Some clarity returned to the man’s eyes. His hands shook and he glanced to the angry sky, then to Sigurd.
“I cannot stop it. The storm is too strong.” He licked dry lips, seeming to struggle with each word. “But I can redirect its fury. It will take all I have.”
“Not if it will cost your life.” Sigurd placed his hands on the mage’s skeletal shoulders. “There has to be another way. I won’t let you survive the repository and what happened after, only to die now. Cara wouldn’t want that.”
“Cara…” Amun closed his eyes. “What will she think of me, seeing me this way? I… It must be stopped,” Amun repeated. “I can…I can do it. I can redirect its fury, but you must free the others.”
“I can do that. Will you be all right here?”
“Yes. You must go. The others are—they will not survive this battle.”
“All right. I’ll leave you to it,” Sigurd began. “I’ll do my best to help the—”
The ground rumbled like thunder, a great noise in the distance that he almost didn’t see.
And then movement caught his attention from the corner of his eye. Sigurd jerked his head toward it to see a growing shadow over them, a boulder sailing from a distance far beyond their army. The world slowed, his reflexes insufficient for what was coming.
Sigurd dove at Amun and dragged him farther from the projectile’s path. With one tremendous boom, it hit the gate, and everything around them shuddered and crumbled apart.
Bryn felt the rumbling noise of the stampede before she saw the source of it in the distance. Dozens upon dozens of jotun warriors raced across the ground, many of them riding giant snow bears. The beasts were a story she’d heard as a child, supposedly rare, yet she watched as a hundred or more of the majestic white-pelted creatures charged toward the battle. Her mouth fell open as the enemy forces dissolved into disarray.
One of the giants on foot spun in a circle and lunged forward, and then she understood the reason for the enormous man’s maneuver. A boulder no smaller than her horse rocketed through the air. Another giant followed suit. Then a third. They needed no catapults.
She wanted to cheer, so she did, leading the charge with a rallying cry that all her shield maidens echoed. Above, the skies flashed, and the first lightning bolts blasted down. She raised her shield, expecting the magical attack, but the bolt struck within the breached walls. Sigurd must have done something, or else the mage was a poor shot indeed. Beside her, Cara grinned and dashed forward with fire wreathing her hands.
Lightning danced over the castle, pinging into the men at the siege weapons, striking catapults and war machines alongside the jotun-thrown boulders. Catapults and ballistae splintered and exploded.
The first line of jotuns reached the battlefield—and plowed through it. Warriors fell against them, tossed aside like rag dolls during a child’s tantrum. In minutes, the giants took down nearly as many as their forces had in an hour. The snow bears trampled men beneath their massive paws and crushed skulls with their teeth, while their riders used bows as tall as a Ridaeron man or wielded blades that shone like moonlit ice.
Cheers rose from their army, renewed hope surging through every man and woman. Quickly, the tide of battle turned. She saw fear mingled with doubt on the faces of those men opposing them.
What remaining opposition they would have faced was summarily quashed, unable to stand against the might of their joined forces. The shield maidens followed as the giants closed in, crossing tremendous amounts of terrain in a short time.
Bryn had never seen anything like it. As a girl, her father had told her tales of the occasional battle against stray giants, renegades from Jotunheim hoping to reclaim land, but she’d never anticipated such a showing.
“Gunnar’s húskarlar have drawn him away, my lady,” Lagertha relayed.
“The coward is running.”
“So it would seem.” Cara said drily. The mage had kept up with her shield maidens, using both sorcery and a sword with skill.
“He’ll make for the castle and into the mountains from there. We cannot let him escape Grindavik.” Bryn raised her shield into the air and gave a war cry that was echoed by hundreds of women. Her shield maidens rallied behind her.
At the sight of giants, most of Gunnar’s forces in the city streets laid down arms and surrendered. Bryn had given strict orders that anyone who did so be taken unharmed, and she aimed to enforce that rule. Leaving a few shield maidens to watch over those, she led the others deeper into the city.
No one moved on the streets and the citizens kept their homes locked up tight. Good. The fewer civilian casualties the better. Unimpeded, they reached the castle walls, approaching with caution. Then it started all over again as Gunnar’s remaining forces made a final stand to keep them from reaching the king.
She led the charge, leaping forward with her shield held before her. The unfortunate soldier standing in her path flew backward, bowling over several of his comrades, and didn’t rise from the ground. To the side, another half-dozen men screamed as they were engulfed in mage fire, while farther down the line the jotuns tore into the enemy ranks and the wall beyond.
“Gunnar will be inside. Breaching the doors will not be easy.”
“Surely they won’t stand up to the giants,” Lagertha countered.
“Even so, we need to get the rest of their mages,” Cara said, moving to their side. “Whatever Cam did helped at the outer wall, but there are more here.”
There was always the off chance some of the mages would fight their captors once they saw that the king’s side was losing the battle. With their allies from Eisland and Creag Morden dividing his forces, there was no way he could defend the castle.
A thunderous crash announced the breaching of the castle wall. Without wasting time, Bryn charged through, heart pounding as she raced for the nearest stairs. Someone rushed her with his hammer, swinging, but deft footwork spun her out of the way and her shield met the side of his face with a tremendous shock. He shouted in pain and surprise.
Another lightning bolt struck the ground, blasting through Gunnar’s forces. The energy made her skin tingle, buzzing through her.
On the walkway above, an armored man brandished a whip at a mage. The man cowered but did as he was bid, releasing waves of cacophonic force at them. One of her shield maidens tumbled down the stairs.
Cara threw up a magical barrier before the next blast. Bryn dashed forward and drove her sword not through the mage, but the man beating him. Startled, the mage fell back, scrambling away from her in terror.
“Go on,” Cara told her. “I’ll help him.”
“Be careful.”
“You as well.”
Bryn continued onward, knocking aside anyone who stood in her path to the castle doors. Another boulder struck the stone walls, tearing a hole through a tower filled with archers. The men screamed as they fell to their doom.
With a path cleared, the other jarls and Sigurd soon reached her side. A giant kicked in the fortified doors and bowed elegantly. As he straightened and grinned, she recognized him as none other than King Thrym himself.
“Carry on, Queen Brynhildr. We will hold things here.”
“Thank you.”
With no time to do more than catch their breaths, Bryn led their forces inside, where the final defenses waited. They fought for every inch of ground, knowing that somewhere in the castle, Gunnar would no doubt be waiting for her.