Page 83 of Blood of Wolves

“Make ready,make ready!”

Out in the field, the Sels stood in compressed rows, clustered together thanks to the last hour’s relentless rain of arrows. The perfect target.

Down below in the yard, great granite boulders were lifted and swung with the aid of ropes, pulleys, and fresh-built cranes. The catapults were loaded, and the men manning them looked up to him for the signal.

Gods, it left him dizzy in an unpleasant way, being in command like this.

“Fire!” he shouted, and was echoed.

Fire, fire, fire.

Hatchets lifted, flashing in the sun, and fell.

The first catapult bucked like an unruly colt as the arm was sprung. Rune watched the boulder fly, up, up, over the wall, so high it looked like a pebble.

And then it fell. It bounced, tumbled, skipped, and carved a path through the Sels. Gold armor flashed as bodies were tossed aside.

Rune grinned.

“Don’t get ahead of yourself, lad,” Bjorn said. “We’ve a ways to go yet.”

The second catapult fired with a creak and snap, boulder whistling through the air.

Behind them, a horn sounded.

~*~

Revna leaned toward her. “Only the catapults, lamb,” she murmured in explanation of the sound that had caused Tessa to jump in her seat.

Tessa nodded, and resettled.Only the catapults. She’d never seen one before now, much less heard the creak and snap of it firing.

Her panic felt like a live thing, one that threshed and whined in her grip, struggling to get loose and run wild through her. If that happened, she couldn’t guarantee that she wouldn’t crawl beneath one of the trestle tables.

She sat with Revna on the dais, Hilda and Astrid stationed behind them, offering them tea every so often that neither of them drank. Revna appeared calm, but her ringed hands gripped the chair arms hard, until her knuckles turned white. Tessa felt a little less alone, in that.

Down at the tables, the elderly, infirm, and the farmer’s wives had joined hands, and bowed their heads. An offering had been tossed on the fire, a bundle of fragrant herbs that sparked, and smoked, and filled the hall with their woodsy scents. A woman with yellow, plaited hair and a sturdy, agricultural look to her frame led them in prayer: “We call upon the Val-Father to guide the souls of our brave warriors over the Rainbow Bridge, to rest in the Realm Eternal, alongside heroes of the past…”

Estrid mounted the stairs to the dais, hair braided severely, wearing armor and a sword that swayed at her hip, her expression tense. One of her friends, likewise appareled, followed her; Tessa couldn’t remember the girl’s name.

“My lady,” Estrid said. “I’m going up on the wall.”

“No.” Revna’s tone was harsh – and final. “You’re staying here, with us.”

Estrid huffed. “My lady–”

“Your mother left you in my charge. What will I tell her when you march up there and catch a Selesee arrow in the throat?”

The friend went goggle-eyed.

Estrid huffed. “You’re a fighting woman,” she challenged. “I know you want to be up there, too.”

Tessa saw a jolt move through Revna, and felt it echo in her own spine.

Revna swallowed audibly. “I–”

“My lady!” A young guard came pelting into the room, helmet slipping over his eyes, face stark white beneath its brim. “My lady, my lady!”

Revna stood and pivoted to face him. “What?”

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