Lifting the sword she adopted the fighting stance that Finn had shown her. The memory brought with it a strong twinge of regret that she would never see him again. She set it aside. It was too late for that. The best she could hope for now was to die with honour. Then, in time to come, he might at least remember her with pride.
Kal lifted his sword. ‘Ready, Valkyrie?’
She inclined her head. ‘Ready, nithing.’
His smile faded and was replaced by a much uglier expression. Lara took a deep breath as her opponent began to advance.
Chapter Twelve
Finn and his men moved silently among the trees, circling round towards the campsite. They were within two hundred yards when they found the bodies of Torstein and Gorm. Both had received half-a-dozen wounds, any one of which would have been fatal on its own. It was a clear and chilling message and did nothing to dispel the sense of foreboding that hung in the air like an invisible pall. The men exchanged troubled glances. No one mentioned the other four companions who had been left behind and they didn’t mention Lara either, but their silence was eloquent.
Finn’s jaw tightened. ‘Move in slowly and stay sharp. They’ll likely have guards posted.’
However, as they advanced no voice rang out to challenge them or to sound the alarm. Suspecting a trap they looked warily around but the only sound seemed to be coming from the camp itself. It sounded like laughter interspersed with cheering. As they neared the place they stopped at the edge of the thicket, staring in slack-jawed astonishment at the circle of men in front of them.
‘What in the name of the All-Father is going on?’ muttered Vigdis.
Unnr shook his head. ‘Dunno. Looks like some kind of contest to me.’
No one ventured a comment about what the nature of the contest might be. The sound of mocking laughter and jeering voices told its own tale and Finn’s gut knotted.
‘We’ll move in closer. Archers to the fore. Wait on my signal to shoot.’
As another burst of laughter erupted from the crowd up ahead his misgivings grew. Several thoughts flashed through his mind, each seeming more implausible than the last. He was pretty sure that none of the usual reasons applied. Whatever form of amusement was taking place it boded ill. Steingrim had a reputation among the darker elements of the warrior caste; those renowned for ruthless cruelty and brutality. The thought that Lara might have fallen into their clutches filled him with cold dread. Was he too late? Had he lost her?
In the event not even his wildest imaginings prepared him for the reality when they got near enough to see what the crowd was watching. His men stopped in their tracks.
Unnr stared. ‘Thor’s stones.’
‘They would stoop to fight a woman? Those cowardly scumbag nithings!’ said Vigdis.
As his horrified gaze took in the spectacle of the unequal combat, Finn’s heart leaped towards his throat and for the second time in his life he felt truly afraid. Then cold rage replaced fear and the warrior’s instinct superseded both.
Raising his sword aloft, he signalled to the archers. In response a dozen arrows flew from the thicket and whicked into the wall of exposed backs. In that densely packed throng it was impossible to miss. As the victims fell, those nearest to them looked round. Before they even had time to yell a dozen more arrows found their targets. Then the alarm went up and Steingrim’s men fumbled for their swords. The blades had barely cleared leather before the air was rent by a mighty battle roar torn from a hundred throats. Finn and his companions hurtled down on the foe.
* * *
Hearing the sudden commotion Lara glanced up. That moment’s inattention gave Kal the opening he sought and his blade landed with vicious force under the guard plate of her sword. With a yelp of pain she let the weapon fall, cradling her numb hand. He smiled, menacing her with the point of his blade.
‘You just lost, bitch. Now it’s time to pay up.’
Lara backed away looking frantically around, but all she could see was a swaying chaos of fighting men. With sick horror she realised that she was trapped between the main line of battle and the water. She backed another pace and then another, her gaze on the sword hovering above her breast, until her heel caught on a rock and she stumbled. Kal grabbed her arm and twisted hard, throwing her to the ground. Then he followed her down. Pinned underneath him Lara fought with desperate fury, writhing and kicking. He smiled but the expression stopped well short of his eyes.
‘Fight all you like. It won’t change the outcome, bitch.’
She spat at him. ‘You’ll have to kill me first, you nithing.’
‘I’m not going to kill you—at least not yet.’
* * *
Finn slew his first three opponents without conscious effort, fuelled by emotions he hadn’t realised he possessed. Then he paused briefly, his gaze moving past the fighting throng, desperately seeking Lara. When he couldn’t find her he was filled with dread. Then, over the din, he heard a woman scream. He carved a path towards the sound, dispatching two more enemies on the way. Then he saw her. As he took in the scene before him dread turned to molten rage.
* * *
Lara struggled harder and got a hand free. Her nails raked down her assailant’s cheek raising red welts. He swore and slapped her hard. The iron taste of blood filled her mouth. Two seconds later her wrists were above her head, clamped in a large fist. The other hauled her skirt up around her thighs. She shrieked, writhing helplessly beneath him, every part of her in revolt. This couldn’t be happening. It couldn’t.
Suddenly a dark shape loomed over them blotting out the sun. Lara gasped. Her assailant cried out and she felt his body jerk violently. A strange choking sound issued from his mouth and the hold slackened on her wrists. Seconds later his weight lifted altogether as a large fist hauled him away and flung him aside. Then she was staring at a bloodstained sword. Her wide-eyed gaze travelled to the warrior who held it, a huge and terrifying figure silhouetted against the sky. She stifled a sob and tried to scramble away but he reached down and seized her arm. Panic-stricken, she kicked out at him.
‘Get away from me! Don’t touch me!’
‘Lara! Lara, it’s all right. Don’t be afraid.’
For a few seconds she stared at him in heart-pounding disbelief before the familiar tones began to sink in. ‘Finn?’
He pulled her upright. Almost faint with relief she flung herself against him, clinging close despite the hard chainmail shirt pressing into her flesh. And then his arm was around her, a solid reassuring bulwark between her and harm. For a little while they remained thus. Then he glanced down. ‘Are you all right?’
She nodded, unable to speak and still scarcely able to credit the narrowness of her escape. Finn had come back. Somehow he had come back and he had saved her. As it began to sink in she became aware of clashing steel and shouting and running men.
Outnumbered and trapped between the enemy and the water Steingrim’s warriors had realised that their best hope was to reach the boats. Those nearest were making good their escape while their companions fought a rearguard action against Finn’s men. The mercenaries were hard pressed every step of the way and as soon as they reached the water they turned and fled, splashing through the shallows to the waiting ships. Many of the fugitives were cut down. The remainder were hauled aboard by their companions. With that the ships put off from the shore and pulled away rapidly.
‘To the ship!’ bellowed Guthrum. ‘We follow!’ His men pulled back and raced off through the trees towards the mooring.
Alrik shouted across to Finn, ‘We need to finish this, my lord.’
Finn nodded. ‘Go! I’m with you.’
Alrik raced off, summoning his men. Finn looked at Lara. ‘He’s right. I have to finish this now, while my enemy is weakened.’
Tears pricked behind her eyelids but she blinked them away. Tears were
weak. Finn didn’t need a clinging vine. She was safe. Kal was dead. Nothing happened.
‘I know.’ She dredged up a wan smile. ‘Do what you must, my lord.’
The grey eyes registered surprise and admiration. He squeezed her arm gently. ‘I’ll be back very soon.’
Then he too was summoning his men and the whole force was racing away through the trees.
Five minutes later their ships were in hot pursuit of Steingrim. Lara shivered as she watched them go, her body trembling. The strand around her was littered with bodies. More floated in the shallows, their blood staining the water red. The stench of death hung on the air. This is the reality of battle. This is what you envied men for. She let out a ragged breath. Imagination had never come close to the truth. Worse, it wasn’t over yet. All the same she knew Finn was right: he did have to end it, now, today. And while he did his part she must do hers. Self-pity had no place here. There were wounded men to tend to.
Fortunately the casualties among the allies were few. Only eight men had been injured and although the wounds were temporarily incapacitating they were not life-threatening. Lara set about helping as best she could, using strips of torn shirt to bind wounds. The men submitted to her ministrations without complaint and smiled their thanks. One small bright spot in the proceedings was the discovery that Folkvar was still alive. He’d been one of the six men who had comprised the original guard detail and, like them, had come under attack when Steingrim arrived. Although he was luckier than his companions, he had still lost a lot of blood from the deep slashes to his shoulder and ribs and lower leg. The wounds needed to be sewn but Lara had no equipment to hand and wouldn’t until the ships returned so she improvised in the meantime.
‘When the others get back I’ll tend these cuts properly,’ she said. ‘In the meantime just lie still and rest.’
He smiled faintly. ‘I’ll do that, my lady.’ His gaze held hers. ‘I heard you stand up to Steingrim and his men. Bravest thing I ever saw. I wanted to help but...’
‘It’s all right. Don’t try to talk now, Folkvar. Save your energy to help you recover.’
He closed his eyes. Lara regarded him anxiously, thinking she’d give a great deal for a needle and thread and a pot of honey salve.
‘Don’t worry, my lady. He’ll survive.’
She looked round to see Ketill standing nearby. A bloody bandage stanched the cut on his thigh. He limped the last few feet to join them.
‘Folkvar is my cousin,’ he went on. ‘They breed ’em tough on that side of the family.’
‘I think that toughness isn’t just limited to one side of your family, Ketill.’
He reddened and smiled sheepishly. ‘I’ll sit with him awhile, my lady, until the others get back.’
Lara nodded hoping that her face wouldn’t betray the trepidation she felt inside. Gods, please let them all come back. Let Finn come back. Suddenly nothing in the world seemed as important as that.
* * *
It was mid-afternoon when the three ships returned. As they came into view Lara leaped to her feet, her gaze following them every inch of the way. Ketill and the other walking wounded came to join her as the ships glided in towards the shore. Lara breathed a sigh of relief when she saw Alrik and Guthrum. Then her gaze moved on, scanning the remaining vessel for a glimpse of Finn and failing to find him. Perhaps he was taking a turn at the oars and she’d somehow missed him among the other crewmen. Craning her neck to try to get a better view she looked again. He has to be there. He has to be. When she still didn’t find him her heart sank and dread began to replace anticipation. Please, gods, don’t let him be dead.
Then Ketill’s voice rang out, asking the question she feared to pose. ‘Where’s Jarl Finn?’
Unnr called back, ‘He’s here, with the other wounded.’
Lara paled and her stomach seemed to tie itself in knots. ‘How badly is he hurt?’
‘He took a sword cut to the leg,’ replied Unnr. ‘We bound it as best we could but he’s lost a lot of blood.’
‘I want to see him. Help me aboard, somebody.’
Two minutes later she was standing on the deck. She found him then, propped against the strakes in the stern. He was conscious but his face was deathly pale. A blood-soaked bandage was bound about his left thigh. She swallowed hard. He’s alive. Relief mingled with anxiety to produce a tremulous smile.
‘Finn?’
As she knelt beside him he became aware of her presence and the grey eyes brightened a little. For a moment they faced each other in silence. Her smile faded a little when she saw the blackening gore splashed across his arms and breast. Interpreting her expression correctly he smiled faintly.
‘It’s all right. It’s not mine.’
‘I’m glad to hear it. It seems to me that you can ill afford to lose any more.’ She looked at the injured leg. ‘That will need to be cleaned and sewn up.’
‘By and by. First we’ll bury our dead and collect our wounded. Then we’ll find another place to make camp. This place has too many unpleasant associations.’
It was a fair point and she didn’t want to start an argument, but at the same time she was reluctant to delay treating the wound. He saw the inner struggle in her face.
‘I’ll survive a little longer.’
‘Please don’t tease, Finn. Not now. The past few hours have been among the longest of my life.’
He took her hand. ‘Are you telling me that you were worried?’
‘Of course I was worried. I...I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.’
His gaze warmed. ‘If you thought that you were well wide of the mark, my sweet.’ He raised her hand to his lips. ‘I apologise for such a tame offering but it’s the best I can do at present. Besides, that cut lip looks painful.’
‘It’s nothing.’
‘Not to me it isn’t.’
He retained his hold on her hand and she made no attempt to withdraw it, needing the solid reassurance of physical contact.
‘Tell me what happened?’
‘We caught up with Steingrim and slew a goodly number of his men, although they delivered their share of blows.’ He glanced at his leg. ‘This was a parting gift from one of them, delivered from behind while I was otherwise engaged. Steingrim was wounded in the fighting but in the confusion he and some of his followers escaped.’
‘Oh.’ It wasn’t what she’d hoped to hear but it pleased her to think that the enemy hadn’t escaped unscathed. ‘But surely he can’t be much of a threat now.’
‘His force is smashed, that’s for sure.’
‘Did you lose many men?’
‘Fifteen in all. A small fraction of Steingrim’s losses.’
‘I’m sorry you lost any.’
‘So am I, but it could have been much worse.’
It was bad enough. In truth she didn’t want to think about how much worse it could have been or what she might have been feeling now if it had.
* * *
The sun was sinking before the new camp was established and Lara could set to work on the wound. It was deep but clean. Finn made no sound while she sewed the cut though his pallor worried her. His skin felt cold to the touch. If only she’d had access to the herbs and salves from home she could have offered him some relief from the pain. When they reached Ravndal she would find out what might be done in that respect. In the interim a few mouthfuls of mead had to suffice. When the wound was bound again she unbuckled his sword belt and co-opted a couple of men to remove the chainmail shirt and help him into the sealskin sleeping bag, which she had laid out ready near to the fire.
When she had made him as comfortable as possible she went to attend to Folkvar’s injuries. He made light of them but his ashen face spoke louder. Nevertheless, he dredged up a wan smile of thanks as she finished tying off the bandage. On
ce again she found herself wishing she had some medicines to hand.
Having finished the task she asked if anyone else needed help, but it seemed that the majority of their wounds were slight. She had half expected the enquiry to be met with mocking smiles and perhaps some teasing comments: it was a point of pride with fighting men to make light of all but the most serious injuries. Somewhat to her surprise their mockery was conspicuous by its absence and, although they declined her assistance, it was declined courteously. She supposed that they must be feeling too tired to engage in the usual banter. Gathering her things she prepared to return to Finn. Weariness was setting in now, a reaction to the rigours of the day, and she guessed it wouldn’t be long before the men turned in too.
She was on her way back when she met Alrik. Like the rest he was dirty and dishevelled but, happily, unhurt.
‘Shall we reach Ravndal soon?’ she asked. ‘We need some medicines and clean linen for bandages. I would not have any of these men succumb to fever or wound rot.’
He nodded. ‘We should be there tomorrow in the afternoon.’
‘I’m glad to hear it.’
He looked around at the men now talking quietly among themselves. ‘The enemy came off far worse today I’m pleased to say.’
‘But Steingrim escaped.’
‘Aye, he did, unfortunately. The man’s as slippery as an oiled viper. Still, his fangs are drawn so he won’t be giving us any more trouble for a while.’
‘I hope you’re right.’
‘I’m sure of it.’ Alrik paused. ‘How does Jarl Finn?’
‘Poorly at present. I need to get him back to civilisation where I can look after him properly.’
The words elicited an expression of keen interest. ‘Spoken with wifely concern. Can it be that you’re warming to him, Lara?’
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