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  Ravenscar

  Isolde Saga Book Two

  Robert D. Jones

  www.robertjonesauthor.com

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  PRELUDE

  You will give the girl your seed...

  The voice faded out of the white crystal ball like the slow hissing of a snake. The old man held his gnarled hands around the orb and let the radiant light fill the dark room with flickering shadows.

  "When?" he asked with a strong commanding voice.

  Under the new moon... she is already coming...

  He took his hands away and stepped back from the crystal. He was alone in the highest tower of his dark keep. The obsidian stone walls flickered from the orb and other than the dark stone podium from which it sat, nothing else was permitted to be here.

  The ancient floors were crossed with forgotten symbols, geometric stars that lapped each other in menacing mazes which kept the power of the sphere held within the room.

  "How do I know you will keep your end of the bargain?" he asked as he circled the podium.

  A slow sputtering spewed from the crystal, deliberate and menacing like the dying cracks of wood in a fire.

  It is too late for doubt... the voice hissed... you will have your heir soon...

  CHAPTER I

  I'll kill him if he touches her... The thought curdled on Harald's mind as he watched Isolde disappear with Erik into the white haze of the growing snowstorm. The wind screamed down from the north in a fury of snow and ice blowing hard into his face like claws of frozen steel. It blew his hair back off his face and stung his eye until it watered making the ruinous wound on his face burn with aching fire.

  One eye left and I can still see better than her... he cursed in his mind. And now, he was stuck with a rat from the north that he would have happily traded in for a death-adder at a heartbeat. He didn't trust the way Sven looked at him or the way he looked at Isolde. He had seen his kind before.

  "Come on, Scarface." It was the snarled voice of Sven.

  Harald turned to look at him, the camp was packed down and the northerner stood looking at him. His weight all on one leg as though waiting for Harald was such a tedious task. The wind threw his wispy dark hair across his face, it looked like the haggard shreds of some war-torn banner. He was a thin man with a gaunt face. Harald noted the thick stubble on his face, it was unlike his kind to not be bearded, the people of the north prided themselves on their long plaited faces to the point that it was a sign of honour and wisdom. But Sven was clean faced, save the growth of travel. The man was clothed head to foot in thick brown furs to fight against the bitter cold. An axe was held tight in his thin leather belt and the equipment of a journeyman was strapped to his back.

  "Did you want to kiss her goodbye?" He smirked through his throaty accent.

  Harald turned without an answer and marched up the hill toward the forest from which they had come. The snow was thicker today, his boots sunk half way up his calf with each step, crunching and sloshing as he forced his way up. The journey had not even begun but his body begged for rest and if it weren't for the wind on his back he feared he might not have even made those first steps. The wound across his face burned and ached, an ache that reached deep into his face so that even the bone felt black and bruised.

  She's an idiot... he cursed again thinking of the cost he had paid for Isolde's life. Yet now, it was plain to see that he was nothing to her. Something she could just cast away to further her own ambition. He reached the crest of the snow-laden hill where the northern entrance of the forest began. Sven waited under the eaves of the swaying pines that stood watch on the border.

  "Come now, Master One-Eye," Sven said, "I was asked to take you home but I didn't think that meant carrying you."

  Harald's face screamed out in pain as he scowled at the man. The sudden pull of the severed tendons down his cheek was a painful reminder that he was now scarred for life. He struck out into the dark woods leaving Sven to follow him.

  The trees were thick and menacing, some had fallen in the storm and ripped up the very earth leaving deep pits with exposed roots of gnarled wood. The collapsed trunks rested against each other and cut across the path. The travellers forced themselves to climb over or duck under as they weaved their way south.

  The wind howled between the boughs, and the cold stung at Harald's ears as it carried the faint glimmer of laughter whistling through the trees. No elves here, he reminded himself as he ran his finger along the blade of Wulfric's great axe strapped against his back. It was a terrible weapon of heavy steel standing half as tall as Harald when he rested on it.

  The snow slowly faded away as the hours passed on but still that cold wind howled down from the north.

  They came to a small clearing and Harald sat down on a log to ease his aching body. It was good to sit and slide off the weighty pack and axe from his shoulders. Sven sat across from him and stretched out his legs smiling.

  "Well, Scarface," he said as he stood back up, "looks as good a spot as any I guess."

  Harald watched him warily as he drew out his axe from the belt.

  "The sun's setting and the wind's died down..." he raised his axe half-heartedly and began to hit branches off of the tree Harald was sitting on. Crack... and a twig flew off,crack... another span away as the axe came closer to Harald. "And here we are... you... me... alone in the woods..." He smiled mockingly and swung his axe, crack...

  Harald's eye followed the steelhead as it bit into the wood next to him. His heart was racing but he forced himself to be steadfast. He would not let him see his fear.

  "Your eye gives you away, Harald," Sven smirked, "the gods don't like cowards."

  Crraack! Sven wedged the axe deep into the trunk so that it rested against Harald's leg.

  "Take it," he mocked turning his back to Harald.

  "What are you doing?" Harald managed to say without stuttering.

  "Following orders, boy," Sven said coldly, "now take the axe and die with some honour."

  Harald wanted to run, his heart sank, but only for a second. Without warning something inside rose up. His lips curled as hatred coursed through his veins.

  "Die?" he spat, his one eye glaring up at Sven, "why?"

  "Why?" Sven almost laughed, "who cares why, just take up the damn axe so I can send you off to the hall of your fathers."

  "You coward," Harald snarled, "sneak me off to the woods alone and wounded like a beast, and you call me a coward?"

  Sven laughed, "plus I separated you from your woman so after Erik has his fun she can be whored off to Hrothgar."

  Harald snapped to his feet ripping the axe from the wood. He swung it high and hard, letting it fly from his grip. It spun like a whirlwind, ripping the air past Sven's head. Crack... the sound was sickening as it splintered into a tree.

  Sven roared in rage, he whipped out his spare axe and cut wide arcs at Harald's head. Harald ducked low and span behind the man. He had nothing to fight with. Sven's steal came bearing down again. The axe glimmered in fury as it cut the air in front of him. Harald kept stepping back keeping his distance, his hands held up trying to keep the blade away as it swung out wildly.

  "You're dead, bastard!" Sven screamed as he lunged again and again.

  Harald's head was spinning, he kept ducking back and to the side, his one good eye darting about for something to grab. Wulfric's axe!It's cold steel glimmered in the setting sun behind Sven.

  "Yaaargh!" Sven took the distraction and hurled himself at Harald. His full body weight exploded against Harald and sent him flying back to crash against the hard ground. There was no time, Sven was on hi
m. His left hand groped at Harald's face as his right raised the axe. Harald swung his fists out like a wildcat in its death-throws. He hit Sven as the man brought his axe down inches from his face. Harald hit him again and sent Sven flying off.

  The axe! Wulfric's Axe! It was the only thing in Harald's mind. He darted for it with Sven on his heels. With one great lurch forward he took it up with both arms and swung it around with all his strength. The awful steelhead found its mark and cleaved deep into Sven's neck. Blood exploded over Harald as Sven's lifeless head swung out to the side and the man collapsed to the ground.

  Harald screamed into the woods and brought his axe down again into Sven's limp body. And then again and again. By the time he was done, thick sticky blood had soaked up his arms and across his face. His chest sweated under his spoiled furs and the remains of Sven were barely recognisable.

  He stared down at the crimson mess of pulp and fur at his feet and let Wulfric's great-axe slide from his grip. He fell back onto the log he had been sitting on and stared at the scene in thoughtless shock.

  CHAPTER II

  Isolde's heart thundered in the silence of the tunnel as she ran for the light ahead of her. The tormented face of her mother was etched into her mind and she couldn't stop repeating those words she had said over and over in her head...

  Skaldi.Heroth Nuir. Bezhaal...

  Her shoulder ached in cold pain and her head was spinning, she had to get out of this darkness. Slowly the light before her opened up and widened until she burst forth into the rays of the morning light. She gasped at the sight of the world around her. Mjolkum had fled and the skies were clear. Birds tweeted and fluttered between the pines and shaggy spruces and she watched as Erik and Wulfric limped up the hill toward her.

  "What happened?" she called out in wonder at their battle-beaten bodies.

  They lumbered up the slope and she could see they were both full of cuts and bruises. Erik stepped forward and handed her sword back handle first and smiled to her.

  "The old bear still has a few tricks up his sleeve," he said.

  She turned to look at Wulfric and the giant man lowered his eyes to the ground.

  "I'm sorry," he grumbled, "I don't know what came over me."

  "It's the witch," Isolde said, "it has to be."

  Erik asked, "did you find her?"

  The question shocked Isolde back to the horrid memory of her mother.

  "I have to find Skaldi," she said with wild eyes.

  "Skaldi?" Wulfric said, "what's that wanderer got to do with this?"

  "I don't know," Isolde said, "but I need answers. I have to find him."

  "Slow down, Little Bird," Wulfric said, "tell us what happened."

  Isolde threw her hands to her face and a painstabbed deep into her shoulder. Her vision began to darken as though shadows were closing in around the periphery of her sight. She could see Wulfric and Erik looking at her in shock and felt the numb pain of her knees hitting the ground. Her head lurched back and the darkness swallowed her.

  Her vision was full of inky clouds that swirled like smoke in the breeze. Faint flashes like red lightning erupted far off in the distance. They cracked and flashed and the dark mist swirled before her, it coagulated in the air and a dark form approached. Isolde wanted to scream as the figure came closer and clearer. A black,charred face, and cracked skin with luminescent scars, they glowed ice blue. Red eyes like coals burning furiously emerged and blackened lips parted in a cackle. Orlog had returned.

  White light flooded back and Isolde gasped as the world came back before her. She was flat on her back with Wulfric hunched over, trying to pull back the furs around her shoulder. He and Erik gasped and Isolde snapped her eyes to what they could see. Fat black stubby veins were spreading out from a deep purple wound.

  "What is that?" she cried looking in horror at the veins snaking their way out from her pink skin.

  "I don't know," Wulfric said as he reached out and touched the mark.

  "Don't touch it." Isolde flinched as pain shot up her arm.

  "Where did you go just now, Little Bird?" Wulfric asked.

  Isolde began to sob on the ground, "I saw her again. She came to me."

  Wulfric looked at Erik, "we have to take her back to Eyndale."

  "No," Isolde cried, "we have to find Skaldi."

  "He'll meet us there, Isolde," Wulfric said.

  Isolde was frantic, "there's no time. I saw Orlog... I have to get to Ravenscar. I have to find Skaldi."

  "Isolde!" Wulfric snapped, "look at your shoulder, you will never make it. We have to get you home."

  "You don't understand," she pleaded, "the witch showed me my mother. I saw her burning! I need to find Skaldi, we need to help her."

  Wulfric sighed and looked back to Erik. The blonde youth had his wide eyes fixed on the black veins.

  "Erik?" Wulfric snapped.

  Erik blinked and looked back at Wulfric, "maybe we can go to Ravenscar? If Skaldi is there then he can help her. Plus we can take the river, it will be easier on Isolde."

  Wulfric shook his head, "no, it's too dangerous. We can't walk right to Hrothgar's door. Not after everything that's happened."

  Erik looked at Isolde and gave her a wink that Wulfric couldn't see.

  "Maybe the old bear is right, Isolde. Maybe we should head back to Eyndale first," he said.

  "Fine," she said, "we will go home."

  CHAPTER III

  The scream pierced the valley. Harald barely noticed it. He hadn't noticed anything, the passing of the night, the death of the wind, the morning sun. All these things had passed without him stirring from his seat. His hands were stiff with blood, but he felt nothing, no pain, no joy, just the empty numb oblivion that had engulfed him.

  "Great gods..." the voice was translucent like a memory but there was Wulfric standing over him.

  Isolde kept screaming from atop the hill above him. Someone was weeping. He knelt down and picked up his great battle-axe.

  "Give it to me." Wulfric snatched it away.

  Harald stood up slowly, slack-jawed, his eye focused on nothing in particular and then the world came back to him. Sven was right... he thought, the eyes do give you away... and Wulfric's bushy red brows couldn't hide the shock on the man's face. His eyes were wide, was it pity or fear? Harald couldn't decide. It was an odd expression for the old scarred warrior. He looked up to the hill, Isolde was crying, Eric was on his knees sobbing into his hands. Eric.... the name was bitter on Harald's tongue. He raised his blood-caked hand slowly and pointed at Isolde.

  "I told you not to leave me with him," his voice was slow and monotonous. "You cannot trust him!"

  Harald's head jolted back and he stumbled over his feet. Wulfric had thrown him backwards. The ground met him hard and shocked his senses back to reality. Wulfric stood over him. His scarred and bald head was deeply creased, his eyes tight like razors as they bore down on him. Harald swore that foam was spitting down the braids of his wiry red forked beard.

  "It's a massacre boy!" Wulfric roared from above Harald.

  His held his great-axe in one hand and squeezed the other into such a tight fist that the knuckles were white.

  "He... he tried to kill me," Harald stammered back from the ground.

  "This was a good man," Wulfric growled, "he was trying to help you."

  "Murder...." cried Erik from behind Wulfric.

  Isolde said nothing, she was hiding behind Erik, her hand to her mouth as tears streamed down her cheeks. Harald's heart sank, her beautiful white face was a ruin of scrapes and cuts. He could see the deep gouges that ran down her neck and her golden hair was frayed like a bird's nest.

  "He came at me, Wulfric," Harald pleaded, "they want Isolde!"

  "Want Isolde?" Wulfric roared, "then why the hell didn't they just take her?"

  "Please, believe me..." he said.

  "Look at him..." Erik stammered, "look what he's done to Sven."

  Isolde cried out and fell to her knees in tears. Wulf
ric didn't look away from Harald, but the boy could see Erik crouching down next to Isolde, wrapping his arms around her. Harald couldn't see his own eye turning red and didn't notice his hands clamping into fists - but Wulfric did.

  "I've seen some things," Wulfric muttered, "I've seen men kill in cold blood. But you this is different, Harald. You can't slaugher a man because the woman didn't choose you."

  "We should hang him," Erik spat from Isolde's shoulder.

  "No!" Isolde cried, snapping to her feet. Her eyes were wide and bloodshot from the tears. "We can't kill him."

  "No, we can't," Wulfric agreed, "but we can take him home for trial."

  "Then bind him, Wulfric," Erik said, "or he will take my life too."

  Harald wanted to cry out, but his voice had left him and the breath was stuck in his throat. He couldn't breathe. His heart was hammering and he wanted to weep but he couldn't even move. Wulfric came with thick rope and bound his hands where he lay.

  "P-p-please..." he tried to plead but he was only answered by Wulfric's hard gaze, the tears of Isolde, and Erik's glare.

  He was pulled to his feet and a rope was lashed around his arms and Wulfric pulled him along as though it was a leash. The group moved on and left the remains of Sven where they lay. Harald's mind retreated back into the hollow nothingness as emotion fled him. He was being led like a dog through the woods. His best friend having turned her back on him again. He trudged on, one step after the other.

  ***

  "Are you okay?" Isolde kept her voice low and soft as she put her arm around Erik.

  The sun was approaching noon and they had been walking all morning through the thick pines in silence. The lack of wind made the weather nice now, the storm clouds had broken, and the sun warmed their bones as it shone through the gaps in the trees. Even the birds had come back, they sang back and forth through the woods as butterflies and bees floated by.

  "Not really," Eric replied wiping his nose with the back of his hand.