(( Collaboration with Idlehands, RoadRash, ConstableWalrus and Igraine ))
Eyja’s lungs burned with the effort of running, her little hand turning hot and sweaty in Ranulf’s tight grip. She tried not to look back, tried to do exactly as Svala told her, but she just couldn’t help herself. And every last time those pale grey eyes started to peer over her shoulder, her heart dropped a little further when she never once caught a glimpse of Svala or Orran following. But Ranulf wouldn’t let her go, the surprising strength in his small body all unspoken insistence she keep going - and she did. But Eyja really couldn’t help the tears anymore, hot and stinging against the ice cold of the sleet.
But she was there, Svala was there and the young woman raced after the children, her grip on that axe never loosening for an instant. She wanted to shout with relief when she saw Raudr ahead, brave Raudr still hiking his baby sister in his arms as he struggled to run. The icy mud had long since turned slick and treacherous, but the sight gave her legs a burst of speed.
“Raudr! Raudr!” There wasn’t time to think how she must look, blood-spattered and with a warrior’s axe in her hand as she snatched at the boy’s shoulder. “Here,” she offered quickly, breathlessly as she bent to gather Dagny from his arms and into her own. She hushed the frightened little girl gently, sighing painfully when she saw the raw fear in those wide eyes.
“You’re faster than me Raudr - go!” Svala hissed softly, taking a deep breath as she readied herself to run.
Dagny clutched for a moment at Raudr’s shirt, her blue eyes wide with terror, then let go as Svala pulled her to her hip. She clung to her tightly, watching her older brother run away.
“I want Fadir,” she sobbed, clinging to the young woman.
“I know Dagny, I know,” Svala choked with a small, light kiss to those soft, tear-stained cheeks. Svala wanted her Fadir too, now more than ever before in all her life. But at the very least, if nothing else in this world, this sweet little girl would have her father again. The icy mud seemed to want to cement her in place, but the young woman still lifted one leg, then another, falling into a loping run after Ranulf and Eyja. “We’re going to find him sweetling, right now… Going to find your Fadir right now, you’ll see… “
Ragnar the Younger pushed himself to run, his lungs burning as his feet churned the mud. He passed by Ranulf and Eyja, dropping his small shield to reduce the load. He knew vaguely the way to the Hall, it was upward, toward the back of Trelleborg and on a slope. He looked around, noticing a few people staring in their direction and exchanging glances. As he ran forward he spotted some familiar figures standing near a doorway. It was Faolan, who leaning against the wall, his eyes half closed and Haakon and Ivarr, his father’s trusted men, guarding the front. They were armed, thank the gods, and it meant his parents must be inside.
“Haakon! Ivarr!” he gasped, his red hair plastered with rain and sweat. “Where is Fadir? Men came to the house!”
Haakon’s eyes snapped to his Thegn’s son, and in an instant his sword was in his hand. He rushed towards Ragnar the Younger, his eyes looking past him as Ivarr rushed to his side, his blade drawn as well.
“Go inside, Raudr,” Haakon snapped. “Get your Fadir, tell him what’s going on.”
“The painted man stayed behind,” Raudr said as he obeyed them, pulling open the wooden door and rushing into the warm dark room.
Faolan glanced up. Orran had gone with Hallerna’s girls and there was no mistaking who the painted man was. He glanced at the men pulling their blades and his jaw tightened, there would be more blood shed this night.
Raudr blinked, his eyes adjusting to the dim light and he saw his mother’s copper hair and his father’s familiar bulky figure. He hurried to him, ignoring the injured men in the beds. He caught sight of Tora, she was alive at least.
“Fadir, you must come. Men came to our house, they were looking for you but they tried to kill us,” he said, his breath steadier. “The Christian guard, he stayed behind while we...we ran.”
Ragnar eyed his son with a confusion that quickly hardened into rage as the boy spoke. His eyes grew flat and distant and he snarled, dropping the head and stepping past his son to fetch his shield from the wall beside the door.
Sigrid’s head snapped up as her son came in and his words sent a shot of fear through her heart. Her face went white and then flushed with anger. That someone would dare attack their home, their children, and when they were gone? She saw Ragnar react and she wished for her spear to join him at his side but instead she went to Raudr and looked him over, cupping his chin a moment in relief that he was unhurt.
“The others?” she asked sharply.
“They were unhurt, behind me,” he replied and she gave him a brief but strong hug before heading out the door.
Anndrais raised his head, and looked at the boy and his grip tightened slightly on Tora’s hand; with his free hand he made the sign of the cross on himself, praying for the protection of his friend, and thanking God that the children were alright, Orran would have thrown himself into any blade to save those children. And he dropped his head and clenched his eyes keeping silent.
All the blood fled Hallerna’s face when Sigrid’s boy showed up, the hurried words from his lips turning her stomach to ice cold liquid. “Raudr, where’s Svala? Eyja?” She didn’t wait for an answer, dashing toward the door to the sleet-filled skies and the muddy roads.
“They were behind me,” he said as Hallerna rushed off, “We made it away from them. They were looking for Fadir...”
He paused as he caught sight of the head his father dropped and pushed it with his foot until he could see the face and it clicked into place. Amund, the drunken leader of the pack, had demanded blood for blood, this must be why.
As the others spoke the Thegn stormed out of the house, his eyes speaking of immense violence just barely held in check. Stepping past Faolan without a second glance, he pushed between his two men and stared in the direction of his family’s hall. He spotted Ranulf and the others coming towards them at a run, and he raised his shield to meet anyone who might be pursuing them.
When he spoke, his voice was quiet, but carried the same edge it did before every raid. “We meet them here,” he grumbled, gripping his blade. “Anyone we don’t know dies. Anyone we know is with Harald dies.”
He glanced over his shoulder to see Sigrid in the doorway. “Get inside, woman! Things have moved beyond you,” he bellowed, his tone brooking no argument. He understood she was worried, and as furious as he, but this was different. Things had gone beyond mere squabbling, and he’d not have her in the midst of a melee.
Ranulf still clung to Eyja’s hand as he slipped in the mud, quickly pushing himself back up. He spotted his father and his men, armed and outside the house and he felt like shouting for joy if he was not breathless. Eyja was not quite so breathless, a small, inarticulate cry of relief on her lips as she saw Raudr disappear into the healing house, and then her Madir’s unmistakable figure emerge. Hallerna heard Ragnar’s snapped order to Sigrid behind her, but the thegn was no husband of hers, and he could go straight to Hel if he thought she was going anywhere without her babes in her arms.
Swiftly Hallerna snatched up Eyja from the ground and pulled her close, terror and relief in equal measure in her eyes as she took Ranulf’s hand in her own too, pulling both the younger children safely away though her eyes never stopped searching the road they’d come for Svala.
Sigrid heard her husband and she stayed put, her green eyes flashing with fear and rage, “Where is Dagny?”
She stood up on her toes, pushing past Ivarr’s shoulder and spotted Svala running, clutching her daughter, “Hallerna, there they are! Ranulf, get inside the house.”
The redhead’s focus was on the small girl with strawberry blonde curls who clinging to the blood and mud spattered teenager. She rushed out, nearly slipping on the icy ground to relieve Svala of her precious burden. Dagny cried when she saw her mother, wrapping her little arms tightly around her neck and Sigrid hugged her fiercely.
Hallerna’s blonde head shot back up from the tangled mass of her ‘baby’ girl’s coppery curls, back to the road, following Sigrid’s line of sight until she saw the pair, the little girl and the young woman. The statuesque blonde woman only just barely kept back a shout of relief as she hugged her youngest child so tightly, and then swung Eyja to the ground. “Go, get inside the healing house with Ranulf,” she whispered before racing after Sigrid, who was already bundling her own little girl in her arms.
Somehow Hallerna managed to choke back the cold fear at the sight of her daughter, all the blood, mud-spattered and gripping a strange axe in her hand. But Svala’s eyes met her mother’s, and she only shook her head quickly, almost impatiently. The younger woman wore the strangest, sweetest smile when Sigrid had Dagny in her arms again. ”It’s not my blood, Madir,” Svala whispered softly into her mother’s shoulder, her one free arm wrapped tightly about Hallerna’s neck. She had no intention of letting that axe go.
And though Hallerna had no intention of letting her daughter go, those strangely comforting words ringing in her ears, Svala looked up, back toward the way they’d come as she took a step away. “Orran… Orran should be… He said he would follow…”
Sigrid was hustling back to the door, looking back over her shoulder at the mention of the Pict. The monk’s guard had stayed behind to defend their children’s retreat, it was surprising and commendable. She caught a glimpse of a lone, dark figure on the road as she moved between her husband and Ivarr. The overcast sky was darkening with dusk, no bright sunset to mark the end of the day only a dimming of the world.