Daughter of Fire and Ice Read Online Free Page B

stumble and fall.
    Suddenly the slave gave a cry and leapt from the very brink of the cliff onto the horse. He clung on to Svanson’s leg, half on, half off the horse, and in his hand, I could see a wicked-looking iron knife. Suddenly everything became horribly clear. I knew exactly what was going to happen next.
    Svanson gave a furious yell and wrestled with the slave, at the same time pushing his horse into a canter along the cliff path, moving away from the edge, trying to shake the man off. I was dragged along at great speed. The slave reached down and cut the girth beneath the saddle. Svanson kicked out at him, catching him in the mouth. The horse shied, jerking me off my feet. I fell, hitting the ground hard with one shoulder. This time, the slave was not beside me to help pull me up. The ground was tearing at me, ripping my clothing and bruising my body. I’d never felt such pain. I tried to cry out, but my voice was only a parched whisper. The grass was whipping my face and I could no longer see what was happening. Then, abruptly, the dragging stopped and I was still.
    I looked up and saw that saddle, rider, and slave had all fallen to the ground. Svanson was winded, gulping ineffectually at the air like a fish on land. He had a sword hanging in a scabbard at his side, but before he could recover himself and draw it, the slave was on him. Stabbing at his chest with his knife.
    I screamed. As I did so, I understood that the screams in the vision had been mine, not Svanson’s. I couldn’t stop myself. It was an appalling sight. Blood spurted and flowed over the slave’s hands as he knelt astride the chieftain. He lifted the knife once more, and dealt him a death blow. I cried out once more, and then there was silence.

CHAPTER FOUR
     
    Both the slave and I were panting and the sound of it was loud in the still air. Small sounds were magnified in the sudden quiet. In the distance I could hear the sea stirring against the rocks far below and the faint cry of gulls. The horse was standing a few paces away and I could hear him tearing up mouthfuls of grass, apparently undisturbed by the violence. The slave was kneeling on the grass looking at me. There on the ground between us lay Svanson’s blood-soaked body.
    ‘You murdered him,’ I whispered, shocked. I pushed myself painfully into a sitting position. I was used to the sight of blood, but my business was healing not fighting and I had never seen violent death before.
    ‘He killed my sister,’ the slave croaked. His voice was as raw as mine after our forced march. ‘He took us both from our master in place of tribute today. And when my sister couldn’t run behind the horse, he murdered her.’ He shuddered and passed a shaking hand over his face. ‘In cold blood. Right in front of me. I was tied by the wrists, there was nothing I could do but watch her die.’ His voice broke. ‘Her and her unborn child,’ he added, shakily. Tears of grief leaked from his eyes, and I looked away while he wiped them.
    I sat silent, appalled. ‘I’m so sorry,’ I tried to say at last, my voice hoarse. ‘His men killed my father too, I think. I saw him fall.’
    The man gave me a sympathetic look. Then he simply knelt there on the grass staring at the body of Svanson, ghastly in death. I sat frozen, unable to move.
    ‘This was a fair fight,’ the slave said at last. ‘He was on horseback and armed, and I was bound.’ He was speaking more to himself than me. I sensed he was trying to come to terms with what he’d done. The colours of guilt rather than satisfaction were lighting his aura.
    He shuffled towards me on his knees, the bloody knife held out in front of him. I flinched away, terrified, suddenly afraid he might attack me too.
    ‘I swear I won’t hurt you,’ he said. ‘I want to cut your bonds.’
    My instinct was to thrust him away, but I forced myself to sit still and allowed him to cut the ropes that bound my wrists, his hands slick with Svanson’s