Calanthe

Chapter XVI

Just as the blow seemed inevitable, something dark flashed in the corner of her eye. The man went flying as Ranvir barged into him in a powerful shoulder charge. His offending weapon skidded across the ground at the impact.

Calanthe stumble backwards in shock. She tripped up and fell flat.

Ranvir

"Fool!" spat out the man as he lay in a heap on the ground. Righting himself, he grabbed his sword and faced Ranvir.

"For what purpose was that mistake?" He asked with a slight grin. A little bit of blood dribbled out of his mouth. He carefully eyed his attacker. Then, without out further delay, the thug  once again pulled back his sword. He swung the weapon with a terrifying might at Ranvir. But, Ranvir was ready.

The two swords met in the air with a bang.

The sound of two weapons hitting each other with full force is a hard thing to describe. The act itself is the epitome of violence yet the sound it produces could almost be called musical. A deadly note ringing out; announcing to all ears that there is a battle.

Ranvir quickly pulled his sword back and went for a jab at the man's ribs. His blow was deflected with another clang of metal but scraped against his opponents side. He could feel the blade cut through flesh with it's sharp edge. Ranvir felt a cold sense of satisfaction when the man grunted in pain.

Blow after blow were swung from both sides, some connecting, some not.

Calanthe's fall had winded her. Even ran out to her and dragged her some distance from the fight. She lay there gasping while she watched the two men gripped in battle. All around the two opponents, the vikings were slowly winning against their own attackers. Some of the thugs fled but most lay on the ground, warmth seeping out from their dead bodies or taking their last ragged breaths.

A swipe from the side cut Ranvir's thigh deeply. In the adrenaline he couldn't feel pain, just the shock of the wound and the warmth of blood as it dripped down his leg.

"Ranvir!" Calanthe shouted in concern.

It wasn't meant as encouragement but it was what he needed.

A volley of blows barraged the thug. Both of the men were already tired from the quick pace of the fight. The last volley was too much for the bandit. He fended off as many as he could as he went on the defensive. Unfortunately for him, most met their mark.

The man stood there, bewildered, with blood blossoming all over his body. Calanthe saw from his eyes that he realised he had lost. He took long ragged breaths. Blood dripped down the side of his face.

"Do it quickly." he gasped out, falling to his knees.

Ranvir obliged. His sword sliced through the air, the man's head parted with his shoulders in one strike. The body tumbled to the ground, lifeless.

Calanthe

Calanthe looked up at Ranvir. He was breathing heavily, staring at the body. This was the second time she had watched him kill someone right in front of her. He turned and met her gaze, there was a wild look in his eyes.

All around the sounds of battle had ceased. The vikings had defeated their assailants. The aftermath was horrific. Calanthe stood up and looked around her, dazed. A total of six of the bandits lay on the ground, dead or dying. She assumed the rest had fled. Frode, Caridad and Zetta were nowhere to be seen.

There, lying haphazardly on the ground, almost beside each other were the bodies of the two twins. Crouched over them were Onara and Herlief. Calanthe could already tell that the two men's souls had left their bodies in favour of the afterlife.

She looked to Ranvir. He stumbled around staring at the scene. Remembering Ranvir's wound, Calanthe rushed over to him.

"You must sit." She urged, tugging on his arm.

The large man looked at her for a moment before nodding and complying. Calanthe set to work trying to treat him.

"We've lost all of our supplies." He said it so quietly that Calanthe wasn't sure she heard him.

"That doesn't matter right now." She tried to comfort him. Carefully, Calanthe peeled back the torn fabric around the wound. A tiny gasp escaped her lips, it was a nasty sight.

She found one of their leather canteens lying next to a slain bandit. Grabbing a pot that must've been kicked over in the fracas, she set about heating some water on the embers of the fire. Once the water was warm enough she used cloth around her hands to carry the pot over to Ranvir.

As gently as possible, his wound was cleaned with the warm water. Then she went about binding it with cloth ripped from her own dress. When she had finished he used her shoulder to right himself. He turned to look around at everyone before speaking.

"We don't have time to waste. They've taken all our supplies. Gather around all, we must get ready to leave at once."
Bjorn stood from his kneeled position and made his way towards Ranvir. He was the voice of reason to his friend.

"My old friend," he clapped Ranvir on the back, "let us settle down for the rest of the night. Three of ours have not yet come back, not to mention that one is of your own flesh and blood."

Ranvir frowned at the huge man. Then he silently sat back down next to Calanthe.

Finally everyone settled for the remainder of the night, although no one could bear to sleep. The two twins were laid side by side, awaiting their mother's return. Onara had moved them into a more peaceful position. Bjorn, Ranvir and Herleif had moved the bodies of their attackers to a large pit that Even dug, partially helped by Hilda and Calanthe.

Everyone awaited daybreak and the return of Zetta, Frode and Caridad.