Painted Blade || sihtric

38.

   ATOP a horse behind a hill in the woodlands, Bemia sat and watched as archers fired their arrows at the end of Cnut's line of Danes. Seconds after the arrows found their targets—killing many and sending the others scurrying for their shields—the men of Wessex ran up and over the hill, charging forward.

The Danes all turned in one direction, preparing for the attack, but what they weren't prepared for was Bemia to shout, "Charge!" and the rest of the Wessex army charged toward the Danes at their backs.

Bemia stayed seated atop the horse, gnawing at her bottom lip as she watched steel clash with steel, blood paint swords, shields fall with men.

It was a bloodbath and she hated watching, waiting. She was the Red Wolf, a warrior. The battle was her dance and music that she brutally perfected, not watched.

From up ahead, more Danes charged toward the battle and Bemia swore, deciding not to wait any longer. "More are coming!" she roared, dropping the reins of the horse.

And then she had dismounted, her legs aching as her booted feet landed on the leaf-covered ground. But she unsheathed her two axes, stomping the pain through her body down, and charged right into the bloodbath.

Saxons were dying right in front of her as she started swinging her axes with precise aim at any Danes who dared to step away from the line of shields and into her path.

"Bemia!" Sihtric shouted from her side, not once looking at his wife while he kicked away a Dane, sending his sword through another. He didn't have to look at his wife to know that the deadly blows beside him were hers. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Fighting by your side!" was her only shouted response as her axe landed in a throat, spraying blood on her chest.

Inside, Sihtric was fuming with her for putting herself and the child growing in her stomach in danger. He knew there was a possibility that she would do exactly this and run into battle, but he just hoped it wouldn't happen. It seemed the Gods ignored his hope.

From somewhere close, Uhtred shouted, "Keep your ground!"

But they were being forced back by shields and spears that came with strong swings.

"Where are the Mercians?" Sihtric shouted, pushing Bemia back a step, saving her from a sword that was aimed at her head, only for his sword to go through the head of the Dane that tried. "Touch her and you fucking die!"

Bemia regained her focus, more than thankful that Sihtric saved her from that than she would ever admit. "Maybe I should've listened to you!"

Sihtric did send her an annoyed look then, before they both started fighting Danes again.

"Uhtred, the line is breakin'!" Finan yelled from Bemia's other side.

"Push back!" Uhtred ordered and they sure as hell listened.

Bemia pulled her axe out of a shoulder, her lungs burning like her arms. "Where is Sigebriht?"

Just as she said that, a horn blasted, and behind the bloodthirsty Danes were multiple men riding on horses.

"Lord!" Sihtric shouted, seeing the men. "Horses! Horses!"

"It is Aethelflaed!" Uhtred roared. "It is Mercia!"

More Danes started to fall as Aethelflaed and the Mercians charged in on their horses, striking down from above.

Bemia felt a blade nick her neck as she pushed herself back a step, avoiding the sword from slicing her any deeper. But that didn't stop the burning pain and the warmth of blood trickling down her neck.