Page 78 of Alliance Bride
Aevar sprinted as the blade fell.
He kicked the raider to the side, sending him sprawling. Aevar didn’t hesitate. He plunged his sword straight into the man’s chest, and the resistance gave way as it sank deep. The man thrashed once and stilled. Aevar grabbed Ingvald’s arm and hauled him to his feet.
Ingvald gave a sharp nod, blood streaking his face like war paint. They both turned and ran to meet the next threat. Kian appeared, locked in combat with two more Kalgorans. Aevar joined him, slicing down one while Kian disarmed the other and buried his sword in the raider’s side.
A third figure lunged from the dark, blade sweeping fast. Aevar parried, but the angle was awkward. He braced and slammed his shield into the man, sending him reeling back. The raider coughed violently and gasped for breath. Aevar didn’t give himtime to recover. His sword flashed again, and the Kalgoran collapsed, choking on blood.
“Behind!”
Kian’s warning rang in his ears. Aevar spun as a battle axe flew toward his neck. He ducked, avoiding decapitation. The blade hissed through the air again. It slammed into his shield and embedded with a crack. The force just about tore the shield from his hand.
Aevar didn’t yank it free. Instead, he let go, and the Kalgoran staggered as the weight of the lodged axe pulled him off balance. Aevar charged and drove his sword up beneath the man’s ribcage. The raider seized and went limp, sliding from the blade.
There was no time to breathe. A new attacker leapt forward, invisible until the last moment. Aevar turned too late. Pain ripped across his arm as the blade sliced through his sleeve. He gasped, twisting away, and narrowly avoided a second attack.
The Kalgoran pressed hard, slashing with one blade while drawing a dagger. They came in tandem, too fast to separate. Aevar blocked the sword but missed the knife. It slashed across his side. Pain flared in his ribs.
He hissed in breath, but the heat of battle dulled the edge. He dodged another swing and struck low, knocking the man’s knife aside. Striking again, he brought his sword down hard on the raider’s wrist, severing the man’s hand. The Kalgoran screamed, but Aevar didn’t let him finish. One final attack silenced him.
Aevar staggered back, his chest heaving. He looked around and raised his sword in preparation, but no more raiders appeared. Stillness spread across the village. The screams and clang of battle had faded. Only the soft moans of the dying and the barking of dogs remained.
He straightened, forcing air into his burning lungs. Pain flared in his side, and he glanced down with a wince. Blood soaked his tunic, black in the moonlight. He pressed his hand tight against the wound. The blood oozed hot between his fingers. Deep but not fatal.
Kian appeared at his side, his face spattered. His gaze dropped to Aevar’s side, then snapped up again. “How bad?”
Aevar gritted his teeth. “Flesh wound, I think. “
He turned, sweeping the road. Dark forms lay strewn across the dirt, some Kalgoran, some Nord. Huskarls moved between them, blades still drawn, finishing what needed to be finished.
“I think we got them all,” Kian said, his breath ragged. “Hard to say in the dark.”
Aevar nodded. The heat of battle was fading fast now, leaving only ache and blood and cold reality along with one burning thought that pushed through everything else.
Eadlyn.
Chapter Twenty-nine
Eadlynhunchedonthebench, fingers knotted white in her lap. She pressed harder until a dull tingling crawled up her arms. It was the only way to keep them from shaking. She prayed—fervently—but still the fear coiled inside her, burning like acid.
She had never known terror like this. Not even under her father’s wrath. That fear had been close and cutting, aimed straight at her. This was colder. Feral. It grabbed at her with icy claws. Not the fear of pain—of cuts or bruises—but the gnawing dread of the unknown.
She lifted her head slowly, as though moving through water. The air tasted of stale sweat and panic. Next to her, Ranvi sat with Alvir in her lap, the child limp with sleep or exhaustion. Trygg nestled beside her, his small hands gripping her waist. Inga cradled Katla on the other side, the girl’s face hidden in her shoulder.
Eadlyn watched them, envy cutting through her. Ranvi stroked Alvir’s hair as she rocked him, and Inga’s calm seemed unshakable. How could they appear so composed? So strongamidst the chaos?
She wiped her sticky palms against her skirt and scanned the longhouse. A hush pressed in from all sides. Women huddled with their children in tight knots, some whispering, others staring at the door as though death might walk in at any moment.
Heida still stood at her post, no longer pacing, but her axe tapped against her leg in a restless beat. Though the sounds of battle had faded some time ago, the silence that followed was worse.
What if it meant defeat?
What if the next face through the door was an enemy?
A muffled voice echoed outside. Eadlyn’s heart slammed against her ribs. Murmurs swept through the women as they stood, eyes wide, but Heida didn’t hesitate. She threw the bar aside and yanked the door open.
Braan stepped in. Blood splattered his tunic, a fresh stream cutting down the side of his face. He barely made it through the door before Heida caught him in a fierce embrace. Relief rolled through the room like a wave, loosening the tension in the air, but not in Eadlyn’s chest. She focused on the doorway, still open.
One by one, the others entered. Runar. Erik. Kian…
