CHAPTER NINETY ORKA

CHAPTER NINETY

ORKA

O rka ran snarling, swinging the long-axe two-handed in her fists. Flesh cleaved, blood spurting, bones breaking, screaming faces swirling in, falling away, all a blood-soaked haze. She glimpsed Glornir one side of her, shield punching, sword stabbing, others around her, Gunnar Prow and Halja, Lif and S?unn, Breca growling and stabbing with his spear, Vol shrieking rune-words and her serpent whip cracking, ripping flesh from faces.

A current of faunir swept around Orka, swarming over frost-spiders and skraeling, speeding them away in a river of blood, and then Ulfrir and Lik-Rifa were before Orka, both of them biting, ripping, rending, one of Lik-Rifa's wings dragging, leaving trails of blood in the snow, her tail whipping into Ulfrir and sending him crashing to the ground, great gouts of snow and earth exploding. He scrambled back to his feet, bunched his muscles, and leaped, jaws crunching around Lik-Rifa's serpentine neck, twisting and slamming her down. She roared and thrashed, Ulfrir heaved into the air, but he did not let go.

Shouts behind them and Orka twisted, saw a wedge of people appearing, carving a path through Lik-Rifa's followers. Grend, Gytha and her drengrs , Sighvat and the Battle-Grim, Frek and his úlfhéenar , Taras and Iva. Taras was dragging a hand cart, Hrung's head in it. Iva ran to Uspa.

Movement beside Orka, and Glornir was moving forwards, dropping his shield, breaking into a run, just his long sword in one fist. Orka smashed a dragon-cultist to the ground with the butt of her long-axe and she was running, too, catching Glornir up and matching her pace with his. He glanced at her, grinned.

"We shall earn our place in a skáld-song with this," he growled, eyes flickering green, his body juddering and twitching, muscles hunching his back, curved claws growing. Orka grinned back at him, let the wolf loose in her blood, colours brighter, sounds sharper, felt its strength and speed, its endurance and ferocity, and they were both leaping, crashing onto Lik-Rifa's damaged wing, Glornir stumbling and righting himself, Orka landing and running, scrambling up the wing towards Lik-Rifa's back and neck.

The dragon was bucking and heaving in Ulfrir's grip, desperately trying to break free, Ulfrir keeping her pinned to the ground. Orka and Glornir were thrown from their feet, both of them digging their claws into dragon-scale, sliding and halting their fall, using axe and sword and claws to drag themselves up Lik-Rifa's thick-muscled neck. Dimly Orka was aware of voices, of Seier-words. The crackle and wash of rune heat and ropes of fire and ice were arcing over Lik-Rifa, draping across her like jarl-rings of silver and gold. More spell-work from Vol, Uspa and Iva and the threads were pulling tight, dragging Lik-Rifa's head to the ground.

Tennúr whirred at Orka and Glornir, long fingers lunging, tearing at their flesh. Orka dug her claws deep into Lik-Rifa and swung her axe, Glornir doing the same, swinging his sword, and the little creatures fell away in a rain of blood. They climbed on, and then they were at Lik-Rifa's head, scrambling over thick, barbed spines and horn, Orka sliding past the blood-filled eye that Skuld had ruined and almost sliding from Lik-Rifa's jaws. Snaring her axe head around a long tooth, hauling herself up until she stood on Lik-Rifa's jaw, Glornir alongside her. Together they set their feet, and together they swung their weapons.

Axe and sword chopped into the skin and meat where Lik-Rifa's jaws met. They ripped their blades free in a spray of dragon blood. Lik-Rifa roared, writhed, the ground shaking, but the Seier-ropes and Ulfrir held her, and Orka and Glornir swung again, and again, and again, flesh hanging in great rents, tendon sliced, until one side of Lik-Rifa's jaw was severed.

Lik-Rifa let out a deafening cry, shook hard enough to split the earth, tore herself free of Ulfrir's grip. Orka and Glornir were weightless, spinning through the air, Lik-Rifa rising, the Seier-ropes fraying, tearing and exploding in fountains and showers of ice and fire.

Orka hit the ground, her bones rattling, and she rolled, crunched into the body of a dead troll and just lay there, pain jolting in her chest with every breath, knew that ribs were shattered, and she stared up at Lik-Rifa as she rose above Orka, snapped her one good wing out, blotting out the sky. Her jaw hung open where Orka and Glornir had severed ligaments and tendon, saliva dripping from her mouth.

With a grunt Orka heaved herself over, a fresh pain spiking in her leg, pushed herself onto all fours, almost collapsed, saw a spear and used it to drag herself to her feet, stood there swaying, pain pulsing in her leg and chest. All around her people were shouting, Hrung's voice rising over them all.

"NOW," he was screaming, "NOW."

Lik-Rifa glowered down at Orka with her red baleful eye, roared and swiped a huge taloned claw at her, Orka standing there, pain transfixing her, giving Lik-Rifa the defiance of her wolf-toothed smile. Saw the claw coming at her, snarled up at Lik-Rifa. An impact in her side, a fresh burst of pain and she was thrown through the air, hit the ground, saw that Glornir had crashed into her. He stood there, made to leap after her and Lik-Rifa's claw hissed over Orka's head, slammed into Glornir and sent him flying, a misting of blood hanging in the air where he had stood.

Orka screamed, heaved herself over, up onto one knee, and Lik-Rifa's open jaw was coming down at her. She saw Taras, Berak and Sighvat carrying Hrung's head in his sailcloth sheet, saw Taras grip the sheet and turn with it, his body growing, muscles expanding, bulging, tendons straining, faster, once, twice, and then he was bellowing like a bull and hurling Hrung into the air, straight into Lik-Rifa's open jaws. A long wailing cry and Hrung disappeared into the dragon's maw, Lik-Rifa jolting back, unsure what had just happened. Orka saw the reflex ripple of muscle in her neck as she swallowed, then Lik-Rifa was rearing up again and Ulfrir was padding before her, limping, flesh hanging from him in sheets, huge rents and gouges, one ear a tattered mess, blood pulsing from his wounds.

"You have fought well, sister," Ulfrir growled.

"I am going to tear the flesh from your bones, one strip at a time," Lik-Rifa snarled.

"No, this is done," Ulfrir sighed.

"What, you yield to me?" Lik-Rifa said. She smiled, her jaw hanging lopsided where Glornir and Orka had hacked at her. "Oh no, you do not escape death that easily. There will be no mercy shown here. I must kill you."

"You misunderstand me," Ulfrir said. "You are done. You are already dead, though you do not know it. Slain by the same hand as Snaka, by the same poison."

"Enough of your foolish tal—" Lik-Rifa began, then coughed, a spasm tremoring through her neck. She twisted her head, one way, then the other. "What have you done ?" she rasped.

"Not me, it was ancient Hrung. Serpent slayer. Now dragon slayer," Ulfrir said.

Lik-Rifa coughed again, another spasm passing through her, more violent, and Orka saw the veins in her belly become more prominent, slowly turning black, as if ink were running through them, not blood. Her breath rasped in her throat, and she took a ponderous step forward, then another, her whole body spasming now, huge tremors wracking her, choking and gasping. Black froth bubbled from her mouth, dripped from her lips, hissing as it hit the snow and with a rasping roar she toppled, fell with a crash that shook the battlefield and trees around it, throwing Orka and those around her from their feet.

Another spasm, a slow, rattling breath, froth bubbling on her lips and then Lik-Rifa was still, the light in her one red eye fading, dimming, and gone.

A silence, just the soughing of wind, and Ulfrir raised his head and howled.

Orka clambered to her knee, pain spiking in her chest with every breath, in her leg with every movement, used a spear to haul herself up and limped forwards, using the spear like a staff, people all around her cheering, shouting victory cries, what little vaesen were left fleeing for the forest.

She looked wildly around for Glornir, saw him a crumpled heap on the ground, blood staining the snow. She struggled to him, fell to her knees, hissing with the pain, and gripped one of his bear-like hands.

"My brother," she breathed.

He grunted, turned his head to look at her.

"We have made a song, and no denying," he murmured, coughed. Blood flecked his lips. His mail coat was torn to ragged shreds, his chest a red wound, Orka seeing the glint of bone and the soft tissue of a lung, blood bubbling.

Orka nodded, the words turning to ash and clay in her mouth, tears blurring her eyes.

A small voice shouting, the drum of feet and Breca was there, sliding to his knees, grabbing Glornir's hand. He looked at the wounds in Glornir's chest.

"No," he breathed. "Uncle," he half sobbed, lifting Glornir's big hand to his face.

"I am glad to have met you, Breca Thorkelsson," Glornir wheezed, "and glad to have seen you again, Skullsplitter, fought beside you," he told her in short, half-whispered words.

"Heya," Orka managed to say, and she squeezed his hand.

"Breca, look after your mother," Glornir whispered.

"Don't leave us, uncle, not like papa," Breca said through his tears.

Feet drummed behind Orka, and she heard Vol's voice calling his name. Screaming it.

"This will go hard on her," Glornir breathed, bubbles of blood frothing on his lips. "Look after her," he said, and between one heartbeat and the next he was gone.

Vol threw herself down beside Glornir, grabbing his hand, shaking him. She fell across him, weeping as the Bloodsworn gathered around them, heads bowed.

Hands helped Orka to rise, S?unn and Lif. Breca staggered to his feet and fell into her, hugging her tight, sobbing. Orka wrapped a bloodied arm around his shoulder and looked around her.

The dead were everywhere, great piles of them, warriors, shattered shields, trolls heaped in mounds, frost-spiders curled in death, and Lik-Rifa, the dragon, sprawled across the field, wings draped like tattered sails. Ulfrir stood before her, back in his human form now, leaning on Skuld, one arm draped across her shoulder. The faunir stood in their hundreds, huddled together like a small wood, all staring up at Lik-Rifa. Warriors were hugging one another, others on their knees, weeping.

Orka saw Uspa and Berak hugging their son, and Sighvat there, too, tousling the boy's hair, a great grin splitting his red beard, tears staining lines through the blood and grime on his cheeks as he held up his arm and dragged the sleeve down, grinning at the white scar in his flesh and dancing a jig.

A sound filtered around them, creeping incrementally into Orka's head, like the tide. She looked around, frowning. It was a voice, muffled, as if coming from a great distance, but growing louder. Orka saw others looking, too. Grend and Taras, Gytha, Frek. Sighvat walked towards Lik-Rifa's corpse and put his ear to her belly. Then jerked straight and looked back at them all.

"It's Hrung," he said.

Grend heaved a sigh. "Can we leave him in there?"