by A. E. Rayne
But Lotta didn’t feel comforted. The man was being shouted over, the crowd threatening him.
And then Bergit was there. ‘Where is this helmsman?’ she grumbled. ‘We may as well forget it altogether, find someone else. If he can’t even get to his ship on time, how can we trust him to get us all the way to Orvala?’
Ulrick glared at Bergit, not wanting anyone to hear where they were going. ‘Well, he’s coming now, so nothing to worry about, my love. Let’s get down to the pier. We can hop on board, find ourselves a good spot.’ And squeezing Lotta’s hand, he turned her around, still smiling at the thought of besting Baldur Skoggi.
And then the first rock was thrown.
Baldur had mounted a stool to try and make himself heard, though nobody had liked what he had to say, and the first rock had been thrown at his head, shattering his right eye socket, knocking him off the stool, onto a flaming brazier, setting his cloak on fire.
Panic ensued, quickly spreading as Baldur’s men hurried to drag their master out of the brazier, his cloak in flames, face drenched in blood.
Swords and knives were drawn, blades jabbing.
Bergit shrieked, knocked to the ground as men surged past her, wanting to join the fight.
One hand still gripping Lotta, Ulrick bent down to pick up his wife. He could hear the anger in the crowd, seething like wildfire, his senses finely honed. ‘We have to go!’ he cried, eyes meeting Lotta’s. ‘We have to get out now!’
32
The crowd exploded at Baldur’s guards, who were quickly trampled on, kicked and stabbed. Baldur had been dragged to the hall steps, deposited near the Lady of Slussfall, who stood there in shock.
‘My lady!’ Ollo called, hurrying to her side. ‘Get inside, quick!’ And pointing to one of the hall guards, who waited by the doors, frozen in place, he scowled. ‘Can’t you see what’s coming? Get her inside now! Lock the doors!’ And sword out, Ollo bounded down the steps, into the square.
Jonas watched him, hands on the bars, hearing voices outside the door, getting closer. Louder too. ‘Leonid.’ His voice was low. ‘If they get in, you’re going to run at them, head down. Run at them hard, then slip and slide past them. Run as fast as you can through the square into that crowd. Distract them, then lose them. I need to keep Magnus safe. I need to get him out of here.’ He turned to his great-grandson, who was blinking furiously, ears open to what was happening outside the door. ‘You will only do what I say. You won’t think, just listen and do. Understood?’
Magnus nodded, terrified.
‘Those men will likely come in, the ones who want me dead. Be ready for it, but don’t worry, we have friends out there.’ And head up now, looking through the bars, Jonas could see Ollo coming. He turned, eyes seeking the prisoners who’d emerged from the shadows. ‘You want to live? You want your freedom? Then get on your feet! If they come in, we rush them. Grab their weapons! Knock them down. Then flee!’ Jonas closed his eyes, listening, as the raised voices were joined by scraping blades and the odd shout of pain. And he prayed to Thenor to send his most loyal servant into the fray.
He needed Vik.
Vik threw caution to the wind.
There were worse ways to die, and few better than trying to save his oldest, dearest friend, and that friend’s great-grandson. His thoughts drifted to Lotta, hoping he would find a way of saving her too.
Haegel stepped cautiously ahead of him into the fort, sword out, though he was no good with it, they both knew that. Vik had grabbed a helmet from an abandoned table. There was no sign of any traders now. Many had run out of the fort with their families. Others had joined the riot, which now appeared to be a full-throated battle, though it was becoming increasingly hard to see who was on whose side.
Shoving the helmet over his head, Vik closed its cheek pieces, immediately feeling more comfortable. The helmet was tight, squashing his ears, pinching his skin, but he didn’t care as he followed Haegel, who pushed his way through the crowd to where Ollo was bellowing, jumping up and down, trying to see what was happening. He’d caught glimpses of men fighting to get into the prison hole, and that was certain to ruin all his plans.
‘Ollo!’ Haegel shouted, sword by his side, leading with his elbow.
‘Haegel, you fool!’ Vik grumbled, swinging for a man with a long knife who was aiming for Haegel’s exposed midriff. Vik stabbed the man in the neck, watching him fall away, grabbing Haegel and pulling him after Ollo. He caught a glimpse of blonde hair, and turning, he saw Ulrick Dyre with Lotta in his arms, heading for the gates.
‘No!’ he heard Ollo calling. ‘Stop! Stop it!’
And spinning back to Haegel, Vik watched as he fell to the ground, stabbed through the belly.
‘Aarrghh!’
Vik’s heart pounded, his mind working quickly. ‘Lotta!’ he called after the girl, but she didn’t even turn her head.
‘No!’
He heard a creak of hinges as the prison hole door was yanked open.
‘Shit.’
‘Go!’ Haegel gasped from the ground. ‘Vik! Go!’
Head low, Vik barrelled through the tangled crowd, sun shining over the fort now, glinting off slashing blades and helmets. More men were arming themselves, grabbing everything they could find. He saw a spear gut a man, almost lifting him into the air, and sheathing his sword, Vik drew out two knives, running behind Ollo, who was fighting to get to the hole.
‘Go! Go! Go!’ Jonas pushed Leonid ahead of him, wishing he could feel a sword in his hand. ‘Get behind them, Leonid!’ he yelled, urging him on as the men burst into the hole, squinting in the darkness, searching for him. ‘Go, Magnus, go!’ And pushing them both towards the door, cramped with sword-wielding men, some covered in blood, Jonas held his ground.
Magnus didn’t realise it until it was too late.
Jonas had made Leonid hold his hand, and now he was pulling him towards the door. Leonid pressed them back to one side, waiting as the angry crowd surged in through the door, and then he slipped outside as the other prisoners fought to distract and overwhelm the intruders. Magnus spun as Leonid tugged him away, realising that Jonas wasn’t coming. He wanted to cry out, but he saw Jonas urging him on, and he thought of Lotta and his mother, and, tears in his eyes, lips quivering, hand squeezing Leonid’s, Magnus turned his head to follow him.
They were at the gates.
Lotta couldn’t go any further. Ulrick had been knocked down by a rock to the back of the head, and she’d tumbled down to the ground beside him.
Bergit was screaming, urging him to get up, worried by the blood oozing through his hair. Ulrick lifted his head, trying to wake up, but every part of his body was telling him to fall fast asleep.
Lotta grabbed his hand, sensing more danger coming. Men were running for the gates now, trying to escape, and the guards had decided to shut them, wanting to contain the rioters. ‘We have to hurry! Ulrick! They’re shutting the gates!’
Bergit suddenly wanted to leave Slussfall more than anything. ‘Ulrick Dyre, you get up now or I’m leaving the pair of you behind. You think I want to be shut in with that lot?’ And shrieking as more rocks were thrown their way, she yanked Ulrick’s hand.
Head ringing like a bell, Ulrick staggered to his feet. ‘Come on!’ he rasped, swaying, eyes on Asger, who was hurrying some of his crew through the gates, eager to get to his ship before the trouble spread. ‘Hurry!’
‘Where’s Haegel?’
‘Stabbed.’
Ollo looked horrified. Haegel was like family.
‘Alive,’ Vik added, eyes on the prison hole, door open, men shouting, trying to fight their way both in and out.
‘Vik!’
Vik was relieved to see Magnus, who ran up to him, eyes full of terror. ‘Head for the gates, Magnus. Get out of here!’ He saw him gripping Leonid’s hand. ‘Both of you. You know where the camp is. Head there!’ And he vaulted past them, hearing Jonas scream, Ollo right behind him.
Alys couldn’t stop trembling. She felt
as though she was in Slussfall, as though she wasn’t on her horse at all. She could almost smell the smoke in the square. She saw flashes of flames, heard angry voices roaring, blades clanging. Glimpses of Magnus rushed past her eyes. Of Jonas and Vik too.
And Lotta.
‘Faster!’ Alys called, urging them on. ‘I see a riot!’ She panted, panic stealing her breath. ‘It’s out of control!’
That had them all worried, especially Hakon. ‘My wife? My son? Do you see them?’
Alys shook her head, dropping it low, spurring Haski on.
They were thundering through the forest now.
Getting closer.
The prisoners trying to escape the hole were weaker than those who had burst in, but far more desperate. Their lives were at stake, and they ducked blades and fists with more energy than their attackers, fighting their way towards the open door.
They didn’t fear being cut or punched. They feared the executioner’s block, and what would happen if they were still trapped in the hole when their lord returned. So they fought like their lives depended on it.
Which they did.
Jonas had been quickly knocked to the ground, overwhelmed by the men who’d caused all the trouble on his behalf. He felt the blade dig into his thigh. The pain of it barely bothered him as he jerked away, for he was too busy thinking of how to get a weapon. Freeing his right hand, he punched one spitting man in the eye, making sure to twist his fist so his knuckles hit him first. Then, head back, he wriggled, trying to free his hips.
Screams in the distance as men fell, scattering as Vik, working quickly with two knives, carved a path for Ollo to come in behind with his sword. Vik went low with one blow, hamstringing the man leaning over Jonas. Twisting his body, he backhanded his left knife high, tearing through the armpit of another.
As that man shouted, staggering, Vik cut his throat.
Ollo was grunting, swinging his sword, slipping on something he didn’t want to imagine. The stink had his eyes watering. Someone had tipped over the bucket of shit, and they all started gagging, distracted by the foul smell.
‘Get Jonas!’ Vik called, trying to focus Ollo. ‘I’ll get us out of here!’
Ollo nodded, ducking a fist. ‘What are you doing, Brand?’ he growled at the man, who appeared so drunk he couldn’t stand still. ‘Get back to your ale! Don’t get yourself killed for this!’
Jonas could hear Ollo, he could hear Vik, and then he could feel another blade digging into his arm. ‘Aarrghh!’ More men tumbled on top of him now. He headbutted one, wriggling some more. ‘Vik!’
Ollo was there, stabbing his sword through a hairy neck, dragging it out, spinning, slashing across an ale-soaked chest. None of their attackers wore armour. All of them were drunk. ‘Roll!’ Ollo shouted at Jonas, turning to check on Vik, who was surrounded by five men, two struggling, three looking almost sharp with intent.
Jonas rolled, staggering to his feet, pain in his eyes, blood soaking his trousers, dripping through his tunic. And bending over, he dragged a sword out of his dead attacker’s hand. ‘Let’s get out of here!’
Something was on fire.
The sun was almost bright above them, rising to its peak, the fog clearing now, but smoke was drifting across the square as men fought all around them. Magnus saw women shouting too, some wielding bloody knives.
Everyone appeared to be fighting or running.
He glanced over his shoulder, trying to catch a glimpse of Jonas or Vik, though he couldn’t see past two big men who were trying to knock each other out, both of them stinking of ale. He heard a man’s voice, loud and sharp, trying to restore order. But looking around at the increasingly violent clashes, Magnus doubted there was any hope of that.
‘Magnus!’
Head up, following Leonid’s arm, Magnus saw that the gates were closing.
‘No! We have to hurry!’
The guards were having a hard time getting them closed, though. There was a real push to get out, and they couldn’t clear enough space to move them. Traders, women worried about their children, those sober enough to see that everything was about to explode, were desperate to get out before it was too late. Thatched roofs were catching light now, flames dancing from one shed to the next with speed.
‘Lotta!’ Magnus saw a flash of blonde hair, certain it was his sister, but he was knocked to the ground, hand slipping out of Leonid’s, who had fallen ahead of him, both of them kicked and trampled as the rush to escape the burning fort intensified, the crowd surging forward in waves now.
Lotta heard her brother as Ulrick pushed his way through the gates, holding her in his arms, Bergit beside them. But in a heartbeat they had left the fort behind, and were on the path, heading for the piers.
It surprised Ivan how fast Alys could ride; how expertly she navigated her sprightly horse through the forest. She rode just behind Hakon, who, spurred on by the panic he could see in Alys’ eyes, rode hard, knowing his way back to the fort better than any of them.
Alys seemed just as determined to get to Slussfall, and as Ivan drove his horse after them, jerking the reins quickly to avoid a hole, his mind started to wander, wondering what she could see.
Jonas helped himself to a blood-splattered helmet, shoving it over his head as he followed Vik through the square, dragging his hood up over it. They could see the main gates on an angle, hearing the fight to close them intensifying. Ollo pushed ahead of the two men, panicking. Men had seen him fighting to help Jonas and Vik, and those men, once sober, were likely to report his part in proceedings.
If there was anyone left alive by sundown.
The battle was still raging around him. He saw bloody tunics and cloaks, men with gaping wounds, smoke cascading across the spreading carnage, stinging his eyes. Overturned tables blocked their path, slush turning red, making everything slippery. An enormous dog ran past after a honking goose, nearly sending Ollo flying, and looking down, he saw a familiar face. ‘Haegel!’ Bending to the ground, he pulled up his old friend, who wobbled, barely able to stand. ‘You alright?’
Haegel tried to nod, but he couldn’t hear or see much of anything. He collapsed against Ollo, letting him drag him along.
‘Come on!’ Vik called, pushing Jonas ahead of him.
Jonas saw a glimpse of Leonid, and he slid through a gap in the crowd, determined to grab hold of him, one eye on the gates, which were moving again. He turned, looking for Vik and Ollo, but the crowd had closed around him, and he couldn’t see them any longer. But he could see Leonid and Magnus, and lunging forward, he grabbed Magnus’ sleeve, pulling him close.
‘Grandfather!’ Magnus sobbed in relief, turning into his chest. ‘I can’t push through! We can’t get through!’ He thought he’d broken a rib; it hurt to breathe. Leonid clung to Magnus’ other hand, struggling to see a way out. ‘Where’s Vik?’
‘Back there! Come on, let’s keep going, he’ll follow. We have to get out, Magnus. Through that hole, see! There!’ And squeezing Magnus’ hand, Jonas made for the gap between a man and a woman as the crowd writhed, threatening to knock them all off their feet.
‘Open the gates!’ came the cry from the wall, booming down into the square. ‘Open the gates for the Lord of Slussfall!’
Jonas froze, trying to see Vik, but the men around him were tall, bigger than his friend, who was bigger than Ollo. He couldn’t see either of them.
‘No!’ Magnus cried. ‘What can we do?’
Ulrick heard the commotion, a horn moaning in the distance.
‘What’s that?’ Bergit wondered, shuffling to the stern where Asger was barking orders at his men.
‘We need to be gone,’ Ulrick hissed in Asger’s ear. ‘You want your coins, you’ll get this ship out in the harbour quickly. That horn means Hakon Vettel. We don’t want any trouble now, do we?’
Asger certainly didn’t. The Vettel boy was vengeful and likely to cast his net for blame far and wide. ‘Oars in!’ he barked at those men who were still milling around in shock, mu
ttering to each other, many half asleep. ‘Get your oars in!’
They could see smoke lifting from the fort now, and Lotta panicked, fearing for Jonas and Magnus. And then another feeling – that of heartbreak – for she could feel her mother.
‘What’s going on in there?’ Hakon roared, standing in his stirrups, calling to the men on the wall. ‘Get the gates open! I want my men inside. Now!’
His guards were panicking, hearing their notoriously intolerant lord’s voice raised in displeasure, but there were still so many people in the way.
‘Clear a path!’ came a raised voice, and the head of the tower guards pushed his way through, long knife out, carving into anyone who didn’t move. Yelps and shrieks. Screams of pain. He was oblivious, though, just wanting to get them away from the gates.
Jonas yanked Magnus towards him. Leonid too. They couldn’t escape. He tried to see another path out of the melee, but bodies pressed closer together now, and Jonas curled himself around Magnus, trying to keep the men at arm’s length. ‘Watch it!’ he barked, pushed in the back. The crowd was shifting, compressing further, and Jonas was lifted off his feet, just keeping hold of Magnus’ hand.
‘Grandfather!’ Magnus yelped, dragged along after him, Leonid yanked in the opposite direction. ‘Leonid!’ And then the gates were shunted open, and Magnus’ eyes darted about in fear, feeling his great-grandfather trying to pull him closer.
‘Hold on, Magnus!’ Jonas called, hearing a shout from behind as a burning roof collapsed, the fire spreading now, heading for the tavern.