Read Online Raven's Warrior by Vincent Pratchett - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Vincent Pratchett
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simple forge. I pictured myself settled as the local smith, creating shoes for the large plow horses and repairing iron tools. By nightâs quiet comfort, I took meals within the local inn and drank the grains that grew in fields of wonderful peace.
I made conversation and soon made friends, as fear gave way to acceptance and suspicion fell to trust. I felt at the right place at the right time. I had for the first time a people and a clan. I felt sure that the short sword at my waist would soon find rest, and I would be free of this thing called war.
But that was not to be.
I was slow with drink and well relaxed within the tavern walls when the cry went up and the alarm was sounded. A boy much younger than I ran in and screamed that the raiders from the north had landed upon our soil once more, and would soon set upon us. It had been two decades since their last foray; a raid that had robbed me of both my parents, and a time still remembered with dread and terror.
Instantly the room cleared as all inside rushed to secure the safety of their wives and children, to collect, to assemble, and to fight. I was given the courtesy of the warning but was not asked for anything in return, for to them I was still a stranger, but to me they were my people. In the confines of this empty room, I continued to drink my ale and checked the sharpness of my hungry sword. By the time of four cups, I was stripped and naked, my sword and my mind my only armor. With the last of my woad flower dye, I painted my body for battle and emerged with the breaking dawn.
Men collected their families and brought them to the square. The wives, the children, and the elderly huddled in mass while men who were merely farmers gathered rusted weapons and farm implements. I walked among them naked with deep blue skin and sword in hand, the savage demon within me prepared now for its release. They questioned not why I chose to fight, for they had taken me in by full measure. I was ready for blood, and Deathâs dour purpose was written clearly and terribly upon my features for all to see.
I moved with the men, some of great bulk, for farming is not an easy living, and we flowed down to the river from where the enemy had emerged before. Their fleet had landed by sail, and moved swiftly up the Barrow River by arm and by oar. They took route by the left fork, a river called Nore which was named for their last incursion. My heart beat faster as my eyes saw the dragon headed prows moving high and swiftly toward our group. Six ships in number, it was a battle we would not survive.
At first blood it was clear that my people were brave but not skilled, and they fell quickly and painfully before the first onslaught. I killed two raiders in succession, but their fierceness in battle was greater than any sagas told. By sheer number we dispatched the first of their party, but the other long boats had now joined the fray.
The largest of our party held me in a tight grip and spoke with the intense clarity of one who has already seen his death, âThey come for plunder and for slaves. Young prince, the treasure of our land now flees to the hills of Dunmore. There lies a cave that will hide and shelter, go back and get them to its safety. We will hold, we will delay, and we will die here among the banks.â Without thought I saw the wisdom of his words and turned and obeyed his orders without a question.
With distance the cries of this battle did soften and grow silent, and in three hours I had caught up to the wandering mass. The children, the women, and the old ones moved painfully slow. Some carried babies, some carried parents, and all carried fear. Our pursuers gained ground, but at last I saw the great mouth and led them through its darkness. This great womb opened, and inside we numbered almost one thousand. Amid the crying I spoke for silence, and as I listened I heard the Norse men closing on our hidden place. Inside I urged them deeper and ran back to
I made conversation and soon made friends, as fear gave way to acceptance and suspicion fell to trust. I felt at the right place at the right time. I had for the first time a people and a clan. I felt sure that the short sword at my waist would soon find rest, and I would be free of this thing called war.
But that was not to be.
I was slow with drink and well relaxed within the tavern walls when the cry went up and the alarm was sounded. A boy much younger than I ran in and screamed that the raiders from the north had landed upon our soil once more, and would soon set upon us. It had been two decades since their last foray; a raid that had robbed me of both my parents, and a time still remembered with dread and terror.
Instantly the room cleared as all inside rushed to secure the safety of their wives and children, to collect, to assemble, and to fight. I was given the courtesy of the warning but was not asked for anything in return, for to them I was still a stranger, but to me they were my people. In the confines of this empty room, I continued to drink my ale and checked the sharpness of my hungry sword. By the time of four cups, I was stripped and naked, my sword and my mind my only armor. With the last of my woad flower dye, I painted my body for battle and emerged with the breaking dawn.
Men collected their families and brought them to the square. The wives, the children, and the elderly huddled in mass while men who were merely farmers gathered rusted weapons and farm implements. I walked among them naked with deep blue skin and sword in hand, the savage demon within me prepared now for its release. They questioned not why I chose to fight, for they had taken me in by full measure. I was ready for blood, and Deathâs dour purpose was written clearly and terribly upon my features for all to see.
I moved with the men, some of great bulk, for farming is not an easy living, and we flowed down to the river from where the enemy had emerged before. Their fleet had landed by sail, and moved swiftly up the Barrow River by arm and by oar. They took route by the left fork, a river called Nore which was named for their last incursion. My heart beat faster as my eyes saw the dragon headed prows moving high and swiftly toward our group. Six ships in number, it was a battle we would not survive.
At first blood it was clear that my people were brave but not skilled, and they fell quickly and painfully before the first onslaught. I killed two raiders in succession, but their fierceness in battle was greater than any sagas told. By sheer number we dispatched the first of their party, but the other long boats had now joined the fray.
The largest of our party held me in a tight grip and spoke with the intense clarity of one who has already seen his death, âThey come for plunder and for slaves. Young prince, the treasure of our land now flees to the hills of Dunmore. There lies a cave that will hide and shelter, go back and get them to its safety. We will hold, we will delay, and we will die here among the banks.â Without thought I saw the wisdom of his words and turned and obeyed his orders without a question.
With distance the cries of this battle did soften and grow silent, and in three hours I had caught up to the wandering mass. The children, the women, and the old ones moved painfully slow. Some carried babies, some carried parents, and all carried fear. Our pursuers gained ground, but at last I saw the great mouth and led them through its darkness. This great womb opened, and inside we numbered almost one thousand. Amid the crying I spoke for silence, and as I listened I heard the Norse men closing on our hidden place. Inside I urged them deeper and ran back to
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