Read Online Warriors of Ethandun by N. M. Browne - Free Book Online

nothing but the visions her magic brought to her, feeling nothing but the steady pulse of power.

Chapter Ten
    The man indicated that Dan should unbuckle his sword, which he did reluctantly. He set it next to his feet, then he sat in a strangely companionable silence with the knife-bearing Aenglisc man by the fire.
    Once the Aenglisc man had established to his own satisfaction that Dan posed no danger, he seemed to lose himself in his own thoughts, for he did not try to speak again, but stroked his light beard with a calloused hand. He was a fighter this man, that much was evident from his build and the state of his hands, but even that did not frighten Dan. The heat made him drowsy and, though his warrior’s instincts and plain common sense told him it would be foolish to sleep in a place of such obvious danger, he struggled to stay awake. This was not Macsen’s world – it was nowhere that he knew. He needed to stay sharp and ready to defend himself, and yet his body, usually so tireless under stress, betrayed him. He had not slept well in his own world – had not, in fact, slept well for weeks. His bed at home lacked stability; he seemed to be perched on something too high and toosoft to support the weight of his bones, and he was ridiculously fearful of falling off. The air in his centrally heated room had stifled him, and then each night he had fought for Ursula and failed her, burying them both under a mound of carcasses and suffocating them. He felt more at ease by a strange hearth next to an unknown man with a seax than in his own bed at home.
    Something about the crackle of the warming fire and the silence of the cottage lulled him into a light but restful sleep.
    It was barely a moment later that he started awake at the sound of voices. A woman was complaining bitterly about spoiled cakes. It was not his sister’s voice nor his dead mother’s nor even Ursula’s. He opened his eyes and saw a stout woman in what he thought of as peasant dress, shouting at the friendly knife man. That was not too weird; what was strange was that he understood her perfectly. The knife man was apologising, and the tumble of undifferentiated sound had suddenly resolved itself into comprehensible words and phrases.
    â€˜I have no excuses to offer, good wife. I was lost in my own thoughts and I forgot my duty. Please forgive my inattention.’
    The woman was unimpressed and berated him for some time. The small homestead stank so badly of burning that Dan wondered why fear of being burned alive had not woken him up. It was not long before she turned on him, and though he wasn’t surprised he had not prepared a defence. Luckily he didn’t need one.
    â€˜I hope I haven’t presumed too much in asking this fellow traveller to rest by your fire. He has fallen into the marsh and I feared he might catch fever from the chill.’
    The woman turned to Dan then and looked him up and down. She wasn’t old but had hidden her hair under a stiff veil so that all he could see was her lined, round face and the irritation in her shrewd eyes.
    â€˜Well, I haven’t much in the way of food to share with you now that the cakes are burned, but you are welcome enough if you are peaceful. You would do better to take off your clothes and dry them properly – I have a blanket to keep your naked shame covered.’ She laughed at that, a full-throated cackle, and Dan doubted that she was too much older than he was. She pulled out a blanket from a storage space beneath his bench. It had been hidden by a screen of rushes – it was a neat arrangement.
    â€˜It’s warm yet so I haven’t needed it on my bed.’
    Dan was a bit embarrassed to get undressed in front of strangers and began to do the behind-the-towel contortion that people do on beaches, but the woman laughed so much that he simply stepped away into the shadows to preserve his modesty. He kept the sword by his side. Her eye settled