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CHAPTER SIXTEEN BIÓRR

CHAPTER SIXTEEN

BIóRR

B iórr took the axe swing of a Berserkir on his shield, felt the blow shiver through his wrist and up his arm. He leaned against the man in the shield wall beside him, a fox-tainted warrior of the Raven-Feeders, set his feet and stabbed over the shield rim at the Berserkir 's face. She shifted to the left, his blade slicing a red line across her cheek and carving through her ear, but if she felt it she did not show any pain, just roared and threw herself at Biórr's shield, hooking her axe head over the rim and dragging it down, lunging with mad-bulging eyes and red froth on her lips as her teeth snapped at his face, the head of her bear pelt making it seem like the creature itself was lunging at him, not a person.

A long-axe crunched down onto the bear-head of her pelt, a clang revealing that she wore a helm beneath it, but the blow was so hard it caved one side of the helm in. A moment as the Berserkir grunted, eyes unfocused, then blood was streaming down her face from beneath her helm and she was swaying, dropping to her knees. Biórr stabbed again, piercing her throat, and ripped the blade back, risked a quick glance over his shoulder to nod his thanks to Red Fain, who stood with his long-axe in the second row of the shield wall.

Biórr was standing with a knot of the Raven-Feeders, twelve or fifteen of them who had held the shield wall against the first rush of the Berserkir and úlfhéenar . Battle raged around them and Biórr had fought every moment to stay alive, heart thumping in his chest. There was a lull now, most of the Berserkir and úlfhéenar spread out among Rotta's warband and fighting like cornered, frenzied animals, no more coming at what remained of the shield wall. His comrades around him took the brief respite to drag deep breaths into their lungs and rest their shield arms. In the gap to his right, Biórr saw Brák and his remaining crew fighting together, a handful of skraeling with them. Despite his injuries, Brák was impossibly fast, his long, thin sword darting out and piercing a Berserkir . His crew and the skraeling had it encircled, all of them darting in and stabbing, then stepping away as it spun to face them, like hounds worrying at a bear.

A wolf howl behind and to Biórr's right and he glanced quickly. Saw Orka on her hands and knees in the slush-churned snow, head thrown back, howling, a corpse partially hidden behind her. A handful of warriors ran up to Orka, some mail-clad with black, blood-spattered shields in their fists. A fierce-looking child was with them, wrapped in thick furs. Biórr blinked, realised it was Breca, an axe in one of his fists. He was pulling Orka to her feet, the others spreading around her like a protective hand.

Orka rose slowly, shook herself like a dog emerging from a river, then Biórr saw the body at Orka's feet. Time froze for him, the world fading down to Myrk's pale, lifeless face. Orka bent and unbuckled Myrk's weapons belt, dragged it free and buckled it around her own waist, sheathed the seax in her fist, then leaned over and took the other seax from the ground beside Myrk, wiping the blood on her tunic.

Biórr heard a scream, realised it was him, found himself moving, heard Fain's voice calling behind him, the drum of feet, Fain and others following him. He ran through a field of chaos, snow swirling about him, battle raging all around. The dead or dying scattered like strewn leaves, lifeless eyes staring, gaping mouths fixed in death, blood on the snow, black as ink, the stench of voided bowels and metallic tang of blood hanging like mist in the air. He saw two trolls tip a wagon over, crushing an úlfhéenar beneath it, heard the roar and clash of new combat as warriors from the longships crashed into the rear of remaining clumps of the shield wall, heard Rotta bellowing in his god-voice, saw the crackle of rune-magic sparking in the air, saw tennúr flit out of the sky to swarm over a Berserkir 's head, raking him with their claws, grabbing at his teeth as he opened his mouth to roar. Biórr ran past Skaga and a handful of her skraeling kin. They were hacking at an úlfhéenar on the ground. Skaga saw him, called something out to him, but he did not hear what she said. She shouted at her kin, and they followed after Biórr, Fain and the others.

One of those around Orka saw Biórr, and the others charging, a tall, fair-haired man with a braided beard, mailed and helmeted, a black blood-spattered shield in one fist, hand-axe in the other. Biórr recognised him, had fought him not so long ago.

I slew his woman.

Biórr saw a green fire kindle in the man's eyes and he hefted his shield, banged his hand-axe upon it.

The rat within Biórr squealed, flight its first instinct.

No, brother , Biórr hissed at it, find your courage, this is the time to fight.

He felt the rat shift in his blood, an adjustment from flight to fight, as if he were cornered. Felt a vicious strength flood him.

A red-haired, mail-clad woman beside the fair-haired man drew her arm back and hurled a spear, was drawing her sword from its scabbard before the spear had hissed past Biórr. A scream behind him, a skraeling knocked from his feet and hurled to the ground. He heard Skaga shout a curse, ran on, swerved around three úlfhéenar as they ripped through a knot of dragon-cultists, heard some of the Raven-Feeders behind him crash into the úlfhéenar , and then he was almost upon Orka and her small crew.

The two Bloodsworn with their black shields were standing together, shields locked, behind them a man and woman, both with spears held high and ready in underhand grips. He could not see Orka or Breca.

Biórr yelled a battle cry but slowed.

I am no frothing-mad Berserkir to rush headlong into an impaling. He swerved to avoid the Bloodsworns' shields, slashed low with his sword at the shins of the green-eyed man, who struck down with his shield and knocked Biórr's blade into the turf, hacked with his hand-axe at Biórr's chest, but Biórr twisted and raised his shield and caught the axe blow. It was so powerful it sent Biórr stumbling and he ran on a few paces, ducked as a spear blade stabbed at his throat and staggered backwards, tripped over something and fell crashing onto his back.

Red Fain and the other Raven-Feeders hit the small shield wall, sent it skidding backwards, but somehow the man and woman held against their weight. Axes chopped, swords stabbed and Biórr saw spears dart out from the back row, each blade coming back blood-dark. An iron boss punched Red Fain in the face, and he stumbled backwards, fell to one knee. Then Skaga and the skraeling hit the wall, sent it reeling back a few more steps, and skraeling were pouring around the side of the two shield warriors, too many of them to be held back. The wall broke apart, each black shield moving, the spear-wielders separating, one staying with each of the Bloodsworn. They left bodies falling in their wake.

Biórr rolled onto his hands, pushed himself up, saw he had tripped over a body. It was Myrk. He stared at her, eyes dark and lifeless, staring into nowhere, could hardly believe that this was the hot-blooded, passionate, fierce woman who had dragged him into the reeds beside the river only a short while ago.

A sound choked out of his throat, part sob, part growl, and he was climbing to his feet, snarling, grabbing his shield and sword, looking for Orka.

Red Fain was back on his feet, leading the small band of Raven-Feeders against one of the black shields, Skaga and the other skraeling trying to surround the other one. Then Orka was there, moving fast and low, a seax in each fist, slicing, stabbing, snarling, arcs of blood in the air marking her passage. A skraeling leaped at her, crashed into her and she staggered, the skraeling clinging to her, trying to saw at her throat with a thick iron blade.

Something small hurtled out from behind a wagon, Breca, making a high-pitched howling, a hand-axe gripped in a white-knuckled fist, his face twisted in a rictus of rage. He leaped into the air and swung the axe overhead in a two-handed grip, the blade crunching down onto the skraeling's skull. It collapsed like a brained cow, legs folding, blood, bone and brain leaking from its head. Breca fell with it, came to his feet chopping and hacking at the dead skraeling until Orka pulled him off, held him in the air by the scruff of his cloak, where he spat and snarled, eyes blazing amber and green, slowly calmed.

Biórr glanced down at Myrk's corpse, and then he was running at Orka.

A figure stepped in front of him, a black shield and green eyes, lips pulled back in a snarl. Biórr dipped his head and ran, smashed into the Bloodsworn, their shields crashing together, sent the Bloodsworn staggering back, his momentum carrying him on past the warrior, a backswing with his sword, heard the Bloodsworn grunt as his blade crunched into the top of the man's back, tearing a rent through his mail coat, rings spraying.

Biórr skidded and turned, saw the Bloodsworn turn and set his feet as Biórr fell upon him in a rush. His sword battered at the Bloodsworn's shield, stabbed at his face, stabbed down, under the shield rim and the Bloodsworn gave ground, chopped at Biórr's head with his axe, but Biórr shifted left and slammed his shield into his enemy's, snarled and spat at him over the shield rims. A pivot of the Bloodsworn's feet and he pushed with his shield, sent Biórr staggering past him, the axe chopping and raking down the back of Biórr's shield arm. Mail rings shattered and blood welled, Biórr feeling a hot line of fire down the back of his arm. Green-eyes came at him hard, shield up, axe blows raining down on him. Splinters of wood sprayed from Biórr's shield, the blows powerful, sending shock waves rolling up his injured arm. He struggled to keep his shield up, swung his sword, but his feet were not planted, the blow too weak and green-eyes swatted it away, smashed his shield into Biórr's and sent him crashing to the ground in a spray of snow, losing his grip on his sword.

Biórr rolled, reached for his sword hilt, but green-eyes stamped down on his wrist, pinning it.

"You killed my Revna," green-eyes spat. "She was worth a thousand of you." And he raised his axe.

Something small crunched into green-eyes, sent him stumbling back, and Biórr saw Harek standing over him, feet set wide, fists balled, his eyes glowing yellow and his chin and jawline swollen, small tusks protruding from his lower jaw.

"You leave him alone," Harek shouted.

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