Page 251 of The Sun He Buried

He wasn’t meant to say that much.

Varrik sees it too.

He picks up my cloak and throws it over my knees.

“Keep her breathing.”

“Where are you going?” I ask.

“To prepare for your rescue.”

“You should prepare quickly.”

He reaches the door.

The first scream comes from outside.

It ends halfway through.

Varrik draws his sword.

Men move beyond the wall gaps. Boots strike packed snow. One of them calls toward the trees.

Nobody answers.

The bond pulls tight enough to bow me forward.

Heat runs through my chest.

Close.

Eirik’s close.

A body hits the outer wall.

The boards shake against my back.

The copper-eyed man gets up too fast and drops to one knee. His knife skids beneath the crate.

Varrik points into the yard. “Four to the north. Two behind the stores. Find them.”

“Them?” the injured man asks.

Steel rings outside.

One strike.

A wet sound.

Then a man flies through the doorway.

He lands on his back between Varrik and the brazier. His chest’s open from shoulder to ribs. Steam rises from the blood.

Baldr steps over him.

His sword’s red.

The amber eye burns so brightly that gold reaches the skin around it. Blood streaks one side of his face. His coat hangs open where a blade cut through the fastening, and his left hand grips the throat of the man trying to stab him from behind.