Infinite 01 - Infinite Sacrifice

the hillside, frightening away the men rushing toward her. I’m mesmerized, watching her sweep this way and that, throwing men from her path like playful children.
    Thora tugs my arm. “We must go!”
    “He said women. I can’t go.” I notice all of the other thralls remained on the ship.
    “You can’t leave me now!” she screams over the roar of battle.
    Dalla and the guards have started climbing the steep rocks, and I hurry to push Thora up each one.

Chapter 10
    Once we reach the lip of the cave, I’m eager to turn around and watch the battle. The Vikings have made their way to the top of the hill, but there seems to be many lying dead and wounded on the slope. From our distance it’s hard to tell if they are Vikings or Irishmen. Pride for the Irishmen wells inside me. My people fight back this time, not allowing what happened to me before, refusing to be vanquished yet again.
    Strangely though, I also root for my adopted people. I worry for the chieftain, Gunhilda, and even for Rolf. I worry that if the Vikings are defeated, what will happen to me? Will my people take me back? Can I even speak their language anymore to tell them who I am?
    A thought hits me, and I’m surprised I hadn’t considered it until this moment, the moment when I’m high up in a jagged cave. I should’ve run! Run from the beach and up to my people. Would they have accepted me? I look down the teeth-like rocks, wondering if I can still get away before the warriors realize, but I think of Thora. She’s sitting cross-legged next to me, holding my hand tight; I hear my promise echo.
    There, I sit watching, not sure which side I’m rooting for, when a clamor of many feet echoes from within the cave. The warriors lurch to their feet and step in front of us as Dalla screams.
    “There must be a tunnel to this cave! Prepare yourselves, men!” the head warrior shouts as I push Thora and Dalla down behind a monstrous rock.
    Metal clangs with such force it rings in my ears. Five dark-haired Irishmen, looking identical to the Vikings in both weaponry and armor, collide with our protectors. Immediately, a soldier takes out our leader with an axe to his back as he fights off another with his sword. The other three stand together in a triangle, protecting their backsides, and after some clanging, strike two of their warriors down mortally. Leaving three against three, the Viking splits off to take on each man as Thora clings to my hand, causing all loss of feeling.
    I look down the cliffs and decide we should try to retreat to the ship. I nudge Thora, who understands immediately, and we try as quietly as we can to move down the rocks with Dalla in tow. Two Irishmen, finished with our brave protectors, look over the cliff and point to our escape.
    “Faster!” I yell out to Dalla and Thora, but the men move agilely down at twice our speed. When our feet hit the sand, we take off as fast as we can, but the men pounce behind us. I hear Dalla shriek as one warrior grabs her.
    She bends down; her hand clenches around a large, black rock as he tugs her back up, ripping her silk gown. She twists in his arms, and I hear the rock hit bone as she smashes it into his head. He drops immediately, and Dalla takes up his heavy sword in both hands as the other warrior runs at her. I grab up two rocks of my own and try to reach her. She catches two perfect blows before he turns and slices across her pretty back. I throw both rocks a moment too late, and one stings him in the head long enough for me to pick up a sword. I’ve never even held a sword before, since it’s forbidden.
    The man stands there with his sword, smiling at me, slightly out of reach. Blood trickles down his face from my rock wound. I become entranced with the steel-grey eyes looking back. Before I can act, he strikes out at me. I try to dart away every time he slashes at me. However, Thora runs behind him and throws a heavy rock at his back, causing him to spin his sword around, catching her across her stomach.
    I scream and stick the steel-eyed warrior straight in his back. The man recoils, stiffens with the skewer, and falls back on the sword, forcing it to go through him as he lands with a gurgle from his blood-filled mouth. I rush to Thora, covered now in crimson, and turn her to see my face and cry when I see her eyes fixed to the ocean.
    I cry for Thora, I cry for Erna, and I cry for my mother. I don’t know how long I cried there, but nothing matters anymore. This battle,