Sword of Doom Read Free Page B

escape route would be over water.
    Hearing a familiar voice, she turned to see Lut the Bent emerging from his doorway, dragging a sword. The frail one planned to do battle, though he could barely lift the war blade. Geldrun grabbed the weapon from his hands, saying, “Get to the boats!”
    â€œNo!” Lut barked. “I will defend the village!” And he grabbed the sword back from her with surprising swiftness, iron resolution in his watery blue eyes.
    â€œBut the women and children!” she urged. “You must get them to the ships and away!” Geldrun knew he would give his life to see that no harm came to the children. He nodded briskly and started off, then suddenly stopped.
    â€œMy dagger,” he said, patting his cloak. “It’s inside.” He started back toward his hut, but Geldrun rushed in to retrieve it instead, knowing she could find it faster. Inside she rooted around and soon found his sheathed dagger beneath his furs. Rising again to her feet, she heard a scuffle. A cry of pain. Moving to the door, she saw Lut now sprawled facedown in the mud. Three attackers stood over him, holding the sword they had seized from him, and Geldrun heard their derisive laughter.
    â€œYour blade weighs more than you, old man!” she heard the tallest one say. This drew more chuckles, and he lifted the sword over his head to plunge it into Lut the Bent. But before the laughter died in their throats, Geldrun flew out the door and thrust the dagger up under the tall one’s arm, the one place she knew a man in mail would be most vulnerable. He bellowed in pained surprise, falling to his knees. One of his cohorts whirled and slashed at her with his sword, knocking the dagger from her grasp. “Kill her!” the wounded one shrieked.
    Geldrun backed away as the other two came toward her, swords drawn. But her back hit the wall of the hut. Her throat tightened. With nowhere to run, she knew it was over but still refused to cower. As they neared, she girded herself for the killing blow, too proud to look away from their blood-spattered faces, a brief thought of her son flashing through her mind. Both men raised swords to strike. Then the nearest one gave a sudden grunt, Geldrun just asshocked as he was to see a bloody arrowhead sticking out of his chest. The arrow had gone right through his chain mail. And her attackers barely had enough time to exchange looks of shock when— thhhummmp! —another arrow skewered the other man through his neck. Both men tipped over like stone statues, dead before they hit the ground.
    Too stunned to speak, Geldrun was further struck to see, emerging from the smoke, a strange but striking figure in a white cloak, stringing his bow with a new arrow as he walked. Behind him strode twelve more hard and battle-scarred men loaded with spears, knives, and swords, the business of killing clearly their chief stock-in-trade.
    Geldrun rushed to help Lut to his feet, relieved to find the old one shaken but unhurt. And when she heard a voice asking how the old man was, she lifted her eyes to find the one becloaked in white standing before her. There seemed a great grandeur in his bearing, his smoky brown eyes and broad smile giving off a warmth that somehow seemed faintly familiar. A moment passed as she studied his face and he hers. She felt her knees go weak.
    â€œOh, Odin be praised,” she said, “is it really you, Godrek?”
    His face lit up as he nodded and said, “The years have been good to you, Geldrun. It seems I have arrived just in time.” But this was all they could say to each other, for the enemy came charging in and Godrek and his men went to work with ruthless efficiency.
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    Oh, how it hurt her to see the boy clubbed from behind. Because he had turned suddenly, the blow had been only a glancing one but still enough to send him spilling down the hillside, disappearing down the embankment, perhaps to his death. How awful it