CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO ORKA

CHAPTER SEVENTY-TWO

ORKA

O rka ducked a sword-swing from Ilska and chopped at her ankles, the Raven-Feeder's chief leaping back, shuffling away and climbing another step on the stairwell, a pair of warriors crashing in between them, pushing Orka down a step. She looked around quickly, searching for Breca.

"I'm here," Breca called out, a dozen steps behind her at the rear of the Bloodsworn, S?unn and Lif protecting him. The stairwell was wide, wide enough for Ulfrir in his wolf-form to pad along it, and all around Orka warriors fought, Bloodsworn and Raven-Feeders, both warbands filled with the Tainted. Frost-spiders and skraeling were there, too, the spiders scuttling up the trunk, swinging on webs from branches. Every step of the way Orka had been trying to reach Drekr but had been hindered by Ilska and her followers. She had left a trail of the dead on the stairwell behind her. Glornir and Vol were trying to reach Skalk, who cast Galdur-spells at them with a frantic intensity, Vol countering them with her Seier-runes. They had climbed high around the tree, the flames and smoke forcing them up, passing Elvar's chamber where Thorguna the Berserkir had been falling back against three Tainted warriors, many others dead around her. Gunnar and Halja had gone to her aid, and now Thorguna fought with them against Ilska and her score or so of Raven-Feeders, all of them Tainted, fast and strong, though the Bloodsworn pushed them ever back, ever higher, and now they were almost at the vaulted ceiling of Ulfrir's chamber, Orka glimpsing the pale glow of dawn in the sky above her, through the swaying branches.

One of the retreating Raven-Feeders cried out, a red-haired woman with a splintered shield in one fist, a bearded axe in the other, Orka seeing that she had backed into some invisible object. She tried to climb the stairwell again, and Orka saw her stumble back, a crackle of blue Seier-light rippling above her.

A Seier-barrier , Orka thought. Good, we have them now, then. She looked for Drekr and saw he was close to the red-haired warrior, and she climbed another step up the stairwell.

A roar, ringing and echoing, and a tremor passed through the stairwell, the branches above and below quivering. Orka looked back, down at the chamber floor, so far below. She could see the orange flicker of flames and great banks of black smoke, but could make little else out from this height, even with her wolf-eyes. Then Lik-Rifa appeared from out of the smoke and flame, circling higher around the tree, growing larger and larger until she was almost upon them. Blood flowed from a hundred wounds, great rips and rents in her scaled hide, and she held the rat in her claws; his fur was blood-crusted and matted, too.

Lik-Rifa reached the Seier-wall and blue light flared across the entire ceiling, knocking the dragon back.

"The way is blocked, brother," Orka heard Lik-Rifa roar.

" úlfavinur, opinn, " Rotta cried out and with a flare and crackle of blue light that rippled across the domed roof, the spell faded to nothing. Lik-Rifa beat her wings and rose higher, passing through the space where the barrier had been and on into the pale pewter sky.

Raven-Feeders turned and ran up the stairwell, Drekr disappearing around a curve in the trunk, and Ilska kicked a Bloodsworn tumbling down the stairwell, then turned and ran as well. All of the Raven-Feeders and skraeling disengaging and backing or running away. The frost-spiders scurried to the trunk and climbed it, fading into the foliage. Orka strode to Glornir. He glanced over the stairwell, down at the chamber far below.

"Halja," he called out, "what do your eagle-eyes see?"

"The Froa is dead," Halja said, "the tree and hall burning. We will not be getting back into the chamber by this path."

"There are other ways," Glornir said. He looked at Orka and Vol. "But not until we have our vengeance", and then he was striding up the stairwell after the fleeing Raven-Feeders, Orka and the others a step behind him.

They emerged through the branches into daylight, a cold wind stirring Orka's hair, scouring her face, and followed the stairwell to its end. Orka felt like she was standing on the top of the world, the snow on the peaks of the Boneback Mountains bright in the first touches of dawn, Lik-Rifa a great silhouette against the diffuse sun, almost blotting it out, retreating to the north-west, towards the gaping jaws of Snaka's skull. To the west and south the ocean shimmered like beaten silver, dark shadows scudding across it from the clouds above. Orka saw the Raven-Feeders gathering together, their backs to Orka and the Bloodsworn, staring out at the ocean.

"What are they doing?" Gunnar Prow grunted. "What are they looking at?" and Halja stepped up, looked with her gold-flecked eyes.

Her mouth dropped open and she blinked.

"A fleet," she said.

"Where?" Glornir grunted.

"Everywhere," Halja said. "You do not need my eyes to see it. Look", and she gestured to the ocean.

Orka used the wolf in her blood and focused, and realised it wasn't the shadow of clouds she'd seen upon the ocean, but great swathes and clusters of ships. Hundreds of them. Many hundreds, perhaps thousands, split into different fleets. Elvar's fleet had been fifty or sixty drakkar -strong, and it had been the greatest gathering of ships Orka had ever seen, or heard a skáld sing of. This dwarfed Elvar's fleet many times over. And the more she looked, the more Orka could see them spreading around the coast of Iskidan. One fleet was sailing for Snakavik, another for Liga, one for Darl, and another was sweeping into the estuary of the River Falinn and sailing upriver through the Iron Wood to Wolfdales.

"Has all of Iskidan sailed after us?" one of the Bloodsworn said.

"It is Rurik's fleet, the invasion he and Jaromir were planning," Glornir said.

"They are too many," someone else said.

"One battle at a time," Glornir grunted leading them along the stairwell. "Let's live through this one before we think about the next."

Skraeling were clustering where the stairwell met the thick-tufted grass of the hill, and behind them the Raven-Feeders were turning away from the sea and forming up, Skalk and his drengr with them.

"Thorguna," Glornir called out and the Berserkir limped towards him. The two of them walked on ahead of the Bloodsworn, muttering and growling, their shoulders and backs hunching, muscle swelling, and then they were breaking into a run, roaring, Glornir hefting his long-axe and Thorguna her two hand-axes. Orka and the Bloodsworn broke into a loping run behind them. Ahead of them the skraeling grunted and snarled, hefted their crude-iron blades. One set its feet and dug a spear-butt into the ground, angled it at Glornir as he surged along the stairwell. Halja hefted her spear without breaking stride and cast it, Orka seeing it fly high, the shaft shivering, and stoop into its dive. It struck the skraeling in the chest, threw it to the ground in a burst of blood, its spear falling from its grip, and Glornir and Thorguna hit them like a rockfall. Bodies flew in different directions, Glornir frothing and slavering, swinging his long-axe in great arcs, a severed head spinning through the air, Thorguna hacking in a blood-mad frenzy with her hand-axes, and the skraeling scattered and broke apart squealing. Orka and the others hit the skraeling a few moments later, smashing them down with their shields, stabbing, chopping. The skraeling tried to rally, but Glornir and Thorguna had carved through them like wheat, split and scattered them, and then they were charging at Ilska, Drekr and the Raven-Feeders, crunching into their wall of shields.