The Black Witch (Isolde Saga Book 1)

by Robert Jones

  Skaldi listened to the story with intent interest.

  "Why do you say it was elves?" he asked.

  "What else could it be?" Harald answered.

  "It could be many things, none of them good I fear," Skaldi said half under his breath.

  Isolde looked at Harald, "the exact same thing happened to us by the stones the night we left. But the wind only released us at the edge of a fall, it was trying to kill us."

  Harald was stunned, "so do you believe me now?"

  "I don't even know if I believe my own eyes, Harald!" she said, "Skaldi, what does it mean?"

  The old man didn't answer but took rest on the fallen trunk of a rotted pine under the cool shade of the airy woods. He pulled his pipe out of his robes and lit it up. Harald and Isolde sat down near him and all enjoyed a little rest from the march with minds full of questions. Slowly Skaldi began to answer.

  "I don't know what it means exactly," he confessed, "the old ones have names for these things, Sidhe, they used to call them. You would know them as faeries I suppose. But the intention was maligned, capricious with deadly intent. They did not want us to return." He trailed off in his own thought and puffed his pipe. "I do not think they were Sidhe, to corrupt something that is inherently good by nature would take time. Perhaps they were shadows. Maybe it is Orlog spinning her webs of deceit once more. But why would she return?"

  "How could she return from the frozen wastes? It's impossible!" said Harald.

  "Not impossible," Skaldi replied, "nothing in this world is impossible. She may have crawled back in silence, hidden from our eyes. Or perhaps our eyes have become weary and we missed her. If she has returned, then I would say she has been summoned. But that is a dark thought, and I will not speak on it. Not until we know more."

  "What do you mean summoned?" asked Isolde, but Skaldi never answered, he had retreated back into his own thoughts and sat in quiet contemplation.

  ***

  After a while, Isolde and Harald got up and ventured off to explore their surroundings. They agreed the little valley looked like a good place to spend the night. They strolled through the cool air of the woods together with the birds singing all around them. The ground was laden with the last bloom of wild flowers before winter. Violet cyclamens and small aqua gentians had crawled out from the ivy and undergrowth along with golden thistles and red-rich toadstools. Even as winter approached, life flourished here in the forest. They walked together and enjoyed the gentle calm of the day.

  "How are you feeling, Isolde," Harald asked.

  "Broken," she laughed, "but alive. Thank you, Harald. You always have been true. Maybe we will make a hero of you yet."

  Colour flushed to his cheeks and he smiled.

  "You had me worried you know," he said.

  Isolde snorted, "Harald, you worry about everything."

  "I'm not kidding, Isolde," he said, looking deeply into her emerald eyes. She noticed his own sparkling in the sun, glistening and looking deeply back at her. "When I saw that beast above you..."

  His words trailed off, they weren't needed. Here, lost in the deeps of nature the two could read each other's minds. For the first time in her life, Isolde saw Harald in a different light. He stood so proud before her and she suddenly realised that the cowering boy of the village was only a shell. She looked at his dark hair sweeping back off his face, his strong jawline and soft full lips. Isolde’s heart was racing and she realised that he was still looking at her. His eyes were mesmerising, they drew her in and made her feel vulnerable. She wanted to hold him, but not like the friend she had grown up with. The thought made her nervous but the desire burned deep in her heart. She looked at him longingly and played with her hair. Harald smiled, seized the moment and took her in his arms. He brought her in tight by the hips and she squeezed back. Isolde didn't understand why, but in that moment her eyes welled up and she smiled. She felt happy and safe. He squeezed her tighter, his hand sliding up to the back of her neck and she nuzzled into his shoulder.

  "I'm sorry," she whispered to him.

  "What for?" he asked.

  "Everything. I thought you were a coward."

  "I'm not a hero, Isolde," he said slowly, "but I care for you so much."

  He squeezed her tighter her heart was light and she couldn't stop smiling.

  Eventually, they let each other go. Harald took Isolde's hand in his and she smiled as they walked back to where they left Skaldi as though she was still living in a dream. The old man hadn't moved and was still puffing on his pipe, letting little white rings float into the air. They left the old man in his own world and settled down for the night.

  ***

  They woke early the next day to a dark dawn of misty dew and drizzling rain. Dull grey clouds had emerged and far off thunder rumbled through the sky like the distant echoes of a primordial battle. The rain had begun to fall in heavy drops, sparse at first but slowly building up to heavy showers that persisted through the day.

  "Isolde, You look like a drowned rat," Harald teased as she frowned at him.

  They trudged on through the woods. Small flows of water had begun to make the valleys slow moving and the hill-tops exposed them to the cold wind that blew down from the north.

  "Mjolkum is sending his scouts," Skaldi muttered as he pushed on through the wind.

  The gusts of wind and rain grew and the temperature dropped, they were heading north, not as far as the frozen wastes, not even close, but still, the weather here was wilder than what they were used to. The cold bit deep, the rain washing over Isolde's face felt like ice cutting her skin. She gritted her teeth and went on, trying to focus instead on the resinous smells filling the air. The wet pines, the earthy aroma of the undergrowth, the fresher air, she filled her bruised lungs and dreamed of sitting by her father's hearth.

  Again they began another ascent up a steep slope. The undergrowth slipped under her boots and Isolde quickly found herself scrambling on all fours trying to scamper from rocky outcrops to trees to gain ground. Her feet slipped and the thick mass of rotted pine needles gave way to wet mud and dirt. She could see Skaldi and Harald also struggling on above her. It was hard going but she clawed herself higher and higher. Craning her neck up once more, she could see Skaldi and Harald had found the top. But they were squatting low, Harald raising his finger to his mouth, signalling for silence. She moved as quick as she could, her heart racing in excitement, her chest burning from the bitter cold and exhaustion. She could hear something over the hill's crest, murmuring, shouting maybe, but the wind and rain drowned it out. Harald and Skaldi stooped low, peering down into the next valley like wild scouts. Isolde snuck up between them and gasped at the horror of the scene below.

  CHAPTER XI

  Mjolkum had begun his first true assault from the sky and thunder crackled and lightning barred its teeth across the black clouds. Isolde screwed her eyes as the wind and rain pelted into her face. Below her, an ancient path snaked its way through a wide valley. No trees grew there, only the low shrubs and wild grass. She was horrified, Hrothgar's armed men had caught up with them. She couldn't tell if they were the same thugs that had come to the gates four nights earlier, but they all bore the black raven on their round shields and looked like giants in their heavy furs and leathers. There were five, all standing around three men on their knees. It was clear they were to be butchered. She strained to see the details through the howling winds. Two of the prone men had black hair, fur clothing, their heads bowed, they looked about her father's age. The third was young, she was sure he could be no older than herself, his shaggy blonde hair soaked up the rain and clung to his face. He defiantly held his head high at the raiders. One of Hrothgar's men came forward. He truly was a giant she thought and dressed better than the others. The dull glimmer of chainmail stood out against his thick furs. An axe was tucked into his leather belt, a round-shield strapped to his back, and a long plaited mohawk fell heavily down his back. Dark intertwining tattoos ran down his scarred face. He said somet
hing quietly to the young blonde man, and Isolde flinched when she saw his great hand rise up and strike him across the face. The young man crashed into the muddy ground.

  She took Skaldi by the shoulder and leant in to be heard.

  "I have to get closer," she hissed.

  "Don't be a fool, stay..." but Skaldi's words fell on deaf ears as Isolde slipped off down the hill.

  She hopped from outcrop to outcrop, trying to keep out of view. The men bellowed laughs and struck out at their prisoners. They were clueless to her presence. She crept closer and closer until finally, she was on their level, crouched behind a shrubby conifer and straining to hear what was being said.

  "You idiot," the blonde haired boy spat, "don't you know who I am?"

  "Just kill him, Svensson," a raider said, addressing the giant leader, "or cut out his tongue and we'll take him to Ravenscar."

  "Hrothgar will take your head for my tongue," the blonde hissed.

  The giant turned on the blonde and stood over him, fidgeting with the axe in his belt. Isolde's eyes widened, her heart raced and she did all she could to be still with the rain hammering against her.

  "Maybe I'll take your eyes then, Erik," the giant snarled with a deep, harsh voice, "who gave you leave from the Rock anyway? Or did you run?"

  The blonde spat at the leader's feet. The raider laughed, like a giant bellowing, he arched his back and laughed into the sky before snapping back and kicking the blonde in the head. Isolde heard the skull crack and grimaced as his head wrenched backwards into the mud.

  "Rope them up," the giant roared to his men.

  Isolde couldn't take her eyes off the blonde's blood running down his face in the rain, her teeth were grinding under the pressure of her clenched jaw. The giant stooped over the other two and slapped them about, she heard him saying something to each but their voices were muffled in the storm. Her mind was raging... Hrothgar's gone too far. These are our lands! The men had their backs to her as they unbundled ropes and laughed. Now, she thought, strike now while they're busy! Her hand fumbled for her sword's grip and tightened around the leather. Now, Isolde, now! A voice within urged her on. What are you waiting for? She thought to herself. Now! Now! A crack of lightening lit up the sky.

  "Hey! You there! Come out!"

  She had been spotted! One of the raiders came at her, reaching for his axe and pointing. Isolde couldn't wait, NOW! The voice screamed. She burst from the shrub screaming wildly. Sword raised high above her head. The raider's jaw dropped. His axe caught in his belt. She swung down, her blade tearing into his neck. The impact rippled through her arm as the steel bit deep into the flesh. She tore her arm back. The others stood in amazement, their comrade choking on his own blood, writhing like a worm in the mud, gasping for air.

  Isolde backed up, holding her sword in front of her, the blade outright like her father had taught her. The men screamed at her as the heavy rain washed over their faces. Dark eyes, grim toothy mouths, long knotted hair.

  "You'll pay for that, little girl," one growled as he peered over to his friends.

  "She's a pretty little princess, isn't she?" said another licking his lips and coming up slowly with a cruel axe in his hand.

  Her heart thundered in her chest. It felt like a nightmare. The giant leader stepped forward in front of the others.

  "So here she is at last," he grinned.

  She swung her sword out at him and the giant laughed as it whistled harmlessly through the air.

  "That's too sharp for you to play with, young lady," he said, "put it down and come here."

  He stepped forward into her arc and she swung again. Like lightning, the huge man sprang forward and caught her arms. She struggled and squirmed but he held her with a vice grip.

  "Drop it!" he roared.

  But she would not. She screamed out in anger and snapped at his ear with her teeth. He threw her back and the sword fell to the ground. The wind howled. Her heart pounded, he came at her again. She threw her arms up and clawed at the raider. It was no use. He struck her hard on the cheek. Her head cracked back. Half dazed she came back at him, snarling like a wolf. He hit her again, harder. She didn't get back up.

  The giant was above her, and then Harald. Harald? She thought as her vision swirled in a dizzying haze. It is Harald! He was swinging an axe like a demon from hell. One of the raiders got knocked down, then another but she couldn't keep up. Harald stood against the giant and the two swung at each other like madmen. They swapped blow for blow before the giant's axe arced high and came crashing down. It was like the hammer of god, bringing all the strength of hell down on to Harald's head. He fell. Blood, she could see blood, Harald's blood, seeping into the soil. The giant stood above him, raising his axe. Isolde screamed and turned for her sword. It was no use. Another raider smirked at her before striking her down. She felt rough ropes tighten around her wrists. Harald! She moaned, squirming to see her friend. But Skaldi stood above the boy now. Blue smoke fuming from his out-stretched hands. He was holding the giant at bay somehow. The leader dropped his axe as though it was burning hot. She was ripped up by her arms and could see no more. Her head screamed in pain, she couldn't fight back. In a flash, she was being pulled away into the pelting rain with the retreating giant and his last raider.

  ***

  The storm was in full force, the rain so heavy that Isolde could barely see in front of her. Her head pounded from the blows, her body begging to collapse. Thunder exploded in the sky and lightning ripped open the land around her in brilliant forks of white light. The raiders had fastened a rope around her neck, wrenching her forward in a choking pace.

  "Keep up, you dog," the giant snarled, ripping the rope forward.

  They ran for hours, driving her to the point of exhaustion on their relentless path west. Her feet slipped and slid over the slick cobbled stones that made the ancient path. The drowning torrents from Mjolkum flooded the valley. Lightning cracked again, exposing pines that wrenched back and forth as the northern gusts raised hell all around. Her captors yelled commands back and forth in the throaty tongue of the northern tribes. There was no break. No moment of reprise. The noose stayed taught around Isolde's neck, and they made their path for Ravenscar.

  Her mind gave up on the pain and fell into the deep rut of self-sorrow and guilt. Harald... Tears swelled up as her mind's eye cast back images of him bleeding out in the mud. Adrenaline had been coursing through her veins at the time, but now with nothing else to distract her, the events played on repeat. He had burst out of nowhere looking like a hero of old. His hair swept off his face. He was furious, she had seen it in his eyes, they were intent on blood. It was shocking, she had never seen him like that. He swung his battle axe like a saga-giant. Isolde smiled at the memory, my Harald she thought before bloody flashes of his fallen body flashed back. She sobbed.

  "Shut up," the giant growled as he ripped at her lead.

  They entered another valley, this one narrow with sharp inclines of bladed slate and jutting roots. The winds howled above them but it was calm here against the slopes. Even the rain pulled back leaving only the misting of spittle in the air. In the sudden calm, Isolde could feel eyes all around. The Watchers in the Wood... she shuddered at the thought.

  "Five minutes boss," the smaller raider pleaded as he doubled over his legs panting.

  The giant man huffed, and passed him Isolde's lead, "hold her while I piss."

  Thoughts of escape flashed through her mind. She turned to the smaller man and her heart dropped. He was licking his crooked yellow teeth with a sickening spark in his eye.

  "You whore," he hissed, "three good men you killed..."

  He snapped the cord and choked her into his outstretched fingers.

  "You're all alone now..." he whispered into her ear. His free hand ripped at her hair and snaked its way down her face and groped at her chest. She wanted to scream out but the noose held her neck too tight. He forced her down onto the wet ground and wrenched her legs apart. She kicked and fo
ught but it was no use.

  "Get off her, you grot," the giant was back.

  "C'mon, Svensson," the man said from between her legs, "you can have a go first if you want."

  "Get off her," the giant said again, "Olaf's promised her for the High-King."

  The raider blew her a kiss and scrambled off her. The giant took the lead and wrenched her back up onto her weary feet.

  "He's got something special for you," the giant had a darkness in his eye as he looked her up and down.

  The other raider started to mutter and point up into the distance, "Who's that boss?"

  Isolde followed his hand. In the gloom of the night, she could see a silhouette. To Isolde's burning eyes, it looked as if something big was lumbering toward them, something dark. Her captors pulled out their axes and stood motionless.

  "Go look," ordered the giant.

  The small raider threw his round-shield onto his arm and lurched forward hesitantly. He walked slow, his axe held low by his side. The shadow met the challenge. It looked like a great bear-man. It moved with the confidence of some hell-spawn beast. Isolde stared aghast. It walked tall and upright. distant lightning flashed in the sky and the glimmer of steel shone for a moment. The beast roared like a wild animal and cut the raider down in a single blow. She began to shake. Her vulnerability became too real. The noose around her neck, her bound hands and beaten body. The sudden death of the smaller man hadn't broken the fiend's pace and the beast advanced on. She wanted to flee but the giant kept her lead tight.

  The monster's voice boomed, it was raspy and harsh and commanding, "the girl is mine!"

  Her knees went weak. She pulled against the rope but the giant yanked her in. Again, silent lightning flashed and she saw the beast for a moment.

  It was enormous, it dwarfed the giant with a frame like an ancient bear with thick black fur wrapped around it like a cloak. Black eyes focused on her captor. They were wicked and intent, peering out of a deeply scarred skull. A violent battle axe hung low in its two hands and a long red wiry beard fell all the way to a thick leather belt in two great heavy plaits. And then he growled, baring his rows of chipped yellowed teeth. It was Wulfric.