The basilisk came to mind. That was the only creature he’d ever fought that had an impenetrable hide, but if the creature’s blood could grant a person armor, then surely the Liangese knew about the boon. Unless more divine intervention had been at play.
Bryn assisted him to his feet. The pain was fleeting and the ache of a bruise remained. “I don’t know,” she said, “but praise the gods for whatever it is that happened. Let us not tarry to question their blessing.”
“Yes, he agreed in a quiet voice. “Praise the gods.”
“Sigurd the Unbroken,” Sten said, almost reverently.
Though it was too early to celebrate. At that moment, blooms of fire streaked across the sky from the castle and exploded into their ranks. Men screamed and soldiers scattered.
“Mages!” Sten cried.
“Cara!”
“On it!”
His sister cast a glowing dome overhead in time to deflect the next fiery attack. She maintained defense, while elsewhere Little Wolf aided with battle magic. Powerful gusts of wind blew warriors down and turned weapons aside. Every little bit helped.
“I can’t keep this up for long,” Cara called, “and I can’t shield the whole army. We have to reach the mages.”
“Easier said than done.” Except Sigurd knew they had no choice. He had seen firsthand how the mages were whipped within an inch of their life by their cruel handlers. This mage would be no different.
He weighed his options. Gunnar or the mages? As much as he wanted to face the mad king, he had to do what was best for everyone. To that end, he veered away from their original destination and made his way toward the wall with his sister at his side.
Explosions of magefire ripped down their ranks again. The shield maidens fighting alongside them dashed forward with their shields. Fire danced over leather-encased wood and fizzled out. Without Bryn and Lagertha’s warriors, they would have lost the fight.
“Lightning will come next!” Cara called. “He is preparing an elemental volley to wear us down!”
“We need to get up there and kill the handler,” Sigurd called over to his sister. “I can do it if you all draw fire and divert their attention.”
“Alone?” Bryn demanded. “You cannot be serious.”
“I can do it. Your shield is needed here. If the armies of the other kingdoms are coming, we must survive and outlast this assault,” Sigurd insisted. He couldn’t see much on the balustrade, but a wicked cover of storm clouds were rolling in from the west. When those clouds arrived, they wouldn’t stand a chance, and their part in the rebellion would be as good as over.
Impulsively, Sigurd lunged forward and caught Bryn in a kiss.
“I love you. Protect my sister, Bryn.”
“I will,” Bryn vowed. “Be swift and fierce. Show them no mercy.”
“Be careful, Cam. I’ll do what I can here.”
“I know you will, Cara.”
He made his way alongside the ranks of Ivar’s berserkers as they clashed against the king’s forces. Fighting his way to the front lines, he ran a gauntlet of sword swings and blows, sweat trickling down his brow and into his eyes. He searched for a way through, spying a breach in the stone wall. While neither wide enough nor thick enough for him to slip through, all he needed were the handholds and a way up to the top.
Arrows hit him, confirming his theory. Useless, harmless arrows pelted him. A hail of arrows struck, bruising wherever they landed, piercing leather and metal, but rebounding from his skin.
He was impenetrable.
“Sigurd the Unbroken!” came a chant from down below.
The cloud cover came closer, sweeping in with tremendous speed. Flashes of light flickered across the bleak sky. The climb continued, those occupying the ledge oblivious to his presence.
At first glance, he almost didn’t recognize the mage standing on the ledge. His dark hair had been shorn off completely and an unhealthy pallor dulled his tanned complexion to something closer to gray.
“Amun?”
The mage’s wild gaze turned his way and Sigurd realized almost too late his mistake. He managed to dive aside, narrowly avoiding the jet of flames Amun fired at him. Stranger still, no handler stood over the man. He worked alone, muttering wildly in his native tongue, stirring the storm overhead. The first flickers of lightning flashed overhead, still confined to the clouds.
He had no magic-resistant shield, only the blade once carried by Brynhildr’s mother. That wouldn’t be enough to save him from a wild mage on the brink of expiration from magical overuse.
“Amun. You know me. Stop this.”
For weeks, Sigurd had visited the repository almost every day to guarantee the enslaved mages would receive quality meals. Without him there, their keepers had fed them poorly, treating them like worthless livestock soon to go to slaughter. He knew this man’s face and remembered the pain twisting Cara’s features when she’d described his heroic act to save them during the escape.
It would have been kinder if the soldiers had killed Amun.
“You know me, Amun. You know Cara. Do you remember Cara?”
“Don’t speak that name!” he snarled, appearing more like a wild animal than a man. He lashed out, sending fire once more at Sigurd’s position, the flames spreading out in a wall that would have burned a lesser man. As it was, the magical protections of the basilisk blood shielded him, but only to a point. He dodged aside, patting out a few flames from his gauntlet.
“Amun, please, you don’t have to do this. You can be free.”
“I am free!”
“No! Don’t you see? They have you attacking those who would put an end to this war. An end to the slave ships. Queen Brynhildr will stop it all.”
“There is no stopping it. There is only obedience.”
“Amun—”
“That isn’t my name anymore! I don’t have a name. I’m…I am Tool. I am only a weapon, the hammer of my master’s might.”
“Amun, please. Queen Bryn can end all of this. You only have to stop casting.”
“She can stop nothing. There is only fire, lightning, and blood. Nothing else can stop it. Only death will end the pain.”
“We have armies coming. The other kingdoms will help us defeat Gunnar.”
“No. No, no, no.” He pulled at his beard, eyes wide and bloodshot. “Only when I destroy the deceivers can I finally be free.”
For a terrible moment, Sigurd feared he would have to kill the man. That he was too far gone. It wasn’t a fate he wanted for him, but time was ticking down.
“Cara is down there!” he said again, trying to get through. “Thanks to you, she freed the others. Aurora is safe, but she misses you. Don’t throw your life away for the man who tortured and imprisoned you, Amun.”
“I…I…Aurora is safe?”
“She is. You did that, mate. You saved her. You are more than a tool. That makes you a hero.”
War waged around them, as handlers with other mages lashed elements through the waves of marching berserkers. Ivar’s berserkers and Lagertha’s shield maidens, while skilled, could not stand against the storm for long.
He had to stop him. Even if it did mean Amun’s death.
“Please, Amun. Remember who you are. Remember the good you’ve done. Remember the little girl you saved. She’s free now because of you and all that you did. A tool couldn’t do that.”