“The windows, you fools!” Sybil screamed toward the door, still flailing against Raye’s grip. “Break the windows!”
The men accordingly rushed over toward the front window, their voices loud and garbled in Raye’s ears. They were trying to yank at the bars, but Raye knew those were secure, at least — and instead, the men soon began stabbing their swords in through the bars, cutting through the paper on the inside, slicing it to thin, hanging ribbons. And Raye let out another frustrated groan at the sight of one of the men’s faces, popping up in red furious stripes behind the bars and hanging paper.
“Leave off, you wild orc-drunk wench!” he roared. “I knew we should have killed you and your foul spawn when we had the chance! As soon as we get you, you’redead!”
Raye’s heartbeat spiked, and she tightened her hold against Sybil’s still-flailing body. She’d known it might come to this, she’d known how far this sacrifice could go — but now the visions of Svein were blurring behind her eyes, Svein and Kalfr and Gaelfr, and all their band. Their family. And how could Raye bear never to see them again? How could she survive leaving Svein behind, forever? And could she at least help them, could she at least keep them all safe, please, goddess —
“We should have just burned it when we had the chance,” came another man’s disgusted voice from beyond the window. “As soon as she’s free, we’ll —”
But his voice blacked out, the world gone blessedly blank for a brief, shining moment.We should have just burned it, he’d said. Burned it.
The fire. Thefire.
Raye shot a searching glance toward the fire, still blazing high in the grate — Svein had added far too much wood andkindling — and beside it, there were all those stacks of firewood Gaelfr had cut before he’d left. While on the fireplace’s other side, there was a row of solid steel hooks mounted on the wall, where Raye had previously hung her cooking utensils — but since they’d taken everything to Kalfr’s, the hooks were empty, jutting out at the perfect height…
And with a deep breath, another desperate prayer to the goddess, Raye jolted into action. She dragged Sybil’s struggling body across the room toward the fire, and then shoved her back beneath those hooks, holding her in place with an arm to her throat, while her other hand caught up a large handful of Sybil’s long, lovely hair. And even as she muttered an apology, Raye began wrapping that hair around the hooks, twisting and tangling as fast and firm as she could. Binding Sybil by the hair to the wall, where there was no way she could interfere, or escape.
“What the fuck!” Sybil screamed, frantically tearing at her trapped hair with her wounded hands, and Raye let out an exasperated growl as she yanked off the fabric belt of her own dress, and rapidly bound Sybil’s forearms together. Not tight enough that it would cut off her bloodflow, but enough to keep her from touching anything, and making those awful burns even worse.
And next — the firewood. Those huge stacks of firewood and kindling Gaelfr had so helpfully cut them, the day before they’d left. And Raye dodged toward the nearest pile, scooped up an armful of wood, and began tossing it toward the walls, and especially beneath the front window. While Sybil kept shrieking from the wall, and the men kept rattling the bars and the doors, and shouting at her, too. Raving about the barmy orc-addled wench, and all the things they would do to her and her spawn once they caught her — but it didn’t matter anymore. Nothingmattered except rushing back for another armful of firewood, stacking it under the other window, piling it up on the bed —
“What the fuck!” Sybil screamed again, her shrill voice wailing through the air. “What the fuck are you doing?!”
But Raye didn’t stop. Just rushing for the next armful of firewood, and the next. Hurling it all around her cramped cottage, the home she’d worked so hard to make safe. The home that had done so much to protect her and Svein, and now — Raye spun back toward the fire — now it would protect them again, one last time.
“No!” Sybil howled, again frantically fighting against her bonds, but Raye was already stabbing several pieces of kindling into the blazing fireplace, waiting for them to catch flame — and then she rushed and shoved them around the room, into the stacks of wood, onto her bed. Not even looking to see if they caught before doing it again, and again, while Sybil and the men shouted and screamed.
But the thick scent of smoke had begun oozing through the air, and when Raye finally swung around again, her house was beginning to burn. Her windows, her walls, flickering with crackling orange flame, licking up toward the roof. But she could still catch glimpses of the men’s shocked reddened faces beyond the window, and she needed to finish this, no matter the cost —
“You ruined my life!” she hollered at Sybil, as loud and carrying as she could. “You stole that orc from me! He took my son andleftme, because he was in love withyou!”
Sybil sputtered and stared at her, and Raye dragged down another desperate breath of the thick smoky air. “That horrible orc ruined my life!” she shouted. “He took everything from me! So I’m going to get my revenge, and take you fromhim, instead!”
The fire was burning higher around them, and the men’s reddened faces snapped away from the window as a shower of sparks flew out between the bars. And out from beyond,someone yelled something about finally having an axe, and the men’s faces vanished entirely. And Raye had to move, now,now—
“Don’t do this!” Sybil begged, trembling against the wall, with tears streaming down her face. “Don’t leave me here! Please, I beg you!”
And though Raye’s rebellion kicked and shouted, she was already rushing toward Sybil at the wall, and yanking at her tangled hair. But she’d wound it on tight, and Sybil’s flailing had only made it worse, and Raye muttered a curse as she drew out Gaelfr’s sword, and began sawing at the taut tangled strands. But the sword was sharp, it was working, and at least Sybil had the sense to stop speaking and stand still, though the sweat was pouring off her pale face now, her breaths rapidly panting.
“There,” Raye gasped, as she sawed through the last chunk, releasing Sybil from the wall. Sybil instantly staggered forward, toward where a steel axe-blade was now striking into the front door — but Raye yanked her backwards, toward Svein’s bedroom. Toward the closed trapdoor in the floor.
Sybil’s eyes widened at the sight of it, and she spun around toward the door, about to holler again, goddess curse her — and Raye clapped a furious hand over her mouth, yanked the trapdoor open, shoved Sybil bodily down the hole, and shoved the door shut again. And then she raced back out toward the fire — there were no men watching through the blazing windows now, thank fuck, and the smoke was almost too thick to see through anyway — and she grasped several more sticks of burning wood. She hadn’t yet touched Svein’s bedroom, but now she hurled the wood around it, tossed one onto the bed, went to yank open the tunnel again —
But then — a man. One man, and another, squeezing their way through the ragged tatters of the split-open front door. Shouting as they caught sight of Raye, wildly brandishing theirswords toward her, and another man was squeezing in too, and another, fuck,fuck. And if Raye opened the tunnel door again now, and tried to escape, they’d surely just follow her down there, they’d follow Svein’s scent and make him suffer, no —
Even so, it took almost all Raye’s will to stagger forward, away from the tunnel, toward Svein’s door. Trapping herself here in the hot smoky cottage with four — no, six — men rushing straight toward her, and she swept out her sword, held it with a shaky hand, while hot tears streaked down her cheeks. She’d been so close. She’d almost done it, and now she was going to die. She would never see Svein again. And instead, she’d just saved Sybil’s life instead, she’d granted her family only more misery and fear and pain. She’d failed, she’d failed, she’d failed…
Until — a bang. Behind her. And when she whipped to look, the trapdoor had blown open, and two huge cloaked figures leapt up out of it, landing on either side of her. Both carrying matching serrated curved swords, and one had a huge, gleaming axe strapped to his back…
It was — Kalfr and Gaelfr. Her mates had come.
68
For a stunned, staring instant, Raye was sure it was a dream. It had to be a dream. Kalfr and Gaelfr were here? Here?
But the approaching men’s shouts faltered, and several of them reeled backwards, as if they could see this, too. And strongest of all was the firm, familiar touch of a hand to Raye’s back. Gaelfr’s hand.
“Get down,sæta,” he growled, through what appeared to be a thick mask, covering his nose and mouth. “Now.”
