Glendalough Fair Read Free Page B

stopped, not escalated. That called for restraint, and restraint was not something Starri was good at.
    He turned to his right, certain that Harald would be standing there, and he was. As he opened his mouth to speak Harald slammed his shield into the two men to his left who were struggling, arms around one another. The blow knocked them both to the ground where they released one another and struggled through the thick mud to regain their feet.
    Harald had sheathed his sword and now as one of Skidi’s men made a lurching attack he reached out and grabbed a fist-full of the man’s hair, right on the top of his head, and slammed it down on his upraised knee. The man seemed to bounce off the knee, his face now a smear of blood as he toppled back, bringing two more down with him as he fell.
    “Harald!” Thorgrim shouted. “Go fight with Starri! See he doesn’t hurt anyone any more than he has to!”
    Harald nodded, turned, slipped and went down with a curse, just as Thorgrim had. Thorgrim held his shield above both of them and offered the boy a hand. He pulled Harald to his feet, and only a wide stance and good luck prevented them both from going down again.
    Harald pushed off through the crowd and Thorgrim drove his shield into the men in front of him and sent them reeling, and in the moment of peace that bought him he looked around.
    His men, fresh and bearing shields, were making progress in getting the fighting men apart. Some who had been in the midst of the brawl were now abandoning the fight, some upright, some sprawled out, maybe wounded, maybe dead. Some had staggered off to collapse in the places that still sported grass. But many were still flailing at one another with swords and axes and fists.
    Thorgrim looked to his left. One of Kjartan’s men, a big son of a bitch named Gest, second in command of Dragon , came bursting from the press, battle ax raised, his mouth, framed by a massive beard, wide in a scream of fury. The ax came down at Thorgrim with an execution blow and Thorgrim just managed to get his shield up in time to stop it before it cleaved his head in two.
    The ax lodged in the wood of the shield and Thorgrim felt his feet going out from under him in the slick mud. But before he could fall Gest jerked his ax free, pulling Thorgrim back on balance, allowing him to keep his feet and Thorgrim thought, Thank you .
    Gest took another awkward swing and Thorgrim was able to sidestep it, but before he could counterstrike he saw another of Kjartan’s men come from the crowd, sword in hand and lunging for his guts.
    Thorgrim swung Iron-tooth at the coming blade. He pushed his right foot down until the mud had hold of it. He pressed the shield against his shoulder and shoved it into Gest who was just then bringing his ax back over his head. Gest stumbled and his feet went out from under him on the slick ground and he fell back with arms splayed and a roar of outrage.
    In the space opened by Gest’s fall Kjartan Thorolfson stood, sword in one hand, ax in the other. He was breathing hard and coated with mud, his hair and beard soaked through, his eyes locked on Thorgrim. He stepped quick around the struggling Gest and came at Thorgrim with weapons on the move.
    You should be trying to stop this, you whore’s son , Thorgrim thought even as he fended off Kjartan’s attack and lunged in counterpoint. Subversive as he might be, Kjartan was one of the leading men of Vík-ló. He should be stopping the men there from killing one another, not trying to cut down the lord of the longphort.
    Thorgrim saw a motion to his right and parried with his blade, quick enough to stop a death thrust, not quick enough to stop the blade from piercing his tunic and running along his side, opening up a wound, sharp and warm.
    “Bastard!” Thorgrim shouted and brought Iron-tooth up and drove it into the man’s stomach, all thought of restraint gone in the fighting madness. He turned back toward Kjartan with a whirling motion,