Page 159 of Master of Storms
“No,” he whispered, grasping the shaft of the arrow in Rurik’s chest.
“Heal him!” Solveig screamed, reaching over her shoulder and drawing the sword that was sheathed down her spine. “I’ll keep them off your back.” Then she turned and bellowed, “The king is down! To me! To me! Protect the king!”
Stepping back, she used her body to protect Marduk and Rurik. An arrow hissed toward her, and she slapped it from the air, lifting her sword again.
Someone bumped into her right shoulder, and she saw another figure emerge to her left.
Haakon to one side of her, his face grim as he held his blade low. Bryn on the other side, her Valkyrie blade igniting into flames as she drew it. And over the top of all it, Solveig could hear the booming laugh of the giant axe man.
“And here I thought I was going to miss the fighting!” Tormund sounded utterly delighted.
“You’re an idiot,” Haakon snapped. “Keep your mind on the battle.”
“You’re just jealous because I’ve got a shiny new axe which hasn’t been blooded yet,” Tormund shot back. “I’ll bet you your weight in gold that I kill more of these mincing little pricks than you do.”
“Done,” Haakon said, stepping forward and engaging a pair ofalfarthat came at him.
“And if I win,” Bryn yelled, stepping forward to slam her boot into analfarshield. “Then I want a crown. A legendary crown.”
“Where am I going to get a crown from?” Tormund demanded.
“I’ve been listening to some tales of trolls,” the former Valkyrie replied. “There’s an ancient Viking graveyard to the south of us….”
“If there are draugr there, then you can get your own crown,” Tormund replied.
Bryn clucked like a chicken.
Solveig shook her head. The foolishness was spreading. She lunged forward as one of thealfarappeared out of nowhere. Steel rang on steel, and then she went to one knee, below his next strike, and brought her blade across his midriff.
The elf gave a startled cry, swinging off-balance.
Solveig stood and kicked him in the chest, spilling entrails out of him everywhere.
“That’s three!” panted the big Norseman.
Solveig waved a hand as two elves sprinted toward her, unleashing a torrent of Air. She flung them off the top of the mountain, listening to their screams as they hurtled to their deaths.
It was a moment of respite in the middle of battle. She fell back. “Marduk?”
“Got the arrow… out.” He knelt by his brother’s side, hands pressing desperately over the king’s chest.
Sirius knelt by the king’s head, his fingers pressed against Rurik’s temples even as Freyja clutched his hand.
“If anyone can heal him,” Marduk whispered to the queen, “then it will be Sirius.”
There was no emotion on Freyja’s face. Merely blankness. It was as if she hadn’t heard him.
The Blackfrost’s lips thinned, as if he heard them but didn’t dare divert his attention long enough to comment. A single glance at the wound told Solveig everything she needed to know
This would be close.
And then Rurik sat upright, trying desperately to grab something.
Solveig followed his gaze. Draco lifted himself off Andromeda, having thrown himself over her as adrekishield.
And right in the center of a clear patch of grass was an elf on his knees, screaming his rage to the sky.
“No!” The elf yelled, shaking a fist at the sky. “Come back, you bitch! You were supposed to take me with you!”
