by A. E. Rayne
And eyes bursting open, he heard swords clashing, men shouting behind the gates now. ‘Push! Knock them back!’ he screamed, voice breaking. ‘We move now!’
The passage before the harbour gates was narrow, for though the gates offered another exit, the lord who’d built the fortress hadn’t wanted to make it easy for his enemies to get into the fort in a hurry.
The gates were blocked, guarded by Vettel men in red tunics, led by an older man Reinar recognised; a nothing sort of man, he thought, not on his list to kill, but in order to get through him and open up the gates for Sigurd, that man was going to have to die. So leaving his men to fan out around him, taking their blades to Hakon’s guards, Reinar firmed up his sword grip, lunging forward, aiming for Jerrick’s head.
Jerrick was on the back foot immediately, confidence low, doubting he stood any chance of defeating the bear-like Lord of Ottby. He parried the first blow, the power behind Reinar’s strike jarring his arm. Teeth gritted, Jerrick brought his sword up quickly, deflecting Reinar’s blade, aimed at his throat. And then he was moving his feet, trying to make room for himself in the narrow passage, ducking and weaving, working his sword with skill, trying to get through Reinar’s guard.
Vik dragged his sword out of a big-bellied man, who fell backwards howling. He spun, pleased to see that Reinar appeared to have the better of his opponent, but in the next moment, he was cursing the gods as Hakon Vettel charged towards them from the opposite direction, leading an army of men into the crush before the gates.
‘Jerrick!’ Hakon could see him fighting Reinar Vilander. ‘Stand down!’ He wanted Jerrick out of the way, leaving Reinar for him. Chest on fire, the mark pulsing like a heartbeat now, he knew that this was Thenor’s plan all along. He could almost hear that masterful god’s voice in his ears, promising him the throne he’d been born to.
The Vettels of Alekka. Kings for all eternity.
And pale-blue eyes glinting like a sea under the sun, Hakon joined the fray, pushing his way towards Reinar.
49
Eddeth led Aldo through the lingering smoke.
As much as he wanted to charge after Hakon Vettel and stick his knife through that evil lord’s heart, his first brush with screaming, dying, angry warriors trying to stab and slice each other to death was enough to convince him that following Eddeth was the right thing to do.
‘Plenty of time for you!’ she promised. ‘Better you live now, or you’ll never get your chance!’ And they hurried up the hall steps, stopped by a giant man with a square-shaped face, who appeared as if carved out of stone.
‘Where do you think you’re going?’ he boomed, recognising Eddeth and Aldo, but still, he’d been instructed not to let anyone into the hall.
‘To tend to the Lady Karolina, of course!’ Eddeth looked insulted, hair trembling in anger. ‘I have herbs!’ she said, patting the purse hanging from her belt which had barely more than a few stones and scraps of cloth inside it now. ‘The lord sent me himself. Worried, he is. She is under great strain. Her and the boy both. I’ve been sent by the lord! The lord sent me!’
Eddeth was almost barking like a dog, and the guard, conscious of the rising sounds of battle in the distance, wanted her gone quickly. ‘Get going, then! Get inside!’ And leaping up the steps, he hammered on the door. ‘Open the doors. Quick!’
Eddeth beamed at the guard, slipping her arm through Aldo’s as they raced inside, quickly trying to get her bearings. ‘You know the lady’s chamber? Have you been there before?’
Aldo nodded.
‘Wonderful! Then we shall go, oh yes, indeed, for I sense that we are needed!’ She looked around in surprise at Aldo, who had stopped, turning back to watch the doors close, locking them in, and she sneezed. ‘Don’t just stand there, my boy! Let’s get to that chamber quickly. I hope they have a fire going!’
Reinar had both Hakon and Jerrick on him now, though he could tell that Hakon wanted his man gone. He was pleased, knowing that if he could draw everyone’s attention away from the gates, Jonas and Vik could work on getting them open.
Jerrick, shunted out of the way by his angry lord, looked almost relieved, though he quickly came face to face with Berger Eivin.
Berger winked at him, motioning with his hand for Jerrick to come closer. ‘I’m going to kill you!’ he grinned, lifting up his sword until it was completely vertical, then grinning some more, Berger brought it crashing down towards Jerrick’s skull. Jerrick skidded to the right, heart thundering now, unsettled by the laughing man, who came for him again, swinging wildly.
Reinar eyed Hakon, sensing that Vik was trying to carve a path towards the gates. ‘You know Thenor sent me!’ he smiled, ducking Hakon’s sword, watching irritation spark in his mad eyes. ‘He had The Hunter mark you, then he sent for me. He came to me in a dream, told me what to do. I’m to finish you off! Me and my army! Send you to Vasa’s Cave, where you’ll rot for all eternity!’
Hakon staggered to a stop, mouth open, sword in mid-air.
Reinar’s voice had been a bellowing cry, and Hakon wasn’t the only one who looked shocked.
Hakon’s breath rushed from his mouth, his burning chest painful now.
‘You’re surprised? What? You thought you could escape Thenor’s judgement? That the gods still favoured you? For what? Your birth? Your grandfather? Your father? But what have you ever done, Hakon Vettel? What reputation do you have?’
Hakon was ice cold, shaking now.
From fear?
He didn’t know.
Alys said that Thenor was giving him a test, a chance to prove himself to all the gods, and now he’d delivered his enemy to his door. It didn’t matter what Reinar Vilander said, the voices in his head insisted. This was his chance to show everyone what he was capable of. ‘You think Thenor wants you to kill me? A Vettel? But we are born of his blood. We are his line!’
‘So you say,’ Reinar growled, circling Hakon. ‘Then why did he send me to end you? You and your cousin both!’
Vik had sliced his way through four men and now stood near the gates, eyeing the wooden beam that remained firmly in place. Ollo had worked industriously to get to his side. ‘Help me get it off!’ Vik rasped. He glanced at Ilene, her face red with blood, a wild look in her eyes. ‘Cover him!’
Ollo nodded, knowing that he stood on the precipice of death if the Vettels and their men were to thwart them now. Jonas and Vik would put in a good word for him with Ake, but Hakon would be unforgiving, taking off his head, no questions asked. So sheathing his sword, he lifted his hands under the beam. ‘Eadric!’ he shouted to one of his men. ‘Help us!’
Jerrick, still battling Berger, could hear him. ‘No! Stop them!’ Hakon didn’t appear aware of anything but Reinar Vilander, and the noise reverberating around them was so intense that Jerrick shouted again. ‘Stop!’
No one responded.
‘Aarrghh!’
Berger jammed his blade into Jerrick’s thigh, and he tipped sideways, unable to hold his balance, falling to the ground. Berger was over him quickly, shunting his blade through Jerrick’s throat, pulling it out with a flourish, looking for his next victim.
‘Move back!’ Bjarni was bellowing, sensing that Ollo and Vik couldn’t get the gates open. ‘Move back!’ He elbowed a bushy-bearded man in the nose, knocking him over, surging forward, sword swinging.
Jonas followed him, Berger too, both of them shunting men away from the gates, slipping on blood, ducking and sliding. And then the gates were freed, creaking open, beam dropping to the ground with a thud. Jonas was immediately pushed against Berger, losing his footing as a rush of warriors stormed inside.
Everyone was thrust together, some tumbling to the ground, crushed by bodies, kicked by bloody boots. Others couldn’t move as they tried to free their arms, wanting to defend themselves. Jonas was trapped beneath a cheese-breathed warrior who spat in his face, trying to bring up his knife. Slamming his head forward, Jonas headbutted him, knocking the man away, needing to breathe. He groaned
, pulling his legs out from under the dead body of one of Ollo’s men, shuddering, seeing the man’s guts exposed, his eyes fixed open. And dragging himself to his feet, Jonas saw Vik in the distance, Ollo beside him, fighting to hold the gates.
Sigurd’s men were off the piers, pushing uphill now, scattering the Slussfall warriors into smaller and smaller groups. They clung together as Ludo led his men to join those on the right flank, leaving Sigurd to forge a path on the left.
The gates were open, blocked by those Slussfall warriors trying to get back inside the fort. Lief was limping, light-headed, losing blood. He needed to stop and wrap something around his leg. His ears were buzzing, which he knew was a warning of trouble to come. And then Sigurd Vilander was in his face, men surging past him, towards the open gates.
Sigurd grinned. ‘I could blow you over, Lief Gundersen! By the look of your face and that leg, wouldn’t take much!’
Lief growled, straightening up. ‘You don’t know what you’re talking about.’ His voice hissed through gritted teeth. He felt no pain, but he was losing so much blood that he was struggling to see. Lifting his left hand onto his sword grip, he tried to still his shaking arm, but everything was shaking now.
He thought of his wife. Borg. Their unborn child.
Weight shifting onto his left leg, Lief lunged low to parry Sigurd’s strike. Sigurd stepped to one side, banging his shield into Lief’s head, sending him flying. He wanted to get inside, to find Reinar and Alys.
He just had to end Lief Gundersen first.
And dropping down to the fallen man, who lay on his belly, knocked unconscious by the blow, Sigurd prepared to stab him in the back. It wasn’t the noble thing to do, but some men had to die in order to save those who deserved to live. It was always the way, Sigurd thought with a sigh, lifting his sword up high.
Hakon and Reinar were back on their feet, some distance apart now, trying to make room as they sought to kill each other, but there were too many bodies lying around them, too many men clamouring for space.
No one could lift an arm.
‘Thenor sent Reinar Vilander to kill your lord!’ Jonas boomed, wanting to find Alys. His head was up, searching for a way out of the crush. There was no point to any of it if he couldn’t save Alys. They had to get out of Slussfall quickly, find a ship and head north. ‘Your lord is cursed! Marked by The Hunter! Stand back! Stand back and let Reinar Vilander deliver his fate!’
It made sense, Vik realised, seeing what Jonas was doing. He could barely swing a sword now, unable to do much more than headbutt and jostle. He didn’t even have room to bring up his arms to sheath his swords and draw out a knife. ‘Thenor is here!’ he roared. ‘He’s watching! And so must we!’
Sigurd pushed into the fort, listening to the familiar rasping voice of Vik Lofgren; pleased to see him. Jonas too. He saw Ollo Narp, and frowned in surprise; a few other familiar faces pressed into the narrow space too.
Bjarni, Berger, Ilene.
And his brother, who everyone was quickly backing away from, leaving him to face Hakon Vettel.
Ludo stumbled in beside Sigurd, righting himself quickly, bleeding from the nose. He blinked. ‘What?’ And then his eyes snapped to where Reinar was rolling his shoulders, gripping his father’s famous sword, Corpse Splitter. Ludo held his breath, hand on Sigurd’s shoulder. ‘No arrows sticking out of you yet. Tulia would be proud.’
Sigurd smiled, his attention on his brother, willing him to finish things. ‘Reinar!’ he shouted. ‘Kill the prick!’
The crowd parted, moving in waves, Hakon’s men gathering on one side of the passage, Reinar’s men on the other. Jonas moved closer to Vik, sucking in a deep breath.
‘You need a bench, old man?’ Vik winked at him. ‘A cup of milk?’
Jonas growled, lifting his head higher, wanting to find Alys, but first, they needed an end to things. After all these years, they needed an end to the Vettels.
The door was flung open by a panting Eddeth, who glanced around the chamber with mad eyes. ‘Aldo, why don’t you get that fire going. It’s barely enough for a toddler to warm his toes by!’ She hurried to Alys, who grabbed her hands.
‘Did you see Reinar?’
Eddeth nodded, shivering all over, smoke in her throat. Slipping her hands out of Alys’, she bent over coughing. And when she straightened up, she smiled. ‘I did. For a time. Then he was lost in the smoke!’ She rubbed her hands together, looking around. ‘Is there anything to eat?’
‘What about Lief?’ Falla wondered, worry in her eyes. ‘Did you see him?’
Eddeth shook her head. ‘I’ve no idea what’s going on out there. All I know is that we need to stay here. Whatever judgement the gods wish to bring down upon those men, best we stay out of it!’
Hakon circled Reinar Vilander like a wolf.
He thought of Mother, and his grin was predatory.
Confidence surged through his body now, the voices urging him on. There were so many: a woman, a man; old, young; he heard them all. He felt no pain in his belly anymore. His mark warmed him from the inside, and he felt convinced that he was stronger than he’d ever been in his life.
Powerful. Invincible. Worthy.
‘I will kill you, Hakon,’ Reinar warned. ‘And then I’ll hunt down your cousin, if he’s not dead already, and I’ll kill him too. And then...’
‘What? You’ll kill my son? A baby? You think I believe that? You think anyone here believes that you’ll kill a baby?’
Reinar’s face remained impassive. He barely blinked. It was as though his father was with him on one side, Ake on the other. They had tried and failed to end the Vettels themselves, and now that responsibility rested on his aching shoulders. He dropped them, lifting his head, shifting his legs, wanting to do both men justice.
And Hakon came for him, knowing that this was his chance.
They were all watching now, barely a noise in the passage. Just the odd moan and wail, the stink of death in the air, warning both men of what waited for them if they made a mistake.
And Thenor.
Thenor and his judgement about the lord who would one day rule Alekka.
Reinar blinked, not wanting to think about that. He parried Hakon’s blade, knocking it to the side, shoulder throbbing. Hakon came at him again, eyes blazing, slashing aggressively, turning Reinar around. And seeing a glimpse of his brother looking on, Reinar was reminded of Tulia, and he kicked out at Hakon, slamming his boot into his knee. Tulia had always had the ability to kick high – she could take a man in the jaw – but Reinar had never managed it.
Hakon staggered, unbalanced, arm out to steady himself, keeping to his feet. His men roared, cheered by that, and Hakon whipped his sword towards Reinar’s face as he skipped to the side, eyes full of intent.
Reinar swayed out of his reach, letting him skip.
He let Hakon grin and grunt and growl, and then he went for him again, shield leading now. His father had taught both him and Sigurd the value of a shield. They had railed against it as boys, only wanting to learn how to use their swords, their spears, their axes. But Stellan had shown them just how much damage they could do with a shield.
So feinting with his sword, Reinar drew Hakon towards his right side, watching his eyes following the blade. And then he swung up his shield, iron boss smashing into Hakon’s jaw, breaking it.
Hakon roared, falling to the ground, rolling, struggling back to his feet, head clanging, face aching.
And Reinar let him.
He wanted to thrash the boy. His men needed to see a proper defeat.
Every man did. They needed to know that the gods had spoken. That Thenor had made his choice. It would make whatever came next easier. More palatable.
Hakon’s ears rang with laughter, though no one was laughing.
Not in the passage, but he could hear Mother, he could hear his father. And who else? Ivan? Where was Ivan?
He ignored the pain, shutting it away.
He didn’t feel it. All he could feel w
as the mark, the heat becoming so intense now that sweat was pouring down his back. It was as though a hot poker was being jammed into his heart.
Blinking, Hakon firmed up his grip, trying to focus.
‘Shall we start again?’ Reinar taunted. ‘Now that it’s just you and me. Now that there’s no old bitch sending wolves and ravens to get in the way.’
Reinar’s taunting incensed Hakon, and he lunged forward, sword twisting, held like a spear, wanting to impale the Lord of Ottby. ‘You don’t think I have a dreamer, Reinar? But I do! I do! I have your dreamer! And she is a gift in so many ways.’ His eyes were hooded now, and though he tried to smile, his broken jaw trapped his face in a ghoulish grimace, pain pounding him now.
Reinar’s expression changed, body taut, anger flowing. ‘What did you do to her?’
Jonas’ head was up, trying to move forward, wanting an answer to that question himself. Vik grabbed his arm, keeping him back.
Hakon saw Reinar’s anger flaring, sensing that he had him on the back foot now. ‘Do to her?’ He laughed, jaw throbbing, struggling to speak. ‘Nothing she didn’t ask me to! Begged for it, she did! Over and over again!’
There was laughter, guttural and coarse.
Jonas was furious, wanting to kill the prick.
‘You touched her?’ Reinar’s temper exploded. His father’s voice was in his ears, warning him to calm down, but Reinar wasn’t listening. He swung wildly now, throwing his shield away.
Hakon’s confidence surged, and he skidded forward onto his knees, twisting his wrist, bringing his blade across Reinar’s thigh.
‘Reinar!’ Sigurd shouted as his brother bellowed, staggering away. ‘Focus!’
Ludo was beside him, struggling to keep still. He grabbed Sigurd’s arm, teeth clenched.
Reinar tried to focus, but thoughts of Alys flooded his mind. He couldn’t think at all. He fought his way forward, charging at Hakon now, not wanting to give him a moment. That broken-jawed bastard was going to die. And throwing his sword away too, ignoring the horrified gasps from his men, and trying not to imagine the look on his brother’s face, he drew his knife. Charging with a roar, Reinar took Hakon full on the chest, barreling him over, slamming him onto the ground. Ducking Hakon’s slashing blade, he stabbed him in the chest. ‘You touched Alys!’ he snarled through grinding teeth, spittle flying, bending to Hakon’s face. ‘Now you’ll die!’