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He was clothed in nothing but a shirt and the skin of Eric's lamb was bound to his chest. "Where now is my mate?" he said. Then he saw Eric leaning on Whitefire, his golden helm ablaze with the glory of the passing sun. "It seems that thou holdest somewhat of him in thine hand, Skallagrim, and for the rest, go seek it in yonder rift." "Who art thou?" roared Skallagrim.
The sailors said that this was a good word, for they were weary of the sight of Whitefire as he flamed on high and the sound of the axe of Skallagrim as it crashed through helm and byrnie; and as fear crept in valour fled out.
The sword of Blacktooth had come back to Blacktooth and now Eric would surely be slain of it! Eric sprang from the ground. He heard the shouts and saw Whitefire blazing in Ospakar's hand. "Now thou art weaponless, fly! Brighteyes; fly!" cried some. Gudruda's cheek grew white with fear, and for a moment Eric's heart failed him. "Fly not!" roared Skallagrim. "Björn tripped thee.
Some had died of spear-thrusts and the spears were yet fixed in their breasts! Some had fallen beneath the flash of Whitefire and the weight of the axe of Skallagrim, and there they sat, looking on their wide wounds! Then came more and more.
Gizur's folk behind the stones heard his voice and came out from their ambush. There were six of them, and they formed in line before the pair. They were watching the mountain, for a rumour had reached them that Eric was abroad, and, seeing him, they had hidden hastily behind the stones. "Now what counsel shall we take?" said Eric, drawing Whitefire.
Then, slowly, and with a reeling brain, he steps down upon the giddy point. He goes near to falling, yet does not fall, for now he lies upon the open space, and creeps on hands and knees to the rock-wall that is by the cave, and sits resting his back against it, Whitefire on his knee. Before he is there, Skallagrim staggers to his side with a rush. "Now we have time to breathe, lord," he gasps.
Was Eric taken from Gudruda and given to her indeed but given dead? She bent over him, gazing keenly on his face. Then she spoke. "He is not dead but senseless. Bring dry clothes, and make water hot," and, kneeling down, she loosed Eric's helm and harness and ungirded Whitefire from his side. For long Swanhild and Atli tended Eric at one fire, and the serving women tended Skallagrim at the other.
Again Ospakar smote and again Eric caught the blow; and behold! he struck back, thrusting with the point of the shorn shield straight at the face of Ospakar. "Peck! Eagle; peck!" cried Skallagrim. Once more Whitefire shone above him. Eric rushed in beneath the sword, and with all his mighty strength thrust the buckler-point at Blacktooth's face.
"Where Baresark passes, there may yeoman follow," said Eric and, sheathing Whitefire, without more ado, though he liked the task little, he grasped the overhanging rock and stepped down on to the point below. Now he was perched like an eagle over the dizzy gulf and his brain swam. Backward he feared to go, and forward he might not, for there was nothing but air.
Presently Eric came out, but half clad, a shield in one hand and Whitefire in the other, and, looking, by the bright moonlight he saw a huge black-bearded man seated on a horse, having a great axe in one hand and the lamb beneath his arm. "Who art thou?" roared Eric. "I am called Skallagrim, youngling," answered the man on the horse.
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