Beyond a Darkened Shore(51)
I wheeled Sleipnir around and galloped a short distance away—enough to give me a breath of time. Concentrating on the dark-haired giant, I reached out for his mind. Slippery darkness waited for me, as difficult to grab hold of as water. The giant froze. Sweat beaded my brow as I struggled to maintain control. His mind was as powerful as the giant’s I’d fought in Dubhlinn—only my sense of his emotions differed greatly. The hatred was there in abundance, toward the Northmen and especially toward their strange gods, but there was more . . . a flash of a woman being carried away by a brawny man with flowing hair and a braided beard.
A part of me wanted to grasp hold of the memory and analyze it—was there more to these savage giants than mindless killing?—but I didn’t have that luxury. The giant fought me for control, managing to break free just enough to begin a slow march toward me. I didn’t have to be in his mind to know that once he reached me, he’d tear me apart.
Possible solutions raced through my mind. Could I take his life force as I’d done in Dubhlinn? But how? Both times, I’d been nearly unconscious. I tried to search within myself for the strange door of light, but all it resulted in was relaxing my hold on the giant.
The earth around me shuddered as his speed toward me increased, and I scrambled to wrestle control again. My head pounded with the effort, but I managed to slow his advance.
I could see only one way out of this: I’d have to hope my hold on him was enough to give real power to an offensive attack. With the barest touch of my heels to Sleipnir’s sides, we shot toward the dark-haired giant. I struck out with my sword, my eyes on the area of his chest above his heart, but at the last moment, the giant raised his axe.
My sword bit into his arm, cutting down to the bone. He dropped his axe with a howl of pain. I attacked again, shoving the tip of my blade up into his chest. A flash of surprise drifted across our mental connection, followed swiftly by thoughts of the woman again and intense feelings of love and regret.
His mind went dark as he crashed to the ground, leaving me standing rather dumbfounded.
All around me, the sounds of axes striking each other was nearly deafening. Gunnarr aided Leif while Olafur and Eadric battled the giant who’d killed Ulf. Most of the others had been divested of their horses. The poor beasts’ bodies lay in mangled heaps upon the ground, and a sharp, sudden fear stabbed through me as I thought of Sleipnir. Never before had I feared for my great warhorse, but these weren’t normal men.
To my right, the j?tunn that Olafur and Eadric battled shook the earth with his every movement. The warriors were forced to dodge the giant’s feet like mice. A terrible, strangled yell momentarily drew my eye. Olafur had misstepped, and the j?tunn had crushed him. Eadric hacked at the j?tunn’s giant ankles as the monstrosity chopped Olafur’s head from his body. Without Olafur’s aid, Eadric would soon fall.
My eyes closed in concentration, I reached for the giant’s mind. I connected with nothing but empty air—the distance was too great—but Sleipnir shot toward the enemy with barely any urging. Eadric’s shield gave way under the giant’s powerful blow, and I grabbed for the giant’s mind, finally connecting in time to keep him from crushing Eadric under another hit from his axe.
But all too soon, my fragile hold slipped away. My many wounds had reopened and were bleeding freely. My muscles shook with fatigue.
Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Leif battling with the horse-faced j?tunn. To my surprise, the monster was now as tall as the other giants.
Despite the horse-faced giant’s size, Leif seemed able to deflect his attacks, the muscles of his arm bulging as though they would soon burst free. With a loud shout, Leif executed a series of attacks so rapidly, I could barely track them with my eyes. The giant, too, could only defend himself against but a few of them. A great torrent of blood gushed out from the giant from multiple wounds, but before any of us could relish our victory, the giant slammed into Leif and knocked him to the ground. He immediately seized Gunnarr and crushed him.
Three were now dead.
Again the fear raced through me, that we would never leave this battle alive.
Leif’s eyes met mine, and I watched his mouth begin to form the word retreat.
Before he could, the remaining two giants towered over us, and I felt the first dark tendril of despair wrap around my heart. Sleipnir wheeled around, taking me to safety against my will. The horse-faced giant took hold of Eadric by the arms and swung his body out toward the other giant. The other giant grabbed hold of Eadric’s legs, and both giants pulled.
They tore Eadric in half amid agonized screams and the sounds of torn flesh and tendons, his body pulling apart at the joints as easily as a roasted duck.
Outmatched, weakened, and easily defeated, we had no chance—but I still had my horse. Beneath me, Sleipnir’s muscles quivered, waiting for my command. My heels barely touched his sides, and he shot forward.
My breaths came in pants as my heart pounded almost painfully against my chest. My hand shook so badly from fear and fatigue that I could barely hold my sword. Still, I reached for the horse-faced giant’s mind. I couldn’t use him as a bodyguard, but I could stop him. It felt like my mind would tear apart, the pain almost blinding. But I couldn’t give in to it.
The horse-faced giant froze in place. His face twisted with the effort of fighting against me, and dark spots danced before my eyes as I felt my fragile hold on him give way.