CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE ELVAR

CHAPTER SIXTY-THREE

ELVAR

E lvar strode between the two stone wolves that were still crouched and snarling on guard, and made her way to the doors of Ulfrir's hall, Grend, Gytha and Berak at her shoulder, the Battle-Grim around her. She turned, looked back.

The vale of Wolfdales seethed with combat. Her shield wall was broken now, in full retreat, many running for the gates. She saw Berserkir and úlfhéenar holding the tide of frost-spiders at bay, saw trolls lumbering towards her, bellowing and swinging their clubs and spears. Watched one roaring as a handful of úlfhéenar swarmed around and over it, like a wolf pack bringing down a bull elk, saw Sulich and his archers releasing one more volley at a troll before turning and sprinting for the gates. And behind them all the ringing of horns drifted on the ice wind, and Lik-Rifa's shield wall lurched into motion, marching at a steady beat towards them. Elvar glanced at the stone gates and sheer slope behind her.

They will seek to crush us, like wheat between two quern stones.

"Gytha, now," she said, and Gytha raised the horn from her belt and blew, three sharp blasts echoing off the stone doors that reared above them.

Open.

The doors remained closed, still and silent and brooding.

"Open," Elvar snarled. Heard the cries of battle, the rumbling thunder of the approaching war-host, knew that if they remained closed any longer her war-host would be crushed.

"Open," she pleaded. "Ulfrir, open the doors."

A shiver ran through the stone doors, a creaking rumble, and they lurched into movement, opening a crack, then wider. Skuld came swooping out, her red hair and wings blazing in the light of the sinking sun, and she swept up into the sky, looped and sped down, Elvar seeing her bow drawn in her fist. The thrum of an arrow loosed, and it punched down to the fletching into the eye of a troll. The huge vaesen ran on a few steps, legs faltering, abruptly loose, and it crashed to the ground, people leaping out of its way.

Elvar's warriors were pouring through the gates now, into the chamber, a river sweeping past her, Elvar urging them on. Her Berserkir and úlfhéenar disengaged from their frenzied attack and started to retreat, overtaking trolls, hacking at them as they sprinted past.

A knot of trolls was close, hammering with clubs at whoever was in reach. Elvar saw a troll skewer a Berserkir with the blade of its spear, lift him into the air and hurl him into the slopes of the hill. And then, with a sound like rocks grinding, the two stone wolves either side of the doors were moving, first pacing forwards, then loping, then running, snarling, leaping as their jaws opened wide. They crashed into the knot of trolls, one's jaws clamping around the head of a troll, both of them crashing to the ground and rolling, the other one latching onto a troll's arm and dragging it spinning around, shaking its head like a dog with a rat and there was a wet, tearing sound as the troll's arm was ripped from its shoulder. It bellowed in agony, blood jetting, and crashed to the ground. The other stone wolf was on top of the troll, snarling and ripping great chunks of flesh in bursts of blood, the troll's limbs flailing, then flopping, and the two wolves were turning, crouched, leaping again.

One troll clubbed one of the wolves across the head, sent it crashing to the ground in an explosion of grey stone and dust, the wolf tumbling, coming up on all fours with one ear and part of its head gone. Another troll came up on its side, club swinging, crunching into the wolf's ribs, another explosion of stone and dust, the wolf whining. Then the second wolf was leaping onto the back of the troll, ripping at its neck, blood spraying, the troll staggering, arms and club flailing, trying to reach the wolf on its back, its club striking another troll in the shoulder, sending it toppling to the ground.

The bulk of Elvar's warriors were through the open doors now, the last of the Bloodsworn passing through, Berserkir and úlfhéenar close, some in running battles with frost-spiders, and Elvar saw hyrndur flitting and skimming into the hall. Lik-Rifa's shield wall was looming close, only two or three hundred paces away, and between them and the doors the trolls and stone wolves were savaging each other.

More trolls had circled the stone wolves, clubbing and stabbing at them, the wolves snapping, snarling and leaping, jaws crushing flesh, but the trolls were penning them in. A blur of red wings and Skuld swooped out of the sky and flew among them, her bow thrumming, arrows sprouting from a troll's chest, another from a throat, another in a troll's belly, and Elvar saw a blue-glowing arrow streak through the air, punch into a troll's mouth as it opened it to roar, traced it back and saw Orv standing close to her, his rune-bow thrumming.

She glanced from the wolves and trolls to the oncoming shield wall.

"Inside," Elvar said to her guards about her, "Ulfrir must close the doors."

"The wolves?" Sighvat said.

She glanced at them.

"Inside." She said and led her guards through the open doors. Knots of battle were raging, Elvar seeing frost-spiders, and hyrndur swirling in small clusters.

Ulfrir was standing in his wolf-form at the foot of the ash tree's trunk, cloaked in shadow, eyes glowing amber, still and menacing. A few score úlfhéenar stood at his feet. He saw Elvar, raised his head and howled, and the doors shifted, began grating closed. The sound of wolves snarling from beyond the gates, a crash, trolls bellowing, the two stone wolves leaping through the closing doors, Skuld skimming above them in a blur of wings, a troll lumbering through after them as the gates slammed shut with a resounding crash.

The troll stumbled to a halt, looked about it and began hammering at people with its club, an explosion of blood and bone as it squashed one of Elvar's drengrs to pulped gruel.

Ulfrir snarled and padded forwards, leaped and swept the troll up in his jaws, shook it like a rat and blood rained down in a fountain, one of the troll's severed legs landing with a wet splat.

Elvar looked around her, saw her warriors surrounding the frost-spiders that had slipped into the great hall, saw Vol, Uspa and Iva using their rune-spells to finish off the hyrndur that were buzzing around the chamber. And then she heard a deep-rumbling scream, loud and echoing.

Hrung.

She broke into a run, sprinted around the bulk of the ash tree to see Hrung upon his pedestal on the dais, a frost-spider wrapped around his head, fangs striking at his pale flesh.

She rushed forwards, her shield in one fist, her slim axe in the other, heard the thud of footsteps behind her, reached the dais and leaped onto it, raised her axe, but before she reached it the frost-spider crumpled and fell away from Hrung's head, landing on its back with its legs curled. Elvar skidded to a halt and looked down at it.

Grend reached her side and poked the spider with his axe.

"Dead as a stone," he pronounced.

"That's it," Hrung said, "everyone worry about the spider. W … w … what about me?"

Elvar noticed two blue-tinged lumps on Hrung's cheek and saw that his lips were starting to turn blue.

"You?" Grend said. "You're going to start feeling numb soon. So numb that you won't be able to talk." He smiled.

"Well, th … th … that's nice," Hrung said, then his eyes glazed over with ice.

"Can we keep one of those things alive," Grend said, nudging the dead frost-spider with his boot.