the sixty at the narrows. He will turn them around, and with his twenty he will attack the new village.”
Heardred pushed the man aside. “He moves into a trap. There will be a red dawn, and his blood will fuel it. Instead of thirty horses, we have one. This is madness.” Heardred stared back along the path. What has happened to these sheep, he wondered. “Did you see the fell beast?”
“There was none, My King. There was only the air filled with arrows and the sound of steel on steel. We saw no one, beast or man.”
Heardred paced. This cannot be, he thought. The cur lies. One horse, one rider? No, this cannot be. In the blink of an eye, Heardred swung his ax and the man was dead. He called to his page. “Take this and leave it for the wolves. I want the horse watered and readied for me. I will ride when the moon rises.” Dismissing the page and the dead man, Heardred walked over to the water’s edge and gazed out over the dark water. He raised his fists to the sky.
“What have I done to displease you? Odin! Where are you? Odin!” He sank to his knees and pounded his fists on the sand. “Curse you and all the gods. Curse this Druid-infested island.”
Hansa listened to the man tell her father that Hygid was dead. She listened as the man told her father that Heoroth moved into a trap—and she watched as her father killed the man. Her father was left now with the one stepson to lead his tribe. One stepson and one daughter. Hansa was the better of the two, but to ask her father for the rights to the tribe would be something no woman should do. She had to plant the seed. “I know I have the knowledge and strength to rule, but how to convince my father? “I must find the beast,” she whispered.
Heoroth forced his men to run toward the village. As they approached the brochs, they saw the lights in two of the towers. From the third tower smoke drifted from the darkened windows.
“That is where Hygid lies, Jarl Heoroth,” a winded and tired man said as he pointed to the darkened broch. “There are men lying in with the horses and some in the field on the other side where they tried to take cover from the arrows.”
“Take cover? Ran like women is more the truth. Take ten men and get the horses that remain. Where did the rest of the horses go?”
“They ran for the trees, sire.”
“There must be another paddock in the trees. Find it!”
“Sire, arrows rain down from the trees,” another man cried.
“And you will lead the others into the trees and find the archers. I will not allow this village to go unpunished for the death of my brother.”
“Hva om dødsfall blant mitt folk?” a voice above Heoroth called. “What about the deaths of my people? I think you must be punished for those deaths.”
Heoroth peered up at the top window. He did not see anything. “Kommer ut der jeg kan se deg!”
“You do not need to see me, and I asked you a question. Who is to be held accountable for the deaths of my people?”
“Your people? Druid Elder, if that is what you are, your people are a scab that does not heal. This island will be better when you are all dead.” Heoroth nodded at his men. “Ta hestene og finne kongen.”
“Tell your men to leave the horses alone.” Bryn looked down at the paddock and shouted at the men in their language. “Trykk på de hester og risiko død. Touch those horses and risk death.”
“Ignore the Druid! Monter hester, og ri øst. Finn min far og fortelle ham hva som skjer her! Vi setter opp her og venter på retur.”
“I warn you, take my horses and ride away and you will die doing so,” Bryn called down to Heoroth. “Walk away from this village, and I will spare your life.”
Heoroth nodded at one of his men. A cry was heard in the paddock and one of the side walls was run down by the charging horses. Heoroth smiled and looked up to the window.
“Now you have no horses.”
“Those nine will be returned to us.” Bryn closed her eyes.
The jewel began to glow and the light grew brighter and brighter. Spikes of light shot out and rose above t
he broch. In the next moment, arrows flew through the air and began to hit the remaining Norsemen. They began to cry out, and some men fell to their knees. A second volley flew through the trees and hit the men again. Death met them as they tried to stand.
Heoroth leveled his ax at the only thing within reach. The door to the broch splintered under his blow. He pushed the door out of his way and stepped into the dark room.
“Come out Druid! Face me like a man and not some false god with a bag of tricks.”
Bryn stepped out of the shadow, her sword at her side and her brow covered. There is nothing Meydra can do now if this man means to do you harm, she thought. Beat slowly heart.
“Why are you here?” she asked.
“A maid? I speak with a maid. No. Tell that elder I will speak with him and him alone.”
Bryn took a deep breath. She searched deep inside and found the strength of a thousand lives. She stepped closer to Heoroth and could smell the scent of anger on his skin. “Yes, I am a maid, but I am also the Druid you seek.”
“Ha! So the sheep follow a ewe. For a maid, you have a keen sense of battle. Was it you who killed Helstun? Jarl and heir to my stepfather Heardred’s realm?”
“Yes.”
“He must have been drunk or asleep. Which was it? I can’t wait to tell Heardred that a maid killed his son.”
“He was not drunk, and he stood before me as you do.”
“Sleepwalking. Or it was the beast we heard of. Where is the creature?”
“Why do you not believe a maid could dispatch the Jarl? Surely there are women of your kin who are capable of the deed.” Bryn heard Caraid’s voice. They are gathered in the paddock. Many are dead. The archers have stopped another group at the back of the trees. “Your men are dead.”