swung the blade. His shoulders shook, and he swung again. Images of his sister’s body stripped and broken, bleeding and dead, swarmed him. Her body left to die in a pool of her own blood.
He swung the blade again and again.
Bergen had roared and taken up Swann’s body.
Rune had dug at the earth with his fists. He didn’t know how long they sat there screaming over her body.
Rune swung the blade. He roared, letting his voice shred his throat with the same agony that clawed his chest, and lunged, swinging again and then bringing the blade down into a table, down to the wooden floor.
He remembered the armband lying in the grass.
Rune swung the blade and it shattered in two. He dropped to his knees and stabbed at the floor with a half-blade while the tip clamored to the ground somewhere.
The dagger used to gut her had been left. Rune had run off, shouting to the murderer to come out while Bergen rocked sweet Swann and roared.
Rune dug at the floor over and over until the blade broke again. With his fists, he punched the floor and dug at the planks until his knuckles bled.
And then Mother.
His mind couldn’t process. Anguish clamped his chest and dug itself into his heart.
Rune shook his head and punched his brow. He pulled at his hair and dug at his scalp, desperate to find the Dokkalfar and kill him.
The barracks door struck the wall.
Rune remained, kneeling on the floor, yearning to find another sword and slash away at the world.
“Father’s gone,” he heard Bergen say. “I’m going after him.”
“Where?” Rune asked. Screaming had begun to pass over Gunir.
“To hunt Dokkalfar,” Bergen said.
Rune raised his face to his brother. Cold hate penetrated the silver blue of Bergen’s eyes.
“I’ll get the horses.”
* * *
The wind howled over the hundreds that lay dead on the forest road. Rune tightened his hold on the reins. He couldn’t see the end of the massacre through the steam.
Too stunned to speak, he stared at the Dokkalfar women, the children, the soldiers, and horses as Bergen spoke.
“Hundreds lay dead for me.
Silenced, they weep for thee,
Blood spilled where ne’er they’ll be.”
A raven cawed. The first of the flock were gathering.
“Silence the hundreds.”
The stench of the dead was growing. Within the hour, the field would be crawling with scavengers. This was how King Eyolf would find his kin. There was little time to act.
Rune turned his horse around. All taste for vengeance had left him.
“What are you doing?” Bergen asked and turned his horse to follow.
“There will be war,” Rune said. “The Dokkalfar king won’t dismiss this, nor should he.”
Bergen pulled back on his reins and looked to the dead.
Rune stopped his horse and turned. “Bergen,” he said. “We need to go back. We need to find Father before the Dokkalfar do.”
Bergen stared, not moving, the hate in his eye unyielding.
“Bergen,” Rune said.
It was another long moment before Bergen steered his horse back around to follow his brother.
CHAPTER 6
Kallan smelled the death before she saw the amassed bodies that lay, hewn in pools of their own blood and excrement. Steam rose from the bodies of children, dismembered and disemboweled beside the mothers who had thrown their broken bodies onto them. The steam now formed a thick fog that appeared to have rolled in. Interspersed with meat, drink, and gifts carried for Austramonath, three hundred lay dead.
In silence, Kallan stared from atop her horse. The ravens made feast where piles of pussywillows lay beside children. Alongside the corpses of horses and Alfar, wreaths of flowers and wild branches littered the ground.
Eyolf’s saddle creaked as he lowered himself from his mount. All eyes scanned the dead that spanned the caravan.
“Eyolf…” Daggon spoke, releasing the Dokkalfar from their spell. Numb to the horror that blinded her, Kallan slid from Astrid. Her legs jelled and buckled beneath
He swung the blade again and again.
Bergen had roared and taken up Swann’s body.
Rune had dug at the earth with his fists. He didn’t know how long they sat there screaming over her body.
Rune swung the blade. He roared, letting his voice shred his throat with the same agony that clawed his chest, and lunged, swinging again and then bringing the blade down into a table, down to the wooden floor.
He remembered the armband lying in the grass.
Rune swung the blade and it shattered in two. He dropped to his knees and stabbed at the floor with a half-blade while the tip clamored to the ground somewhere.
The dagger used to gut her had been left. Rune had run off, shouting to the murderer to come out while Bergen rocked sweet Swann and roared.
Rune dug at the floor over and over until the blade broke again. With his fists, he punched the floor and dug at the planks until his knuckles bled.
And then Mother.
His mind couldn’t process. Anguish clamped his chest and dug itself into his heart.
Rune shook his head and punched his brow. He pulled at his hair and dug at his scalp, desperate to find the Dokkalfar and kill him.
The barracks door struck the wall.
Rune remained, kneeling on the floor, yearning to find another sword and slash away at the world.
“Father’s gone,” he heard Bergen say. “I’m going after him.”
“Where?” Rune asked. Screaming had begun to pass over Gunir.
“To hunt Dokkalfar,” Bergen said.
Rune raised his face to his brother. Cold hate penetrated the silver blue of Bergen’s eyes.
“I’ll get the horses.”
* * *
The wind howled over the hundreds that lay dead on the forest road. Rune tightened his hold on the reins. He couldn’t see the end of the massacre through the steam.
Too stunned to speak, he stared at the Dokkalfar women, the children, the soldiers, and horses as Bergen spoke.
“Hundreds lay dead for me.
Silenced, they weep for thee,
Blood spilled where ne’er they’ll be.”
A raven cawed. The first of the flock were gathering.
“Silence the hundreds.”
The stench of the dead was growing. Within the hour, the field would be crawling with scavengers. This was how King Eyolf would find his kin. There was little time to act.
Rune turned his horse around. All taste for vengeance had left him.
“What are you doing?” Bergen asked and turned his horse to follow.
“There will be war,” Rune said. “The Dokkalfar king won’t dismiss this, nor should he.”
Bergen pulled back on his reins and looked to the dead.
Rune stopped his horse and turned. “Bergen,” he said. “We need to go back. We need to find Father before the Dokkalfar do.”
Bergen stared, not moving, the hate in his eye unyielding.
“Bergen,” Rune said.
It was another long moment before Bergen steered his horse back around to follow his brother.
CHAPTER 6
Kallan smelled the death before she saw the amassed bodies that lay, hewn in pools of their own blood and excrement. Steam rose from the bodies of children, dismembered and disemboweled beside the mothers who had thrown their broken bodies onto them. The steam now formed a thick fog that appeared to have rolled in. Interspersed with meat, drink, and gifts carried for Austramonath, three hundred lay dead.
In silence, Kallan stared from atop her horse. The ravens made feast where piles of pussywillows lay beside children. Alongside the corpses of horses and Alfar, wreaths of flowers and wild branches littered the ground.
Eyolf’s saddle creaked as he lowered himself from his mount. All eyes scanned the dead that spanned the caravan.
“Eyolf…” Daggon spoke, releasing the Dokkalfar from their spell. Numb to the horror that blinded her, Kallan slid from Astrid. Her legs jelled and buckled beneath
Similar Books
