Viking Blood (Dragonheart Book 16)

by Hosker, Griff

  The flames were dying now and the gate was about to fall. I drew my sword and pulled my shield up. I watched the fighting platform I had helped to build when Wolf Killer had been a boy as it suddenly collapsed. The crash of timbers caused a sudden flaring of flames as the greedy fire found fresh unburned timbers. It would not be long. I waved my sword and we took four steps to the edge of the ditch. I had seen Red Sven and the others as they had walked gingerly across the chests. We would have to take it carefully. It would be foolish to trip and fall on our own bridge.

  The interior was clearer now. I saw that Harald had his banner in the third rank of his shield wall. His shields overlapped but he was not anticipating arrows. The ones in the second and third ranks had their shields in the backs of the others. The shields prickled with spears.

  I turned and said, “Red Sven, you, the archers and the slingers must press yourselves against the third rank. Your throwing spears, arrows and lead balls might well turn the day.”

  “Aye Jarl.”

  “How is your son?”

  “He will live, Jarl Dragonheart. Now he knows that there is a price to pay to be a warrior who fights for the Clan of the Wolf.”

  “Forward!”

  By the time I gave the order to advance there was such an air of anticipation that we all stepped forward on the same foot. We reached the wall which still glowed and burned. Had the enemy had archers left they might have made life difficult but they did not and we jumped, ran and hopped across the hot ash and glowing timbers. I was glad I had my old seal skin boots on. We reformed on cooler soil. The enemy were just forty paces from us. As the Ulfheonar locked shields I felt the reassuring presence of Ragnar’s shield in my back. He had chosen to protect his grandfather. Haaken was to my left and Olaf Leather Neck to my right. The Ulfheonar were the centre of the line with Erik’s Angry Cubs on one flank and Asbjorn and his men on the right. We had spread out all of the most experienced men so that every rank would be as lethal as the others.

  As we neared them Harald’s men began to spit out insults at us. They were to be expected. They called us women. They said they were led by the son of a Welsh whore. They promised to take our heads and piss in our skulls. The insults were expected and they were ignored. My men did as I did. They chose the warrior we each would face and decided how that warrior would die. If you were shouting insults then your mind was not on the job you were supposed to be doing; killing the enemy. My men were poor at insults. They were the best at killing. The men we faced showed their immaturity.

  A young warrior could hold himself no longer and, after calling Rollo Thin Hair a lover of men and boys, he hurled himself from the shield wall and rammed his spear at Rollo’s head. It was a wild charge. I saw the head of the spear waver. Rollo did not even have to move much to avoid it. He just edged his head a little to the right and the spear scored a line along the side of his helmet. The young warrior wore mail and thought himself invulnerable. Rollo’ sword had been made by Bagsecg. Rollo rammed it into the young warriors guts and, aiming it upwards, drove it deep into his body. It was not a strike for a shield wall. There you needed quick, sudden strokes, but the two lines were still paces apart. It was a blow to show those we faced that we could kill. Rollo was strong and he pulled the sword out through the warrior’s chest. His body fell backwards. I saw the look of horror on the faces of the other young warriors as they saw his rib cage peering out from the torn mail. It looked like the start of a blood eagle.

  Rollo had not even had to break stride and my line moved relentlessly forward. We were one again. I faced an older warrior. I saw his eyes narrow as he, too, worked out the best way to kill me. My eyes were ringed with red cochineal which blended with the red metal of the helmet and he could not see my eyes. I saw his. They flickered to my right shoulder. Ragnar’s Spirit was slightly behind my body. The last step we all took gave the enemy, with their spears, the chance to strike first. It was a gamble for both sets of warriors. If they gambled correctly then the man they struck would die. If not then they would risk a sword eviscerating them. They had all witnessed that already.

  I heard Harald the Great’s voice, “The golden torc of Gunnstein Berserk Killer for the warrior who kills the Dragonheart!”

  He was trying to use his warriors to do something that he should have done himself. It did not help the older warrior who faced me. He lunged at my right shoulder. I knew what he intended and I struck upwards with my sword to flick the head away from me. It took him by surprise for he had expected me to use my shield. I punched him hard in the face with the boss of my shield. His head jerked back and, as it did so I sliced down towards his neck with my sword. His left hand held his spear and was on the wrong side of my sword and his shield was below my hilt. I saw his eyes widen as the sharp edge bit into his throat and a tendril of blood slid down the blade. I used a sawing action and ripped across the artery. The warrior next to him was blinded by the blood and Haaken slew him.

  Red Sven and the men behind our rear rank now began to hurl their throwing spears over the front ranks. The archers were able to send their arrows horizontally. At such close range they penetrated mail and helmets. The dozen boy slingers we had brought sent Bagsecg’s well-made lead shot to ring into helmets and shields. When they found flesh they broke bones and when they struck helmets they rendered the warrior stupefied.

  Haaken and I, having slain the men before us, allowed the second rank no opportunity to fill the gap. We stepped forward and our swords and shields worked as one. Before the warriors could send their spears towards us our two shields had pushed them into the air and we stabbed beneath them, into their mail and flesh. Harald the Great was just beyond them and I saw victory within my grasp. Our success was our undoing. Harald and his hearth weru suddenly melted back into the hall. The shield wall disintegrated and, rather than helping us, it allowed Harald and sixty warriors to disappear as we fought past warriors who fought in knots. They had been deserted by their leader and so they fought with their shield brothers. They fought, not to save Harald but their shield brothers. Such warriors are hard to kill. They fought and died with the men they had endured cold, hunger and other shield walls. Knowing that their ships were gone and they were abandoned by their leader these Vikings fought for honour and for a place in Valhalla. They died but it took time to kill them. They took wound after wound and still refused to die. I saw one warrior who had lost his left arm still fighting until Olaf Leather Neck swung his axe and took his head. These were men for whom all hope had gone and they are always the most dangerous to fight.

  We now needed my men at the rear to hold firm. I knew where Harald would go. He would head for the gate. If he could escape then I had no doubt that he would head for Balley Chashtal or another port where he would have a small boat waiting. He was as slippery as an eel.

  We hacked and slashed through the shield brothers. Leaving Erik Ironshirt and his Angry Cubs to finish them I led Ragnar and my Ulfheonar towards the west gate. I could hear a battle at the gate. I had sent sixty warriors there and Harald had escaped with sixty or more. It would be a hard battle. We ran hard and we caught up with the rear of his men. They were also brave and they turned to face us. Their spears were discarded and they had swords. We would be more evenly matched.

  Six warriors faced us. They were trying to delay us. I brought my sword over to strike at the head of the Viking in the middle. He had battle scars and battle rings. He met my sword blow with his shield and then brought his own sword around hard. It was a good sword and he had an arm like a young oak. It shivered my arm. I pulled my arm back to try something different. As I stabbed at his leg he brought his arm in another wide sweep. This time not only my arm shivered, a crack appeared in my shield. I was rewarded by blood on my blade but this one would die hard. I feinted a punch with my shield and stabbed forward. He met my shield with his. It was a punch and the crack widened. My left arm was numb but my sword found flesh. I gouged a line in his side. He was tough and he spat blood at me.
I headbutted him as he did so.

  The two wounds I had inflicted had weakened him and he stepped backwards. My Ulfheonar had slain their foes and were racing for the gate where a ferocious battle ensued. None would interfere. I was Jarl Dragonheart. I fought my own battles. He managed one more mighty swing and this time the only thing which held my shield together was my strap and my hand. I feinted a stab and, as his shield came around, I changed it to a slash and ripped across his throat. He had lost blood and his shield came up too slowly. He died and I stepped over his body. I looked at my shield. It would not take another blow and I dropped it.

  Their defence ended and we burst through the gate. I saw Ketil lying beside the gate. He had been wounded. His men were tending to him. He looked up at me, “I am sorry, Jarl Dragonheart. We could not hold them. Ulf and Raibeart are pursuing them.”

  “Watch over him. Ragnar, Ulfheonar, follow me!”

  There were three greenways which met by the west gate. One led north to Hrams-a. One led south to Balley Chashtal but it was the one to the west I took. Harald the Great would seek to escape and begin again. The coast was just twelve Roman miles away. I led my men west. Aðils and Beorn overtook me. They were younger and they were fitter. As we began to rise and cross the high ground which was the centre of Man I saw my other jarls leading their men. Raibeart was heading north. I recognised his shield. He had had it strapped to his back. Ulf was heading south. His wolf cloak marked him as one who had been an Ulfheonar. I could not see the men we followed. There were dips and hollows ahead of us. We had been fighting for some time. The afternoon was almost done and soon it would be dark. As we climbed the slope one word came into my head; ambush.

  The slope was gentler where we crossed and I knew that within a mile or two of Duboglassio it would fall away. At the highest point the clouds parted and the setting sun shone. There, less than half a mile away Harald and his men were silhouetted against the skyline. It gave my burning muscles the will to run and we pushed on harder. When we reached the point, we looked ahead and saw them. They were not extending their lead. He had more than thirty men with him. They would be the hard core of his men. They would have been with him in Norway. He would have rewarded their loyalty with weapons, gifts and women. They would fight.

  The sight of them had encouraged Aðils Shape Shifter and Beorn the Scout to run even faster. Young and fit, Aðils soon began to gain on them. The Ulfheonar are a brotherhood of warriors and the young warrior’s charge made even the older ones run harder. We began to eat up the ground. I found myself at the rear of my Ulfheonar with Ragnar next to me. The greenway was flat and I risked a glance behind. Ragnar had ten warriors with him. Harald and his men would outnumber us. I knew that Erik Ironshirt would bring his Angry Cubs to follow us and we would have reinforcements but when Harald stopped we would be fighting uneven odds.

  Ahead, I saw that Aðils had closed to bow range; at least it was bow range for his bow. He stopped and sent an arrow high into the air. Then there was a second and third. When Beorn reached him, he slung his bow and ran again. His arrows had found flesh. One warrior lay writhing on the ground with an arrow in his back and two others were hit. My two scouts did not even break stride when they passed the dying warrior. I saw now that we were gaining on them, stride by stride. The glances behind them showed that they were aware of our pursuit and that we were gaining. It must have been obvious to Harald that he would not reach his boat or ship before we caught him. Suddenly they stopped and turned. They were a wall of swords and shields.

  Aðils and Beorn stopped also. They had a few arrows left and they raised their bows. It meant the enemy had to raise their shields. We were approaching and they would have to endure the arrows from the two fleas who stood before them. Perhaps they thought their armour and shields would protect them. My two scouts were less than forty paces from the enemy. They could hear us pounding up behind them. The enemy shields protected bodies and heads. They could not protect legs and knees. Using a flat trajectory, they sent their arrows at the only parts of the enemy they could see, their legs. Vikings are tough. They rarely cry out but an arrow driven into the knee cap will make even the strongest of men cry out; in anger if not pain. The shields remained intact but there were seven warriors with arrows in knees and legs. They would not last long in the vicious combat which was about to begin.

  When we reached Aðils and Beorn we formed a line. I drew Ragnar’s Spirit and Wolf’s Blood. “Ragnar have your men stand behind us and stop the enemy from flanking us.”

  “Aye Jarl Dragonheart! We will end this here!”

  My men banged their shields and shouted, “Aye!”

  The enemy also banged their shields. Suddenly one of the enemy warriors began biting his shield. He hurled his spear at me. Haaken’s shield flicked out to stop it. Then the warrior threw off his cloak and threw his shield towards us. It hit Olaf Leather Neck’s shield. Olaf said, “Here’s one about to go berserk, Jarl Dragonheart!”

  We all knew how dangerous a true berserker could be. Fighting naked they could take many blows before dying. I had known of berserkers who had slain four or five mailed men before being stopped. We could ill afford to lose four of five men.

  He ran at me. He held his sword in two hands and he covered the ground quickly. He swung his sword in an arc before him. As he reached me he brought the sword down to try to hit my head. I raised Ragnar’s Spirit to block the blow. I barely held him for he was powerful. I saw a glazed look in his eyes. He had taken a drug. Haaken stabbed him in the side. He headbutted Haaken who reeled. His two hands were forcing my blade down. He intended to kill me with my own sword. Bringing up my left hand I drove Wolf’s Blood up through his throat and into his brain. The dulled eyes closed and I pushed his body from me.

  My men banged their shields again and chanted, “Dragonheart! Dragonheart! Dragonheart!”

  Behind me I heard Ragnar say, “You truly are the greatest of warriors.”

  “Forward! We end this today!”

  The enemy had reformed their ranks. Harald was in the second rank. The warrior I would fight had a white skull painted upon his shield. His sword was Norse and not Saxon. It was shorter than Ragnar’s Spirit. His byrnie came to his waist. He had bare arms and they were adorned with battle rings. He had filed his teeth and he had charcoal smeared about his face. He grinned at me, “Soon you will join my brother Haldi and I will have your pretty little swords.” He stabbed at me knowing I had no shield with which to protect myself.

  He expected me to use Wolf’s Blood to block the blow. I used Ragnar’s Spirit. Wolf’s Blood still had the sharpest of edges and I would not dull it. Its point was like a needle and it was made of the hardest of steel. As I blocked the blow, driving the sword up I stabbed forward into the gap he had left with my dagger. The tip found a mail ring and I pushed. It split the ring and I pushed harder. The needle tip penetrated his kyrtle and his black toothed grin turned to a grimace as my dagger found flesh and I pushed harder. Grating against his ribs I twisted and he gave an involuntary shout. One last push struck something vital and he died.

  “Ragnar! Push!”

  Ragnar and his men threw their weight behind us and the bodies of those we had slain fell. Harald and the men behind were taken by surprise and they stepped backwards. There was no longer a shield wall. The centre of his front rank lay dead. My men were better killers. I finally faced the man who had haunted my world for such a long time.

  Harald had a full-face helmet like mine. I saw now that it was adorned with what looked like a crown. It was a band of metal around the forehead fashioned to look as though he had been crowned. Like me he had a long sword and it was Saxon. His shield showed a crown.

  “You should have stayed in Norway. There you might have been great. Here you are less than ordinary. Your best warriors lay dead. They are like stalks of wheat scythed by better warriors.”

  His mouth turned down in a snarl. “If a Saxon slave with a wolf cloak could carve out a kingdom then a true
Viking, with real Viking blood coursing through his veins, could claim an empire!”

  I laughed and waved Ragnar’s Spirit to my right. The sun was almost set and the last glow made the ground look almost golden. “And this is an empire?”

  I was tempting him and he took the bait. He brought his sword around in a mighty sweep intended to take advantage of my lack of shield and my outstretched sword. I spun, using the momentum of my right hand. I used my right leg to allow me to do a complete turn and Ragnar’s Spirit hacked into the back of Harald the Great. The edge was not as sharp as it had been but it was a fine sword. It had been touched by the gods and we were within sight of the mountain where it had been transformed. It ripped through his mail and he tumbled forward. I looked at my blade. There was no blood but I had hurt him.

  He spun around. He was angry. He pulled his shield a little tighter to him. Around us others were doing the dance of death as others fought as we did; man to man on this lonely Isle of Man. He approached me more slowly now. He had seen my tricks and would take nothing for granted. He had to have skill. He would not be able to lead such a large band if they did not respect his skill with a sword and it would not do to underestimate him.

  My lack of shield was my weakness and he knew it. He lunged at me. A lunge is easy to stop with a shield but not so easy with a sword. He almost had me. Ragnar’s Spirit struck the blade but it was a long sword and it struck my left shoulder. If he had had a point it might have penetrated. As it was it broke some of the links. The buckle on my wolf cloak held my mail together. His, in contrast, was trailing. He pulled his arm back for another blow. He would aim at the same point. As it came towards me I did not try to block it. I dropped to my right knee and drove Wolf’s Blood into his knee. His sword scraped along my helmet. Blood poured from his knee and he gave a scream. It sounded like one of the wild cats they have in the land of the Norse. He swung his shield and it smacked my head.