Chapter Ten #2
He did his best to explain to Uwe and the others what had happened, even as they ran through the forest. The smell of burning was stronger pervading the air, and thick tendrils of greyish-black smoke were beginning to drift through the trees.
After what felt like forever to Hakon, they came upon the remnants of the column’s main camp.
It was not hard to see why the witches were no longer there.
A short distance from where the camp had once been, the forest was alight.
Hakon had seen great bonfires and even one or two hall burnings but never anything like this.
Blackened trees twisted as licks of flame raced up their trunks.
Heavy smoke was everywhere. The heat was like being trapped in a bread oven.
The young warrior’s eyes widened as he regarded the scene.
It looked like the end of the world.
Do the fire giants march? Is this Ragnarok?
Gunnar’s voice brought him back to his senses. “We need to move, Brother!” he shouted above the chaos of noise. “Come! Their tracks are not hard to follow. We cannot get trapped here!”
Hakon nodded, waved his arm at the group, and once more, they ran.
***
To Sif, the passage of time had blurred into a nightmare mixture of smoke, heat, and noise as the column moved as quickly as they could.
She was completely lost and could only hope that the Elder Sisters had kept some sense of direction in their headlong flight.
The enormous amount of magic she had expended had left her feeling like nothing more than a shell of her former self, light-headed and heavy-footed.
“Stop!” cried a panting Gunhilde, and Sif cried out when she saw why. A spear throw ahead of them, the forest ended and the curves of the river Snoderan began. The river was wide enough that there was no way the fire could pass over it.
“We’re trapped!” cried a witch in despair, but Gunhilde waved a hand at her dismissively.
“Far from it!” the Elder witch said triumphantly.
“We have found the ford. The river is wide but shallow. It should reach no higher than your hips. Step carefully, and hold on to each other, for the current is still fast, but on the other side lies safety, from the fire at least.”
The Snoderan was wonderfully cool after the heat of the forest, and the witches formed a line to make their way across.
Sif went towards the back of the column to help Ignetha with Thorulf.
She noted with concern that Thorulf appeared to be slipping in and out of wakefulness, and that Ignetha was tight-lipped and appeared near tears.
“I promise you, once I can wield magic safely again, I will tend to your husband,” said Sif.
Ignetha forced a smile. “I’m sure you will, dear,” she replied, but Sif could hear in her tone that the woman had little hope left.
On the far bank of the river Snoderan, the witches of the column collapsed, utterly spent. The south side of the river was dotted with a few trees but was mostly grassland, stretching to the sandy beaches of the southern shore of the island itself, where the river widened as it reached the ocean.
Sif filled a canteen from the river and drank, letting the cool water soothe her parched throat. She still could not completely stop her body from shaking. “I’d no idea we were this far south,” she said finally.
Sigrid nodded as she reached for Sif’s canteen. “We’re safe from the fire, at least, but I fear our fate is sealed.”
Sif felt her stomach twist. “What do you mean?”
Sigrid gestured towards the landscape. “North and west is the forest fire. South is the ocean. East takes us directly away from the Ironwood. We’ve nowhere to go.”
Gunhilde’s hand tightened on her staff. “If this is our last stand, then so be it. Our foes will find out that they cannot buy our lives cheaply.”
If this is our end, I just wish I could see Hakon one last time.
Even as the thought passed through Sif’s mind, Sigrid narrowed her eyes and pointed. “Someone follows us to the river.”
“Then let us ready ourselves once more,” said Baedi grimly.
Sif could not remember when she had ever felt so tired, but she set her feet firmly and prepared to face whatever was to come.
Wearily she regarded the new threat as figures burst from the forest and ran headlong into the waist-deep water of the ford.
Sif cried out in joy. There could be no doubt as to whom she was seeing.
“Hakon! Oh, blessed Freyja, it’s Hakon and the others!
” The young witch ran towards the riverbank and seized Hakon as he emerged, dripping, from the river.
Hakon took her in his arms and kissed her deeply, his hands roving over her body, his tongue playing with hers, claiming her with every bit of his strength.
When they finally came up for air, Hakon looked deeply into Sif’s eyes and said, “Merciful gods. I feared I would never see you again!” Then he kissed her again, with even more passion.
With every moment of their kiss-filled embrace, Sif felt a portion of her strength returning.
If was as if she was a vessel, and Hakon’s love and desire were pouring into her, filling her.
The terrible sense of hollowness that she had felt since creating the energy shield with Baedi was finally starting to ease away.
Gunnar, Ulf, and Breca hastened towards where Thorulf lay. Gunnar exclaimed in dismay when he saw how his foster father’s health had worsened. He knelt at Thorulf’s side and held a sobbing Ignetha in his arms.
Uwe walked wearily to where Gunhilde, Sigrid, and Baedi stood. She gave a summary of events to the Elder Sisters.
“Sif!” called Gunnar anxiously. “Sif, is there anything you can do to help Thorulf? I fear he’s dying!” His voice broke as he said the final word. Sif broke off her embrace with Hakon and moved quickly to where Thorulf lay, surrounded by his family.
“Please, Sif. Is there anything you can do?” pled Gunnar.
There were tears in his eyes. I haven’t seen him cry since we were children.
A few minutes before, she would not have had the strength to do anything, but Hakon’s kisses and fiercely loving touch seemed to have lit a new spark in her very core.
Sif knelt at Thorulf’s side, placed a hand on his side, and closed her eyes. Then she sang softly.
Something was different this time. Whereas before she had drawn her power from the earth, this time, Sif drew from the people standing around her, taking the outpouring of love and worry from all of them and directing that energy back into Thorulf’s wounded body, speeding the man’s healing and gently lifting him from the dark place into which his mind and body had fallen.
When she felt as if Thorulf’s spirit had been lifted away from decline and death, Sif allowed the song to fade and opened her eyes.
Thorulf no longer looked as if he were on the brink of death. Instead, he appeared to be deeply asleep, nothing more.
Gunnar looked at Sif. “Thank you. I owe you a great debt, and will not forget.”
“Hush,” said Sif, blushing. “We are practically family. There are no debts between us.”
Hakon took Sif’s hand and lifted her to her feet. He kissed her lightly and whispered, “I am so proud of you.” In spite of her tiredness, Sif’s spirit felt like dancing. “Alright,” said Hakon, looking around, “so how do we get ourselves out of this mess?”
“That is a very good question, I’m afraid,” said Gunhilde wryly, as she and the other Elder Sisters walked over, “and one to which we have yet to find an answer. Between the forest fire, the river, and the ocean, we have run out of places to run.”
“Then we stand and fight,” replied Hakon stubbornly.
“Our minds run along similar lines,” replied Gunhilde.
“For Odin’s sake!” cried Ignetha as she knelt by her husband. “You said there were more than a thousand Skraelings. There are less than a hundred of us. How can we possibly survive?”
“We will stand and fight. That doesn’t mean we will survive,” replied Sigrid.
“But by the gods and goddesses, we will cost them,” added Baedi. “We will not be lambs submitting meekly to the slaughter. We will drag as many of them to the afterlife as we can. And if we are struck down this day, we will break their army in the process.”
Gunhilde took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “They will sing songs of the last stand of the Ironwood witches.”
“And their friends,” prompted Gunnar.
Gunhilde smiled warmly. “And their friends.”
“If I’m to die here, I want to at least be a part of the song,” Gunnar said firmly. “That seems only fair.”
“You’ve a rare spirit, young man,” said the Elder witch, laughing in spite of herself. Gunnar grinned and rubbed at his palm absentmindedly before saying to Hakon, “So how do we make these Skraelings bleed the most, Brother?”
“By hitting them when they are at their most vulnerable,” replied Hakon firmly. “That means when they are crossing the river. We hold this bank against whatever they throw at us. Once they’re across, they can use their numbers to surround us, and it will all be over.”
Gunhilde nodded. “I agree. The ford is narrow and will limit the number of warriors who can attack us. I might even feel optimistic about holding it, but the power of that boar-creature Uwe described worries me. Magic is the only edge we have, and the creature sounds dangerously powerful.”
“I’m not even sure how much magic the land will bear,” said Baedi cautiously. “That lightning hammer was supposed to end us all with a single stroke, and our protective shield was just as strong. I don’t know what will happen if we try any major spells.”
“News gets better and better,” observed Hakon.
Sif glanced at her man. Despite the grim circumstances, his mood appeared to be rising.
She wondered if it was due to their reunion, or if he was feeling the fatalistic joy of a true Jomsburg warrior facing his death.
Perhaps he is already composing his death song.
“To the riverbank,” announced Gunhilde, and with a wave of her arm signaled that all witches still able to fight should follow her.
Hakon and Gunnar stood at the edge of the bank closest to the ford.
Ulf and Breca stood behind them. On one side of them stood Gunhilde and Sigrid, and on the other Baedi and Sif.
The remaining witches fanned out along the bank to either side of them.
So this is what it is like to face death. I had so many plans for what I would do in life. I suppose none of that matters now. What did matter to Sif was that she was standing next to her man, and that they were facing this battle together.
“I love you,” said Sif to Hakon, and she meant it with all her heart. Hakon turned to look directly at her, and smiled. “My dear one. My woman. I love you, too.” Suddenly his gaze shifted and he was looking past her, his eyes widening. “Gods! Is it possible?” he cried.
Everyone turned to see what Hakon was looking at.
Sails! Along the ocean to their south, a group of longships were rounding the nearby headland, making for the river mouth as fast as they were able, with full sails billowing and oars flying.
The sails all bore the image of a double-bladed axe that was the symbol of the Jomsburg warriors.
“We’re saved,” murmured Sif, hope rising in her chest. “The Jomsburg Vikings have come.” The longships seemed to leap through the waves as they raced towards the delta where the river met the sea.
“How long will it take them to reach us?” asked Sif, stepping into Hakon’s tight embrace.
“They’ll have to fight the river flow when they reach the delta,” replied Hakon, “but even so, no more than a quarter of an hour. They’re flying like the wind.”
“That may be too late for us,” uttered Gunhilde in dismay. “The Skraelings are at the ford.”
Sif and Hakon turned back to regard the river in horror. A steady stream of warriors, clad in black furs, were leaving the forest to stand on the far bank of the river. Behind them, more and more of the forest was blazing, and the black figures of the Skraelings stood outlined by the flames.
With a sick feeling, Sif knew that the Jomsburg warriors would not reach them in time.