His shield seemed to rise on its own, then he realized Snorri had pushed it up for him.
"Stop gawking and let's move!"
Turning to follow Snorri, he heard screaming drawing closer. Looking up, a Dane clutching a Frank plunged out of the sky. He had seen death and gore, good men hacked to bits and charred bones buried under rubble. Nothing compared to the two men slamming into the earth. They exploded into a pink mist, bones piercing through flattened bodies. The sound was horrid, like a barrel of ale shattering. Nothing was left to define the two men beyond a mush of flesh and blood and fragmented bone.
The whole world seemed to be screaming as he gagged and staggered after Snorri. His mail hauberk tugged from behind, and he felt a line of searing pain at the back of his arm. An arrow had caught in his mail, cutting him. Snarling, he joined Snorri at the foot of the ladder, behind the last men of his block.
Screams to the right and he whirled toward the sound, knowing what he would see.
Toki's ladder had been shoved away from the wall. They had set the angle too shallow, and the bracers had been hastily set. Rather than push back, the Franks shoved the ladder down. The effect was the same.
He watched in horror as twenty of his men collapsed straight down half the height of the tower. Arrows chased them to the ground, seeking the unprotected bodies. Many sank into flesh, quivering from the pile of victims.
Grabbing Snorri by the collar of his mail, Ulfrik dashed toward the wreck. Despite the crashing noise enveloping him, their moans were like thunder in his ears. Bodies moved, likely those toward the end of the ladder. Two men were already rushing to the fallen, looking into their faces.
A rock thumped into the ground a hand's breadth before him. It had nearly buried itself in the ground, such was the force. Ulfrik pulled up short, Snorri crashing into him, and looked up. Silhouettes of men hefting large objects overhead lined the tower top. They flung their loads down on the Danes.
"They're going to crush us with rocks!" Snorri yelled in his ear, his old voice cracking.
"Help me find Toki."
Dancing amid falling rocks and the rain of arrows, he reached the line. His shield weighed heavy from the scores of arrow shafts embedded in it. A rock clipped the edge and flipped the shield around. Flinging it to the side, he began searching faces. Bloodied men looked skyward, many with dull eyes full of death. Ander mumbled and blinked, but his eyes were unfocused and blood flowed from his ear. Scuttling to the front where Toki had led, he saw Thrand leaning over a man.
His shield was slung across his back, and he held and arrow in a white-knuckled grip. His face was sprayed with blood. Seeing Ulfrik, he recoiled.
"Toki is alive," Thrand said, barely audible over the noise.
His heart pounding, Ulfrik forgot his safety and rushed to Toki's side. He had lost his helmet but seemed unhurt.
"Toki, can you hear me? I'm getting us out of this mess. Snorri!"
He cupped Toki's head, and glared at Snorri to move faster. He came with Kolbyr, another survivor of the crashed ladder. Toki's grip was firm on his arm.
"We can't lie here, or arrows will slay us." To emphasize his words, a stone crashed down an arm's length distant while more arrows drizzled after it. "I think my leg is broken, but I survived. The gods love me after all."
Toki chuckled, and Ulfrik laid his head down. Snorri arrived beside him.
"Get him off the field, and take whoever else you can. I'm calling a retreat."
He did not wait, but sprinted to his other ladder, where Mord was stalled two-thirds up. The ladder was well-set and the hooks arrayed against it could not prevail. The Franks, however, had decided to shoot straight down the ladder. Mord and the men near him had formed a pitiful shield wall against the assault. One man hung dead on the ladder, his blood running like a tap. Ulfrik dashed up the rungs, easily reaching the rear man.
"We're retreating. Take whoever you can carry and go. Send word up to Mord."
The man thumped Ulfrik's helmet in acknowledgment, and pulled the hauberk of the man above him. Ulfrik scrabbled down the ladder, noting Snorri retreating with Toki limping beside him. Other survivors fled past them.
Satisfied he could save enough of his men from the madness of taking the tower with ladders, he started to run. The Danes were in full retreat and scattering everywhere. He saw Gunther One-Eye, his wolf pelt pierced with arrows, charging away with his arrow-pierced standard dragging behind. He searched for Hrolf, and found the giant man easily.
Standing at the foot of his ladder, he shouted curses at the Franks. His men filed down the ladder, slipping away into the mass of fleeing Danes. Hrolf, however, held up his sword in challenge.
A rock the size of a fist clanged off his helmet, denting it and pounding him to his knees. One look up and Ulfrik spotted a cluster of dark shapes reaching their bows over the battlements.
Hrolf lay sprawled faceup when Ulfrik reached his side. Instinctively, he threw himself over Hrolf. Two arrows struck his back, but failed to penetrate the mail. Still, the blows reverberated deep into his body. Another arrow tore his shoulder and a fourth deflected off his helmet.
"Lord Hrolf, stand up and flee. We are finished here."
Blood seeped from Hrolf's nose and Ulfrik read the confusion in his unfocused eyes. Wasting no time for the archers to take a second shot, he hauled Hrolf upright. Another rock landed in the grass where his head had been moments ago.
"You again?" Hrolf mumbled, as he staggered to his feet.
"Faster, lord. The Franks are running out of targets."
The arrows stopped falling and cheers now flowed from the tower rather than missiles. Glancing back as he aided a wobbly Hrolf from the battlefield, he saw men holding bows overhead and one man standing in their midst holding aloft a staff topped with the cross of the new god.
"We had them," Hrolf said, his voice slurred. "Just another moment was all we needed."
Ulfrik made no reply. His body burned with every motion. The Franks began to chant in victory, and Ulfrik bit his lip as he fled the defeat and carnage that lay thick at the base of the tower.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Runa entered the hall, two baskets of wool in each arm for the girls working the looms. Two other women tended chores, one of whom was Elin. Seeing Runa enter, she put down the bellows she had been using on the hearth and rushed to help. The cold still clung to Runa's robes, and her face immediately warmed as she met Elin halfway. Relieving one basket from her, she drew close and spoke in a low voice.
"He's awake now, but is still resting. He has been asking for the Valkyrie who saved him." Runa thought Elin's smile was almost chiding.
Stopping and handing the other basket to Elin, she wiped her hands on her legs. She touched the sax at her lap, barely aware it calmed her. "So he's making sense now. Let me check him. Where's Gunnar?"
"Collecting branches for the fire." Elin paused, her face growing red. "He is harmless, lady Runa?" Elin's question stopped the three other women at their chores, and their eyes gathered on her. Runa shrugged.
"No man is harmless, but he is weak." The girls at the loom stole worried glances at each other, and Runa waved her hands at them. "Do not fret. He spoke gratefully enough when we rescued him."
Patting Elin's arm, she then checked Thora and Hakon, who both enjoyed a game of catch with a ball of wool. Hakon smiled at the sight of his mother's return, and she held him briefly before deciding to address the stranger. "You want to play longer? Here, back to Thora you go."