Melcorka looked around, fended off a Norseman with a casual flick of Defender and watched the progress of the battle. The Norse wedge in the Islesmen"s camp had deepened; they pushed the Islesmen back, step by step, although at a massive cost in dead and dying. The Albans had penetrated the Norse lines in three places and were fighting furiously, yet the Norse held them.
"The battle is on a dirk-edge then." Melcorka felt amazingly calm.
Although it had been forced to retreat a good hundred paces, the Norse shield wall was also retaining the men of Fidach. It was a b****y stalemate: one more advance on either side could decide it. She saw Egil in the centre of the Norse lines, a pivotal figure with his gigantic stature and tattooed face.
"I will kill you yet," Melcorka promised.
She saw
