“The priests will have nothing to say about it,” Solva snarled over her shoulder. “Jarl Arnd is with his heathen god now!”
Varin’s eyes narrowed and he tensed as though he would spring into battle whether she was standing in his way or not.
“Please,” Torunn begged him. “My father would not want you to risk the anger of the gods—”
Solva spat a mouthful of blood into the dirt at his feet.
“This cur insults your father’s memory with his every breath,” Varin growled. “It was his words that began this fight.”
“Words I would say again!” Solva shouted. “He has shamed us all!”
Torunn gritted her teeth and her grip on the shield tightened as she turned to face Varin’s attacker. “You shame yourself,” she hissed. “Save your disagreements for the morning. Put down your sword, take some mead, and then see the healer before your arm is useless. My brothers would not hesitate to leave you on the shore when it comes time for their next raid.”
Solva’s expression darkened, but Torunn stood her ground.
She tilted her chin toward Solva’s companions. “See to your man,” she said to them. “He has finished.”
“My quarrel with Varin has not finished,” Solva said.
“What will end it?” Torunn challenged him. She pointed to the ship that shill burned in the darkened bay. “My father is already dead.”
Solva’s eyes narrowed and she shoved his shield at him. He staggered back, caught off guard by her quick movement and the weight of the shield. His injured arm could not support its weight properly, and it crashed against his shins before falling to the ground. Someone in the crowd laughed, and the people began to turn away.
Torunn took a breath. Varin’s sword arm relaxed but he fixed her with a glare that made her feel somewhat self-conscious. “What have you done?” he rasped.
“I have saved you from yourself,” she replied firmly. “Save your anger for the morning. Tonight we are here to celebrate my father.”
The old warrior frowned. “I have defended your father’s memory.”
“And I know he would be grateful for it.”
“He would have plunged his sword into the pup’s chest,” Varin snorted.
Torunn smiled briefly, but Varin shook his head and looked over her shoulder to where his opponent stood with one of the healer’s acolytes. “Solva will not forget this disagreement.”
“He does not speak for anyone but himself,” Torunn said dismissively.
“I do not think so.”
“Even if he does not, there is no one here who would listen to him. My father is dining at Odin’s table tonight, and there is nothing Solva can do about it—”
She heard the thud of Solva’s footsteps before his shout of anger, Varin reached out to push her aside, but as she spun to face him, Solva was already upon them.
Varin’s shout of warning came too late, but Torunn twisted to avoid the strike that Solva aimed at her stomach. The edge of the sword caught her just below the ribs. It tore through her tunic and she felt the searing heat of the would it opened across her flesh.
She grunted as the force of the blow spun her around and Varin let out a roar of anger as he pushed her aside and leapt at her attacker.
The dirt rushed up toward her face and Torunn closed her eyes to brace herself for the pain of the impact.
11
The impact never came.
Solid arms wrapped around her torso and her heels dragged in the dirt as she was pulled away from the fight. She struggled weakly, and then the white-hot pain of her wound lanced through her body and her back arched involuntarily. The arms tightened around her, and she tried to push away from the hands that held her.
“Hold still, you are wounded,” Bersi growled.
“I am not—” She reached across her body, dimly aware of the pain and her breath caught as she felt that the wool of her tunic was stuck to her side. Her hand came away wet and she looked up at Bersi in confusion. His face was tight with concern and she cried out as he shifted her in his arms.
There was a roar behind them, and Torunn turned her head, but she could not see anything beyond the press of bodies. There was a choking sound, and then a cry of victory, but she could not be sure of who it belonged to.
“Here! Bring her here!”
Iarund.
“I do not need— Just take me home,” she muttered.
“Be still,” the healer said firmly.
More hands lifted her legs so her feet no longer dragged in the mud. The firelight flickered over the people around her, but then she was turned and she could only see the sky above. The stars. Valhalla lay beyond those sparks of flickering light. Her father was there. He belonged there with his brothers, his father… And she would see him there when her time came.
Iarund’s face appeared, his forehead lined with concern, and then her vision blurred... The stars spun together, creating a whirl of light in the sky, she smiled briefly as the pain in her side ebbed away—and the world she knew went blissfully black.
She was fighting for her life now. Every block was one of desperation. Her opponent was relentless.
Her sword was gone. Lost in the mud that sucked at her boots and held her in place.
Each blow was faster and harder, each one aimed for her most vulnerable parts. Her ribs screamed in pain with every movement, and her shield came up only just in time to prevent her faceless attacker’s axe from driving through her body.
Her arm vibrated with the force of each blow, and she wondered how many more strikes she would be able to deflect.
“Torunn!”
The shout surprised her, but she couldn’t look away from her attacker.
“Torunn you have to wake up!”
Another blow, this time aimed at her ribs. She blocked it only just in time, and her desperate grab for the axe that was secured to her opponent’s hip was too slow. Tired of being on the defensive, she let out a frustrated groan and lunged for it again. This time she struck with her shield, aiming for her attacker’s thigh.
The edge of the shield slammed down into the thick muscle and she heard him roar in pain, but the sound was strange in her ears, layered and echoing, and she could not be certain whether she had wounded him.
Darkness swirled around her and Torunn flailed with the shield, striking out at shadows and whirls of smoke that seemed to lunge out of the blackness.
“Help…” she whispered. “Bersi—”
“Torunn? Torunn, I am here.”
Her eyelids fluttered, her eyes burned, and Torunn groaned as she tried to push herself up. The moment she tried, the pain she had all but forgotten about came screaming back into her consciousness and she could not stop herself from crying out.
Iarund leaned over her, and called out for something she could not understand.
Pain speared through her body as she was turned and she grabbed for something, anything, to anchor herself to the consciousness she had finally achieved.
Her hand hit something solid and her fingers curled around it instantly. A hand. Warm and strong.
She blinked hard and stared into Bersi’s dark eyes. “Be still,” he whispered.
“What happened?”