Read Online Shield of Lies by Jerry Autieri - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jerry Autieri
Ads: Link
are trapped here. Now die!"
With no time for a rejoinder, Ulfrik danced away from Clovis's strike, but lamely hit him on his mailed shoulder as he spun past. All around them, men chopped and stabbed and bled and choked in death. Clovis recovered, drawing up short before Ulfrik's banner. He paused as if considering whether to topple it, and Ulfrik jumped into that moment, slamming into him with his shield and following through with a wicked stab. His blade turned on Clovis's mail, but he heard the crunch as links broke. Clovis screamed as Ulfrik's blade dug into his shoulder blade.
"Now you go to sing songs with your dead god." Ulfrik drew back his sword for the killing thrust. Clovis crawled forward, a pitiful yelp escaping as he clawed through the wreckage of the forest floor.
Then men swarmed him, knocking him aside. His sword fell from his grip and he lay atop his shield as someone wrestled with him. His left arm was pinned, but his right hand was free to search for a weapon. The man atop him was too close to see, but he felt the cold knife blade press into his throat in preparation for the slice. In the same instant, Ulfrik laid his hand on the hilt of his boot dagger.
Freedom. The man lifted from him and Ulfrik reacted as fast as a cat. He ripped out his sax, the short blade warriors hung from belts across their laps, and turned on his opponent. Konal had pulled the attacker from Ulfrik, and now hovered over him with sword ready to plunge into the Frank's throat.
Clovis scrabbled to his feet and raised a horn to sound the retreat. He blew three short notes; Konal rammed his blade into his enemy's throat with a wet crack; and Ulfrik shouted as he charged Clovis. But men were fleeing in both directions. Everyone had broken, the danger and death too thick to withstand. The Franks fled to the open field, running for their distant fortress and Ulfrik's men running back through the paths they had cleared. The fight was done, and Clovis darted off like a deer before woodsmen.
Finding his sword in the dirt, Ulfrik picked it up and looked for Konal, who was calmly rummaging through the fallen's possessions even as men fled all around him. Einar stood beneath the banner, face covered in blood, and looked to Ulfrik for orders.
"Sound the retreat, at least to save pride for the men already running." Ulfrik scanned the scene, bodies and parts of bodies littered this patch of woods, and he saw many of his own lying among them. "We will be hard pressed to call this victory."
Chapter 10
Night fell early on the battered men. They marched in ragged groups towards Ravndal where dark shapes of men gathered on the walls showed against the purple twilight. Heads were bowed in shame and defeat as they trudged across the last stretch of field before the sharp rise of the hill. They were less grand than when they had set out in the morning, helmets lost, shields broken, swords bent, and mail rent. They carried some of the dead they had found in the scramble to escape, though most had been left where they had fallen. The injured either hobbled behind the main group or were carried on the backs of their companions. Ulfrik bore one man on his back, a young warrior named Gert, who had his left thigh hacked to the bone. Gert moaned with every step, and Ulfrik sweated and strained under the weight, but his step quickened as Ravndal drew closer.
The gates opened as they approached, no cheering or bragging men greeted them, only worried faces of kin searching for their loved one in the weary group. Despite their own condition, Ulfrik knew his army had done enough harm to Clovis that he would be silenced for a while. The destruction of his cavalry was a rare victory, though the cost had been heavy. Whatever the true situation, for the men and for those who had died under his leadership, he would declare this a valiant triumph worthy of a song. Gert moaned again, as if reading his thoughts, and Ulfrik spoke over his shoulder. "Hold on, we're at
With no time for a rejoinder, Ulfrik danced away from Clovis's strike, but lamely hit him on his mailed shoulder as he spun past. All around them, men chopped and stabbed and bled and choked in death. Clovis recovered, drawing up short before Ulfrik's banner. He paused as if considering whether to topple it, and Ulfrik jumped into that moment, slamming into him with his shield and following through with a wicked stab. His blade turned on Clovis's mail, but he heard the crunch as links broke. Clovis screamed as Ulfrik's blade dug into his shoulder blade.
"Now you go to sing songs with your dead god." Ulfrik drew back his sword for the killing thrust. Clovis crawled forward, a pitiful yelp escaping as he clawed through the wreckage of the forest floor.
Then men swarmed him, knocking him aside. His sword fell from his grip and he lay atop his shield as someone wrestled with him. His left arm was pinned, but his right hand was free to search for a weapon. The man atop him was too close to see, but he felt the cold knife blade press into his throat in preparation for the slice. In the same instant, Ulfrik laid his hand on the hilt of his boot dagger.
Freedom. The man lifted from him and Ulfrik reacted as fast as a cat. He ripped out his sax, the short blade warriors hung from belts across their laps, and turned on his opponent. Konal had pulled the attacker from Ulfrik, and now hovered over him with sword ready to plunge into the Frank's throat.
Clovis scrabbled to his feet and raised a horn to sound the retreat. He blew three short notes; Konal rammed his blade into his enemy's throat with a wet crack; and Ulfrik shouted as he charged Clovis. But men were fleeing in both directions. Everyone had broken, the danger and death too thick to withstand. The Franks fled to the open field, running for their distant fortress and Ulfrik's men running back through the paths they had cleared. The fight was done, and Clovis darted off like a deer before woodsmen.
Finding his sword in the dirt, Ulfrik picked it up and looked for Konal, who was calmly rummaging through the fallen's possessions even as men fled all around him. Einar stood beneath the banner, face covered in blood, and looked to Ulfrik for orders.
"Sound the retreat, at least to save pride for the men already running." Ulfrik scanned the scene, bodies and parts of bodies littered this patch of woods, and he saw many of his own lying among them. "We will be hard pressed to call this victory."
Chapter 10
Night fell early on the battered men. They marched in ragged groups towards Ravndal where dark shapes of men gathered on the walls showed against the purple twilight. Heads were bowed in shame and defeat as they trudged across the last stretch of field before the sharp rise of the hill. They were less grand than when they had set out in the morning, helmets lost, shields broken, swords bent, and mail rent. They carried some of the dead they had found in the scramble to escape, though most had been left where they had fallen. The injured either hobbled behind the main group or were carried on the backs of their companions. Ulfrik bore one man on his back, a young warrior named Gert, who had his left thigh hacked to the bone. Gert moaned with every step, and Ulfrik sweated and strained under the weight, but his step quickened as Ravndal drew closer.
The gates opened as they approached, no cheering or bragging men greeted them, only worried faces of kin searching for their loved one in the weary group. Despite their own condition, Ulfrik knew his army had done enough harm to Clovis that he would be silenced for a while. The destruction of his cavalry was a rare victory, though the cost had been heavy. Whatever the true situation, for the men and for those who had died under his leadership, he would declare this a valiant triumph worthy of a song. Gert moaned again, as if reading his thoughts, and Ulfrik spoke over his shoulder. "Hold on, we're at
Similar Books
