CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE VARG

CHAPTER SEVENTY-FIVE

VARG

V arg fell to his knees, a wordless voice roaring in his head, the world crashing down around him, the ground shaking beneath him. Leif and Sterkur were on the ground, too, Leif with a huge gash down one shoulder from Varg's cleaver.

He is keeping me from Einar.

A great wave of rage rose up in him, sweeping the voice in his head away and he launched himself from the ground, through the air and crashed into Leif, rolling with him.

"I am no thrall ," he snarled, and then he let the wolf run free through his veins, opened his mouth and bit down, flesh tearing, blood spurting. Leif screamed, trying to break free, but Varg clung to him, Leif's arms flailing, and they rolled, were thrown into the air together as the ground bucked, then slammed back down. Leif was flopping now, and Varg opened his jaws, spat out blood and chunks of flesh. A strong hand grabbed his arm, dragging him up and he turned, snarling, but it was R?kia.

R?kia looked down at Leif and curled her lip, above her great strips of daylight appearing in the dome of the chamber's roof as huge sections fell crashing down around them.

Leif was dead, blood leaking from his torn throat, Sterkur nowhere to be seen. Varg checked his weapons, felt his seax still in its scabbard on his belt, saw his cleaver and axe and staggered to them, swept them up, and ran stumbling across the room.

Svik was kneeling beside Einar's body, tears streaking his cheeks, R?kia moving to stand beside him. She rested a hand upon his shoulder, both of them looking down at Einar. He lay on his back, a red wound in his throat, blood slick and pooled around him. He looked smaller, in death. Refna had cast herself onto Einar's body, was weeping, and a dozen children were standing around the big man, heads bowed, the rest of the Bloodsworn gathering about them. Edel stood and stared, her hound licking Einar's hand, and ?sa let out a great wail. Varg remembered his first day of meeting the Bloodsworn, when he had fought Einar and bitten his leg. A wave of grief and rage swept him, and he lifted his head and howled, long and echoing.

A lump of stone and earth the size of a longship crashed to the ground about fifty paces from them, shattering and raining earth and shards of rock, throwing people off their feet and dragging Varg back to the now. Flames were sweeping the room, great fissures opening in the ground like sailcloth tearing in a storm.

"Brák?" Varg growled.

"Gone, the nieing ," R?kia said. "When the world decided to break, he ran like a rat."

Another boulder fell from above, staggering them all.

"What is happening?" ?sa growled, staring up at the collapsing hall.

"Snaka," Edel snarled, her lips twisting in a grimace. "I hear him in my soul."

"We need to get out of here," Svik said.

Everywhere, people were running, a great river of life trying to reach the gates, warriors, spiders, trolls, skraeling, the battle forgotten, all joined together in a desperate flight for survival, all running for the light. Rocks and clumps of earth the size of boulders were falling from the roof high above, crushing many, knocking many more from their feet, and the walls started to crumble. One of the great doors cracked and collapsed, an avalanche of stone sliding across the opening and blocking the way.

"Get out how?" Varg said.

Ulfrir came padding across the hall, weaving and staggering around great banks of flame and huge rents in the ground, Skuld swooping through the air above him, his stone wolves with him. He was leading many across the hall, trying to cover them with his body. His úlfhéenar were running beneath him, and Varg saw Sighvat leading the Battle-Grim and Elvar's drengrs . Jarl Orlyg was there with the survivors of his warband, and behind them rode the remnants of Sulich and his mounted warriors, Taras running with them, carrying Iva in his arms. Varg saw Sighvat break away from the Battle-Grim and run staggering across the floor, disappearing behind a swathe of flames. Ulfrir saw the Bloodsworn and made for them. He looked to the gates.

"No escape that way," he snarled.

Sighvat emerged through the haze, carrying someone in his arms. As he reached them Varg saw it was Elvar's body. Tears had streaked lines through the blood and grime on Sighvat's cheeks.

A splintering, tearing sound and one of the branches of the great tree fell to the chamber floor, leaves and flames exploding around it, clouds of dust and smoke billowing.

"This way," Ulfrir growled, "to the tunnels", and he padded away from them.

Varg was about to turn and follow Ulfrir when he saw a handful of people stumbling through the hall, disappearing for a moment behind cloud and flame.

"WAIT," Varg shouted and Ulfrir turned.

"We must go," Ulfrir said, glancing up. The roof was a ragged hole, light leaking through in great patches and columns.

"There," Varg pointed, and began to run back into the hall.

Grend was leading a small band of people across the chamber, Varg seeing Uspa and Berak there, Gytha, a handful of Berserkir and drengrs . Between them they were carrying something, a great weight swaying within a strip of sailcloth.

It was Hrung.

"Go back," Ulfrir snarled at Varg and then the wolf was leaping across the chamber, a huge tremor ripping through the ground and bucking him from his feet, claws scrabbling, and he was upright again, leaping and reaching the small band, sweeping up the cloth that Hrung was suspended within in his jaws, protecting Grend and the others with his body, and they were heading back towards Varg and the others, who were swerving and stumbling across the hall.

Ulfrir padded up to them as they reached the entrance to the tunnel, pausing for a moment, turning and looking back into the chamber. The tremors were growing in intensity, the ground permanently shaking, and another huge chunk of the roof came tumbling down, crashing and erupting. An impact against the far wall of the chamber, beyond the tree and dais, a great fissure running down its entire length, from roof to ground, a seam of light appearing. The whole wall exploded inwards, crashing to the ground, light streaming in, a great cloud of dust erupting and expanding.

Varg, Ulfrir and all of them stood there, staring, frozen. The dust settled, but something blocked the light from pouring through the shattered wall. Something huge beyond all imagining. Varg saw the glow of two great fires high in the air. They blinked. A reptilian head formed around those eyes, grey-green scales, horned and barbed, fanning wide back to a neck thick with muscle and razored scale. The mouth opened, teeth long and sharp, curved fangs, saliva dripping, and a black-blue tongue flickered out, tasting the air.

"Ulfrir, my son," the serpent hissed, Snaka's voice filling the chamber, sibilant, his head swaying, moving from side to side, searching. Varg felt the words rattle and tremor through his bones, felt a pressure constrict around him like a fist squeezing him.

Ulfrir stared up at his father, let out a high-pitched whine, lips curling in a silent snarl, and then he turned and padded into the tunnel, Varg and everyone else following him.