He snarled at us, revealing teeth that had been sharpened into weapons in their own right. He could rip my throat out even if I disarmed him.
He was the stuff of nightmares.
But so was I, damn it.
The pounding shields drew closer behind us. If we hesitated, they were going to cage us in, and I’d be taking them all on at once while trying to defend Eleanor.
I squeezed her hand. “Run like hel. Don’t stop until you get to Bastian.”
I charged at the Banamaðr in front of us, begrudging how slow I was without my powers, but I was still fast enough that he had time only to shift into a fighting stance before I jumped and rolled, striking him in the knees with my body, then rolling into the hedge before he could bring his axe down exactly where my throat had been.
The axe struck the hard dirt with such force that it would’ve taken my head clean off with a single strike. Instead, it sunk deep into the ground.
He released the axe and yanked a short curved blade from a scabbard at his side.
I used the surge of rage to spring to my feet and stab him in the side of the neck. It was a messy, ineffective strike that embedded the knife into the thick muscle at the top of his shoulder, but I felt a surge of satisfaction when I saw the blood leaking through his armor. I’d made Odin’s own bringer of death bleed with only mortal strength and speed.
He snarled as he swung for me, and his already-hideous face twisted into something beastly. I snarled back as I threw my body into his, gritting my teeth when his blade seared a gash into my left hip, but he lost his grip when I pummeled his face with my elbow, and his back hit the hedge. The blade I’d just sacrificed my flank to attain slid uselessly out of reach back down the path.
My berserker let out a keening howl within the confines of my mind, snarling and snapping at the magical bonds that kept her from taking over. The most intense pressure built in my chest as she struggled harder, but there was no release for it. It felt like I was being ripped in half from the inside.
How she raged when the Banamaðr’s fist struck my chest, knocking the breath from my lungs. He’d surely ripped open my stitched wound, but that was the least of my worries. I snatched at the weapons on his body, but he twisted away and slammed his fist down like a hammer where my shoulder met my neck, driving me to my knees.
I spat blood, fighting just to breathe. This was only one of the four.
The thought sent a fresh wave of terror crashing over me, and I understood with new clarity what my opponents experienced in battle. I’d felt their terror with my powers, but I’d never felt this kind of helpless fear in my own heart.
I’m going to die.
No sooner had the useless words echoed in my mind than Eleanor charged towards us, holding the blade the Banamaðr had lost. She held it strong, exactly like I’d shown her.
“No!” I screamed, lunging to get between them, but I wasn’t fast enough.
The Banamaðr could’ve killed her, but he swatted her like a fly. When she struck the hedge and crumpled to the ground, the knife was knocked from her hand.
It had taken only seconds, but it was enough of a distraction that I was able to seize the Banamaðr by the straps that held his weapons, and before he could brace his feet, I heaved him down onto his axe that was still embedded in the ground, driving his throat onto the exposed upper blade.
He died well, thrusting a knife into my forearm even as his lifeblood gurgled from the gash in his throat. He died a warrior’s death, fighting until the end to complete his mission, but I didn’t have time to dwell on the beauty of it, lest I find myself in the halls of Valhalla along with him.
Not before I avenge Axel. I won’t sit at Oden’s mighty table without him.
“Run,” I barked at a dazed Eleanor, yanking her to her feet just as the other three Banamaðr rounded the corner behind us.
She looked over her shoulder, then ran like she had the speed of a berserker, with ghastly horror stamping her features.
I was already stripping weapons from the dead assassin as she made it around the final corner. If she could just make it out of the maze, she’d be safe. They hadn’t come for her.
A wall of death stalked towards me, and I nearly choked on my berserker’s rage. All her energy was so pent up inside that there wasn’t space for fear anymore.
I launched four throwing knives at them in quick succession, knowing I wouldn’t be that lucky, but the move would buy Eleanor precious extra seconds to escape.
They retaliated with a psychological blow, each of them casting an illusion that made them appear to be one of my brothers. I could’ve dropped to my knees and wept at the sight of Axel alive again, but it wasn’t real. These sick fucks were going to force me to fight the image of my own brothers or be killed by an illusion of the people I loved most.
They’d sifted my memories to cast their spells, but they couldn’t move like my brothers, and their eyes were devoid of any life or feeling. I shuddered, but focused there. It was impossible to believe their trickery when looking into those soulless pits.
The Banamaðr couldn’t leave until their mission was complete, until the life drained from their target. As soon as that happened, they could vanish to surrender their life force back to Odin, but until they killed me, they were trapped here. Which meant if I held them off, they’d still be here when the Saxon soldiers came flooding up from the training grounds behind me.
I should’ve wanted to let the Banamaðr do my work for me, decimating the heart of the Saxon forces. But all I could picture was Bastian charging up that hill and being the first noble bastard to be slain.
