Freyas Saga Ch. 20

She walked sideways, breathing the fine air, and waited for him to get nearer. He came up to her and took a defensive stance.

"Off you go," she said happily. "Take a swing. Dare you."

He looked baffled. She stood there and twirled her sword over her right hand a couple of times as they circled each other. She had gone about five steps when she noticed him glance over at the men by the door and she realised he wanted to get her with her back to the other men.

"Ooh," she said, "you're clever," and she grabbed her sword with both hands and gave a good swing. He parried it and the clang shook her arms up to her jaw, but this was more like it, a bit of a fight. He swung at her and she leaned back to avoid the sword, but it gashed her jaw and she felt the pain as a heat in her face.

"That's enough," she said, annoyed, and she feinted, making him parry a blow that never came and opening up his lower body. She swung and glanced the sword in the muscle of his thigh. He yelled and she tried to hit him again and he knocked it away.

He swung at her and she parried, and he kicked her in the leg. She stumbled, and he followed with another kick to her stomach, winding her. She sank to her knees and he swung at her neck, and she let herself topple over so he wasted the swing. But before she could get up he kicked her in the chest, the fucker.

She gasped, in real pain now, and rolled away from him. His sword thudded into the earth where she had been. She rolled some more and then scrambled to her feet in time to see her come at her, lunging. She parried it with a move Freya had taught her, and used her legs as pistons and hurled herself at him, head-first.

Her head cannoned into his stomach and he went over. She sat on him and hit him in the face with the hilt of her sword, twice, three times. Her anger was all she had. Then when he lay there, dazed, she stood up and was careful to stand on his right wrist, the hand that held the sword.

He looked up at her in terror and shook his head and she looked down at him.

"No," she said, and she stilled his head by putting her booted foot on it, and shoved her sword into his mouth. He feebly grabbed at her leg and she pulled the sword out and stepped away from him. He lay there, choking on his own blood.

She turned and looked, just in time to see another one of them coming at her with a spear.

"For fuck's sake," she said disgustedly, and knocked the spear down so that it sank into the earth, then quickly stepped up to the spearman before he had time to stop, and ran him through with the point of the sword in his belly. He sank to his knees and she pulled the sword out and shoved him over with her boot.

Five men left. One of them ran towards her and threw his sword away, dropping to his knees and flinging out his arms.

Five looked at him. Saying something about surrender.

"I yield," he cried. "I yield."

She halted, though every muscle in her body told her go on, keep killing, knock this cunt down like the others. But you don't kill a man who wants to surrender. No matter how much you want to. She knew that.

She controlled herself with a great effort, sheathed her sword and walked up to him.

"Put up your hands," she said.

He raised his hands and placed them behind his head. She reached for the rope on her belt and took it off. He linked his fingers together, staring up at her.

She took her knife from its sheath and sawed at the rope until she'd cut off a bit long enough to tie his hands.

He was smiling in an odd way, she realised. It was almost like he wasn't, but she was seeing everything so clear that she caught the sweat on his forehead and the slight upturn of his mouth.

She could see the tiny lift of his elbow as he reached down with the fingers of his right hand, behind his neck.

The corner of the hilt of the knife that he had hidden there.

As his fingers touched it, she dropped the rope, grabbed him by the hair, and as he started to shout No she stabbed him in the throat and pulled the knife round to the side of his neck, stepping out of the way of the blood that gushed out of him, and she shoved him over. He lay on the grass, gargling, twitching. There was a shout from one of the men by the door.

She looked up at them. They were shocked. She looked at Freya.

***

Freya was walking towards the remaining huddle, wiping the blood of six men off her sword, when she saw the man yield to Five and kneel down.

Good, she thought. She needs to rest. She can bind him and we will take the surrender of the last few.

She eyed the men by the door, who were staring at both of them. She realised that one of the men had got inside the chamber and had barricaded the door shut, trapping the other men outside. The leader, Freya thought. The men by the door had dropped their weapons and were holding up their hands. Five advanced on them, her knife drawn. Then she looked back at Five, and saw the girl take rope from her belt and cut it.

Then Five abruptly dropped the rope and quickly stabbed the man in the neck. There was a moan of horror from one of the men at the door. Five cut the man's throat and pushed him away from her and looked up.

"He had a knife," Five said. "He was shamming."

Five stood and stared at the men, her knife in her hand, breathing heavily. She looked each of them in the eye.

***

They were staring back at her, all four of them. The one on the end was a big bloke with red hair and red-rimmed eyes, and his face was twisted with loathing. But the other three were looking at her in a way that nobody had ever looked at her before.

They were terrified.

She breathed in, deeply.

Her muscles and nerves were still singing from what she'd just done. Five men dead. As quick as that.

Bang bang bang bang bang.

***

Freya eyed the redheaded youth, and Five, who was standing there before them, her knife still dripping blood, her own face still encrusted with dried blood from the cut on her forehead, and bleeding from the gash in her jaw. Her shirt was soaked in blood not her own.

Five's chest was rising, falling, rising, falling. Her nostrils flared like a racehorse and she was glistening with sweat. Freya saw her jiggling the knife in her hand.

"You cunt," said the redheaded youth. "He had surrendered, and you killed him."

"He was shamming, I told you," said Five. "He had a knife."

"He had no knife," said the man. "You just killed him."

Five stared at the man, and Freya saw her stop jiggling the knife.

***

She breathed in again, and looked down at the body. She put her boot to it and rolled the man onto his belly.

The knife wasn't there. But she hadn't dreamed it. She looked around in the grass, but there was no sign. She looked up at the men again, and at Freya.

"He had a knife in his collar," she said. "He was reaching for it. You saw, right?" she said to Freya.

Freya frowned.

"Where is it?" said the redheaded bloke. "Show us this knife."

"It was in the back of his collar," she said, keeping her voice steady. "He had yielded to me, and I was going to bind him. After you've yielded, you don't pull a knife. That's not on."

"You call yourself a soldier, bitch," said the redheaded bloke.

"Call me what you want," she said. "I saw what I saw."

Her blood was singing. The drums were pounding.

Don't push me, mate. Don't. I don't want to lose it.

She trembled with anger and clutched the knife to steady herself.

***

Freya saw the danger signs in Five's face and stance; she was glaring at the redhead, clearly itching for an excuse to cut him.

She sheathed her own sword and came up to the men, pointing at the ground before them. They all obeyed, stepping forward and lying prone. She held out her hand and Five tossed her the coil of rope. She cut lengths of it, then tied the hands of one of them behind his back, then another, then another. Five came over and stood over the men.

The redhead glared over his shoulder at Five as Freya knelt on the back of his legs.

"You fucking cunt," he said. "You fucking evil cunt."

"You started it," she said. Freya gave her a look: Do not provoke him. Five seemed not to notice, but stared back at the redhead.

"This what you do cause you can't get a boyfriend?" he said.

Five was silent. Freya noticed that the man had presented her his hands thumb-to-thumb, in such a way that he would find it easier to get out of the binding. She shoved him, to chide him for playing stupid tricks, and twisted his arms so that his palms were facing away from each other.

"You're fucking playing at being a soldier," said the man to Five, "but you're not one. You killed a man who'd surrendered. You should be strung up."

"He had a knife," said Five through gritted teeth.

Freya looped the rope around his wrists and pulled tight.

He swore at her and tore his wrists from her grip, rolling and throwing her off. She rolled onto her back and her head hit against the flagged paving stone, and the pain made her vision boil briefly with stars.

The redhead hurled himself at Five, hitting her in the stomach. She flew backwards, droppi her knife. Freya saw it land by one of the other men. She shook her own head to clear it.

Five and the redhead were grappling, he on top of her. He was landing heavy blows in her stomach, cursing her, and she was gasping. Freya saw the other man, the one lying by Five's knife, grab it and roll over, sitting up, sawing at the rope around his wrists. She got up and kicked the fool in the head, and he fell over backwards.

Five raised her knees and, gasping, threw the redhead off her, and as he rolled aside she got to her feet, grabbed him by the hair and dragged him over towards the stone path that led out of the door and into the garden. He yelled with pain, fumbling for her hands, calling her every filthy name he could think of.

Freya stood over the three bound men. She grabbed by the collar the one she'd kicked and sat him up, picking up Five's knife with her other hand. One of his wrists had a cut from the blade, not serious. He moaned. She dragged him and the other two up too, so that they could see what was happening.

Five dragged the redheaded man until he was lying with his face over the flagstone. He looked down and started to yell something in panic. She gritted her teeth, grabbed him by the scruff of his neck and smashed his face down hard onto the stone. One, two, three, four, five, six times. On the sixth one, there was a crunch of bone.

She lifted him up and looked at his smeared ruin of a face.

"You done?" she screamed at him. "You fucking done now?"

He was convulsing. She let him drop and he lay face down, twitching. She looked down at the man, and her shoulders sagged and she lowered her head for a moment, closing her eyes briefly.

Then Five rose up and looked down at the three men sitting and watching her. She looked at Freya, who tossed the knife to her. Five let it fall into her hands, rather than try to grab it from the air.

She turned and walked over to the man she'd stabbed, grabbed the collar of his leather tunic and started to cut downwards, cutting the tunic to halfway down his back. She tore it open, peered inside, reached in, took something out.

She walked back to the men, sheathing her own knife as she did so.

She was bloodied and sweating and trembling. She stood before them, and paused, then held the knife up so that they could see it. She held it there for a long moment, before their eyes, so that there could be no doubt.

"He had. A fucking. Knife," she said quietly, her voice shaking. "Any questions."

It was not an invitation. Freya, kneeling behind the men, looked down at them and then looked up at her.

"I yield," said one man.

"I yield," said the next.

"I yield,'" muttered the last one.

Freya smiled at Five.

Good job, little one.

Five looked at the men, then looked around at the bleeding bodies of the other men, scattered across the garden, and lastly at Freya. She was breathing heavily and she rubbed her nose and wiped her eyes.

Keep her moving, thought Freya. Keep her occupied. Do not let her start thinking about what she has just done.

Freya pointed to the man before her and pointed to a metal bootscraper by the door. Five blinked, then nodded, and Freya nudged the man in the back. She helped him stand up.

***

Ten minutes later, all three men were tied to fixed points in the garden, too far away from each other to be in physical contact and out of reach of anything they could have used to untie themselves. Freya and Five had worked in silence but when they had finished, Freya turned and looked at the chamber building.

A thin trickle of smoke was coming from the other side of it, but even as she watched, it died away and they heard voices shouting outside the walls. Freya went up to the door and used her knife to get the jambs out of the door frame, then also to lever it open. She turned to Five, who nodded and went in. Freya followed her.

They walked through the echoing corridors in silence, looking in room after room. There was nothing; the pantries were empty of food. They went up the stairs to the ground floor.

Freya was careful to move as quietly and cautiously as possible. She glanced behind at Five, who was also setting down her feet with great care. Five's face was a grim, bloodstained mask.

"Freya," said Five.

Freya turned to face her.

"Tell me honest," said Five, "the man with the knife. What would you have done."

"What you did," said Freya.

"What about the one who didn't believe me?" Five said.

"I would have not let him attack me," said Freya, "but you did right to beat him."

"I didn't want to," said Five. "I don't know why he didn't just shut up. I gave him my word but he wouldn't stop. Had to do something."

"Of course," said Freya.

"But why didn't he just believe me?" Five burst out.

Freya gave her a don't-be-an-idiot look.

What? Why didn't he? Did I look like not a real soldier or ...

Oh.

Freya nodded. She stopped walking and turned to face Five.

"Did I not tell you? Do you not know this now?" Freya rasped. "We cannot be kind. We have to be five times faster than a man. Five times more keen of eye. Five times more cruel. Ten times."

Five looked up at her. Freya's face was bleak, but she wasn't trying to bully her. Five knew that Freya knew all too well the truth of her own words.

Freya looked down, searching for the words, and then looked up again and took Five's hands in her own, and spoke more softly and urgently, her face pleading with Five to understand.

"The man was stupid, but he only thought the way all men think, and many women. He saw you were a woman, and assumed you are a fool. He will know better when he wakes."

"If he wakes," said Five.

"And if he does not," said Freya bitterly, "he will be a lesson to the others." She turned and walked on.

***

After that there was a lot more walking, and they trudged up and down many corridors before they heard something, and they opened a panel in the wall which freed some old people in posh clothes who spoke to them in posh voices until they realised that Freya and Five was all there was, that the worm was gone and the boy was gone who had enchanted their chambers and turned their men, and they shook Freya's hands and Five's hands and praised their bravery, and they told Five that she had done the city a great good, and she looked back at them and nodded and thanked them and let them talk.

And then they left the building to find people putting out the fire, and there was the partly burned body of the worm, and there was the girl whose name Five now couldn't remember for some reason, and she had her leg in a splint and was on a crutch but she came over and hugged Five and had her dad with her and said, This is the girl who saved me, and the man just looked at Five and nodded at her and looked from her to Freya, and Five didn't know what he was thinking but then he said things to Five that Five knew were meant nice, and he offered them a place to recover, and Freya said yes.

And then there were speeches, from the posh folk, and they were called the brave warrior women come from the south to rid them of the pestilence that had taken over their city, and Five thought, that's not right, we're from the north, but she didn't say anything. And there were cheers, but not from everyone, and Five knew what they were thinking, that she and Freya had killed their sons and fathers and brothers, and everyone knew it, and everyone probably even knew they'd had to do it, but they weren't happy. Five looked at their faces and wondered what was going on behind them, how many of the cheering ones secretly wished them dead by the worm, so that their own loved ones might have lived longer. She couldn't tell from looking at them. She couldn't tell anything from looking at anyone.

And after the speeches it was announced that there would be a feast to celebrate, and Five didn't feel like feasting, not at all, really not at all, but even if nobody really wanted a feast there was going to be one anyway, because that's what you did. And healers came and bandaged Freya's scalp and Five's jaw and hand, and they took away their bloodstained clothes and gave them fine dresses instead, and Five could tell that Freya wasn't going to wear any fucking dress so she asked if they could have just ordinary travelling clothes instead, with breeches, and they got them.

But in the meantime women came with water and soap and clothes and oil and Freya and Five let themselves be washed all over, and Five had her eyes on the women, all the time, looking for the knife hidden in the towel, the vial of poison discreetly poured into the water, but nothing happened, and when they were clean they dressed in the clothes and went to the feast.

The feast was held in a big room in another building. And they sat and ate. And Five found that the food tasted of nothing. She put it in her mouth and chewed and swallowed it and felt less hungry and less tired, but she couldn't even tell what it was and after a while she stopped. She wondered vaguely if this was all some enchantment of the boy, and she was going to wake up to find a guard standing over her, about to finish her off, to cut her throat, stab her in the belly, shove his sword into her mouth. But that didn't happen. And there were more speeches, and there was wine, and she drank it.

And then they were asked for a speech, and Freya simply shook her head no, and everyone looked at Five, and she sat there for a moment, then stood up.

She looked at them for a moment, then said "Thank you for the food," and paused to gather herself.

She looked out at them, and a vast gulf of silence opened up between her and the listeners.

First of all, ladies and gentlemen, I want to say that I know you must be very cross that we killed all those men.

No. We only came to kill the worm. Put that first.

We came to kill a worm. We didn't know that there was a, a bloke with tricks, who could play with your mind and make you see folk who weren't there, and I'm not saying he's why we did what we did. I'm not saying we didn't do it, if you wish I hadn't killed your sons and brothers and dads then what can I say, except, so do I, but I did do it, and I can never undo it. But this is who I am now, you see, ladies and gentlemen, like my mistress here, who I love, and who I follow, and who sometimes terrifies me, and now I'm like her, now I'm terrified of what I can do. Of what I did do.

Do you understand, ladies and gents? It's a bit difficult to explain if you've never done it. I've crossed over, I've become someone else, in a bit of a way, and I don't know what to do. I just killed five men, maybe six. I am lost. I haven't had time to think about what I've done. I haven't talked to anyone yet, not really. Do you understand me? Can you see why I can't find the right way to say things?