Chapter 18
Cenric
Everything was in chaos.
Thralls worked to carry buckets of seawater to put out fires. Animals that had not been able to flee cried out in panic.
Around them, everything Ovrek had worked for was going up in flames. The carefully constructed storehouses, the barns, and even the remaining animals from the sound of it.
As he coughed on smoke, Cenric suspected Ovrek’s dream of conquest would not be realized this summer—if ever.
The darkness of night and the vast expanse of the sea stretched to their left and burning embers floated in the air from the buildings to their right.
Brynn moved beside him, hands at her sides and face set ahead, toward the hulking shape of the serpent as it smashed into storehouses and snapped at shapes on the ground.
Cenric tripped over a body, fearing it might be a friend, but couldn’t tell in the anonymity of the dark.
“Cenric!” Brynn’s warning came as a man in armor barreled toward Cenric, bearded axe raised over his head.
Cenric skirted back, adjusting the grip on his spear. “Ovrek!” he shouted, just in case these might be allies. “We fight for Ovrek!”
“Tullia!” came the defiant retort.
Three more men in full armor charged after the first. These must be stragglers. The battle seemed petty in comparison to what now stalked the streets of Istra, but these men must not think so.
Nothing for it, then.
Three of the men charged Cenric, probably counting on the advantage of being armored while he was still dressed for feasting. The last man barreled for Brynn.
Cenric dodged the first swipe of the axe, then the second. He caught a spear thrust on his shield.
A body hit the sand—the man who had charged Brynn lay with his head half-severed.
Cenric’s three attackers turned, startled. They must not have known Brynn was a sorceress. Two of them spun, diverting to her.
That was enough. Cenric jabbed the nearest man with his spear, catching him in the space between his helm and the collar of his chainmail.
The stabbed man stumbled, collapsing as he gasped and choked. It would take him some time to die, but he wouldn’t be getting up.
Scrambling, Cenric turned to help Brynn face the remaining two men.
Cenric fell on the nearest enemy, his spear slamming into the man’s side, just above the hip. His spearhead didn’t go through the armor, but it did knock the man off balance.
Brynn took the opportunity to strike at their fourth enemy. She feinted to the left, seeming to stumble.
Cenric’s heart dropped as her foe stabbed for her side. The next moment, Brynn dodged, a spell ripping through the man’s cheek in an explosion of teeth and blood.
Cenric barely had time to notice as his own opponent recovered, trying to back up and regroup.
The remaining enemy warrior let off a yell, his own spear lowered as he charged for Cenric. Cenric had heard that cry before. It was the cry of a man who knew he was going to die and had nothing left to lose. There were few things more dangerous.
Cenric swiped with his spear, but the enemy warrior got past it, blocking Cenric’s spear with a shield.
Cenric sidestepped, getting inside the enemy’s spear so he was face to face with the armored man, both inside the other’s defense.
The warrior took but a moment to react. He drew a long knife, aiming for Cenric’s chest.
The surf roiled at Cenric’s back, lapping against the sand. The warrior was counting on Cenric not wanting to get into the water.
“Cenric!” Brynn called. She wouldn’t have a clear strike for their enemy without risking a hit to him.
Cenric swung at the man’s head with his shield, dropping his spear. He grabbed the knife between himself and the other warrior, his grip wrapping over his opponent’s hands. Whether he had control of the knife or not, the other man was still armored and he wasn’t.
Instead of trying to force the knife around to stab the enemy in the neck or head, he yanked backwards, toward the lapping surf.
“Tullia!” barked the warrior straining in Cenric’s grip. “Tullia!”
“Tullia is dead,” Cenric spat back, willing the words to be true. He yanked the other man backward just as a wave broke on the sand, washing over their feet before sliding back out. “And so are you.”
“Cenric!” Brynn cried from the shore as he dragged the remaining Valdari warrior into the knee-high water. The man struggled, pulling back.
Cenric fought to hold on, but the man twisted out of Cenric’s grip. The Valdari warrior crashed backward, splashing.
The knife disappeared into the water.
The armored warrior fought to reach it, but Cenric dropped his shield and tackled him into the waves. Pinning the enemy down, he grabbed the back of the man’s helmet and shoved it under the water.
That armor had been an advantage on land, but in water it was a death trap.
Cenric dug his knee into the middle of the man’s back as cold salt water lapped around him. The man bucked and struggled under Cenric—no warrior wanted to drown like an unwanted pup—but Cenric braced his foot against the sand and held the man under until he stopped kicking.
Cenric staggered to his feet as the waves sloshed around him.
Brynn met him in the surf, crashing into him. She gripped his arms, pulling him back toward the shore. “Are you alright? Are you hurt?”
“Fine,” Cenric muttered, smearing salt water off his face. “Wet, is all.” He waved toward the burning buildings, his sleeve dripping with seawater. “At least I’ll be able to warm up by a fire.”
Brynn clung to him, not seeming to care if she got soaked, too. She didn’t chide him for his actions, though.
Over his shoulder, Cenric could see Ovrek’s hall crumbling as it burned. “Most people will see that and assume Ovrek is dead.”
If Ovrek was assumed dead, along with so many of his jarls, there would be widespread panic.
People would flee the Althing while other men, who may not have had anything to do with Tullia’s attempt at taking power, might try to seize power for themselves.
The rich and powerful might try carving up Valdar for themselves, as it had always been feared that they would.
If word didn’t spread of Ovrek’s survival soon, it could be a disaster.
But they could only deal with one disaster at a time.
“We can worry about that later.” Brynn felt him over as if checking for damage before releasing him.
“Yes.” Cenric gathered up his spear and shield and they continued deeper into the ravaged Istra. To draw the serpent toward the sea, they first needed to find it.
Cenric led the way, following the sound of the serpent’s roars. He’d never known a snake could do aught but hiss, but this was not a natural creature.
The howls and bellows of Wulfwir could be heard from the northern part of Istra. Hopefully, his cousin and Ovrek were dealing with that one.
Cenric and Brynn rounded a storehouse with a burning roof and came upon utter carnage. Brynn gasped, a hand going to her mouth.
Bodies lay strewn in every direction—men, women, children, and dogs. Why dogs had stayed, but no other animals, Cenric couldn’t begin to guess. Thankfully, none of the dogs were Snapper or Guin.
The corpses lay missing limbs, heads, and in some cases chunks of rib cage. Most of them appeared to be dead, but a few were still moving, groaning on the sand. But he doubted even Brynn’s power would be enough to save them.
He had a strong stomach, but the sheer malice of the act made his stomach turn. This had not been the work of a hungry beast or an animal trying to feed itself. This had been an act of pure evil. Cenric had a stunning moment of clarity as he recognized the scene from last night’s foretelling.
A hiss over Cenric’s shoulder made him jump.