Chapter 24
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
BASTIAN
Eleanor, as it turned out, was not wrapped in blankets sipping tea. She was elbow-deep in blood, holding the wound of a soldier who was sure to perish in spite of her efforts. The blood from his side was coming too rapidly, leaking around her hands, like a river breaking its dam.
She screamed for help, but the throne room was absolute chaos.
The injured here had been able to walk, but many of them shouldn’t have.
Some had been brought in on litters so healers could render aid.
In clusters around the edges of the huge room, commanders were giving orders, bolstering defenses that didn’t need to be strengthened and planning attacks that would only incite a war.
“Bastian.” Sigrid’s voice next to me was fraught with worry. She nodded her head in Eleanor’s direction, and I caught what I’d missed at first glance.
“Arnulf!” I ran to him, wondering how I could’ve missed his injury out on the field. It must have happened in the final moments of the battle. He was still so young, far too young to die.
I replaced Eleanor’s hands with mine, as though it was any less futile. Blood pooled around us on the floor.
Eleanor scooped up her bloodstained skirts and ran the six steps it took her to reach Sigrid. She threw her arms around my wife, weeping as she said, “Thank you…for saving me.”
Sigrid yanked her chains out of the guard’s grasp to drape her manacled wrists over Eleanor’s head and hug her back. “You fought like hell, little Saxon. Held your blade right and everything.”
Eleanor took a deep breath, composing herself, but it only lasted a second before she clutched Sigrid again. “I thought they were going to kill you.”
Sigrid huffed a laugh and released her hold on Eleanor. “So did I. And they would have if it wasn’t for these Saxons.”
Sigrid looked around the room, like she was only now fully taking it in. Her eyes filled with emotion.
“Majesty!” Sigrid called to where my father sat. “I can heal this man. I’ll heal as many as I can if you unchain me and release my berserker long enough to help.”
Hope surged in my chest. Arnulf might yet live!
My father’s cold laugh cut it down instantly. “Release a murderous traitor? You’re the one who summoned Vikings here and brought this upon us. You’ve caused nothing but death and destruction since you arrived!”
Most movement in the throne room had stopped, only the rapid actions of the healers and groans of the wounded broke the silence.
If it wouldn’t have meant leaving Arnulf to bleed, I could’ve throttled my father. “She only defended herself! These men fought to defend their princess. Let her heal them.”
The king scoffed. “And allow a berserker loose in my kingdom to slaughter indiscriminately? I think not. These men will die knowing they did their duty.”
The people in the hall grumbled, courtiers and soldiers alike disturbed by the idea of needless sacrifice.
Elric stepped forward. “Lady Sigrid was brave and true on the field. She saved many Saxon lives. I’ll vouch for her, Your Majesty.”
I was too stunned to react, but for all his faults, Elric always put his men first. He was just as filthy as the rest of us, and his shoulder still hung at an angle that turned my stomach, but he stood rigid, helping a healer with bandages.
Arnulf coughed, and blood trickled from his mouth. He was barely conscious and getting paler by the second. I hadn’t been here to protect his father even though he’d always tried to protect me. Now, I’d failed Arnulf too.
Sigrid charged towards my father, even though her hands were chained. “He’s dying, Majesty!”
The king looked around the room, sensing what he’d lose if he refused to even let her try. Everything changed in that battle, and new loyalties had been formed. Every man in this room who’d been at the maze would surely trust Sigrid. He’d lose face with his soldiers if he didn’t do something quick.
His mouth twisted into a horrible smile. “There is no way for me to release your berserker. But if you’re so desperate to save them, there’s another option. You can release some of her power to me, and I can heal these men.”
This was why he’d brought her here like this. The cruel bastard had probably been waiting for just such a chance. He’d find her weaknesses and slowly force her to surrender power to him until he’d drained it all.
Sigrid blanched, but recovered instantly, raising her chin. “Do it.” She held out her wrists, and the guard closest to her removed the shackles.
“Sigrid, we don’t know what that will do to you,” I said urgently. Or how powerful it would make the king.
I looked down at Arnulf. And at the other men around us who’d die if we didn’t take the chance.
Sigrid did the same, and the resolve in her expression solidified into something obstinate.
“I’ve taken enough lives. If I can save some now, I will.
I owe them mine.” Her eyes softened as she considered Arnulf.
“And I won’t have you live with the guilt of losing him. ”
Whatever the cost.
She didn’t say it, but I saw it in her face all the same.
She snapped her fingers at the king. “Hurry the fuck up or he’ll be dead before we can help.”
My father ignored her impertinence, and his face flashed with triumph as he hurried down the steps of the throne, carefully lifting his expensive robes to avoid the pools of blood on the floor. He laid a hand on Arnulf’s shoulder, but he focused on Sigrid.
She reached for the collar around her neck like something had happened, though to the rest of us it was invisible.
“Let me in,” my father commanded.
I hated everything about this. I wanted to stop it, but there wasn’t time to argue if we were going to save anyone.
Sigrid bowed her head and frowned. She sucked in a gasp as my father jerked, then he fixated on Arnulf.
“Just channel it,” Sigrid said, brow creasing like she was concentrating on something only they could feel.
Beneath my fingers, the bleeding slowed. When it stopped altogether, I lifted my hands and watched in amazement as the wound closed and began to scar.
He’s going to live!
“That’s enough,” Sigrid said through gritted teeth, like she was in pain. “Move to the next one or I’ll be depleted too quickly.”
One after another, my father moved around the room, healing the worst wounds and saving at least two more lives. When no one was in mortal peril, he moved to wounds that would never heal right, setting bones and saving an eye.
Arnulf clasped my hand, his grip strong, but he was still pale. “Will I live?”
“Aye,” I said, overcome with emotion at the gift Sigrid had given us.
But what violation to her was occurring? What was she giving of herself?
When she wavered on her feet and dropped to a knee, I ran to her, throwing an arm around her waist to keep her upright. “That’s enough, Your Majesty! She’s too drained.”
My father stepped back from the soldier he’d just healed, and an elderly woman wept over the man’s repaired thumb. He never would’ve held a tool or a weapon again, and now it was working normally.
“Enough,” I said, grateful for what Sigrid had done, but worried about her.
“Captain Elric,” she said, lifting her head like it was heavy. “We aren’t finished until his shoulder is healed.”
Elric shook his head vigorously. “Not necessary. I don’t want her Viking magic.”
Of course the stoic bastard would refuse what he’d insisted on for others. He’d sacrificed his shoulder to save my life.
Sigrid, fought her way to her feet, and I held her steady as she crossed the room to him. “Your shoulder is broken. You’ll never fight in a shield wall again if you don’t let me fix it.” She rolled her eyes. “Can’t even mock your silly wall anymore. It held true, Captain.”
He pursed his lips, but nodded to my father.
The king placed his palm on Elric’s shoulder, and Sigrid stiffened an instant before Elric did, his dark hair falling over his face as he ducked his head against the feeling. With a crack, his shoulder snapped back to a normal angle.
This time, Sigrid went limp, collapsing into my arms. She was still conscious, but panting heavily.
Elric rushed to get her a chair, sliding it under her so I could lower her onto it. “Thank you,” he said with quiet awe, testing his shoulder. “I won’t forget what you’ve done.”
I knelt in front of Sigrid, urgently trying to assess whether she was okay. “Will your berserker recover? Or will all of that power return to him now that he’s channeled it?”
My father faced the other way, accepting the gratitude of the soldiers, but it wasn’t hard to see he was listening to us.
“I’m not sure,” Sigrid said breathlessly, taking a cup of water offered by a serving woman. “All I know is that she’s not likely to try and rip me apart again anytime soon, so I’ll take that as a win.”
My father resumed his place on his throne, calling for order. “Silence! We must discuss a counter-offensive to respond to the violence Daneland has brought to our doorstep.”
“Bullshit!” Sigrid surged unsteadily to her feet.
Getting this woman to rest was going to be harder than besting her in armed combat.
“They were sent to specifically kill me. The Banamaer are the Viking king’s personal assassins, gifted with powers from Odin, but they are only sent to kill a single target.
His intent may have been to instigate war, but he wants you to declare it.
If you attack now, you’re playing perfectly into his plan. ”
A commotion at the back of the throne room cut off my father’s angry response. A line of guards carried severed heads, and people were understandably appalled at the grisly sight.
Sigrid, however, hobbled towards them, eager to take one and show it to the king. “Ah, here! Let me show you these were no normal Danes!” She reeled back when she got closer to the guards. “Those…are not the heads I asked for. The fuck is wrong with you?”