Beyond a Darkened Shore(96)

The sounds of battle all around were deafening. Most of the men had already been killed, torn apart by the j?tnar as though they were little more than children’s playthings. Perhaps fewer than fifty remained. Rúna still lived, and she used both the remains of her shield and axe to slice her way through.

Even my own army had suffered a loss; the j?tnar had discovered that removing the undead’s head from his body would stop him, and perhaps fifty had fallen.

Then from the distance sounded a howl that tore through the night sky, the sound more frightening than even the sound of the hellhounds in the Faerie Tunnel. Everything seemed to freeze.

From the city strode a true giant, bigger even than the ones we fought now; the earth shuddered with each step he took. Unlike the others, whose leather armor seemed to stretch and grow as they did, this giant wore massive chain mail and two bears’ pelts as a mantle. By his side was a wolf, as big as Sleipnir and just as dark. The j?tnar fell back at the sight of the giant, as though waiting for his command.

“Fenris,” Leif said in a snarl, though by then I had already figured it out for myself.

The giant beat his axe against his shield once, and then charged. With great, leaping bounds his wolf tore through the ranks of men, biting them in half. Our men scattered, screaming, but Fenris grabbed them and tore them apart. One he caught by the neck and squeezed so hard with his massive hands that the man’s head popped free of his body.

My body was very nearly at its limit, but I couldn’t stop now. I freed the Sword of the Fallen from its sheath and summoned every one of my undead clansmen to me.

Take him down, I commanded.

They sprinted forward in that way that appeared as though they weren’t even touching the ground. Half split toward Fenris, the other toward the wolf. The beast snarled when it met my army; it rolled and dodged like a snake, but my undead clansmen continued their assault. The wolf’s massive teeth could parry a sword, but I knew it would not be able to fend them all off.

I returned my attention to Fenris only to see his gigantic hand sweep toward my men and brush them aside as though they were nothing more than mice. They tried to swarm up his great tree trunks of legs, but he kept dislodging them before they could make purchase. This wasn’t working. I needed to do something more.

“Leif, will you guard my body?”

His arm tightened around me. “You don’t even have to ask.”

“You must get me closer to Fenris.”

He nodded tersely, reluctantly, but he didn’t argue. He knew what was at stake. After mounting Sleipnir, he pulled me astride, wrapping his strong arms around me.

From my vantage I could see the rest of the terrible battlefield. Emboldened by my army’s attack on Fenris, what was left of Leif’s allies gave their aid to bring down the terrible wolf. Blood continued to spray through the air as the beast found mortal flesh to be more giving than undead.

“Together we bring Fenris down,” I said with a glance at Leif. This was the moment we would change our fate. I would make it so.

“Together,” Leif agreed.

Sleipnir needed no encouragement. He raced as fast as wildfire toward the fallen giant, and with a terrible wrenching, I forced my spirit free from my flesh. Unconstrained, it flew above the carnage like a bird. I could see the darkness the giant was made of, so oily black I couldn’t make out the glow of red that was his life source.

My eyes searched desperately for the telltale sign of red. Still the churning darkness within him hid the pulse of his life source. And then I saw my father climb the giant’s chest. My father’s eyes met mine—he could see me even in my spirit form. The point of his blade pressed against one spot in the giant’s chain mail, and then I saw it: the red, beating heart.

Focused on the giant’s one weak spot, we didn’t see Fenris raise his other hand until it was too late. He grabbed my father and squeezed so hard and fast that his body was crushed flat, an explosion of bones and dust falling to the ground. Silently, I screamed for the second death of him. I plunged both hands into the giant’s chest and pulled free his enormous, pulsing heart.

The giant froze, his mouth twisted in a terrible grimace as I clutched his heart. In this final moment, though, my strength was failing, and cold fear trickled through me at the thought that I might not be able to complete the mission. I thought of Leif, how I had need of him, and suddenly he was there, his expression grim and determined. I glanced back at Sleipnir and my body, and I saw it was safely on the ground, Sleipnir standing protectively over it. Leif drew the shining sword gifted to him by the Morrigan, held it by the hilt with both hands, and slammed the tip of the blade into the heart. Fenris shuddered once and was still. I nearly cried with relief. I returned to my body, and pain seared through me, the agony almost blinding—like forcing a joint out of its socket. Weak beyond measure, I fell to my knees.

But even though their leader had fallen, the other j?tnar seemed to be in the grip of a blood frenzy and did not stop. Leif killed two himself with the aid of two of my undead clansmen, while Rúna and my army felled the rest. Finally, the gruesome battle came to an end, and the ground was littered with the giants’ massive, destroyed bodies.

Through my exhaustion, I smiled as I watched Sleipnir have his fill of the j?tnar blood, glorying in the justice of consuming them just as they had consumed innocents. The relief I felt at their deaths was so sweet I felt joy burst through me. I closed my eyes. My sisters were finally safe; for the first time, I allowed myself to picture them: Deirdre’s shy smile, and Branna’s loud laugh. I’d been afraid before to think of them too much, afraid we’d fail and I’d lose them. But now I drank up the sight of them, if only in my mind. Though the cost had been great, we had brought an end to the threat against our lands. Still, there was a part of me that struggled to accept that it was really over; that we had won. My family and clansmen were safe; éirinn was no longer fated to be reduced to ashes.