Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

SIXTEEN

"For our forefathers!" Yelled the Saxon man, raising his sword, "And for Wessex!"

"Wessex be damned," I spat, digging my sword into the ditch and using it as leverage to climb out back onto the battlefield.

I swung my sword as a horseman came for me, a yell tearing out of my throat as my swing cut off his arm, sending him hurling to the ground. This time, I finished the job, stabbing my blade into his throat.

I wiped the blood off my sword, spinning around and crossing the battlefield, killing when I needed to while trying to spot my father.

He was not too far from me, swinging his axe like a true Dane, his hair wild and braided unevenly. He fought three Saxons at once, roaring in their faces like he was a bear, and they were his prey.

"Fight! Stand your ground and fight!" Cnut's shout echoed around me.

I did not fear him in that moment; Odin's spirit awoke in me, and I felt the fire that had been dormant in me since I left Dunholm reignite. I wanted blood, preferably his but a Saxon man's would do.

"For Wess—" 

I cut off the yell of a soldier, placing my blade through his throat, driving him backwards, and using him as a shield. "For Daneland."

I swung my blade again at another Saxon who tried to come up behind me, and then my attention was caught by a soldier further away from me. He was creeping towards Uhtred, who had his back turned, glaring at Aethelwold from across the field.

"Uhtred!" I yelled, killing the Saxon beside me, his blood spraying over my face, "Uhtred!"

Uhtred turned, his sword raised, but the Dane was quicker.

I let out a yell, hurling the dagger from my side forward.

It pierced the Dane's skull, and he fell to the ground, completely still.

"Are you well?!" I demanded, grabbing Uhtred's arm.

"Have you spoken to your father?!" Uhtred yelled back.

"I will go now!" I rushed out, turning away from him as he darted off after Aethelwold, who had made a run for it while Uhtred had been distracted.

"Death..."

My heart froze in my chest, the world going quiet around me. I felt cold all over, as though I was in the icy creek of my visions. My eyes scanned the fighting, my sword shaking in my hand.

Brida watched me. She watched me like a hawk who had seen a snake in the grass. Her face was a picture of disgust and rage, like I had disappointed her in the greatest of ways.

Of course, she did not see me kill the Saxons, but she saw when I killed one Dane.

"Brida..." I whispered, taking a slight step towards her. There was so much I wanted to say to her. That I was sorry for Ragnar's death. That Cnut was playing her. That I was proud of her for defeating her curse. That I loved her as a sister.

The words dried out on my tongue, though, as though I had never drunk a sip of water in my life.

Brida raised her blade, a scream of anger tearing through her, and I watched, unable to move, as she pierced it through my father's heart, forcing it out of his chest.

Brynjar stopped battling, his axe shaking in his hand as he stared at his own heart at the end of a sword. Then, he fell.

A scream tore out of my throat so loud that birds flew from the tree tops, but my ears could not hear it. My sword slipped from my hands, clattering to the ground, and my hands clawed at my face.