Chapter 15 Brynn #5
Brynn raised both hands and stood her ground. It went against every instinct, but she forced herself not to move as the man came at her, just his eyes showing above his shield. She focused, aimed her power and sent out a whip of ka.
This time, her spell caught him full in the face, piercing through his left eye. The man stumbled forward, toppling like a pile of stones.
His spear wavered as he went down, and Brynn caught it by the shaft. She pulled it free and grabbed his shield while she was at it. She ran back to the corner of the burning hall where she had left her husband.
Cenric rushed to meet her halfway. He slung the shield onto his left arm and snatched the spear from her. “Magnificent woman!” Cenric crowed, voice flushed with pride even as he dropped into a defensive stance, pushing her behind him and the protection of the shield. “That’s my girl.”
The time for praise was short-lived as the other warriors realized they were under attack.
“Draw them away from the others?” Brynn panted, grateful for the first time that most of these men didn’t speak Hyldish.
“Can you do anything about the fire?” Cenric asked, not taking his attention off their enemies.
Brynn grimaced. “No.”
“You can start fires with your power,” Cenric protested.
“Yes, I can start fires.” Using ka to create a flame was possible, but turning the flame into ka was another matter. If there was a way to do it, Brynn wasn’t aware.
“Can you make this fire bigger?” Cenric asked.
“Bigger?”
“Yes, bigger.”
“I could,” Brynn answered, not sure where this was going. “But that would endanger the people still inside the hall.”
“Anyone still alive is in more danger from these whoresons,” Cenric shot back.
Brynn realized what he was saying. It had already been too long, and the hall would already be filled with smoke.
If anyone had not gotten out through the hole she had made, they were likely dead.
She had no friends or loved ones among the Valdari in Ovrek’s hall, but she still felt a pang of anguish.
All those people choking to death…what a horrific end.
“Brynn!” Cenric faced down three more men that broke off from the main group.
Inhaling a deep breath, Brynn coughed. Her lungs were still not quite clear of the smoke. She drew ka into herself, calling on the power that lay dormant in the air and the earth around them.
Brynn wrapped it into her own chest until it became its own inferno. She coiled it tight around her heart, focusing, focusing.
The enemy warriors drew closer. Cenric could hold off two or three, but not for long.
Brynn punched out with a fist, focusing her intentions down her arm, through her knuckles. Power surged out of her, a golden explosion only visible to her. Magic flared into the fire, too fast and too much for the kindling and the young wood of the great hall to feed.
Heat blasted outward. The men who had advanced on Brynn and Cenric stumbled as fire singed their backs. Even behind the shield, Brynn and Cenric felt the blistering, scorching flames.
Brynn forced the fire to burn bigger, hotter, and faster. The flames needed somewhere to go, and they rushed toward the path of least resistance. The fire washed from yellow to orange, to red, to blue, then white in an instant.
White sparks shot straight up into the night sky. The men who had been standing nearby were engulfed in light so white-hot that it seemed to be starlight.
The whole thing lasted barely an instant. Brynn forced the fire to direct itself outward, spending all its greatest heat.
Darkness descended.
Brynn blinked as her eyes adjusted. The hall still burned, but the kindling had been blasted away. The smoke and fire filtering into the hall would at least be slowing.
The enemy men cried out in confusion and panic. Shadows withdrew around them as their foes fled, probably to regroup. None of them would know what just happened.
Cenric charged for the men now lying on the ground closest to them. He was merciless, furious.
Brynn followed close, staying to his left side, the one most vulnerable to attack when his shield was forward. Heart racing, she gathered more power to herself.
Cenric stabbed for the nearest man, impaling him where his shoulder joined his neck. Another of the flattened warriors tried to rise, hefting his weapon.
Cenric smashed the edge of his shield into the man’s face, thrust with his spear the next moment.
Brynn drew ka to herself. As soon as she recovered enough from that first blast, she sent a whip of power toward the fleeing men.
She could sense the outline of their bodies, but she had no way of knowing who might be wearing chainmail or any other kind of armor.
She sent her power for the center mass of their bodies.
None of them went down, but from the cries that rang out in the dark, she hit at least a few of them.
Cenric kept stabbing, finishing off the men lying around them. Her husband might not be able to see ka, but the hall continued to burn, providing enough light to find his marks.
One of the men leapt up from the ground, running after the others.
Cenric made to give chase, but Brynn caught his arm.
“No!” She dug in her heels, stopping him. “Trap.”
Brynn could sense several other figures waiting in the shadows outside the fire, men waiting to attack Cenric if he pursued.
Cenric made a sound of frustration, but didn’t argue.
“They’re fleeing toward the beach,” Brynn said.
Cenric glared after them. For half a heartbeat, Brynn feared he would charge after them anyway.
“Cenric!” Hróarr came rushing after them, a wooden plank hefted like a weapon.
He slowed when he saw the bodies of the dead men sprawled in the grass—at least ten, but perhaps more.
Brynn hadn’t gotten a good count. Hróarr let off several words in Valdari, including what sounded like the name of a god.
“You killed all these?” Hróarr crouched to retrieve a weapon from one of the dead men—another spear.
“We killed all these.” Cenric still watched the darkness where the others had fled.
Several other Valdari men from the hall came rushing after Hróarr in the darkness, snatching up weapons from the dead men. Their voices washed over Brynn in a deluge of foreign words.
Brynn hovered close to her husband. These men ignored her for the moment, but she still wasn’t sure they were friends.
The Valdari jarls and other men, those who had followed Hróarr, coughed and choked between their words. They had escaped the smoke and flames, but smoke was a cruel and exacting enemy. It could take hours or sometimes even days to kill and even sorceresses struggled to heal its effects at times.
Beside them, the hall still burned. It crackled and popped as the flames swept higher along with the stench of pitch.
“Where is Ovrek?” Cenric asked, looking to Hróarr.
Hróarr glanced over his shoulder as if expecting the king to be there. “We pulled him out.”
“Was he hurt?” Cenric demanded, sounding genuinely concerned.
“No more than the rest of us.” Hróarr turned his head, coughing briefly.
“So where is he?” Cenric shot back.
Hróarr grated his response. “I don’t know.”
Even Brynn knew that Ovrek would want to confront his enemies.
Cenric glanced to Brynn and even in the poor light, she could see her thoughts reflected. They needed Ovrek alive. At the moment, their only alternative was Tullia, and she had just tried to smoke them like fish for winter.
Cenric turned, jogging back to where Brynn had made the hole for their escape. Brynn trotted after him, the crisp evening air stinging her scorched lungs. It was a drastic contrast to the oppressive heat and smoke of the fire.
They reached the back of the hall to find Vana standing over a bedraggled and soot-stained gaggle of survivors. At least a hundred people had been inside the hall when it had been barricaded closed, but Brynn saw fewer than fifty now, counting Hróarr and the men who had come to join them.
“Where is the king?” Cenric demanded, looking to Vana. He shouted something in Valdari, raising his voice, presumably repeating the question.
“He went back in,” Vana rasped.
“Back in?” Horror and fear infused Cenric’s words. If not for the amber light of the flames, she was sure he would have gone pale.
Beside them, the fire was still consuming the hall. Despite what Brynn had done, smoke was still filling it, just more slowly.
Vana stared toward the burning hall. “He went back for his wife and son.”
Brynn thought she must have heard wrong.
“That’s madness.” Cenric shook his head.
From outside looking in, the hall had become a pit of black smoke broken by flashes of firelight. It was a deathtrap and if anyone inside wasn’t already dead, they would be soon.
Brynn pulled her mantle tighter around her shoulders. She focused on the burning hall, trying to sense inside with her power. “Someone is coming out.” Brynn straightened. “Someone—”
With a roar, Ovrek burst from the jagged hole carrying a limp form over his shoulder. Warriors rushed forward to pull him free, dragging him and his motionless cargo several steps from the blaze.
Ovrek collapsed on all fours, bellowing angrily between coughs. He surveyed the limp form beside him.
Tolvir lay unmoving.
“Sifma?” Ovrek searched the faces around him. His eyes landed on Vana. “Sifma?”
Vana shook her head, eyes shining with tears by the firelight.
Ovrek staggered to his feet, still wheezing. He stumbled back toward the burning hall.
Cenric and the other men stepped forward to block him.
Ovrek swung his fists. There was a thud and one of the men stumbled back, but the others rushed the king, tackling him to the ground. Ovrek collapsed under their weight, pinned even as he cursed and fought to crawl back into the burning death trap.
Something snapped and a burning beam collapsed over the entrance, blocking the way back inside.