The Long War 01 - The Black Guard (51 page)

‘Throw your oars… draw axes,’ Halla ordered, causing her men quickly to pull their oars into the ship and across their benches, before standing as one and hefting an array of vicious-looking weapons.

The last few feet passed in slow motion and Halla saw faces fixed in battle fervour waiting on the ships of Jarvik. The
Sea Wolf
hit the gap between two of the ships, and splintered wood flew from all three vessels as the flagship of Tiergarten broke through. Others followed behind and the battle began.

Halla could see fighting on the deck of the
Hammer of Fjorlan
and could even make out the figure of Algenon Teardrop, swinging his axe in wide arcs, severing men at the neck, trying desperately to repulse the boarders. The men of Fredericksand were outnumbered but with Teardrop and Wulfrick in the fray they would always stand a chance. The axe-master was an immense presence, standing next to his thain and killing anyone who came close with thundering blows from his great axe.

More grappling hooks were thrown and it looked to Halla as if Algenon would quickly be overwhelmed. Her own men had moved to the sides of the
Sea Wolf
and were waiting for their opportunity to strike – an opportunity that came quickly when their ship abruptly stopped, wedging itself between the stern of the
Hammer of Fjorlan
and the port side of one of the attackers. Her battle-brothers roared out challenges and flooded from their ship on to the rear of the high thain’s vessel, joining the fight alongside the men of Fredericksand.

The other ships that had joined them were engaged against the encircling vessels and a confusing melee ensued. No more flaming casks were being fired and the treachery had come down to steel against steel.

‘Halla, cover the rear.’ The command came from Wulfrick as he barrelled two attackers over the side and into the water.

She responded by swinging herself into the midst of a group of attackers and shouting a battle cry. The men of Jarvik looked surprised for a second and she didn’t give them a chance to recover as her axe moved quickly, beheading the nearest man and cleaving through into the chest of another. Borrin was with her and, shouting insults at the Rulag Ursa’s men, he began to hack at limbs and bodies. Her men were whipped up into a battle rage by her actions and she felt pride as they threw themselves at the attackers, caring little for their own survival. Their ferocity had stolen a march on Rulag’s battle-brothers and she thought they might just stand a chance.

Rulag Ursa could not be seen, though Jalek, his axe-master, was leading the main assault and Halla saw him killing men of Fredericksand deftly and with skill, showing that he was a formidable opponent. She parried an incoming blow and quickly kicked the attacker overboard as she moved through the fray to reach Algenon. Borrin remained behind her, covering any attempt to strike at her and helping clear the way for more of her warriors to join the fight.

It was impossible to tell how they were faring as, in every direction, all she could see was Ranen killing Ranen, in a series of brutal and often desperate encounters. The men of Fredericksand were surrounded now and only Algenon and Wulfrick prevented them from being overwhelmed.

Another volley of throwing-axes was launched from a ship of Jarvik and more of the high thain’s men fell on to the wide wooden deck.

‘My life will not be given easily, you sons of whores,’ roared Algenon Teardrop as he engaged three men, killing two quickly and then slicing the third almost completely in two, splattering blood over his face.

Halla had never seen him fight before and his reputation had been that of a man who would generally avoid violence, but now he appeared as dangerous a man as the axe-maiden had ever seen.

‘And mine won’t be given at all,’ shouted Wulfrick, now standing back to back with his thain.

Halla and Borrin were trying to cut their way through to join Algenon and Wulfrick, but the sheer numbers of men in their way slowed them considerably. More axes killed all but a handful of the
Hammer of Fjorlan
’s crew and Halla’s men now outnumbered Algenon’s.

The Ranen who had joined Halla’s charge were busy fighting on the decks of their own ships, preventing the betrayers from reaching the high thain, and their efforts were causing genuine concern to Rulag Ursa’s men – men who now realized they might not be able to win.

Jalek, the axe-master of Jarvik, barked out an order to a group of men to deal with Halla’s approaching warriors, before moving to engage Wulfrick himself. Eyes turned to see the weapons of the two axe-masters clash and the sound was deafening. Both were huge men and both were fighting for their lives, though Wulfrick was the more fearsome opponent and Jalek was taken aback by his ferocity.

Halla, Borrin and their battle-brothers moved forward in a wedge shape, hacking at the swarm of Rulag’s men. More axes were thrown and several of the men of Tiergarten fell, and Borrin took a solid blow to the back. The axe-master went to his knees, but motioned for Halla to continue as he winced with pain and pulled himself back to his feet.

Wulfrick had pushed Jalek back to the railing of the ship and, with a shout of defiance, he raised his axe high overhead and cleaved in the other man’s skull. Men of Jarvik roared in anger at the bloodied mess that used to be their axe-master and the fight became even more brutal. Now it was deeply personal on both sides.

Then Algenon jumped atop a nearby crate and growled out over the melee, ‘I am Algenon Teardrop Ragnarsson, high thain of the Ranen, and I name you traitors and cowards.’ He was clearly injured, with blood seeping out from under his cloak and a cut visible across his chest.

An answering roar of agreement sounded from the loyal men aboard the
Hammer of Fjorlan
, and a shout of defiance came back from the attackers. Halla joined in as she killed another man, beginning to lose track of the dead around her. Borrin had disappeared into the scrum of bodies and she hoped he would find a way to stay alive.

Wulfrick was red-eyed and foam could be seen at the corners of his mouth, his axe moving in deadly circles, killing men by the three and four, not waiting to fight individuals. Slowly the attackers were pushed back until the majority of Ranen aboard the ship were defenders, mostly battle-brothers of Tiergarten.

Then a distant horn sounded. The noise was deep and rumbled up from rock and earth, cutting through the fight to be heard over steel biting flesh and men screaming challenges. Almost instantly, the traitorous men of Jarvik began to withdraw, turning back to their own ships and fleeing from the defenders. The dragon ships of the Deep Cross that had joined the fight had cleared one of the attacking ships, and another was lost to a flood of loyal warriors, but four of Rulag’s ships quickly disengaged in a planned manoeuvre.

The sound of the horn stopped any celebratory cheering from Algenon’s ship and the hundred or so warriors who remained on the
Hammer of Fjorlan
fell deathly silent. Even Wulfrick just stood, blood-covered and panting, with no insults or shouts to see off the attackers.

Algenon stepped down from the crate to stand with his men as Halla’s battle-brothers mingled with the thain’s. ‘Good to see you, Summer Wolf,’ he said quietly. ‘Do you know what that sound is?’ Sweat was pouring down his face and he had a look of intense pain in his eyes.

She glanced at Wulfrick who, for the first time since she’d met him, looked afraid. The huge axe-master of Fredericksand had frequently said he feared nothing that could be killed with his axe, and Halla began to feel her own dread rising.

‘That’s the horn of the deep,’ Algenon almost whispered. ‘Rulag is trying to wake the Krakens.’

Halla’s breathing speeded up and she looked across the deck. Behind her lay the body of Borrin Iron Beard, face down. An axe was buried in his back and his brown eyes were strangely peaceful.

Wulfrick darted back across the deck and looked up at the broken sail. The ship could not move and the vessels around it were in no condition to make way, with hundreds of men dead and more than one of the ships slowing sinking.

‘Halla, will the
Sea Wolf
sail?’ Wulfrick asked.

Several of her men had sat down heavily when the fight had ended and she saw the light leaving their eyes as the adrenalin of battle left them. One of them nodded at Wulfrick’s question.

‘She’s splintered, but whole, my lord.’

‘Get as many as can be saved to your ship. Do it now.’ He moved quickly to Algenon, who was leaning against the railing of his ship.

Halla was glad of the obscuring fog as she ordered her men, ‘Get the wounded over, anyone that still breathes.’

Her helmsman took over from Borrin and all of Algenon’s men joined in, moving men too wounded to walk and those standing in shock amidst their dead battle-brothers. Death had a strange effect on the warriors and the bloodied flesh and bone disquieted them even as they prepared their escape.

Men from the other ships began throwing ropes across to the
Sea Wolf
and leaving their own stricken vessels. Warriors of the Deep Cross, Hammerfall, Fredericksand and Tiergarten moved in groups to the benches of Halla’s ship. The oars were still intact and they sat quickly and stowed their weapons.

The sound of the horn trailed off and silence once again came over the fog-shrouded sea channel. Halla moved to join Wulfrick in assisting Algenon and the three of them were the last to leave the
Hammer of Fjorlan
.

‘I’m sorry I had to kill your father,’ the high thain said weakly. ‘He deserved better.’

‘Later, my lord, later… we need to leave… now,’ she replied, a slight panic sounding in her voice.

Her arm was round Algenon’s waist and she could feel the wetness of blood flowing down his back. He was strong, but she could tell he was badly hurt, and Wulfrick’s tight jaw and grim expression showed that he, too, thought the thain would not survive.

A little more than two hundred warriors had survived the battle and the
Sea Wolf
was full to bursting as Wulfrick placed Algenon down on the deck and stood facing the crew.

‘We’re still alive, boys, no drinking with the Ice Giant for us.’ The words were boisterous and Halla envied him his commanding presence, but fear remained in his eyes. ‘Now, row for all you’re worth.’

Algenon’s eyes were beginning to close as the loyal men of Fjorlan extended the oars and heaved away. Halla crouched down next to the dying thain and raised his chin the better to look at him.

‘You did well, Halla,’ he said, registering her presence. ‘Maybe it is time for a thainess after all.’ He was smiling and Halla thought he no longer felt the pain of his wounds. ‘Stay close to Wulfrick. If there’s a way to survive, he’ll find it.’

‘Are there no priests among your men?’ she asked, with a note of desperation in her voice.

‘There were, but they were the first killed. I am spent, Halla… no priests, no healing, no tomorrow.’ The last words trailed off as his eyelids drooped again.

Wulfrick came to join Halla next to the dying thain. The
Sea Wolf
began to move away from the
Hammer of Fjorlan
as the axe-master firmly grasped the hand of his lord.

‘We’re still alive, Algenon,’ he said gently.

‘Speak for yourself,’ the thain replied with a pained chuckle. ‘I am leaking all over your ship, Halla. I deeply apologize.’

The pool of blood was spreading from Algenon’s back and his skin was pale and his eyes dark. Wulfrick’s jaw was tight and the huge axe-master’s knuckles were turning white as he gripped Algenon’s hand.

‘I don’t know what to do,’ he said, with tears appearing in his eyes. ‘I always know what to do…’ Halla thought he was wavering on the edge of despair as he looked at the dying man. ‘I’ve let a traitor kill you. My honour is tied to yours and I’ve let you die.’

Algenon’s eyes widened and he turned towards his axe-master. Grabbing his shoulders he pulled himself up to look into Wulfrick’s eyes. ‘You are my battle-brother and my friend. You are strong and you remain so. Tell my son…’ He spluttered as blood appeared at the corners of his mouth. ‘Tell Alahan… to rule well… and… to keep his axe sharp. Keep him alive, Wulfrick… keep him alive.’ His voice trailed off and his head rocked limply forwards. Halla waited for more words, but none came and Algenon Teardrop Ragnarsson, high thain of Fjorlan, was dead.

Wulfrick didn’t move from Algenon’s side and sat with his head bowed, mouthing a silent prayer over the fallen thain.

‘My Lord Wulfrick.’ The words came from Rexel Falling Cloud, an axe-master of Hammerfall who had approached the position where they sat. ‘We are but two hundred men and no thain has survived. What do we do?’ There was a note of desperation in his voice.

Wulfrick ignored him and continued his prayer, his eyes closed. Halla took a deep breath and stood to face Falling Cloud.

‘We row for the coast as swiftly as our backs will allow,’ she said in a commanding voice.

Falling Cloud looked as if he were going to object to Halla’s impertinence, but, after a momentary pause, he saluted her by smacking his fist on his chain mail. ‘You are a brave woman, one-eye… you fought when you should have run.’ He nodded his head in approval.

Halla let the name slide and stepped past Falling Cloud to look at the frightened faces crammed into her ship.

‘Rexel,’ she said over her shoulder, ‘check how many axe-masters we have and organize these men properly, strong men to the rear and axe-men to the fore.’

Rexel Falling Cloud stepped next to her and said, ‘You’ve a stomach of iron, Summer Wolf, but your words are wise. It shall be as you say.’

He moved quickly between the lines of benches, barking out orders at the rabble of men trying to row. A few axe-masters from minor towns in the Deep Cross and Hammerfall identified themselves and were quickly sent to Halla for instructions. None of them argued at being ordered around by a woman, as the name of Summer Wolf made her the senior warrior aboard the ship. Even Wulfrick was merely an axe-master with no claim to leadership once out of Fredericksand, whereas Halla was the only child of a deceased thain and her lineage was sufficient to make these men listen to her. It was possible that thains had survived on other ships, or had found a way to escape north, but the survivors of the
Hammer of Fjorlan
numbered no lords among them.