“No more bribing me with those kisses. I’ve got to finish packing for you. You know the Hyrwardi young bloods are due sometime this morning.”
“We have time. Come on back to the blankets while Going Snake is on his errands.”
“Stop tempting me--” Her playful protest was interrupted by the raucous cries of ravens outside the tent door. “What a racket those birds are making. If they don’t get away soon somebody is going to think it’s us going at it again.” She laughed and lifted her eyebrows at him.
“What in Grandfather’s name is happening out there?” Mendaka asked.
“It sounds like a fight of sorts! You didn’t throw any of my corn cakes out to them, did you?”
“Are you kidding?” Mendaka said as he stepped out the tipi flap into the crisp morning air. Immediately his nostrils were greeted by the balsamic tea scent from the rainstorm that struck in the night. Two ravens stood there only two man lengths before him.
“Get out of here! Get! Cursed black devils.” When they didn’t move, he picked up a pine cone and threw it. The ravens just stood there on the ground and grokked. He picked up a stick and swung it at them so that they took flight. “There! Maybe that will keep you lunatic bastards away.” He shook his fist at the now frantically circling ravens.
When he was done taunting the birds, he turned and saw the almost ghostly form of a silver harrier approaching through the mist of the wood.
“Hail Mendaka, it is I, Oakheart, Ilrundel’s thane come from the Fort of the Desert Queen. I am here to escort the Lord Sur Sceaf, who did not arrive at the appointed day.”
“That is an ugly speech you give there, young man! Perhaps, he took an off trail and you missed him in the passing. For, he departed here in a timely manner and should have arrived thence, without delay.”
Oakheart smote his breast in a Herewardi salute. “Then my mission is accomplished, and I shall return to Fort Rock and report to Lord Ilrundel immediately.”
Little Doe interjected, “Dak, this matter must be taken into deeper consideration. I can hope that Sur Sceaf chose another route, or mayhap, he has paused his journey to beseech his gods before counseling with the Desert Queen. Such is the nature of your white brother. But, it is possible that he has come to some harm.”
“Verily, such is the nature of all the sons of Odhin to pray before any great undertakings,” said the thane. “Let us hope this is what has delayed him.”
“Now that I think upon this message, my heart is much troubled. It is not like him to miss an appointed meeting.” Mendaka turned to hail his son from the corrals, “Redelfis, Redelfis!”
His son appeared from behind a horse with a bridle in his hand, “What...what is it?”
“Get over here! It’s urgent.”
“What is it, Father? Has the fyrd arrived?”
“Not yet, but as a precaution, I must know the moment they do. Ride like the wind to the north end of the lake to the guard stands and tell them to tell you as soon as they spot the fyrds coming. Then you ride back here faster than a fox with his tail on fire and report it to me.”
“Is this some sort of test? I thought you were going to greet them.”
“This is no test, it’s very important you do as I say and swiftly.”
Mendaka was grateful they had decided to put up so many tree stands with guards. He had received warning of increased Pitter movements, shortly after Sur Sceaf had left.
“It will be done as you say, Father.” Redelfis blanketed his horse and mounted.
“Halt, it rained last night, you’ll need your pants and shirt to stay warm,” Mendaka said as he handed them to his son. Redelfis hurriedly dressed in them and then galloped off toward the north.
* * *
The hours waxed on in the scorching sun, which beat down hotter and hotter as the day wore on. Only the occasional visit of the ravens with their fanning wings gave Sur Sceaf any relief at all. His whip wounds throbbed and burned with searing stabbing pain. Scabs had started forming causing the swaddling cloth to adhere to his skin. Thirst made his mouth feel like dust so that his tongue swelled and clung to the roof of his mouth nearly strangling him.
It was becoming harder and harder to remain conscious. He fought to clear his mind, to come up with a plan, for he could not give up. The fate of so many people hammered at him. He thought on the faces of his children and felt tears streaming down his cheeks and into his open mouth he tasted blood.
Gradually, Sur Sceaf began to feel a blessed coolness settling over the land as the sun must have passed behind the mountains. He could smell the rich odors of something cooking. He heard the guards smacking their lips. His tormentors then waved a cooked rabbit beneath his nose.
“Oh, we’re sorry. Mouth too dry to eat? Here is some water, you miserable sheep-eater.” The guard spit water in his face, the swaddling absorbing it. The stench alone was enough to gag him. For a time everything grew quiet. Then he heard heavy footsteps coming nearer.
“Such a large pit, Master. It’ll be too deep for us to get him into,” came a whining voice.
“We’ll throw the mutton-eating son of a bitch in, then stake him down tighter than a bug under a rock.” The skull-faced one returned. “But this sheep-eater is a fighter. He will be all mine in the next world. If I bind a white swan lord I’ll be born a powerful master in the next life. Perhaps even, I shall come back as a commissar.” The shuffle of his feet and the attending laughter let him know their corporal was prancing like a commissar.
Sur Sceaf felt the cold blade of a knife applied to his head and a large strand of his hair being pulled up through the swaddling wrap. Then a blade cut through the strand of his hair. “Just a trophy for my belt, blokes,” the skull-faced one gloated. “Gotta show this one to the boss.”
Through the slit in the blindfold he saw that the skull-faced one was holding the strand of his hair and tying it with something. Once again all went silent. All speaking had ceased. After a time, he heard the slapping of a whip. Through the crack in his blindfold he witnessed the skull-faced one kneeling in prayer, stripped of his shirt, flagellating himself with a small whip.
The Pitter Corporal prayed, “Almighty Anghrar, the One and Only God, accept this, my sacrifice, given in the manner you have commanded. I pray that you bind this Heathen swan lord to me, as an everlasting slave. Let his sins stand as a testimony that he is a Pagan infidel, deserving the crushing weight of your wrath. I have buried him in the pit, as all sinners shall be buried when your people assume their promised pre-eminence over the earth, in the day of Pax Pittorum. I beg, Lord, that you forgive me my lust for heathen children, my murderings, and my unquenchable taste for their profaned flesh and polluted blood. Let this sacrifice exalt me and may my sins rest in the pit upon this heathen lord. Amen.”
Tonight these vultures will be gloating in their victory over me, thought Sur Sceaf. I can never allow such as long as my heart still beats.
As if privy to his thoughts a raven grokked from a nearby bush.
“See, Sheep Eater, I told you, the ravens can’t wait pick at the flesh of a swan lord. This is a sign from our god, Angrar, that my offering is accepted.”
The Pitters pulled Sur Sceaf roughly to his feet. He heard them laugh. The whining voiced one taunted, “Well, this sheep-eater will ride no more.” He felt a hand reach into the swaddling to cut off his loin cloth. The thud of a hobnailed boot planted in his back sent him flying into space. Disoriented and blind, he landed feet first. A hot spear of pain jolted through him. Groping for balance, he tumbled forward and struck the earth with a thud. Before he could catch his breath, he felt dirt, rocks, and the slap of ropes hitting him, then he heard the enemy sliding down the ropes and the thud of their feet hitting the floor of the pit.
He felt a blade against his bloodied wrist. As soon as his hands were free, he braced and struck out with clenched fist and all his strength. He heard a grunt, and suddenly felt a club smashed into the back of his head. Everything went black.
Sur Sceaf was floating in a river of white-hot agony. Gradually, the darkness turned to an eery grey. Little by little he came back to his senses, only to find he was spread eagle and face downward in the dust with hands and feet bound to stakes. He was crazy with thirst and shivering violently from trauma.
His body was wracked with wave after wave of pain. The air was filled with harsh sounds, shouted directions, grunts, curses, and groans. “Watch it, you’ll break my leg, you son of a bitch! If you drop this damned boulder, I’ll kill you.” Another shouted, “You filthy pig, pull your damned weight.”
He could hear feet shuffling and felt a large heavy flat stone bearing down on the bruised and whip-torn flesh of his back, its enormous weight forcing the air from his lungs. Every breath was torturous as he sucked for what little air the pressure allowed him to draw through his soiled cloth-covered mouth. The blinding swaddling heightened his other senses. He heard his assailants scramble back up the ropes.
The skull-faced one shouted from above, “We’ll be drinking to you tonight, Mr. Fox. Rest assured, we’ll be back before you breathe your last breath, you sheep-eating bastard. Ha, ha, ha!”
Alone, bereft, and shivering, Sur Sceaf waited for the hand of death.
The End
Thank you for reading The Sire Sheaf. I hope that you fell in love with the heroes, hated the villains and laughed with the jesters.
The Sire Sheaf is the first book in the eleven book series, The King of Three Bloods, which follows the many trials and tribulations faced by the freedom-loving Syr Folk. If you enjoy this first installment, you are humbly, though excitedly, invited to continue your journey with all the many colorful characters in book two, The Frightful Dance.
It has been a pleasure to write these books. If it has been a pleasure to read them, please leave a review of this book on Amazon. Every review helps this series get noticed, and every time this book gets noticed, it motivates me to keep producing more stories. Thank you for reading The King of Three Bloods.
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PRONUNCIATION GUIDE
KEY TO SYMBOLS USED
a about
ă ask, pat, map
ā able, bake, way
ä alms, father, call
ð this, either, bathe
ĕ ebb, met, second
ē eat, mete, me
ei air, hair, bare
erpermit
ĭ it, him, mirror
ī idle, fine, deny
ō over, bone, know
ouabout
oyboy, loiter, oil
þ thin, path, with
ujump
ūrule, boot, two
* * *
Aelfheah ălʹf ēʹa
Ahy ä-hē
Ahyyyokah ä-hēʹē-yō-ka
Alfred ălʹfrĕd
Angrar än-grär
Arundel ä-runʹdʹl
Balmor bäl-mor
Brekka brĕ-ka
Chic-Noy-Hay chēk-noy-hā
Chihene chĭ-hĕʹnā
Dak däk
Degataga dāʹgä-tāʹgä
DiAhman dī-ä-män
Do-Tsu-Wa dō-tsū-wä
Dol-Sceatha dol-skāþa
Dominiker dä-mĭ-nĭʹker
Dycon dēʹkun
Elijah von Hollar ē-līʹja fōn hälʹler
Elrus elʹrus
Elwas elʹwäs
Ethelwynn eþʹl-wĭn
Eugeners yū-jēnʹrs
Faechild fā-chīld
Faehunig fā-hōʹnĭg
Frey frā
Freya frāʹa
Fyrd fērd
Ghettisbuhr gĕtʹĭs-ber
Godija gō-dē-ja
Gondulwulf gändʹl-wulf
Govannon gō-väʹnun
Growling grouʹlēng
Ha-O-Zinne hä-ō-zĭnā
Heimdall hīmʹdäl
Heratoga heirʹa-tōʹga
Hereward hēr-wärd
Herewardi hēr-wärdʹē
Hickoryan hĭ-korʹyĕn
Hotuekhaashtait hō-tūʹĕ-käʹäsh-täʹēt
Howrus houʹrus
Hrothgar hräþ-gär
Hrus hrūs
Hryre Seath hreir-sēþ
Ilkchild ĭlk-chīld
Ilker ĭlkʹer
Jackie Doo jăkʹē dū
Jakob Inteus Walker jāʹkub ĭnʹtēus wäʹker
Jywd jūd
Kanarus kănʹärʹus
Kane kān
Kaninchens kănʹĭnʹchĭn
Katos kā-tus
Klamath klăʹmuþ
Lakota la-kōʹta
Lana läʹna
Leof lēʹōf
Leofric lēʹō-frĭk
Lu Hollar lū hälʹler
Ludwig von Hollar lūd-wĭg fōn hälʹler
Mahallah mä-hälʹla
Malcolm [of] Omala măl-cōm [of] ōmʹälʹa
Manitou mănʹĭʹtū
Melyngoch mĕlʹĭn-gōk
Mendaho mĕn-däʹhō
Mendaka mĕn-däʹka
Meny mēʹnē
Mesculera Coloratus mĕs-kyūʹleirʹa kō-lorʹäʹtus
Milka mĭl-ka
Milkchild mĭlk-chīld
Muckenschnabel mū-kĕnʹschnäʹbl
Muryh myū-rē
Namen Jewell nä-mĭn jūl
Ndee na-dē
Neorxanawang nē-orkʹzanʹaʹwāng
Nunnehi nū-nĕʹhē
Nu Yalk nū yäk
Oakheart ōk-härt
Odhin ō-ðĭn
Offa ō-fä
Grokk gräk
Onamingo ōnʹa-mēnʹgō
Os ōs
Paloma pa-lōʹma
Prenus prē-nus
Pyrsyrus per-sērʹus
Quailor kwā-lor
Quant kwänt
Quorum kwor-um
Redangus reʹdän-gus
Redelfis reʹdĕlf-ĭs
Redith rē-dĭþ
Roana rō-ăʹna
Rogue rōg
Roufy-Trof
Rus-Syr-Os rus-sēr-ōs
Saga-Jah-El-Ea säʹga-yä-ĕl-ēä
Sagawis säʹga-wēs
Sagwi säg-wē
Sanangrar sänʹänʹgrär
Sasa sä-sä
Sasa-Mingo sä-sä-mēn-gō
Sassia sä-sēʹa
Saxwulf săx-wulf
Schmo von Hollar schmō fōn hälʹler
Segnir sĕg-nēr
Sharaka sha-räʹka
Starkwulf stark-wulf
Sur Sceaf ser schēf
Sur Spear ser spēr
Swan Hilde swan hĭl-dĕ
Syrus sērʹus
Tahlequa tălʹĭ-kwä
Tah-Man-Ea tä-mäʹnēʹa
Talbot tăl-but
Taneshewa tä-nē-shēʹwä
Thuryridamus þer-yĭʹrĭʹda-mus
Tyr tēr
Tyranis tī-rănʹus
Ullr ulʹr
Umpqua ump-kwä
Ur-Fyr ūr-fēr
Va-Eyra vä-ī-ra
ValHollar văl-hälʹler
Valkyries vălʹkyērʹēz
Vardropi vär-drō-pē
Waelwulf wāʹl-wulf
Walpurga wăl-per-ga
Willona wĭlʹlō-na
Witan Jewell wĭʹtun jūl
Woon wūn
Woondigo wūn-dĭʹgō
Wose wōz
Wyrd wērd
Xelph zĕlf
Yggd yĭgd
Yggep Walker yĭgʹĕp wäʹker
Yster yĭs-ter
Zamora zaʹmorʹa
Zootchise zūt-chēs
Glossar
y
Aelfheah – A son of Sur Sceaf and Lana. He is a stud master/horse breeder
Ahyyyokah – Another name for Taneshewa
Ahy – Nickname for Taneshewa
Alfred – Ancient king of the Angles and the Saxons
Angrar – The god of the Pitters. The one and only god they worship.
Apache Tribe – Another name for the Ndee. A tribe of Red Men located in the Arid Zone and the White Mountains.
Arundel I – A past Herewardi king of Taxus, whose seat was in the Omala. One of the Seven Longfathers
Arundel II – A past Herewardi king and prophet who operated from Elves Island, the Omala, and Leakey.
Arundel III – Sur Sceaf and Paloma’s son and heir apparent of the Herewardi Kingdoms. Sur Sceaf’s firstborn.
Axe-Face – A Sharaka brave. Signals that Sur Sceaf needs a guide through the Sharaka camp in DiAhman.
The Balmors- People who come from or live in the city of Balmor on the East Coast in the land of Merry Land.
The Black Wolf – the mythical representation of death and destruction among the Herewardi.
Blind Seer Katos – A seer for the emperor of Pitterdom. Heavily influenced by the Dark Elves.
Bear Clan – A clan out of the Klamath Red Men. They intermingle with the Sharaka of Di Ahman.
Bear Dog – Onamingo’s right hand man. A brave and son of White Moose. He has counted many coups and slain many Vardropi.
Bear Killer – Chief of the Frink Glen Clan, asks Sur Sceaf for aide to defeat the Pitter legions attacking his settlement.
Billy Weasel – A past lover of Mendaho. A Klamath Tribesman. Standing Bull’s friend, and far-seer
Black Brotherhood – The League of Pitter Commissars
Black Priesthood – The Priesthood and devout followers of the occult brotherhood headed by the Blind Seer Katos.
Blooms Alone – Taneshewa’s neice. Daughter of Sparrow Hawk
Boar’s Tooth – A red man chief from the Montan
Boots-Lost – An aged talking chief. He fears that joining the confederation of the three tribes will cause the end of Sharaka and Red Man culture.
Brekka- Daughter of Sur Sceaf and Lana. Desires to be a shield-maiden
Buffalo Chiefs – Chiefs of the Buffalo Nations who live in the Montan and the Plains.
Buffalo Nations – Tribes of Red men who occupy the plains and mountains of the Montan.
The Sire Sheaf (The King of Three Bloods Book 1) Page 32