Page 5 of Dalla's Royal Guards
They rode hard for several miles before they slowed to a steady clip. She leaned forward as the mare followed Amal’s gelding up the trail. At the top of the hill, she twisted in her saddle. From here, they could see the village.
“‘Tis on fire! They are under attack!” Olaf exclaimed in horror as he reached for the sheath attached to his saddle and drew the small sword their father had given him.
“Olaf, no!” Aesa cried out as their brother turned his horse around and kicked his heels against the horse’s side.
“Take them to the Jarl. I will get Olaf,” Runa ordered.
“‘Tis my vision,” Aesa breathed in a distraught voice before she, too, followed Runa and Olaf.
Dalla didn’t think twice. She followed her siblings. Her brother’s smaller gelding, used to the steep hills and sure-footed, raced down the hill. Olaf ignored their frantic demands to stop. Dalla crested the rise above their home in time to see Gamli thrust their father to his knees. Sven bent forward and caught himself by one arm. Dalla’s anguished cry mixed with Aesa’s when Gamli swung his sword onto their father’s exposed neck.
“Far!” she choked out, reining her mare to a sudden stop.
The mare slid on her back hooves and reared into the air. From her perch, Dalla watched with anguish as their mother struggled against the man holding her. Dalla kicked her heels into the mare’s side as her mother attacked Jarl Leifsson. Leifsson gripped her mother’s shoulder with one hand and drove his sword through her with the other.
“Olaf, stop!” Dalla yelled when she saw the man to Leifsson’s left raise his bow.
Dalla grabbed her longbow, fitted an arrow, and released it at the same time as the man. Her arrow struck true, but so did the one the man had released. Olaf was flung backwards out of hissaddle, the small sword still clutched in his hand as he hit the ground. Horrified, Dalla knew her brother was dead.
She slid from the mare, her feet hitting the ground as a soft rain began to fall. She fitted arrow after arrow, swinging around to strike any of Leifsson’s men that she could until she had no more arrows. Runa’s aim was true, and she struck with her short bow until she pulled her sword and continued attacking with a ferocity that would have made any Viking warrior proud.
They were vastly outnumbered, but Dalla didn’t care. Her parents and brother’s murder was burned into her soul. She silently cursed as she fought until she could contain it no longer.
“By Odin, you will all die! By Thor, I will strike every one of you tohel. By Tyr, I will wage war upon you even after my death, and by Vidar, you shall know my vengeance!” she vowed as she fought her way toward Gamli.
Dalla fell forward when she was struck from behind. She twisted, bringing the sharp edge of her longbow up under her attacker’s chin, splitting his jaw open. Two others grabbed her before another pulled her feet from under her. It was only Aesa’s harsh cry of pain that stilled her fight.
“Bring each survivor before me,” Jarl Leifsson ordered.
Dalla jerked, trying to free her arms when Amal, dripping with blood, was thrust forward.
Leifsson walked around the dark-skinned man, trailing the tip of his sword across Amal’s shoulders. Amal stiffened, refusing to bend. Leifsson stood in front of the proud freeman.
“Pledge your loyalty to me and you shall live,” Leifsson ordered.
“None here would follow a coward like you,” Amal replied, lifting his chin.
“Then all here will die,” Leifsson responded.
Amal’s wife, Mona, screamed when Leifsson slit her husband’s throat. She broke free from the circle of villagers, then fell to her knees, a knife between her shoulders, beside Amal.
“Kill them all,” Leifsson ordered.
“You are mares! You have no balls,” Runa sneered. “Nei, you are even worse. You are anargr! Fight me!Nei, you won’t, because you don’t have theballsto fight a real warrior!”
Runa followed her insult by spitting on the ground in front of Leifsson and Gamli. Gamli stepped forward and slapped Runa across the face. The blow was enough to bend Runa’s knees, but she stiffened them. She spat blood from her mouth and grinned.
“Runa,” Dalla warned.
“Argh!”Runa repeated in a tone so contemptuous that Dalla was surprised neither man struck her sister dead before the degrading insult left her lips.
“I will see you in Valhalla,” Aesa murmured.
Out of the corner of her eye, Dalla caught the glint of the small knife Aesa slipped from her boot. Dalla wilted. The hands holding her relaxed. She drew in a deep breath and nodded, stealthily drawing her own knife.
“I will see you in Valhalla,” she repeated.
The last moment of her life was forever frozen in her memory. She rose at the same time as Aesa. They swung in unison,burying their blades in the neck and chests of their guards at the same time as Runa drove hers into the center of Gamli’s throat.
