“Shhh now,” said Hakon soothingly, cradling her with his strong arms and rocking her gently back and forth. “It’s done now. You’re safe. Nothing can harm you here. I will stand between you and anything that threatens you, and nothing will get through. It’s alright, my love.”
They stayed that way, Hakon gently soothing her, until the call came down the line that the march was to resume.
Chapter Nine
The hours all blurred into each other as they marched, and there was little to distinguish day from night. The column had many wounded, and they needed to stop often for rest breaks. Hakon worried and fretted over their slow pace, and although they said nothing, he could see the faces of Gunhilde, Baedi, and Sigrid become grimmer. The only one whose spirits did not seem dampened was Gunnar, who spent more and more time with his foster family, gently cajoling Thorulf into maintaining a steady pace and reassuring Ignetha, who worried over her husband’s injuries.
Privately however, Gunnar confided his worries to Hakon. “Thorulf needs help,” he admitted. “Sif does what she can, and her magic helps, but he needs the time to properly rest in order to truly heal.”
“I’m sorry, Brother.” Hakon knew that Thorulf was not the only one in such a position but saw no reason to point that out. “Have you talked to the Elder Sisters about how long it will take to get to the Ironwood?”
Gunnar looked sheepish. “I was rather hoping that you would. Gunhilde doesn’t seem to like me, and she has a stare that could freeze a man’s balls.”
Hakon chuckled. “I know what you mean. Alright, I’ll see what I can find out.” He gave Sif a quick kiss then sped his pace to reach the front of the column. Just as he did so, Gunhilde called a halt, and with weary moans, the witches and their companions shed their packs and collapsed to the ground.
Despite their age and obvious tiredness, Gunhilde, Baedi, and Sigurd held themselves ramrod straight, their only concession to the pains of their journey, the deep drinks they took out of a water canteen they passed around. Gunhilde eyed Hakon as he approached. “What can we do for you, young man?” she asked.
“I’ve been watching the state of the wounded. They need some real rest if their condition is not to worsen. I was wondering how much farther we have to go.”
The Elder witch beckoned him to come closer. Once he had done so, she said quietly, “We have a problem.”
Hakon’s eyes narrowed. “Go on,” he prompted.
“Unfortunately we are not going fast enough, young warrior. Although we had a head start on the Skraelings, they catch up with us more and more each day.”
“How do you know this?” he demanded. “And why do the Skraelings follow us rather than the refugee townsfolk?”
“Perhaps they have split up and follow us both. I do not know for certain,” admitted Gunhilde. “As to how we know, even though our ability to detect our enemies through magic is next to nonexistent, we do still have our allies in the forests themselves. They are the ones who tell us that our pursuers are gaining on us.”
Hakon thought for a moment then realized why Gunhilde was giving him this information. “You need a delay,” he said. “Someone to make battle against the Skraelings and cover your retreat.”
“Absolutely correct, young warrior,” she replied.
“How many fighters can you give me?” he asked.
“Not many,” she admitted. “Perhaps twenty witches, and some forest allies.”
Hakon took a deep breath. “Very well,” he said. “On one condition: Sif travels with you, and you keep her safe.”
Gunhilde nodded. “Agreed. We will rest here for a little while longer. I will gather the Ironwood witches who will stay behind with you. Meet us here in this glade in fifteen minutes. And thank you.”
Hakon gave a grunt of assent and jogged back down the column. He found Gunnar first. His brother examined Hakon’s expression and said, “Ah. So we’re to fight a rear-guard action.”
Hakon let his breath out in a puff of surprise. “How did you figure that out?”
Gunnar shrugged. “It’s the only thing that makes sense. Ulf and Breca will help us, of course. How many of the witches?”
“Twenty.”
Gunnar raised an eyebrow. “Sif?”
Hakon shook his head vehemently. “She goes with the column.”
Gunnar swore. “You’re a fool.”
“It’s my decision,” said Hakon stubbornly.
“You need to look at your woman and see her for who she truly is,” insisted Gunnar. “She is a sorceress of legend, not some fragile creature. Protect her yes, by all means, but for Freyja’s sake, don’t hold her back!”
