odessanovel Chapter 369: Pity
Chapter 369: Pity
"Ubba!"
"Shut up... Just shut up!"
"We have healers! We can fix this!"
Ivar screamed, his voice cracking. He dragged his useless legs through the mud, ignoring the black smoke and the coppery smell of the burning courtyard.
"Damnit, Ivar." Ubba’s dark eyes fluttered open, his chest heaving with shallow breaths.
A weak grin slowly spread across his lips, and he coughed, a splatter of blood landing on his chin. "You... you got your fine clothes completely dirty for me..."
"There is no magic for this, brother," Ubba whispered. He slowly raised a hand, placing it gently over Ivar’s shaking fingers. His deep voice faded into a hollow rasp. "The Irish dog... he got me good. It is a warrior’s death."
"No!" Ivar shrieked.
Ubba let out one shuddering breath. His hand fell limp into the mud. His chest stopped moving.
Ivar stared at the lifeless face.
"Ubba...?" Ivar whispered, his voice trembling. He shook the giant’s shoulders. "Ubba... why... even you?"
Tears spilled down Ivar’s pale face, mixing with the rain and the blood. "Who will be left for me?" Ivar sobbed, crushing his brother’s lifeless body against his chestg.
Around them, the sounds of the battlefield died down... The surviving Norse raiders slowly lowered their axes.
Hardened killers, men who laughed at burning villages, ran forward through the mud and dropped to their knees around Ivar.
They bowed their heads, profoundly sad for the immense loss.
The heart of their army had just stopped beating.
Across the courtyard, the surviving Irish royal family huddled together in their own tragedy.
Princess Maeve wept hysterically, her hands covered in the blood of High King Aedh, who lay dead in her lap.
Princes Declan and Ronan stood in front of her and the crying children, exhausted and bleeding, their broadswords shaking.
They looked at the grieving Norsemen, realizing the battle was over.
Slowly, the pathetic sobs coming from Ivar began to change.
The crying turned into a low chuckle. Then, the chuckle grew louder, echoing through the freezing rain, unnatural and deeply unhinged.
Ivar gently laid his brother’s head back into the mud. He wiped his hands on his face, smearing Ubba’s blood across his pale cheeks.
When he looked up, his blue eyes were devoid of a single shred of human sanity.
"Kjartan," Ivar whispered, his voice calm, sending a shiver down the spine of every man in the courtyard.
"Yes, King Ivar?" Kjartan, the scarred scholar-pirate, answered cautiously, stepping forward.
"Bring me my crutches."
Two Norse guards rushed forward, hauling Ivar out of the mud and handing him his wooden crutches.
Ivar leaned heavily on them, his useless legs dangling, and turned to face the huddled Irish royals.
Declan tightened his grip on his sword, stepping in front of his sister. "Come on, you crippled bastard! Finish it!"
Ivar simply walked forward, his loyal raiders parted ways, letting their unhinged King pass.
"You killed my brother," Ivar stated, stopping a few feet away and tilting his head.
"And he killed our father!" Ronan barked back, spitting blood into the mud. "It was a fair trade in war!"
"War?" Ivar laughed, an empty, hollow sound. " War has rules. War has treaties. You just took away the only person in this world that I actually cared about."
"Please..." Maeve whispered, seeing the darkness swirling in Ivar’s eyes.
For the first time, she felt terrified for the children. "You have won... The keep is yours. The throne is yours. Just spare the little ones. They don’t even know how to hold a sword."
"Spare them?" Ivar smiled, a grin spreading across his blood-stained face. "Oh, my sweet Princess... I am not going to kill them."
Ivar turned around on his crutches, facing the horde of angry Norsemen.
"Listen to me!" Ivar roared, "My brother, Ubba, the greatest warrior of our time, was murdered by these Irish rats! But giving them a quick death is far too merciful!"
The Norse raiders banged their axes against their shields.
"Kjartan!" Ivar commanded, pointing a finger. "Bind the princes in iron chains. Take the Princess and the children and lock them in the deepest dungeon this burning castle has left."
Kjartan frowned slightly, "My King... keeping them alive is dangerous. The local Irish lords will rally. We should just slit their throats and be done with it."
"You do not question me, Kjartan," Ivar hissed, grabbing the scholar-pirate by his fur coat with surprising strength. "I want them to suffer in the dark. I want them to hear the screams of their people as we burn every single farm, every single church, and every single village in this kingdom!"
"Yes, my King." Kjartan swallowed hard, intimidated by the madness.
Ivar let go and turned back to the princes.
"You took my family from me," Ivar whispered, "So, I am going to make sure that your family wishes they had died in this mud."
The Norse raiders surged forward... Declan and Ronan were knocked to the ground, fighting back before being bound with heavy ropes.
Maeve screamed as she was dragged away, and the children wailed in terror as they were carried toward the smoky ruins.
Ivar stood alone in the center of the courtyard... He slowly turned his head, looking back at Ubba’s body. The rain continued to fall, washing the blood from the giant’s face.
"I will make them pay, brother." Ivar whispered.
However, as Ivar stood there embracing his madness, Kjartan walked slowly back to his side, his forehead wrinkled in deep concern.
"King Ivar," Kjartan said, hesitating for a fraction of a second. "The keep is ours, and the royal family is secured in the dungeons. But... the explosion was massive. Half of our hidden explosive powder went up in the gatehouse, and we used the rest to breach the walls."
Ivar didn’t look at him. "What is your point, Kjartan?"
"My point," Kjartan whispered, "...is that we have no more bombs left. And if Ragnar Ulfsson ever discovers that we stole his magic to do this... how are we supposed to stop the Iron King when he crosses the ocean to hunt us down?"