Blood Moon| The Last Kingdom| Sihtric Kjartansson

TWENTY-SEVEN

Arya protected him as he moved the man, her jaws lashing out at any of the remaining Danes that dared to get too close.

"Okay," Sihtric set me down carefully beside the pit, "do not move from this spot." He rushed off to join the others swiftly, his sword in his hand.

Derya crept towards me, his big body moving slowly until he bumped into me. Then, he stepped over me, setting Olav's body back into my lap.

Olav was not quite cold yet, and his cheeks were still red. Even his lips were still tilted up into a smile.

I begged for his heart to beat in my ears, but it would not. There was only silence.

"You are surrounded," my father's traitor, Sigurd, announced, approaching us on his horse. He only had ten men left. "Surrender the bitch to us and we will let you live."

Saga's heart stuttered and she stepped out from around Uhtred. "I fought with you! My father fought with you! Traitor!"

"I am loyal to the Jarl of Dunholm," Sigurd hissed, "the true Jarl. Not some girl, but Brynjar's son."

"Do not speak his name with your filthy tongue!" Saga launched one of her blades forward and it struck his shoulder. 

He yelped, ordering his men forward with a curt shout and the fighting commenced again.

They were too far away from the pit to ride into it or perhaps, they had realised that it was strange that I sat so far away from my own warriors.

"Gyda!" Sigurd roared, "Do you wish for more of your people to die?! Is this who you truly are?!"

Saga attacked him, her axe catching the side of his waist and she did not stop there, striking him wherever she could reach him.

I stared down at Olav's face before I trailed my eyes down his body. The arrow stuck out, bloody and cruel. 

Olav clutched his sword in his hand still; he would be in Valhalla by now.

I reached out, my hand shaking, taking a hold of the arrow in his chest and pulling on it. It did not come out easily but it still exited and once it lay in my palm, Derya whimpered loudly, resting his head on Olav's chest.

Olav did not deserve to die. 

Olav's father did not deserve to lose his wife and his son, not when they only had each other.

"Gyda!" Finan's yell drew my attention to him, "Look out!"

I sensed the heartbeat behind me, my ears unlocking as my senses sharpened again. I slipped my hand down to Olav's, taking his sword from his hand, letting the weight of it fuel my anger.

I turned swiftly, rising up in one smooth movement that the warrior of Daga's could not follow, and then, I buried Olav's sword into his chest. 

The warrior faltered in shock as the blade sliced through his heart before blood began to pool out of his mouth, and he coughed, spraying my face with it. He stumbled forwards, and I wrenched Olav's blade from his chest. The man took another step forward, and then, he fell... straight into the pit.

I gripped Olav's sword so tight my nails reached my palm around the handle. I crept forward hesitantly, staring down into the pit at the dead man, killed by Olav's sword, spilling blood in a sacred pit.

I had never sacrificed a human being before. I had never wanted to. It was a heinous thing to do, and overly cruel... but right now, I wanted to be so cruel that the world would never dare to hurt me again.

"Gyda..." Saga's whisper echoed around me.

I felt my eyes darken at the sides, and the skies above us turned grey as ravens circled above us. "Derya,"