Björn’s sword impaled the neck of the attacking man and then, moving in a blur, he drove the sword in his right hand across another man’s body at the waist, almost splitting him in two. At the same time, the sword in his left hand drove into the midriff of the last man. The unequal battle was over in seconds. The robed men had not had time to cry a warning; the only sounds had been two short screams and the gurgles of dying men. Björn moved on silently.
Throughout the night, a wraith appeared unseen and unheard out of the darkness. In his wake, Björn left more dead men.
The remaining men drew into larger groups for security and tried to calm their fear by sharing it. A group of twenty-eight men stood in a circle in one of the dormitory rooms lit by many torches. Two large doors on each of the walls were closed.
A door exploded inward and Björn was in their midst, swords slashing. Then he was gone through the door he had entered so unexpectedly, leaving five bodies on the floor. Three men bravely pursued him into the corridor. The sounds of a brief scuffle came, then silence.
The remaining twenty men fled through a door in the wall opposite where Björn had entered. Fleeing in disarray down that corridor, they entered the next dormitory. There they huddled with the men from that room. With no apparent leadership, men gradually passed through the corridors to stairwells and gathered in the upper rooms and halls.
Their leaders found them there. At first they ordered the soldiers to find this silent enemy. When that did not work, they argued with the warriors, and finally began shrieking at them to return to the lower areas and find the intruder. Despite those efforts, the men were resolute and refused to leave the lighted upper area.
Even bunched together, the soldiers’ fear grew. Their fear of the deadly specter eventually overruled their fear of the priests. As dawn came, they opened the high entrance doors and began to move into the daylight. In groups, they walked apprehensively away from the castle, constantly looking over their shoulders. From an upstairs window, Björn watched their departure. The men left with only their swords in their hands. They divided into a number of groups and marched up the broad road. Of the more than two hundred men originally in the cult, less than one hundred fifty were alive. After a short time the priests, laden with all they could carry, followed.
Björn placed an arrow in his bow, drew the string and missile back, and released. A priest fell. A second arrow pierced another. The remaining seven priests stood paralyzed, looking at the bodies on the ground. Then they dropped their treasures and fled for their lives.
Jago burst from a grove of trees and charged into the priests. His initial charge broke the bodies of two priests. Leaping into a capriole, he lashed out with his back hooves and struck others down. He chased those who attempted to flee and trampled them. Then he returned to the original battle place and dispatched the survivors. Within moments, all nine clerics were dead. The horse turned and looked up at Björn, who still stood in the window with a small satisfied smile on his lips.
Björn turned back into the room and into the hall. Exiting the castle, he strode to where the priests lay. Looking at the carnage for several long moments, he stooped and picked up a small pouch dropped by one of them. Opening it, he examined the contents, then placed it in one of his pockets. He moved through the remaining bodies and retrieved his arrows. Carefully cleaning the bolts, he inserted them into his quiver. Signaling Jago with a head gesture, he moved at a fast trot up the road in the direction taken by the men.
Numerous times during the day, they overtook stragglers. Without remorse, they dispatched them. When the road divided, Björn and Jago turned in the direction of the village, leaving the remainder of the men to their destiny.
Thane was alone in the tavern when Björn returned. Looking at Björn without expression, Thane said, “The women returned. Thank you for rescuing them.” Still expressionless, he continued, “I assume the evil ones are gone.”
“They will not trouble you again,” responded Björn.
Thane rose from his seat. “We asked you to come because of what a traveler told us about you. From what you have done, at least most of what he said must be true. But he warned us that you insisted on your pay and that, if you were not paid, those who had employed you would pay even more dearly. Well, we have nothing more to pay you. I cheated you, and I am ready to pay the price.”
Björn smiled cynically. “I thought that was all you had. With those men robbing you blind, I knew there could not be much left.”
He pulled out the pouch he had removed from the body of the priest. “This is more than you promised me; we can consider ourselves even. There is much more left, and I would advise you to get the villagers together and collect it. Who knows, perhaps you will reclaim even more than they took from you.”
“We can never reclaim as much as they took from us.”
Björn looked at him for a long moment. “I am sorry. That was stupid of me. Nothing, not even death, can ever make up for the evil men like that do. But perhaps it will be some solace to you to know that most of them died in fear.”
“That was still too easy for them,” Thane said. “But I am complaining when I should be thanking you. I thank you, Northlander. If you will wait, the others will come and add their thanks.”
“That will not be necessary.”
After looking at Thane intently for a time, Björn bounced the pouch in his hand. “This is more than we agreed upon. I still owe you. If you ever have need of me again, and I hope you do not, please send for me. I will come.”
“Thank you. I hope we never need you, but you will always be welcome here.”
The cynical smile returned to Björn’s lips. “I know you mean that honestly. But I have learned the hard way that after I have completed my task, those I have worked for are glad to see me go and hope never to see me again.”
Raising his hand in salute, he turned and left the tavern. He and Jago left the way they had come, dust rising from their footsteps and following them down the road.
CHAPTER TWO
THE PRINCESS
“So,” the fat man laughed as he continued to wipe the already spotless bar. “Did you create a lot of mischief?”
Björn responded somewhat wearily. “Gibbons, why do I tolerate you? How about I just put a sword through you and make Wudo owner of this decrepit tavern?” While speaking, he gestured toward a slow-moving young man sweeping the worn wood floor.
Gibbons colored a bit, showing he was at least a little taken aback, but pressed on, “I guess it is because you find me so lovable, Northlander. Or perhaps it is because everyone passes here at some time and I know all of them.”
The tavern keeper reached behind him and brought forth a sheaf of papers. Some were full sheets of clean, quality paper; some where on dirty and wrinkled scraps. “What would you do without me, Northlander? I am the only person you know who enjoys your company!”
Gibbons handed the papers to Björn, who dropped a gold piece into his waiting palm. “You must be popular. So many messages and so many people wanting you. You must be more likable than I realized.” He laughed loudly at his own humor. “Or is it that you have friends other than me and Wudo?”