She shook her shoulders and hugged herself. ‘Do not take her to Rome, Hraban.’ I said nothing for a time, pondering her words. She stared at me, finally nodded and turned to the house. ‘Lif!’ she called out clearly, and I felt my knees shake. She turned to me and bowed. ‘Enjoy this moment Hraban. Then prepare for a fight. I sense my brother is near.’ I tensed as the door opened, but none came out. ‘Come, Lif, your father wishes to see you. Meet him today, and then you will not see him again.’ I still disagreed with that but said nothing as the door opened, and she came out.
There she stood, in a brown, small tunic, her hair a blonde, combed halo around her pretty face, her small nose perfect, the lips full.
She was alive and healthy.
I felt the tears coming as I went to my knees.
Veleda nodded at her with a smile and she took a tentative step forward, then another as I held out my hands for her. I remember her little fingers holding mine, her eyes as achingly beautiful on the night she was born. I remember everything, and there she stood, finally, uncertainly, shyly glancing at the bloody, ragged man in front of her. I cursed softly as I tore my helmet off, and her eyes went round as she saw the scar on my face.
‘Lif, I am your father. Hraban. Come to take you home,’ I said gently, glancing at Veleda, who did not react. Lif took a careful step forward and smiled at me tentatively, then she took my hand, and I pulled her carefully to me, her small feet dangling in the air. She giggled as my beard tickled her neck, and I saw Veleda smile at us with tears in her eyes.
Lif looked up at me, her round, huge eyes clear as the sky. She spoke, her high voice full of wonder. ‘But I have a home. Are you going to come home with me?’
I smiled at her and said nothing, absolutely drunk on her face. ‘I don’t know, love,’ I said and held onto her. She nodded and kissed me on the cheek. Somewhere behind us, horses were whinnying.
Veleda glanced that way and took out a wand, the mark of a vitka. ‘Lif, it is time for you to go inside.’
‘No, I want to ...’ she started, but Veleda snapped her fingers, and she went, sulking, then singing as she happily found something to take her interest.
‘Well, Hraban? What will you do now?’ Veleda asked. ‘You have seen her and found me.’
I pulled out Nightbright and my shield and grabbed my helmet. ‘As I said. It was all meant to end here. I will kill him. And if I die doing that, then I will see you in the afterlife.’
Veleda shook her head. ‘Is this your plan? You come here, and you aim to kill them all.’
‘Yes, that is my plan,’ I said. ‘Are you of any use against your brother?’
She smiled sadly. ‘I thought you said you didn't believe in spells?‘
I spat. ‘I hoped you would throw rocks, at least. Is that the only way in here?’
‘I have a spell that is useful,’ she said, and I rolled my eyes. She nodded impatiently and began to berate me, but then, somewhere, a cock crowed.
Wandal looked around. ‘A cock? Is there a farm?’
Veleda shook her head heavily, her face pale. ‘Three cocks will crow to herald the end of the world. It is not a cock from this world.’ She pointed at the hole in the ground, a dark, slippery hole where the water ran. ‘That takes one to the spinners of fates, Hraban. There, in the lands of the gods, Heimdall watches us. He is fingering his horn now, and the gods will be looking up from their merrymaking and meals. Lok is going to be free if I die, and the cocks know it,’ she said and walked resolutely to the stone arch. We followed, and Wandal started to collect hand-sized rocks to his cloak, and then he carried them after Veleda. I went to the stone table and went to my knees.
I opened my arms and watched the sky.
‘Woden,’ I implored. ‘Woden the Wanderer, oh wise Lord. Strong and savage, my god! Ever have you helped me in the time of need, and let there be fewer such needs in the future. Spare Lif Odo’s attentions. Forgive me my ill choices, for I have been selfish, and foolish. You know this. You have seen me making a mess of things since Father came back. If one must die and a sacrifice is needed, then let it be me. Let it keep my loved ones safe.’ I got up and heard distant yells and went to do battle for my daughter, her aunt, and the world. I pulled on my helmet. ‘And if you don’t want to hear me, you fucker, then go hump a goat,’ I added, and he rewarded me with his battle rage.
CHAPTER 37
Wandal and I waited in the shelter of the stone arch. We waited patiently, staring down the mossy path, checking our shields, adjusting our armor. Wandal had collected even more sharp rocks at our feet, and I had helped him. We threw some downhill, gauging the range, and they rattled at the edge of the finger like stone. They would hurt the badly armored enemy but not stop them. Wandal laid a bow at his side and stuck arrows on the muddy ground. Winning seemed as likely as if we would try to stop the wind from blowing through the arch.
The horses could be heard somewhere down the hill.
‘Thirty, eh?’ Wandal asked. ‘Did you count them?’
‘Thirty, yes. We killed most in Gulldrum,’ I told him.
‘Wish I had seen that,’ he said and pulled some hair from his helmet’s eyeholes. ‘Movement.’ He was right. Down below, men were indeed gathering. The finger and trees were partly covering the path down, but we heardAnsigar scream at his people, we heard a grunt of pain as he hit a man and then, silence.
Until a horse neighed.
Odo rode up on a tired, bloodied nag, his red, dirty hair bouncing darkly as he regarded first the stone, and then he saw us. He said nothing for a time, and we obliged him.
‘Is she there?’ he finally asked, his voice strained.
‘Ride up and we discuss it,’ I yelled back.
He sneered at me. ‘She is. And so are you. We are all here. You brought your hair as well.’
‘I’ll wear it proudly,’ I spat, cursing I had not asked Wandal to shave me. ‘Will you send your dogs running up so we can deal with them?’
‘In a moment,’ he said tiredly. ‘Lif will be safe. I’ll not lift a finger against her, no matter how much I despise you. Know this, and I hope it gives you comfort.’
‘Feeling my sword in your gut will give me comfort, Odo. Come, this has been years in coming. Come on up,’ I told him. ‘You sister raping, murderous filth from Hel.’
He smiled thinly at me. ‘Think you that I raped her? She loved me once. She was twelve and had a part to fill. It is the family tradition, you see. Lok’s blood must be kept clean and our clan, Hraban, marries its own. You changed her heart. She was willing, she was at first.’
‘She was twelve!’ I yelled. ‘That is filth!’
He shrugged. ‘Then she fell in love with you. That was unexpected. It was unexpected you sired Lif. It is sad she had Lif with you, but she did. It is almost unbearable that Woden’s blood will have a part to play in Lok’s world, but it is my boy who will rule it.’
I threw a rock that startled his horse though it fell far short. He managed to calm it. ‘She was terrified of you, and you raped a small girl,’ I yelled at him. ‘Lord of lies. Even your mother hates you.’
‘Tear?’ he asked. ‘Zahar? She is well?’
‘Never better,’ I said. I picked up another rock and threw it with a grunt, hitting the ground next to him, again startling his horse. ‘You will fail, Odo, to sap strength from our arms by inflicting despair with lies. That is your magic; tricks and lies.’
He looked at me calmly as his horse once more settled down. ‘You have ever been afraid, Hraban. That is why we are here.’
I cursed him, but Wandal calmed me, and we prepared. Odo nodded and whistled. Wandal picked up the bow; I, a rock. Filthy, fey men and even women filed up to the path below us, looking up at us and the finger like stone before us. Odo ignored them. He was chanting, pulling his dark wand out of his tunic. Gernot dismounted next to him, not looking up, his spirit still dulled by what he had endured at Odo’s hands. Ansigar pulled out a bow as he walked next to the milling group of ene
mies.
They were Lok’s strange people. Old as time, their clan had led a miserable life in Gulldrum. Many were fur glad, some wore nothing but cloaks, shivering in the mountain air. They smiled or giggled, half mad, half serious, people who followed promises of Odo and Lok’s chaotic edicts. Ansigar grunted at them, and they moved up, the ones with shields in the fore, chanting strangely. Odo was echoing them, and cursing us, his men taking heart in his presence. Odo’s wand pointed at us, and I felt and saw Wandal flinching. ‘Just lies, Wandal.’
‘He is a vitka,’ he said.
‘He has no real powers,’ I hissed.
‘I hear they tortured Bero, and you saw and heard a goddess speak,’ he grunted. ‘And was Leuthard not Lok’s thing?’
‘Don’t believe anything he says or does,’ I insisted.
The sky seemingly darkened, and a sharp wind blew in our faces. I stubbornly shook my head at Wandal, and he prayed to Woden. I did as well, and my lord answered me as his rage filled every fiber in my body. I danced some steps before the advancing enemy, and they rewarded me as they shivered in fear. I felt the god’s power, but I was also exhausted and hurt, and I feared the battle.
Lif was at stake.
‘If you can, leave that one alive!’ Ansigar yelled, pointing at me. ‘Though we only need his hair.’ He pulled an arrow and let if fly. It flew past us through the archway and rattled in the dark. The enemy charged with a ragged yell, their dirty feet stamping the ground.
‘Throw your rocks,’ we heard Veleda say. ‘Go ahead. Fight and then, when you have to; run.’
I glanced behind. There she was. Veleda, her small hand making intricate gestures in the air, her wand dancing in the air. She sang, a strong song in a tongue I did not know, and our hearts filled with savagery. Wandal fired the bow, and the arrow reached down, piercing a shield and the man’s forearm. He howled, and I threw my rock, which went wide. I picked up more and began to pelt the enemy, and Wandal fired arrows as fast as he could. One man caught a stone in his face, throwing him back senseless; another stone crushed a kneecap of a ragged-looking woman. An arrow took a man in the groin, and Wandal laughed savagely. Then his arrows were gone, and we picked up more and more rocks, throwing them wildly as Veleda sang at us. Our throws were true, many of the enemies hurt badly, despite the shields. They came on, slowly, trying to hold some semblance of a formation. Their eyes betrayed fear as their shuffling feet churned the ground from the finger to the archway, and we let fly the last stones, splattering a face of a boy and breaking the rib of an older, naked man, leaving him crying on the moss, rolling downhill, getting kicked by his compatriots jumping over him. I took my spear and threw it, and it hit the wrong man though happily one of the better armed ones, and he fell.
We picked up our weapons, my sword, and Wandal’s ax and braced ourselves. I looked at Veleda. ‘Go and guard her.’
She nodded and smiled. ‘Fight well, Hraban. Fight long. As long as you can. Then run fast, and I will give you that one spell.’
‘What do you mean?’ I asked as Woden’s song made me dizzy with bloodlust.
‘Just fight,’ she said and ran off. I cursed and then an arrow scratched my helmet, and I cursed Ansigar aloud. ‘Bring a spear up here, rat!’ I yelled at him.
‘When you are down!’ he yelled back. Gernot was following Odo, who was chanting, sweating, and trying to see the battle, his horse coming towards us, cautiously.
‘Woden guard us, Hraban,’ Wandal said, and I grunted in agreement as the enemy shrieked their hatred at our faces.
‘If he does not, let Lok hump Odo’s bones in thanks for all he has done.’ I laughed and then we stepped forward, linking shields for the enemy was there.
They had shields, weak things, rectangular and oval shaped, ill cared for, and as we stepped forth, we smote ours at theirs, bowling them back over their friends. We stepped forward again, but not too far, stabbed, and hacked at the foe trying to get up. Their fallen got into the way of those who tried to get at us, and we stepped back to the arch.
But on they came, with no discipline.
Men died, blood flowed, and a huge man tried to rip the shield from my hand, but I cut his wrist open with a quick slash, and he fell away, his face white from the shock. We stood side by side; I was protecting Wandal with my shield, the arch doing the same for me to my right. We screamed and killed. They climbed over men who were down and bleeding, dead or just too afraid to attack. They pushed up relentlessly, Odo watching them. The fallen were grasping at our feet and ankles, tearing at our shields. Then, spears flew at us. Wandal was scratched on the side, another tangled in the hem of my chain shirt. I cursed and punched Nightbright in the eye of a young, vacant-faced man. ‘Fight for her smile!’
‘Do I look like I am idling? Eh?’ Wandal panted.
A mad woman managed to push past me, and I impaled her neck to the wall next to Wandal, but at the same time, a man managed to drag my shield down and another behind him threw his cudgel. I felt stabbing pain as the spiked thing punctured my chest, and I fell, a man on top of me, trying to stab me from below the shield, repeatedly, like a single-minded, undead thing. Wandal hacked his neck, slammed his shield at another attacker and kicked the corpse off me. Then, Ansigar shot an arrow at him, and he yelped as it hit him in the shoulder, drawing a long wound.
I got up dizzily; we backed up, shields locked.
‘How bad?’ I asked, looking at the bleeding wound.
‘Hurts, but I will manage. You?’ he asked, panting in pain.
‘I will kill a few more,’ I said. We were guarding the arch ferociously, and the enemy had a terrible time coming at us. I yanked a spear off a man, kicked him back to his uncouth fellows and noticed Odo was close now, his wand held tightly, his knuckles white. He was cursing and casting spells, exhorting his troops, and Gernot was next to him, staring fixedly at me. I stabbed the spear at a man who dodged away and flipped it.
Then I threw it.
It flew fairly true, thrumming in the air as the ill-made thing careened towards Odo. The thin vitka opened his mouth to scream an order, but he closed it quickly as the spear came at him. The wand saved him, but his hand was mangled by a huge gash. He hissed, cursed and swore, and the enemy faltered. They took steps back, all eyeing Odo’s pain. Ansigar screamed at his remaining fifteen men and women. ‘Kill them! Push them back! Push, push, and we win!’
‘Do it!’ Odo shrieked.
And they pushed.
We stood grimly by each other, but we would not be able to hold them much longer. A cudgel finally broke my shield, and I discarded the broken thing. A hammer swung at me and hit my left arm, nearly breaking a bone, and I howled as I punctured the enemy eye. Wandal slew men left and right, but we were going back, back and soon, we would run.
‘Come, Hraban,’ he said, pulling me back as he lost his shield, and we exited the arch. We were startled near shitless when Veleda appeared, sang a sad note and tapped her wand at the side of the arch.
The arch fell in a grating rumble of stone and shrieks rang out. She grinned at me victoriously as the sides of the arch fell slowly over each other, and a huge cloud of dust billowed up in the air.
‘Some mechanism?’ I demanded, but she turned her back and ran towards the hut. We tried to follow her, but we were exhausted and stumbled along. Behind us, there were scrambling sounds, and we ran, but a spear flew in the air. I saw it come, but it hit Wandal in his back. He screamed and fell, and I turned to kill a woman who was running for him with a knife. I dragged him towards the hut as he was hissing in pain. ‘Get up, you lump of fat.’
‘Muscle, a lump of muscle,’ he panted.
I pulled him up, hollering like the bear we had killed and rushed past Woden’s Plate. We saw Veleda by the door, whispering to Lif, who was gravely nodding back at her. We got to them; I smiled at Lif, she smiled back at me, and then we turned to face the enraged enemy, some of whom were grievously hurt by the arch and the battle.
They climbed over
the remains of the arch to the small valley, staring around in bewilderment. A horse made its way in through the slabs and rubble, Odo seated on it, the animal stumbling along precariously. They saw us standing before the hut and slowly spread around us. Lif's eyes were huge, a bit scared as she regarded her paradise turned to a butcher’s hall. Odo rode on, trailing blood, his face impatient, pained, and then ecstatic as he took note of the valley. He walked towards the great stone, taking his time, and finally dismounted and climbed the great stone platter and reverently walked to the stall while the enemy surrounded us.
He touched it and smiled.
He was at the top of his hill of dreams, closer to Lok than any of his family ever, at the very pinnacle of his life, and his eyes searched the valley feverishly, his hands stroking the stone as if sucking every vestige of Woden’s sacred blessings he could from the rock.
Ishild rode up, for the arch had fallen to the side, leaving some room for a horse. A man was leading her, and the boy sat on her lap. She looked at me hollowly and with pity. Odo raised his arms high as his men surrounded us, weapons ready, Ansigar aiming an arrow directly at me. Odo pointed a finger at Veleda. ‘Little sister? Will you come here?’ Veleda shrugged, seemingly tired and uncaring and guided Lif aside and behind her. Veleda looked at Ishild, her sister, and she looked back. She did not move.
Odo spoke with a strong, irritated voice. ‘Come now, Veleda. What is there to think about?’ He turned to the stall and opened his hands to the sides. ‘Oh, Lok! The herald of change, balancer of the gods. Many an age has passed, many a chance to set you lose, oh god of change! Now, you shall indeed be freed of the shackles constructed of your poor son’s guts. Narfi’s death will be paid back, for the age of vengeance is here. Be free! You shall be free! The time is nigh! The Nine Wolds shall tremble. Here, today, I, Odo the Faithful shall see it done. Rejoice, lord!’ Veleda came to stand next to me. She still looked at Ishild carefully, their eyes meeting as if they were discussing, but with not words. They were sisters. Odo ignored us. ‘We shall offer you blood, the blood of a third, heart blood of a great seer, the greatest in our time, that of my sister, Veleda! On a ring made of Woden’s hair, we shall pour it, fouling the honor of the first men. Of Woden. See, Hraban of Woden is here, his hair the color of raven ...’
The Winter Sword: A Novel of Germania and Rome (Hraban Chronicles Book 3) Page 47
