“We’ve heard of the seer’s prophecy, Firehand,” one of the warriors retorted. “And no one wishes to swear oaths to Jarl Snorri.”
I didn’t blame them, but I doubted saying so would help my cause.
The old gothi was glaring at me, which meant I’d missed another set of names in my distraction. “Yes!” I snapped, lifting my hands to check if the barrier had lifted, but it remained implacable. “Faster!”
“You know how seers are,” Bjorn answered. “They speak in riddles, nothing of what they say of the future clear until the moment to do anything about it has passed.”
“Except when it comes to the children of the gods,” the warrior retorted. “The shield maiden’s fate is uncertain. As is yours, Firehand.”
Bjorn laughed. “Then how this fight ends may be a surprise to you and the gods alike. Although I think not.”
A scream filled my ears, and I twisted in time to watch a warrior clutching a charred hole in his chest topple backward off the cliff, Bjorn’s axe already clashing with the weapon of the next. His axe locked with the sword, and Bjorn punched the warrior in the face before slicing the man’s leg from his body, the shrieks deafening. Men falling one after another to Bjorn’s skill. Except Jarl Sten was already halfway across the bridge with more men. Twenty against one.
Hands closed on my shoulders, and I jerked around to see the old man was clutching my stolen robes. “If you wish to live, you must focus,” he snapped. “Do you submit to Sigyn and Snotra?”
Why were there so many gods? Why were there so many names? “Yes!”
More shrieks, the stink of burning flesh turning the air acrid. My skin crawled with the need to turn and face the danger, but the old man was shouting more names.
“Yes!” I waited for him to ramble off more gods, but the old man only said, “That’s it, girl! Drop your weapons and step through!”
Not a fucking chance.
Twisting, I pulled my sword, “Bjorn—”
Bjorn’s hand struck me in the chest. I toppled through the barrier, the magic wrenching the sword from my hand as I landed on my arse next to the gathered gothar. Bjorn kicked my weapon out of reach, shouting at the gothi, “Restrain her!”
“You idiot!” I screamed as hands closed on my arms, hauling me backward. “You cursed fool of a man!”
If Bjorn heard, he didn’t react.
Sten and the rest of his men were across the bridge, converging on Bjorn with their shields locked in a wall, spears protruding through the gaps. “Yield, Firehand,” the jarl shouted. “Yield and we will let you live.”
“Why would I yield when I’m winning?” Bjorn nudged a dying man with his boot. “You and yours should yield. Retreat from this place with your lives, if not your honor.”
“Not with the shield maiden still alive,” Sten snarled. “Without her, Snorri is nothing. Without her, the future Saga foresaw is no more.”
Bjorn laughed. “You have not the power to change her fate.” Then he threw his axe into one of the shields, bits of burning wood flying into the air as the man who held it staggered into those behind him.
“Attack,” Sten roared. Men pushed forward, Bjorn’s axe still embedded in the man’s shield, the wood nearly engulfed.
Bjorn bent to retrieve my fallen sword as one of the men stabbed at him over his shield rim, the spear tip slicing at his face. Bjorn only sidestepped it and thrust my sword through the same gap, the man screaming as the blade punctured his chest.
Bjorn’s axe appeared in his hand again as he dodged yet another stabbing spear, and he reached out to hook a woman’s shield, jerking her forward. She stumbled and swung her own axe at Bjorn’s head, but he ducked even as he chopped at her side, fiery axe slicing into her torso, rings from her chain mail exploding outward as she screamed.
Blood sprayed as he stepped over her corpse to press into the gap she’d left in the shield wall, men and women falling as he carved into them before retreating, his face splattered with crimson.
“Hold the wall,” Sten shouted, taking the woman’s place, and the shields locked again. There was no mistaking the fear in the eyes of Sten’s warriors, but they held their line. One threw his spear at Bjorn, and I gasped, but Bjorn knocked the weapon from the air with his axe. Yet more followed the man’s lead, throwing their spears one after another.
I screamed, struggling against the half dozen gothar keeping me from going to Bjorn’s aid as he fell, his back slamming against the barrier.