Raven Boy

Chapter 28

Blood. Blood was everywhere. He felt it running down his face and on his lips. He felt its unpleasant, salty taste on his tongue while its metallic smell filled his nostrils, making his stomach heave.

He couldn't breathe and his whole body writhed in the grip of burning pain. So that was death? But wasn't it supposed to be peaceful and painless?

His arms sore and shaking, he still clutched the blade of his sword. Slowly freeing his right arm, Hrafn wiped his eyes with his sleeve and blinked them open, bringing the world into focus. It took him some time to realize what had just happened; when it finally dawned, he felt sick. He twisted his body, ignoring the pain, in a desperate struggle to free himself.

Ulfrich's heavy body lay over him, pressing him into the ground. Blood gushed from the deep cut in his throat where Hrafn's outstretched sword was still deeply stuck.

Groaning and fighting against a fit of sickness, the boy struggled to free himself from under the dead weight of muscles and metal. He desperately needed some fresh air.

But the task happened to be very difficult. When he already assumed that he would die there, under his enemy's dead body, he finally managed to free his chest.

The air rushed to his lungs and he let himself fall down on the grass, savoring the feeling of being able to breathe and live again. He waited for the black spots blurring his view to vanish. It felt so good just to lie there motionless and breathe with his full chest that he would have remained like that, but Olaf's worried whisper brought him back to reality.

"Hrafn! ... Hrafn! You're alive?"

Thoughts swirled in his exhausted brain and he answered, "Looks like it."

His raven impatiently croaked somewhere above his head, urging him to get up as a konungr was supposed to. It was not over yet, and everyone was waiting for him.

"Move away, but stay hidden," he whispered to Olaf, Vali, and Helgi. None of them had thought of such an outcome, so they had to improvise now.

Suppressing a groan, Hrafn leaned on his good arm and pushed himself up. When he sat, he felt dizzy again.

Come on! he urged himself. The worst is over!

Pulling out his legs seemed endless and desperate, and when he finally succeeded, he was completely exhausted. The black raven soared down and landed on the ground next to him.

"All right, all right," muttered the boy and gathered his father's sword, sticky with blood. Leaning on it, he struggled to his feet and looked around.

Pale-faced and worried, the Vikings stared back at him. On the opposite side from them, the Foreigners remained just as motionless and silent.

Hrafn swallowed. He suddenly realized what an unexpected turn the events had taken. Forgetting for a moment that he was sick and giddy, he blinked, staring with wide eyes at Ulfrich's motionless body. How could that be? Ulfrich dead? The sight of Ulfrich's mighty figure with a triumphant grin and raised glittering sword was still too clear in Hrafn's mind. The giant's death was unbelievable. Maybe his imagination was playing tricks on him? Hrafn touched his own body. It felt hard and real...and in pain. Still, he couldn't believe his incredible luck.

Seeing his bewilderment, the black raven hoped toward him and slightly pecked at his calf.

"See, you're alive," the bird announced, silently answering the boy's surprised face. "Don't think of how you did it, just play along, Konungr."

Bemused, Hrafn nodded. Leaning on his sword, he lifted his clenched fist over his head in victory.

The Vikings erupted into yells of triumph. They couldn't believe it either, but the stake was too important for them, and no one bothered to hide their joy.

As for the Foreigners, they kept staring silently, without moving.

After a moment of expectant hesitation, Ulfrich's brothers who had said the oath with him stepped forward and walked toward Hrafn.

The boy tensed. He wouldn't be able to fight them, he was barely able to stand. But he knew it had to be done. They had to see whether Ulfrich was really dead.

Somehow Hrafn managed to move clear of Ulfrich's dead body to give the men room and to put some distance between them and himself.

When the Foreigners stepped into the bald patch on which the duel took place, the Vikings froze expectantly. Olaf, Vali, and Helgi crouched behind the low bushes observing the scene. They were ready to intervene instantly if the need should arise.

But the Foreigners were suspicious, too. They stopped by Ulfrich's body and while one of them crouched to examine it, the other stood alert, his eyes full of hate fixed upon the boy.

"It's unbelievable!" exclaimed the first man. "He's dead!"

He, too, looked at Hrafn, anger and fury distorting his face, and slowly stood.

Hrafn's heart beat so loud, he was sure both Foreigners could hear it. His stomach writhed; he forgot about his pain and weariness. He was scared now. Really scared. His miraculous victory would be for nothing should they decide not to honor their part of the agreement. Moreover, he was at their mercy, alone and badly wounded.

"Don't quail now!" rang the raven's sharp order in his head. The bird hid from the Foreigners' sight in the bush, just behind Hrafn. It eased some of the boy's emotions.

Hrafn instantly felt better, straightened his back, and proudly lifted his chin.

"We fought fairly and I won," he stated calmly and firmly. "Now honor your oath."

The Foreigners didn't move, their fists clenched and their nostrils flaring with fury.

"What makes you think that we must honor it, puppy?" sneered the eldest of them.

Hrafn's mind worked hard, selecting the right words. He settled for the easiest. "Your goddess. She will punish you otherwise."

"You know nothing of our goddess, you filthy..." indignantly began the youngest Foreigner.

He never ended his sentence. Loud angry croaks covered his voice and vibrated through the battlefield as Hrafn's black raven rose in the air. For the time of one breath, the raven flapped its powerful wings, suspending itself over Hrafn's head. Then it screeched and menacingly spread its wings, rushing toward the Foreigners. Both men instinctively moved out of its way.

The raven screeched again, a horrible sound that made the hairs stand on the back of every neck, and flew at the Foreign army. Fast and furious, with its jet-black eyes and its open beak, the bird looked like some sort of demon or dark spirit, seeking retribution. The Foreigners shivered and gasped, moving away.

The raven passed right above their heads, casting its fierce shadow upon them, but not touching anyone. Then, after another series of loud croaks, it disappeared in the bushes, behind the Foreigners who followed it with frightened glances.

Ulfrich's brothers slowly turned back to Hrafn. They looked paler than before and even their fury seemed to have faded.

The eldest swallowed and curtly said, "We will honor our oath. We will call our people from your lands and we will not attack you for the next ten years. Now leave our lands. You can go unharmed."

The war was over. He won. Hrafn swallowed and nodded.

"We will leave right after your men are gone from our lands. Until then, we won't be seeking fight, but we won't spare attackers either."