CHAPTER SEVENTEEN ORKA

CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

ORKA

O rka looked at Breca as she held him suspended in the air, could hardly believe it was her son. He was calming from the frenzy that had swept him, and he looked at her now with dark eyes in a pale, blood-spattered face.

"Are you in control?" she asked him calmly, and he nodded. She set him down next to the skraeling he had just killed.

"It was trying to hurt you, Mama," Breca said, looking from the skraeling and up to Orka.

"Aye," Orka grunted.

"We need to get out of here," Breca said and Orka nodded. She looked around, saw Halja Flat-Nose fighting off Raven-Feeders, Lif standing a pace behind her, guarding her flank with his shield and spear. A pile of the dead lay around them.

A thick-antlered troll roared, stumbled out of the snow and passed close to them, three or four úlfhéenar clinging to its shoulders and limbs, stabbing and clawing at it. Two more trolls came lumbering through the chaos, one swinging a huge club, the other stabbing with a thick-shafted spear. People dived out of the way, and then men and women clad in mail with wolf-painted shields were swarming among them, hacking and stabbing. Orka saw a white-haired, barrel-chested man clad in mail and fur leading them, recognised him – Orlyg – Dagrun's father, shouting orders, chopping about him with a long-axe. A Galdurman stood close to him, dark-haired, animal skulls braided into his hair, a staff in his hands. He was shouting in a strange tongue, tracing red runes in the air with his staff, and a flaming shield appeared before Orlyg just as a skraeling ran at him. The creature crashed into the rune-shield and burst into flames, shrieking and collapsing to the ground.

A figure ran up to Orka, S?unn, wrapped in thick furs, a spear in her fist.

"We must leave, mistress," S?unn said.

"Aye," Orka grunted. "Halja, Lif," she shouted, putting her hands to her mouth and they ran to her.

"Where is Gunnar Prow?" Orka asked S?unn.

"There," S?unn pointed with her spear and Orka saw Gunnar standing before a child and a man trying to rise from the ground.

"Harek," Breca said, "the betrayer," he snarled, his eyes kindling to amber and green, his body starting to tremble.

"No," Orka said to him, grabbing his wrist and shaking him, even as she calmed the wolf in her own blood.

"Gunnar," she shouted, and he glanced over at her, then back to the man on the ground. Orka saw it was Biórr, remembered that he had slain Revna.

The troll with the úlfhéenar clinging to it came staggering between Gunnar and Biórr. It let out a roar, swayed and toppled to the ground, its throat cut, the úlfhéenar on its back and shoulders thrown loose as the troll hit the ground. The earth around its fall trembled, sending Gunnar reeling backwards, and Harek and Biórr tumbling.

Behind them Orka heard Rotta's voice swirling through the battleground. Words she did not understand, that made her hackles stand on end. She looked back, saw him riding out of the snow into the ground between the treeline and the warband, a score or more of the dragon-born around him.

Orka broke into a run, the others following her, and she reached Gunnar in a few heartbeats, heaved him to his feet. He was looking around wildly for Biórr but could not see him, fresh battle sweeping around them.

"Brother, we must leave," Halja said to Gunnar.

"Revna," he snarled, eyes searching for Biórr.

"Is gone," Halja said. "You will see that nieing again, will have the chance to avenge her then. If we do not leave now, chances are none of us will be leaving." She pointed towards Rotta and the dragon-born. They were shouting unknown words, runes of fire and ice sizzling and crackling into life in the air before them.

Gunnar froze a moment, mouth twisting in a grimace, then he nodded. He swept up his axe from the ground.

"Skullsplitter," he said, and gestured to the chains that still bound her wrists.

She dropped to her knees and spread her wrists on the snow-covered ground, Gunnar hacking down with his axe, sparks flaring. On the third strike a link snapped and twisted, and Orka let the wolf run through her, used its strength to strain, veins bulging, and the chain snapped.

A grunt of thanks to Gunnar and they were all running through the pitched battle, swerving around knots of combat. Orka sheathed her seaxes, bent and swept up a long-axe as she ran, saw that it was Red Fain's, the old man wrestling with a Berserkir , corded muscles bulging, his jutting jaw and tusks gouging into the Berserkir 's chest. The Berserkir plunged a seax into Red Fain's thigh, the old warrior bellowing and he ripped his tusks up into the Berserkir 's throat.

A scream to her left and she saw Dagrun and a handful of his drengrs being beaten down by skraeling and dragon-cultists. Orka changed direction, the others following her, and she swept through those attacking Dagrun, hacking them down. He was on the ground, a skraeling on top of him, huge hands throttling him. Orka swung her long-axe and Lif stabbed the skraeling through the back with his spear, the creature falling away with a gurgling scream. Gunnar, Halja and S?unn cut the others down like an ice wind, and then they were running on, leaving Dagrun gasping on the ground.

Orka saw Spert's body, snow settled upon it, the spear still pinning him to the ground; she ran to it, ripped the spear out and cast it away, lifted Spert's body and cradled it in one arm, then ran on. She checked that Breca was close, saw him running hard a pace behind and to her right.

They broke into open ground, Rotta and his dragon-born between them and the treeline. Dusk was falling, snow swirling in gusts, a pale shadow-light filling the vale, and Orka saw movement from within the treeline, frost-spiders and night-hags emerging from the darkness like a quick-flowing mist.

Rotta saw her and raised his arms, ice-blue runes spiralling in the air, growing and expanding with every heartbeat. The mounted dragon-born behind him raised their voices, red runes crackling to life above them, and the frost-spiders and night-hags flowed past their horses' feet.

Orka skidded to a halt.

"No escape that way," she growled, and they turned, running back towards the battle, filtered through it, chopping and hacking at all in their way. They passed an overturned wagon where a dozen children huddled.

"Bjarn," Breca cried out, slowing. "Bjarn, come with us."

A dark-haired lad looked up at Breca, rose hesitantly and began to follow them.

Screams behind them and Orka glanced back, saw Rotta and the dragon-born close to the battle-lines. They were casting their rune-spells through the air, Orka seeing rings of red flame and blue-burning ice falling upon úlfhéenar and Berserkir , setting them alight like candles or freezing them instantly into pillars of ice. Panic spread through the combat, Orlyg and his wolf-shields halting their advance, beginning to fall back.

Orka ran on, breaking through the combat and out into an open space before the river. Breca, Gunnar and the others were at her heels, and she saw Bjarn following behind them. To her right stood Orlyg's two longships, a half-crew upon each of them, to the left the river wound back the way she had walked from the north, from Svelgarth.

"Where to, chief?" Halja Flat-Nose asked Orka.

Orka hesitated.

People ran past them, some in full flight, others retreating backwards with shields locked. Orka saw Orlyg with a score of his warriors, his Galdurman holding a protective rune-shield above the jarl. Orlyg shouted orders and a woman close to him put a horn to her lips, blew an ululating call as they retreated.

We cannot go north, there is only a cold-freezing death for us there. And the trees to the west are blocked to us.

She looked back, saw Rotta walking his horse through the battleground, red flames and blue ice erupting around him, spreading across the snow-covered ground.

"Wolves behind, a cliff ahead," Halja muttered.

"Aye," Orka grunted.

"Come with me," a voice close by shouted and Orka saw Dagrun beckoning to them. "Come with us," he shouted, running towards the longships with a handful of drengrs around him.

Another glance backwards and Orka made her decision. She ran after Dagrun, sprinting towards the longships.

Runes flew over her head, leaving fiery red and blue trails through the sky above, snowflakes hissing. They fell upon the first longship that had grounded upon the riverbank, exploded in bursts of red and blue incandescence. Flames spread, crackling across the hull's strakes, across the timber deck, and in moments the ship was ablaze. Orka veered and changed her course, running past the first ship where flaming figures were leaping, screaming, into the river.

She saw Dagrun reach the second longship. He turned and hoisted a woman up onto the deck, then lifted a child, a girl, and hurled her up, hands catching her. Orlyg leaped and grabbed the top-rail, hands hauling him aboard, his Galdurman leaping nimbly aboard behind him.

Orka crashed through reeds and waded into the river, reached the ship's hull and turned and grabbed Lif, heaved him up so that he flopped over the top-rail. Then she was grabbing Breca and lifting him up, Lif reaching down to grip his wrists and drag him aboard. Halja and S?unn ran into the water and leaped, grabbing the rail and pulling themselves over, then Gunnar was there and he and Orka leaped together, hands reaching down and gripping them, hauling them aboard.

Orka slithered over the top-rail and fell onto the deck, where Orlyg was yelling commands and warriors were grabbing oars from the central racks, threading them through oar-holes, others pushing off from the bank. Oars began to dip into the water, the longship moving slowly into the river. Shouts and yells from the riverbank. Feet drummed on the timber deck as warriors ran with shields to protect the rowers. Orka saw Orlyg's Galdurman stand at the top-rail and hurl runes from his staff at vaesen on the riverbank.

She gently laid Spert's body down, stood, and went to the top-rail, watching a handful of úlfhéenar and Berserkir running for the longship, pursued by skraeling and frost-spiders. Orka grabbed a spear from a spear rack and hurled it, saw the spear pierce a frost-spider as it leaped at an úlfhéenar . Then they were crashing through the reeds and leaping for the longship. Orka leaned over and grabbed a grasping wrist, hauled a Berserkir over the top-rail.

Breca appeared beside her, staring out into the confusion.

"Bjarn," he yelled, "Bjarn", looking frantically at the chaos beyond the riverbank. Then a small figure appeared, running between a troll's legs and sprinting towards the ship.

"Come on, Bjarn," Breca yelled, and Orka added her voice to her son's, urging Bjarn on. Another child appeared behind Bjarn, running fast. It leaped and crashed into Bjarn's legs, the two of them rolling and disappearing into the reeds along the riverbank.

"Harek," Breca snarled, made to climb over the top-rail, and Orka grabbed him, pulled him back.

Rotta appeared, riding through the dusk and snow, one hand held high over his head, blue runes crackling to life. He looked at the longship, straight at Orka, and cast the rune at her. It flared through the air, leaving a trail of blue sparks, and Orka grabbed a shield from a warrior close by, held it up and felt the rune-magic crash into the shield, staggering her. Frost crackled, cold seeping through the linen and timber, and speckles of frost appeared on the inside of the shield, rapidly turning to shards of ice, the timber strips of the shield freezing, cracking, splintering, and cold rolled into Orka like a wave, numbing her hand but also burning, spreading up her wrist and with a roar she heaved the shield away, saw it fall into the river, water turning to blue-tinged ice. The ice-rune sputtered, ice cracking, and died.

Oars dipped and pulled, dipped and pulled and the longship gathered speed, carving away from the bank and into the current of the river, started to speed away. Orka saw Rotta standing in his saddle, body twitching and trembling, and then he was disappearing, veiled behind the swirling snow. She heard him yell, a bellow of rage and frustration, and she slumped to the deck, her back against the top-rail, flexing her fist that was still numb from Rotta's rune-spell.

Breca bent over and vomited beside her.

Killing is no easy thing , she thought as she looked at him, saw his trembling hands. "Breca, come here," she said, and Breca looked up, cuffed vomit from his lips and walked over to her.

"You should have been far from here," she said to him. "Should have fled."

"I could not go without you, Mama," Breca said.

"People died to save you, to get you away from here," she said, and he dropped his head.

Lif, Gunnar, Halja and S?unn gathered around them, squatted or sat.

"You should have taken him like I told you to," Orka said with a scowl, "taken him to Glornir, where he would be safe."

"There is nowhere safe in Vigrie now," Halja said. "The dragon is free."

"Safer than here," Orka grumbled.

"Perhaps, but only for a while," Halja shrugged.

"It was all our choice," S?unn said fiercely, "none of us wished to leave you. Spert was the first to speak of staying. He refused to leave you."

Orka looked at the small shadow that was Spert's corpse, nestled behind an oar-chest, and she knelt beside him, rested a blood- and grime-crusted hand on the vaesen's body.

"Friendship," she whispered, and felt a knot tighten in her chest. He was loyal, faithful. These gods and their dragon-born have taken much from me, have much to answer for. I shall take it back from them in their blood. Muscles twitched in her jaw and she blew out a hard breath, looked at Breca. He was trembling, tears in his eyes. She reached out her hands and cupped his cheeks, dragged him close to her and kissed his tears away, squeezed him hard, felt the emotion quivering through his body, and her own.

"My Breca," she breathed and felt his arms wrap around her and hug her with a fierce strength.