Boom!
The deafening noise of more boiling water exploding off my magic rattled my ears right as the ram struck. I staggered, catching myself against Bjorn, but managed to keep my shield high.
Steam stung my eyes and made me cough as we swung the ram again, the bodies beneath our feet crushed into a pool of blood and mud.
Boom!
On the heels of the explosion came screams, and under Bjorn’s arm, I watched one of our warriors spin away from the ram, face brilliant red with burns, his clothing soaked. I panicked, certain my magic had failed, but when I looked up, my shield still blazed bright above our heads.
“It wasn’t you,” I whispered to myself as we moved back to swing again. “It wasn’t your fault.”
I could do this.
I would do this.
Then my foot caught on a corpse.
I stumbled, trying to catch my balance, but my toes hadn’t the strength to hold my weight.
A shriek tore from my lips as I fell, slamming into Bodil, who caught me against her chest, holding me as I gained my feet. “Arm up, Fr—”
A clap of thunder split the air as I forced my shield back into place, twisting in time to watch Bodil drop, a blackened hole in her shoulder. I screamed, horror and disbelief filling me as she hit the ground.
And Bodil wasn’t the only one who fell.
My misstep had ripped my magic from the shields of my comrades, and all around me men were soaked with boiling water, their faces brilliant red from burns. Screaming. Dying.
The ram fell with a crunch, and dimly I heard Snorri shout, “They have a child of Thor! Fall back!”
“Bodil,” I howled, seeing that there was still life in her eyes. If I could get her out of this mess, maybe she could be saved. If I could get her to a healer in time, then maybe she might live.
But Bjorn’s arm was around my waist, lifting me and tearing me away from her. “She’s lost,” he shouted. “We have to fall back!”
An arrow whizzed past my face, but I still fought him, reaching for Bodil as she lifted her hand to me. Our fingers brushed, then I was ripped away, an explosion sending Bjorn and me both flying sideways.
I landed hard right as the thunder clapped. Thick steam filled the air, and I couldn’t see Bodil. Couldn’t find my way back to her. Hands caught hold of me, dragging me over the ground. “Get up,” Bjorn screamed in my ear. “Run!”
Blinking away the haze of tears revealed that the gate was an inferno, the bodies and ram having been lit aflame by the lightning. I screamed in wordless fury as Bjorn hauled me toward the trees, my heels bouncing on the torn-up grass, my eyes fixed on the scene.
Which is why I saw the child of Thor.
Standing in the covered structure over the gate stood a hooded figure with arcs of lightning crackling back and forth between their upraised palms.
The one who’d killed Bodil. The one who’d stolen her from me.
Screaming wordlessly, I tore out of Bjorn’s grip. Snatching up a fallen shield, I ran, calling forth my magic. My shield burned like a silver sun as the child of Thor lifted their hands.
Dropping to one knee, I raised my shield.
A clap of thunder split the air when the lightning struck my shield, as though Thor himself had stepped out of the sky and into battle. My ears rang. Light seared my eyes, and I knelt frozen in place, blind and deaf, until, slowly, the lights cleared and the ringing eased.
Revealing a hole where the gate had been, an entire part of the wall lying in ruin, the child of Thor gone.
Dumbfounded, I stared at the smoking ruins, charred remains of men resting atop blackened and smoldering wood.
“Attack!” Snorri screamed.
Warriors streamed past me, racing for the breach. Climbing over the remains of our clansmen. Over Bodil.
Never again would I hear her council. Share drinks with her over a fire. Fight by her side.
They’d taken her away from me.
My blood surged and I scrambled to my feet, feeling no pain, only endless, ceaseless rage.
Pulling loose my father’s sword, I climbed over the rubble and through the smoke, racing after Snorri and the others between the buildings. Everywhere I looked, people ran screaming, but my eyes glossed over the women with children in their arms, the infirm, the weak, as I hunted for a fight. Hunted for release from the agony burning like acid beneath my rage.
A bearded warrior exploded out of a building, half his face burned away, though he didn’t seem to feel it as he raced toward me. His axe slammed against my shield, my magic sending it spinning away.
A wild laugh tore from my lips and I swung my own weapon, cleaving through the leather he wore, his innards spilling out. I spun away, meeting another man’s attack and leaving him less his throat as I moved on to the next. And the next.