Chapter Seven
“Gods above and below,” breathed Hakon, watching the smoke roil upwards.
“It…it can’t be,” gasped the bound councilor.
“Look what you and your damn fool Jarl have done!” hissed Gunhilde.
“He—he thought—”
“I know what he thought!” said Gunhilde sharply.
“He thought what you all think. Never trust a witch. The witches hate men. Beware the nets and traps of the Ironwood. You’re so wretchedly fearful that even when we come to aid you, you see daggers in hands outstretched in friendship!
” Gunhilde shook her head in angry frustration.
“We can’t just leave them,” said Sif.
“My family shelters inside those walls,” said Gunnar, pacing back and forth. “I’m going in, alone if need be.”
“Not alone, Brother,” said Hakon.
Sif had already made her own decision. Where her man went, so did she. She glanced over at Gunhilde and caught her eye. Gunhilde nodded. Sif let her breath out in relief.
“The people of Visby do not deserve to suffer for the foolishness of their leaders,” said Gunhilde.
“Baedi, organize the Sisters who are fit to fight and report back to me, quickly. Sigrid, take five women and collect the wounded. If you have time, you may bury the dead, but the living have priority.”
The two nodded and sped off to their tasks. Sif saw Thorulf struggling to rise from his cot and rushed over to him. “Rest now,” she said softly. “You cannot fight without killing your own self.”
“My family is there,” gritted Thorulf, looking around for a sword.
“Then serve your family by serving us,” cut in Gunhilde.
“Our camp is in chaos, and I need all the fighting fit women I can put my hands on to go into the city. Take all those who are walking wounded like you and start to break down the camp. We must be ready to retreat in an organized fashion if need be. If our cohesion breaks down and things turn into a rout, we will have slaughter and chaos. Do you understand?”
Thorulf nodded, tears of pain and grief rolling down his cheeks. “I will do this. But you must save my family.”
Gunnar stepped forwards and put a hand on his foster father’s shoulder. “I will save them, Father,” he said firmly. Thorulf nodded then hobbled after Baedi to provide what aid he could.
“And this one?” asked Hakon, pointing with his bloody sword to the bound councilor.
Gunhilde smiled without warmth. “He guarantees our passage into the city,” she said then addressed Eirik directly. “You’d better hope the guards at the gate listen to you, or you’ll be of no use to us whatsoever.”
The heavily built councilor swallowed. “They will listen to me,” he managed.
“Then you still have some use to us,” said Gunhilde sweetly.
“And these bonds?” asked Eirik, lifting his hands.
“Remain until I have reason to trust you,” replied Gunhilde. She turned as Baedi returned to the center of the camp.
“We have fifty-eight Sisters fit to march with us,” reported Baedi then added, “Twenty-two will not rise.” Gunhilde shot a look at the councilor, who had the grace to flush and hang his head.
“Then let us see what we can do with those who still breathe,” said Gunhilde. “Come, Sisters!” she called. “With me!”
The women began to move, but there was muttering among them. Finally, one woman called out, “Why, Gunhilde? Those ungrateful fools would rather see us dead in a ditch! Why should we risk anything else for them?”
Gunhilde turned and faced the gathering.
Her face showed stern compassion. “My dear Sisters,” she began, “when your neighbor’s house is on fire, it does not matter if your neighbor is a fool.
You fight the fire, not only because it is the right thing to do, but because if you do not, it will be your own house that burns next!
We fight the Skraelings in Visby so that we need not fight them in the Ironwood!
In saving our neighbors, we save ourselves. ”
Sif looked at the crowd of women and saw expressions of grim determination as more and more of them nodded in agreement. She felt a swelling of pride as she looked upon the strength of the gathered women.
“Witches of the Ironwood!” cried Gunhilde. “March with me!”
With a wordless cry of agreement, the women marched swiftly towards Visby.
Hakon and Gunnar joined Gunhilde, Sif, and Baedi at the front of the narrow column.
Gunnar grinned cheekily at Gunhilde, not intimidated in the slightest by the stern grey-haired woman.
“A most impressive speech, my lady! Better than many I’ve heard behind a shield wall. ”
“The fact that it was all true may have helped,” replied Gunhilde dryly.
Gunnar laughed. “Perhaps less than you think. Truth and battle speech don’t know each other well at all.” Gunhilde snorted.
Such an unusual man, really. Sif was struck by Gunnar’s carefree manner, even in the face of such danger.
For all the years I’ve known him, I’ve rarely seen him downhearted, at least not for more than a few moments.
Gunnar Brynson carries his life lightly in his hands, as if its gain or loss matters little.
Sif glanced at Hakon, whose eyes were warily scanning the horizon.
Such a contrast with my Hakon. He grips things fiercely and does not let them go.
Hakon feels so deeply it scares me sometimes.
His emotions burn within him. Sif smiled. They keep me warm.
As the East Gate came into sight, Gunhilde raised her hand for the column to stop, out of bowshot range.
She untied Eirik’s bonds. “Now we’ll see what you’re good for, young man,” she said briskly and led a sputtering and protesting councilor towards the gate.
Hakon, Gunnar, and Sif followed behind them.
As they came closer, Gunhilde poked Eirik in the back.
“Hail the gate!” cried Eirik. “We come to aid the city! Open the gate!”
“Who says so?” came the challenge from behind the walls.
“Eirik Norvikson, of the Jarl’s Council!” bellowed the councilor. “For the love of Thor, man! Open the gate! The city is under attack, and I bring aid!”
There was a brief moment of silence behind the walls then, “How do we know you haven’t been bewitched?”
“By all the gods!” shouted Eirik, the last shreds of his patience gone. “Jensen Leifson, is that you? Open the gate right now, or I will make sure with my last breath to put a battle-axe up your arse and give it a twist!”
Gunnar glanced at Hakon, raising his eyebrows at the crude threat and nodding appreciatively. Hakon fought to suppress a grin. There was another momentary silence, and then the sound of heavy bolts being shifted. One of the two doors of the East Gate was pulled open.
“Thank the goddesses for that,” breathed Gunhilde. “Eirik, take me to the Jarl. We will have to reach an understanding very quickly. Baedi, take our Sisters to the docks, where the fighting is fiercest. Sif, you join her.”
“Sif stays with me,” said Hakon firmly. “Gunnar and I go to save his foster family, and Sif will remain by my side. Come, Sif,” he said, turning to face his woman.
Sif hesitated, glancing between Hakon and Gunhilde.
“Sacred Freyja, we have no time for this, fighting man!” said Gunhilde in exasperation. “You want her with you to keep her safe. I want her with Baedi to save lives.” The Elder Sister took a breath. “Choose, Sif, and be quick about it. We have no time.”
Sif closed her eyes so she would not have to see Hakon looking at her.
Yes, Hakon was her man, and she had given herself to him.
But a choice between guarding her own life and saving the lives of others was no choice at all.
She opened her eyes, looked squarely at Hakon, and said, “I love you.” Then she turned and ran after Baedi.
Gunhilde nodded, said to Gunnar, “Find Ignetha,” and marched towards the Jarl’s hall with Eirik in tow. Hakon stood still, looking at where Sif had gone.
“In fairness, a hard woman to refuse,” said Gunnar, clapping Hakon on the shoulder. “Come. I’ve an idea of where they might be sheltering.”
***
Sif tried to focus on the task ahead of her as she ran, but her chest was in pain, as if her heart had been torn out. Refusing her man had come at a terrible cost, but what else could she do? Lives were at stake.
That’s not all, whispered a voice in her brain. You felt the hints of your power during the battle at Thorulf’s farm. You want to find out what else you can do. Sif shoved those thoughts down firmly as she caught up to where Baedi was standing.
The Elder wasted no time. “The Skraelings are using fire to cause fear, confusion, and destruction,” said Baedi. “You must end it.”
“Half the dockside is burning!” said Sif. “What would you have me do?”
“Open your mind to me,” commanded Baedi. “I will give you the song. You must put your power behind it.”
Within a flash, it was done, and Sif saw the words and rhythms unspool through her mind. She knew what she had to do. Sif planted her feet firmly on the ground, shoulder width apart, and began a hum deep in her chest that seemed to come from the earth itself.
The young witch felt as if she was directing a great river of energy to flow through her body, her mind acting as a dam against the rising pressure building within her.
The sheer amount of power she was channeling was terrifying and intoxicating at the same time.
Finally, just at the point she was certain her mind must swell and burst, she changed the tone and tempo of the song.
The energy that Sif had accumulated exploded upwards into the sky, a beam of coruscating brilliance that slammed into the heavy cloud cover that hung in the skies.