She’d killed him already, though. How had she managed that without her berserker?
I shook Eleanor gently. “What do you mean she killed ‘one’? There was another?”
“Four! There were four of them!”
My feet were moving again, sprinting towards the top of the hill as I shouted back to the men. “Assassins! In the maze with the princess. To me! To me!”
I didn’t wait for them to follow the order, running for the maze with my heart in my throat. I would’ve had any other soldier flogged for running ahead of formation so recklessly, but assassins were hunting Sigrid.
Four Banamaðr, for fuck’s sake.
Her father had sacrificed four to make sure they annihilated her.
From the direction of the maze, I heard Sigrid’s unmistakable battle cry, pure fury bellowed in the face of whatever she stood against.
Still alive! Hold them a moment longer, my warrior queen. I’m coming for you!
I didn’t slow as I crested the hill and caught sight of the nightmare in front of me, but the numbness of absolute terror seemed to disconnect my mind from my body. I still moved towards it on pure instinct, but my very soul quaked at the horror of the Banamaðr.
Sigrid was only a little shorter than me, and they dwarfed her like giants. Three beasts with pointed teeth snapped and snarled at her as they hammered my wife with a relentless onslaught of weapons. Their skin had a greyish pallor like they were already dead, and they moved with inhuman speed.
Sigrid swung an axe with the unholy fury and effortless grace of an avenging goddess, but their shields held fast, sheltering them from the worst of her blows. She had no shield, no way to protect herself besides agility and the handle of her axe.
It was obvious it wasn’t enough.
She ducked and rolled, slashing at their legs under their shields. The biggest one let out screeching a howl when Sigrid managed to connect with his shin, but it cost her. The other two used the precious time it took her to stand as an opportunity to attack again, swinging with curved blades towards her unprotected back.
“Sigrid!” I shouted, desperate to reach her faster.
She escaped the wicked edges by a handsbreadth and flicked her eyes in my direction. She hadn’t looked afraid in the face of their murderous rage, but when she saw me, her face fell. She closed her eyes with something like resignation and stepped into the center of the path between the three assassins and me.
“No!” I shouted.
I was still steps away when they attacked her again with renewed fury, as though they’d reached a silent agreement with her to bring this to an end before I could get there. They were too quick, too strong, too goddamned focused on her.
I saw the fatal blow coming when the biggest one raised his axe. Time slowed as he brought it down towards her while her axe was locked against the sword of another.
I had no misconceptions about stepping into this fight. If Sigrid was outmatched, I stood no chance, but for her, I’d face certain death.
I lunged between them, raising my shield to absorb his strike.
The weight and power behind it sent searing pain through my shoulder, a blow that felt like it might shatter the bones in my arm.
Sigrid bared her teeth at me. “Get the fuck back!”
It was only this close that I could see how battered and weary she was, but she still swung at them again in broad, sweeping strokes with the head of her axe, driving them back a few steps. It only bought us seconds as they immediately renewed their attack, howling as they charged together.
I blocked another blow with my shield, unsure how many more it could take before it simply shattered.
“Don’t let him get past you!” Sigrid snarled, and I thrust my sword into the thigh of the Banamaðr who tried to skirt around me on the path. He howled with pain but didn’t stop, forcing me to shove him with my shield.
She wasn’t just having to hold them off. She’d been keeping them all on one side of her, a nearly impossible task even with two of us. If one managed to get past us, we’d be facing attacks from both sides, and it would truly be over.
I jolted with shock as suddenly we were no longer fighting three Vikings. They’d transformed into the king and two guards.
“An illusion!” Sigrid grit out, not missing a beat. “Though a poor choice for one.”
I heard movement behind us, but didn’t dare turn to look. Not a poor choice at all. Sigrid and I had no qualms about killing my father, but my soldiers had just come to find a Viking and their errant prince attacking the king. They knew nothing of the Banamaðr.
