“I’ll hand myself in,” Elora said, feeling that if she went willingly the soldiers would be less inclined to hurt them.
“No,” snapped Diagus. “We have precious little time as it is. The longer we delay, and if we end up in the hands of that idiot, Debree, it will be a long delay, then Solarius gathers strength and more will die.”
“But we can’t fight them, there’s too many and we can’t cross the bridge because they’ll cut the ropes before we make it to the other side,” she argued, not seeing any way out of it. “Unless...” Elora didn’t believe she was even contemplating her next actions, yet she saw no other choice. “Unless I become my father’s daughter. Just long enough to...”
“No,” said Diagus. “You’re as likely to kill us if you become that hell cat. And more than likely burn the bridge down. I saw what you did to the trees at Rams Keep.” He studied her face, then observed the group. “You will make a run for it, while I hold them back.”
“They’ll kill you,” argued Elora, gazing to the men at the slope, steel in hand and a violent hunger in their eyes.
Diagus nodded. “I expect so. But I only need to hold them off the bridge until you reach the other side.”
“No. Don’t you dare,” snarled Ragna, pushing himself up from the post he was leaning against. “This is my time,” he spluttered through gritted teeth. “My time.” Ejan, opened her mouth to protest but he silenced her with a glare. “I’m already dead, you know that. Nobody gets stuck in the guts and lives. It was a folly dragging my five-bellies up this frozen rock in the first place. Mine’s the reason it took us so long to get here.” His bloodshot eyes glared at the Shadojak, “Tell them, Diagus, make then see sense.”
“You’re not strong enough, Ragna. But if you want to go down fighting then you’re welcome to stand with me. We’ll go down together.”
“If you’re staying, Raggy, then so shall I,” said Ejan, tears beginning to track down her face.
“No,” said Elora, her voice sounding as weak as her legs felt. “Nobody should die.”
“I’ll be the only one staying,” said Ragna, suddenly standing up taller, surer. “I’m already dead, my fate is sealed. And I want to die with steel in my hand and fire in my blood.”
Elora watched Ejan thump the post next to her husband with enough force to shake snow from the top. Ragna pulled her into an embrace and kissed the top of her head. “Don’t weep any for me, my love. Tonight, I’ll be dining in the halls of Valhalla, at Odin’s side.”
Ejan wrapped her arms around her husband and rested her head against his chest. “You’d better not be wenching in Valhalla.”
Ragna laughed, which turned in to a fit of coughs, spittle’s of blood clinging to his beard. “You’re my only wench.”
Bray then clasped forearms with the Viking, handing him his hammer. “Black Ragna? Ragna of the red path? Your name is as worthy as your father’s or grandfather’s.”
Ragna handed him the hammer back. “This is Jaygen’s now. Can’t see how you’re going to get it back once you’ve crossed. Besides.” He stroked his wife’s hair through his fingers. “I prefer the colour blonde over any other.”
Elora went to him next, hugging him tight, tears now freely running down her face. “I’m sorry,” she said, resigned to the fact that he was about to die and would never see him again.
“I won’t hear it,” he said, hugging her back. “Truth be told I should have been dead years ago. Men like me always die young. It’s a wonder I’ve lived long enough to let my belly swell.”
There was nothing she could say to that but mouthed the words ‘thank you’, her tears choked the sounds out but Ragna nodded his understanding. Bray then took her in his arms and led her to the bridge.
“You lot decided what you’re about yet?” shouted the leader of the hunting party. “Only my toes are feeling a tad cold.”
“My shield,” said Ragna, taking a staggering step forwards, scowling at the soldiers. Nat lifted the heavy round shield onto the Viking’s arm and Diagus placed a sword in his hand. “This is it then. Better get your arses across the bridge, eh?”
“Wait,” said Ejan, placing her hand on his arm. She took a knife from her belt, tipped her head forwards and grasping her braided plait, cut through it. “You will take this with you into the next life. A piece of me so you won’t forget.”
Ragna took the braid and wrapped it about his shield arm. “I’ll never forget you, my love. My dear sweet love.” He smiled warmly at her as she cut three strands from his beard. Affection for his wife running from his eyes as he gazed upon her for the last time.
Giving her a final kiss, he ushered them towards the bridge.
“Run!”
“Run!” Ragna shouted, blinking the tears away that blurred his vision. Ejan gave him a final glance over her shoulder, mouthing the words ‘I love you’, as she chased the others across the bridge. “Love you too,” he whispered. “More than you’ll ever know”. But the words caught in his dry throat, choked with tears and strangled by the pain from his wound. He used the pain to fire his blood as he turned to face the Imperial soldiers.
Stretching his neck to the left then the right he lumbered up, swinging his sword arm and tightening his grip on the shield, stroking his thumb along his wife’s golden hair that she had wrapped around his forearm.
The soldiers finally moved into action, the leader having realised what their intentions were.
“Charge!” he shouted, spittle leaving his mouth as he pointed his sword towards Ragna. “Cut the bloody ropes, let them fall.”
“Come and get some, bastards,” screamed Ragna, setting his legs apart and leaning into his shield, feeling the excitement buzz through his body.
The faces on the first two men were unsure, young, maybe inexperienced, yet they ran at him screaming, with their spears raised.
Ragna ducked left, bringing his shield across his body and deflecting the spear on his right - knocking the shorter of the pair against the rock then swinging his shield back, caught the second man against his side, knocking him clear off the ledge.
His death screams echoed from the empty sky beneath as the shorter man regained balance in time to catch Ragna’s sword with his face. His lifeless body hit the floor as his partner’s scream was cut short by a rocky impact.
Born more out of reflex than thought, Ragna brought his shield about and caught a bolt from a crank bow, the force knocking him back a step. He hated crank bows. The bowman sneered at him as he began to wind the crank, ready to place another bolt.
“Shit!” hissed Ragna, as something hissed past his ear.
An arrow hit the crank bowman in his throat. One of Ejan’s. “May Odin grin down on you, my love.” He risked a quick glance at his friends on the bridge. They were not even a quarter of the way across, the old planks and rope bobbing widely as they ran along the rickety structure.
Ragna switched his attention back to the oncoming soldiers, the crank bowman finally realising that his life had ended, collapsed to the ground, fingers leaking blood as they pressed about his Ejan’s arrow; his eyes bulging with disbelief. That’s the thing about death; people believe it won’t happen to them - that for some reason they were special, that it was always somebody else that got stuck, got chopped, got thrown from a cliff or got an arrow in the neck.
Another soldier came on, face peeled back in a snarl, white foam caught in the corners of his pale lips. His body collided with Ragna’s shield, his sword reaching over the rim, searching out flesh to slash, to pierce, to gouge.
Ragna snarled back, the shield pressing against his old wound and sending a fresh wave of pain through his body. He lifted the empire man off his feet and rammed his blade against his stomach, feeling the point slide against armour before finding the gap between the buckles. The sword pushed in deep and the soldiers snarl turned to a scream, his eyes going large and round. Ragna shoved him off his shield and pulled his sword back out, letting the body fall next to his comrade on the ground, curling up and whimpering between curses while his body leaked blood.
Within a moment, another filled the gap before him, armour turning white with the glare from the snow as the next victim stepped up to meet his death.
