Blessed by the Gods

Attack

Out of the blue, a man stood before her, undeniable due to the stench of sweat that came from him, but more than that, the metallic note that flew with him, she recognised. Blood. Branches cracked under the weight of more men stalking through the trees.

Ivar had spotted them, but he could not run to Rùna's aid, even if he could run, more men had surrounded the carriage and he had to defend himself against them.

Unable to come to Rùna's aid, the men had formed a circle around the brothers, and her, attacking from all sides. Hvitserk pulled a knife from his pocket and jammed it into the head of one of the men, who dropped his axe. He took the axe and swung it at another, who dodged him and spun around, the axe grazing the back of his leg. His sword flew over Hvitserk's head so close, he felt the puff of wind that came with the motion. Screaming, the man fell to the ground as Hvitserk's axe lodged into his back, blood dripping to the ground around him. One last groan and the man lay on the ground as Hvitserk stepped on his back and pulled the axe, flinging it at the next attacker.

Several yards off, Rùna managed to dodge one of the men that reached out to grab her, and hit another one over the head with a heavy branch. Her foot got stuck under a root causing her to stumble into one of the men, who laughed out loud, licking his lips as he caught her and pulled her to the ground with him.

His joyous laugh turned into a blood curdling scream as the thin blade dug through his chin and into his orbital cavity. Blood shot out of his eye, followed by the eye itself, deflated due to the sharp edge of the blade.

Like lightning fast, Rùna ripped the blade from his chin and bashed it into the next hand that touched her, then another, fighting the men that came so close, their breath brushed over her skin.

One by one, the attackers fell to the ground, defeated by Ivar or Hvitserk, who fought his way towards Rùna.

She had got a hold of a sword, swinging it around her. Although blind, the attackers became visible through her inner sight. And none of them would deny themselves the joy of touching her, but Rùna fought back. The next guy to attack yelped as the blade cut through his chest and the dagger separated the pumping artery on his neck. Blood spattered all around them, hitting the remaining men, who for a moment backed off, but recovered from the shock so fast, Rùna struggled to keep up fighting.

Once again, a man threw her to the ground, roots and fallen branches digging into her back. Her foot found its way into the crotch of the man that bent over her, his hands on her hip.

Howling, he fell to the ground and her dagger found its way into his head. Another fell on top of the first after she swung the sword at him, he blocked it with the axe and Rùna spun around, thrusting her sword into his chest.

More and more men attacked and she fought every last one of them, the stench of fresh blood, sweat and their musky body odour filling the air, it made her dizzy. At last, the fighting sounds lessened and the man before her fell, blood dripping from his neck, when a noise behind her made Rùna spin around and point the sword at the man, his face close enough to hers, the hair of his beard tickled her nose.

"Hey," he warned, "don't kill me"

Removing the blade from his throat at once, Rùna stepped back. "Hvitserk!" A relieved sigh escaped her mouth and without thinking, she dropped the sword and threw herself into his arms.

He smiled for a moment, lifted her off the ground and carried her to Ivar, who pushed another dead body off the side of the carriage. "Is she okay? Did they get her?"