The Saga of Colm the Slave by Mike Culpepper Page B

building a fire in the sauna.”
    “The sauna!” Snaekulf was camped near a
pool where people bathed. Svart had constructed a sauna nearby.
“The sauna.” Magnus slowly grinned. His eyes were red and bright as
coals. “I have a plan,” he said.
     
    Colm, Thorolf, Bjorn, and the others
made their way carefully along the path that ran down the
cliffside. Huge basalt pillars, octagonal in section, rose on
either side. Far below they could see the scattered rubble of
fallen columns. Small rocks fell from the path and rang against the
stone like bells, echoing all the way down. Sometimes a horse’s
hoof would slip on the rocky path and then ears tensed for the
possible screams of horse and rider going over. No one spoke.
Everyone concentrated on the descent.
    At the bottom of the cliffs, the horses
picked their way through the broken rocks and finally reached the
apron of hard-packed gravel and earth that edged the grassy
hillside sloping above. Perhaps a stream had once flowed here and
now had found another course. Perhaps, some day, that course would
be blocked or a volcanic eruption would send a surge of snowmelt
roaring through this channel and it would be a river once more.
    The riders made their way past the
eroded banks where the meadow margin had collapsed leaving walls of
raw earth a yard high. Then, finding a way onto the slope, they
began galloping up the hillside, quick now, exhilarated at finally
being loosed from caution.
    At the summit, they paused and looked at
the road below. They could see clearly two riders coming down from
the north at a fair clip, and, to the south, a lone man standing
near a small fire pit. Colm saw right away that it was Grim. Grim
raised his arm in greeting to the riders who were still a few
hundred yards away, then caught sight of the men on the ridgeline
above him. He dropped his arm and ran to his weapons, lying on the
ground nearby.
    Colm kicked his horse into action and
shot down the hillside straight at Grim. He didn’t pause to think,
but released himself like a taut bowstring. He was on Grim in a
moment, and past him. Colm yanked the bridle and dragged his
horse’s head around to charge at his foe before thinking to draw
his sword. Grim swung at him as he rode up, slashing a piece of his
cloak. Colm had his sword free now and brought it down hard. Grim
pulled his head back but his belly stuck out and the sword point
caught his torso and sliced a line down his middle. Grim grabbed
his stomach and stabbed at Colm who recovered and brought his sword
up hard. He caught Grim’s arm on the back edge and cut off his
right hand. Grim staggered back, clutching his guts with one hand
and swinging the stump of the other. Blood sprayed from the wound
and Grim looked at it, missing for the first time the weight of a
sword in his hand. He looked up at Colm, then fell to his knees.
His head bowed and his left hand dropped away from a spill of blue
and grey and red intestines. Then he pitched forward onto the
earth.
    Colm looked up. Two slaves and one of
the farmhands sat on their horses clutching their weapons. Their
jaws were dropped and their eyes wide with fear as they looked at
him. Colm glanced down the road. Thorolf and Bjorn were closing
with the twins and Colm galloped to join them.
    Glum and Glam jumped from their horses
and thrust spears at the riders coming at them. One man came too
close and Glam caught him in the side. The man grabbed the spear
shaft and fell from his horse. Glam yanked his weapon free and the
wounded man rolled onto his face, pressing a hand against his
bloody side.
    Meanwhile, Glum almost caught Thorolf,
who wheeled his horse away at the last moment. Glum’s spear pierced
the horse’s belly and it screamed and reared, pitching Thorolf onto
the ground. Glum stepped forward to finish him but Bjorn struck
down with his sword, splitting Glum’s head open.
    Glam screamed then, louder than the
horse had done, and charged forward with his spear and drove