Chapter 19
CHAPTER NINETEEN
SIGRID
We reached the maze without incident. Eleanor had even proved to be useful a few times, showing me a faster path and lying artfully to one of the guards who offered to escort us.
The entire walk down, my every instinct continued to scream that something was wrong. The bright daylight and gentle birdcalls mocked me as we stepped into the shade of the tall hedge maze.
It was dangerous for Talon to be here, so I wanted to believe that was the reason for my unease, but there was something more to the feeling.
My berserker was restless and angry, angry with me for not sensing whatever had her riled.
Has Ocracoke been attacked again?
Did my father kill Layla?
If Layla was dead, Thorin wouldn’t be far behind her. He couldn’t lose his mate.
I had a knife hidden in my skirt, but my fists clenched with the aching need to find a proper weapon. Worry drove my feet to haste. A battle-axe wouldn’t help with whatever news Talon was about to deliver.
I shook my head at how easily Eleanor had trusted me. I could’ve been taking her out there to gut her for coveting my husband. Maybe I should’ve done that, but I couldn’t help liking her.
I noted every turn around a hedge we made, making sure I could quickly find my way back. When we’d wound our way into the thick of the maze, I pulled Eleanor to a stop. “Let me climb up and see if I can find the direction of the middle. I’m all turned around.”
It was a complete lie, but I was hoping to spot my brother.
He wouldn’t do something so predictable as waiting for me in the middle, but I needed to make sure Eleanor didn’t cross his path.
My heart raced with nervous excitement that I was about to be face-to-face with the reckless fool.
I was livid he’d left Ocracoke, but I was also more desperate than I wanted to admit for any sliver of home after being trapped in this dreary place for days.
The instant my head breached the top of the hedgerow, I spotted a Viking two rows over…
but it wasn’t Talon. He was turned partially away from me, but I could still see the eerie markings that covered where his eyes should have been.
His eyelids were sewn shut and had been tattooed with the mark of Odin.
He was a Banamaer.
In my haste not to be seen, I all but threw myself from the branch I’d been clinging to, brushing Eleanor off when she tried to check that I wasn’t injured.
I instinctively started to push her back towards the entrance to the maze, frantic to put distance between us and the beast who had once been a man.
Some primitive part of my soul quaked at the sight of him.
Holy gods.
The last time I’d faced one, I’d been fully armed and barely escaped alive, even with the powers of my berserker.
Odin gifted them with his sight, but no one knew if that meant they could still observe the world as we did.
I suspected it was more like the visions I had of people’s fears.
They existed on an otherworldly plane that was removed from reality and yet felt as real as the hedge I’d just gripped in my hand.
I’d gone charging into a maze with a Banamaer, barely armed and isolated from my berserker.
I would’ve laughed if the circumstances hadn’t been so dire.
I’d asked for a low-stakes situation to properly test my limited powers, and this couldn’t have been further from that.
Whatever god I’d angered had a sense of humor.
I was disgusted to feel the gnawing grip of fear twisting my guts. It was the kind of terror I was used to feeling as an outsider in other people’s minds.
Was it possible he’d been sent to murder someone besides me?
He cast an illusion to summon me to the maze, pretending to be Talon.
You didn’t send a Banamaer to deliver a message, and there would be no reason for the assassin to forewarn me of his plans if he meant to kill someone else.
Movement in the opposite direction from the Banamaer made my muscles lock up. I dared a quick look through the hedges and felt a tighter twist of fear when I caught a glimpse of a second Banamaer in that direction.
Two Banamaer? One was always sufficient. They didn’t fail.
Except when they’d hunted me, which must’ve seemed like reason enough to send two.
It was a chilling thought, but it was the only explanation that made sense. Agreeing to send me here must’ve been a plot to get rid of me. I was sure my father meant to blame my death on the Saxons and use it to rouse the Vikings to war.
The Banamaer had to be aware Eleanor and I were in the maze, but they might not know yet that I’d discovered them. If we kept it that way a little longer, it might buy me time to think.
I snatched Eleanor by the arm and whispered, “We have to get out of here.”
Her eyes flared, but for once I was grateful that Saxon women were trained to be so compliant because she moved along silently back in the direction we’d come.
Another flash of movement on the other side of the hedge behind us made it hard to breathe.
There can’t be a third. The thought was as much a desperate plea to the gods as it was a denial of what I knew to be true.
He’d sacrificed three of his most precious fighters to make absolutely sure the job was done. All three would die if one of them succeeded in killing me, so they’d be vying for the honor of landing the final blow.
I might be able to fend off three Banamaer with the luck of Thor on my side, but if I had to protect Eleanor at the same time, we had no chance. They’d slaughter her simply because she was nearby. She had to get herself to safety.
You could scream for help…
I wanted to throttle the part of me that had produced the thought.
I’d rather die than summon the fucking Saxon army to save me.
And that might only give my father the war he was looking for.
I wanted revenge, but I had no desire for both our kingdoms to be torn apart by violence again.
I’d made the mistake of seeing the men down there as actual people and didn’t want them indiscriminately slaughtered because of me.
“We’re being hunted,” I whispered in her ear. “You do exactly as I say if you want to live.”
She nodded urgently, shifting her eyes in fright even as she kept quiet.
“Walk calmly until you’re out of the maze, then run to Bastian.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll walk with you until it’s a direct path to the training grounds.” She wasn’t accustomed to mastering her fear like this, and I didn’t trust that she wouldn’t panic and get lost in the maze.
I’d trained my senses on the ones who hunted us, listening for the almost-nonexistent sounds of their movements, so I flinched when one of them began to thump on his shield. I’d never heard of them doing that before, but I’d never heard of them hunting in a pack before either.
The other two thumped their shields in answer, an act of psychological warfare that sent chills cascading down my spine.
Could they hear this down on the training grounds? The Banamaer must’ve been ready to attack, so sure of their victory that they didn’t care if they made noise. The reason they were certain became clear when a fourth shield was hammered in rhythm with the others in the direction of the exit.
There was no escape.
Four fucking Banamaer. I’d never heard of four in one place outside their cave, far less heard of anyone fighting four.
What about standing against them in a fucking Saxon gown armed only with a knife?
Eleanor whimpered as tears streamed down her face. I was all but dragging her forward as she frantically looked around us.
The thumping shields only got closer, caging us in.
I kept an eye out for anything I could use as a weapon. Tearing a branch from the hedge would be the best I could do, but that was an exercise in futility. It would offer little defense against their weapons, and I’d waste precious time. I had to disarm one of them.
I dragged Eleanor faster. Two more turns, and she’d have a straight shot if she went through the hedge, but on our next turn, the Banamaer in that direction moved like lightning through a hedge to block our escape.
Eleanor screamed, but I cut off the sound with a hand over her mouth. She was going to get people killed if she drew them here. “Save your breath for when I tell you to run.”
His enormous bulk blocked most of the path. The massive double-headed axe in his hand was obviously his favored weapon, but along his sides and thighs, he had dozens of other implements: Blades and at least one sickle. Throwing knives. A hammer.
He snarled at us, revealing teeth that had been sharpened into weapons in their own right. He could rip my throat out even if I disarmed him.
He was the stuff of nightmares.
But so was I, damn it.
The pounding shields drew closer behind us. If we hesitated, they were going to cage us in, and I’d be taking them all on at once while trying to defend Eleanor.
I squeezed her hand. “Run like hel. Don’t stop until you get to Bastian.”
I charged at the Banamaer in front of us, begrudging how slow I was without my powers, but I was still fast enough that he had time only to shift into a fighting stance before I jumped and rolled, striking him in the knees with my body, then rolling into the hedge before he could bring his axe down exactly where my throat had been.
The axe struck the hard dirt with such force that it would’ve taken my head clean off with a single strike. Instead, it sunk deep into the ground.
He released the axe and yanked a short curved blade from a scabbard at his side.
I used the surge of rage to spring to my feet and stab him in the side of the neck.
It was a messy, ineffective strike that embedded the knife into the thick muscle at the top of his shoulder, but I felt a surge of satisfaction when I saw the blood leaking through his armor.
I’d made Odin’s own bringer of death bleed with only mortal strength and speed.