Chapter Seven #2
A moment later, rain fell from the sky in a crushing downpour that was simultaneously soaking and blinding.
Sif could not see more than a few feet in front of her face, and the rain was falling so heavily that it physically hurt.
However, not even the oppressive rainfall could dim Sif’s exuberance.
She had done it! An enormous amount of power had passed through her, and far from feeling drained or exhausted, she felt wildly alive.
She wanted to strip naked and dance in the rain she had created by sheer force of will.
She wanted to find Hakon and fuck him in the town square while lightning crackled through their writhing bodies.
“Sacred Freyja,” breathed Baedi, wiping the rain from her face. “I’ve never heard of, much less seen, such a manifestation of power.” The Elder witch looked at Sif and paled. “Your eyes, Sif…they’re glowing!”
“Why shouldn’t they?” laughed Sif. “Now show me those Skraelings! I’ll burn the hearts out of them!”
“Wait,” intoned Baedi, holding up a hand and closing her eyes. “Gunhilde is telling me about the nature of the battle.” The witch put a hand on Sif’s arm. “Open your mind, that you may see and hear as well.”
Sif obeyed, and gasped as her mind struggled to process the images flooding in.
Several of the witches must have sent their minds into the local ravens and birds of prey, as the views of the battlefield were soaring vistas from above.
Gunhilde was using her powerful mind to weave many different perspectives together in order to make a complete picture.
Visby was being taken by the Skraelings.
There could be no denying it. They had gained a foothold at the docks and were slowly but steadily penetrating deeper and deeper into the city.
Sif’s rainstorm had quelled the fires, as well as the panic that came with the blazes, and had given the defenders time to collect themselves.
Despite this, the defenders were still losing.
“The city is lost,” said Baedi, and Sif felt despair break through her manic euphoria. She knew it was true. She had seen it for herself.
“What do we do?” Sif cried, shivering as the heavy rain soaking her clothes chilled her. Gunhilde’s voice filled her mind.
“We must begin to evacuate the city,” said the Elder Sister.
“We can save many lives as long as we have a controlled retreat. If our nerve breaks and everyone runs, this will turn into a massacre.” There was a pause then Sif felt the echoes of Gunhilde’s grim laughter in her mind.
“It seems that Jarl Birger is not such a fool that he does not see when his own skin is at risk,” said Gunhilde wryly.
“He has agreed that we must begin a retreat through the East Gate.”
“What do we do?” asked Sif, her teeth chattering.
“Wait for my orders,” replied Gunhilde, “and find some shelter, for the love of the goddesses. I can feel your shivering inside my brain.”
As the rain continued to fall, Sif and Baedi ducked under the roof of a market stall and held onto one another for warmth.
***
At the same moment, Hakon was facing his first Skraelings. He and Gunnar had raced through the streets of Visby, towards a house where Gunnar was sure they would find Ignetha, Ulf, and Breca. Sure enough, the three responded to Gunnar hammering on the door.
“Oh, thank the gods,” said Ignetha, throwing herself into Gunnar’s arms. She hugged him fiercely then stepped back and asked sharply, “Where is Thorulf?”
“Wounded but safe,” replied Gunnar promptly.
“The Jarl’s men ambushed the camp and Thorulf was hurt, but he has been tended to and will recover soon enough.
” Gunnar laughed in his relief at finding his foster family safe.
“We nearly had to lay him out with a shovel to stop him from coming after you, but he fares well enough.”
“What in the Nine Worlds is going on?” demanded Ignetha. “The neighbors have been saying it’s an attack!”
“So it is, Mother,” said Gunnar. “We need to leave the city, and quickly. Do you have all that you need?”
“We packed when the harbor caught fire,” said Ulf.
Hakon was hanging back, watching the street. “Time to go, Brother,” he warned.
“Alright, everyone. Follow me,” ordered Gunnar. “Ulf, Breca, swords out, but use them only as a last measure. Don’t go looking for a fight! And, Hakon…”
“I’ll cover our retreat,” finished Hakon. “Now go! Trouble’s just around the corner, I fear.”
Gunnar took off, setting a steady run as their pace.
Hakon brought up the rear of the group, keeping a watchful eye behind them.
They crossed an intersection and heard a shout from behind them.
“Keep going,” ordered Hakon and turned in the direction of the shout.
Three men in heavy furs dyed black, carrying hunting spears and axes, were loping towards them.
Suddenly, there was a dull thumping boom that rattled his bones, and a blinding rain fell from the skies. Hakon cursed and threw his helmet off so that he could at least see something. He wiped at his eyes and peered through the rain.
A spear came flying through the rainfall, and Hakon twisted his body to avoid its arc.
Even as he straightened, a man in a thick black bearskin cloak slammed into him, driving the breath from his lungs.
The man was too close to him for Hakon to swing his sword, so the young warrior pummeled the man’s face with his fist. Hakon felt bone and teeth crack under his blows, and the man slumped to the ground.
So that’s a Skraeling. Well, he falls just like anyone else.
Then the second attacker was on him, axe raised for a heavy strike.
Rather than move back, Hakon stepped inside the arc of his enemy’s swing, driving his sword through the man’s ribs.
The heavy furs the man wore offered some resistance, but he had no armor to speak of.
Hakon snarled in the man’s face as he watched the light go out of the Skraeling’s eyes then he shoved the body into the path of the third attacker.
The man tripped and fell, and Hakon quickly finished him.
Like dogs. They fight like a pack of wild dogs.
The blood of the Skraelings mingled with the rainwater at his feet. Hakon wiped at his soaking hair and beard and ran after the others. He caught up with them just as they reached the East Gate.
“Everyone alright?” he demanded.
Gunnar nodded. “We will be, once we get out of this blasted rain. This gate is barely any shelter at all. Give me a warm fire and your piping-hot porridge, Mother!”
Ignetha smiled. “Get me back to my man and I’ll make you all the porridge you can eat.”
“Be careful what you promise,” laughed Gunnar.
“Hold!” scowled Hakon, raising a hand. “I swear I just heard something.”
“From where?” asked Gunnar, twisting around.
“From inside my head, curse it all.” Hakon frowned and closed his eyes. It was as if he could hear a voice calling from a distance away then suddenly he heard, “HAKON!” in a great shout that threatened to burst his eardrums.
“Gods!” said Hakon, gritting his teeth then replied within his mind, I hear you!
Apologies, came the voice of Gunhilde. There are so many magics flying about, it’s a challenge to find a way through. I need you to fetch Sif and Baedi for me.
Where are they? asked Hakon.
An image of a street flashed into Hakon’s mind. Here, said Gunhilde. Holed up like a pair of water rats. Jarl Birger has ordered a retreat. I need them back safely with us.
If she listens to me, thought Hakon privately then sent the thought, Understood.
Off you go then.
Hakon opened his eyes to see the others looking at him. “That was Gunhilde. I’m to fetch Sif and Baedi. The Jarl has ordered a retreat. The East Gate will be opened soon enough.”
“Good hunting, Brother,” said Gunnar with a smile. Ignetha gave Hakon a hug. “Be safe, and get your woman out,” she said.
Hakon nodded at them, took a deep breath, and ran back into the rain-soaked city.
***
“You couldn’t have sung a warm, summer rain,” said Baedi, teeth chattering.
“It was your spell,” Sif shot back. “Do you know any nice songs of warming?”
Baedi looked at Sif, nonplussed. “I’m an idiot,” muttered the Elder witch. “Hold on, let me share this with you.”
Images and sounds flooded into Sif’s mind. “How deceptively simple,” she said. “Give me a moment.” Then, she murmured a tune, a lilting summer air that spoke of warm breezes and cloudless skies. Sif felt the cold retreat from her bones.
“Mmm,” murmured Baedi. “Sweet Goddess, that’s better. Can’t believe I didn’t think of that before.”
“How many spellsongs do you know?” asked Sif, curious.
“I was a long time in exile,” replied Baedi. “That’s all under the bridge now, but there were many years when it was just me and some very old, very interesting books. I became an expert on a few things, spellsinging among them.”
“But you yourself can’t…” Sif hesitated, not wanting to appear rude.
“Sacred Frey, no!” Baedi snorted. “I can manage some of the minor ones, but most of them are simply on another level. I don’t have the power. No one did, until you came along.”
“Am I really that—” Sif began but stopped when Baedi suddenly raised a hand.
“Hush now!” said the Elder witch sharply.
Sif followed Baedi’s gaze and saw that several figures had rounded the corner to the west. They all appeared to be clad in furs that made them seem almost bestial.
This effect was exaggerated by how they moved—low to the ground, with loping strides.
Spears and axes dangled loosely from their hands.
“Softly now,” hissed Baedi and led them both from underneath the market stall’s roof and slowly crossed from booth to empty booth, traversing the town square. The sound of heavy rainfall hitting the cobblestones was all that could be heard.