Storm Cleaver: Epic Viking Fantasy (The Bane Of The North Book 4) by A.C. Salter

Author:A.C. Salter [Salter, A.C.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2025-01-30T00:00:00+00:00

14

Anyone Can Fight

Bailin lifted his head to the sky and felt the wind on his shaven face. He stuck out his tongue to collect a snowflake floating past, feeling it melt.

“Just like when we were children,” Felina said, a rare smile making dimples on her cheeks.

“Yes,” Bailin chuckled, remembering happier times. He hoped they would return. A brooding feeling of impending doom had been hanging around the castle since he returned—the coming battle at the forefront of everyone’s minds.

They were on the battlements, watching the men’s progress below, breaking and digging through the frozen ground. Soldiers, guards, serving staff and Crookfell folk all working together. Yet there was friction between them.

“Do you believe they’ll finish the job on time?” his sister asked, her smile falling away.

He thought of telling her that the defences would hold and that they would fight back the armies Gharl sent North.

“We will win this war, Felina,” he said, reassuringly patting her hand.

He at least believed that. Yet he also knew that Garik wouldn’t be the same afterwards, and they would likely lose many men in the coming battles.

There was a shout from the working men below, and a shovel was flung from a pit.

Bailin winced as it narrowly missed Sir Godlin, who strode towards the ruckus, the diggers within breaking into a fight.

His booming voice echoed around the grounds as he dropped into the pit to push the men apart.

“You’d have thought they would save it for the enemy,” Felina said as they left the battlements and paced to the steps that would take them down to the bailey.

“Tension is high, and nerves are threaded. It doesn’t take much for the strain to break. Not all of them are battle-hardened soldiers.”

The bailey was full of tents and makeshift shelters, and the elderly and children of Crookfell sat by fires, warming their hands while their parents toiled outside the walls.

It was Cuthbur’s idea. With the threat of another jackal strike, bringing the vulnerable into the castle was safer.

There were still those that remained at Crookfell. The stubborn families set in their ways, yet they would come if there was a sign of trouble.

Nan Hilga greeted them as they reached the ground, bowing her head as she leaned against her knobbly staff.

Bailin couldn’t guess her age. She seemed as old as the mountain itself. Yet he admired her spirit and determination to get things done. He wouldn’t be surprised if she outlived them all.

“Forgive me, My Lord,” she began, hobbling closer. “But we have a young girl who is with child. She’s a strong lass, but out here in the grounds or on the way back to the village is no place to give birth.”

“I see,” Bailin said, looking at his sister. “We can’t have that. Felina, do we have a spare chamber and maids?”

The girl in the tent gazed up, her swollen belly hidden beneath a rough-spun gown.

She tried to smile, although Bailin could see the discomfort she was trying to hide.

“Of course,” Felina said, leaning down to take the girl’s hand.

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