Ravenscar (Isolde Saga Book 2)

by Robert D. Jones

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

  She hadn't noticed but Erik had been crying in silence. Her heart dropped and she felt so stupid for not noticing earlier.

  "How did you know them?" She asked.

  Erik looked over his shoulder and Isolde followed his eyes. Wulfric must have known to give them space because he trailed far behind leading Harald out of their earshot.

  "They were like brothers," he said, "or uncles I suppose. After my folks... passed... they took me in."

  "Up in the north?" she asked.

  "We should hang him!" Erik snapped as he spun on his heels to look back at Harald. "Death for death."

  Isolde took him in her arms and held him tight.

  "We can't," she whispered softly. "I don't know what happened, he has always been so gentle."

  "Gentle?" Erik almost screamed as he pulled himself away from her, "did you see what he did?"

  She lowered her eyes, "it just doesn't make sense, why?..."

  "Why? Because he thinks I am stealing you away or something."

  "Stealing me away?" she was shocked, "stealing me from what?"

  "Oh come on, Isolde. Even Wulfric worked it out. Harald thinks I'm going to steal you from him. He wants to kill me because he loves you."

  Isolde nearly choked, "loves me? don't be ridiculous."

  "Don't be so blind, Isolde," He said, "he nearly died saving you from Hrothgar's giant, he lost an eye for you! And I think he's willing to lose a lot more to keep you for himself."

  Isolde's mind swam with everything Erik had said. She took his hand and pulled him along back the way they were going.

  "I don't want to think about it," she said.

  "Fine. We'll talk about something else."

  "Aren't you devastated about Sven and Bjorn?" she asked.

  Erik's lips tightened, "I don't want to talk about it."

  They kept walking up and down the hills and found themselves passing through a shaded glen full of thick green ferns and overhanging spruces that seemed to brush the air with gentle fingers in the breeze. Bright pink butterflies burst out as they walked by and Isolde smiled for the first time that day as the gentle hum of honeybees filled the air.

  "I love bees," she said trying to get her mind off the bloodshed from earlier.

  "I hate them," Erik mumbled back, "bastards only ever want to sting you."

  "That's not true," she laughed, "you just have to be gentle. Do you have honey in the north?"

  Erik looked at her mockingly and smiled, "do we have honey? Of course we do!"

  He pushed her into the ferns and she screamed as she tumbled into the soft mat of lush leaves. Erik tumbled down with her and they found themselves rolling in the midday sun. By the time they stopped rolling she was face up looking at the billows of white clouds floating across the blue sky. Erik lay half across her and smiled.

  "I love honey," he grinned, "but I hate being stung."

  Isolde's heart fluttered, his long blonde hair had come loose in their little wrestle and hung across his face. His smile made her nervous, she didn't know what to think. She wanted to say something witty but the words wouldn't come to her. His slate green eyes were so soft. She reached up and brushed the hair off his face and he leant down. Her heart stopped as his lips grazed hers before suddenly jerking back.

  "Oi." It was Wulfric, "no time for that, come on."

  Isolde's cheeks flushed bright red but when she looked up at the great man it was Harald she saw. His eyes were wide, his jaw tense. She saw his bound hands by his waist flexing and clenching into fists. Wulfric moved onward pulling Harald along with him. Isolde wanted to vomit. She felt so hollow inside. Erik helped her back up and brushed her off, he was smiling and took her hand.

  CHAPTER IV

  "Isolde!... Erik!?..."

  Harald snapped awake to the sound of Wulfric's voice booming outside the tent. He tried to jump up and cursed his bound hands.

  "Wulfric!?" he yelled.

  The tent flaps were ripped open and Wulfric burst in, his face glowing as red as his sinewy forked beard.

  "Where the hell are they, boy?" he said.

  "Where do you think? He's taken off with her!"

  "Gods..." Wulfric cursed, "where to?"

  Harald shook his head, "why didn't you listen to me? He's going to sell her to Hrothgar."

  Wulfric rubbed his bald head and clenched his jagged teeth together. He pulled out a knife and looked dead into Harald's eye.

  "Give me your hands," he said.

  Harald thrust them forward and in a single slice, Wulfric set him free.

  "What did that dog, Sven, say?" he asked.

  "That they were going to sell her to Hrothgar... as a whore," Harald grimaced.

  "Over my dead body. Get up, it's time to go."

  ***

  "I told you I would get you to Ravenscar," Erik laughed to Isolde.

  "I still feel terrible about leaving Wulfric, especially after what Harald did," she said.

  The mid-morning sun was warm on their back. They had found the southern end of the Ice-Lake, Jotunn, and were following it westward. The Watcher's Wood was like a great shadow to their left and the eaves of the tall pines towered above them as they crunched through the light snow.

  "Wulfric will be fine," Erik said, "he will get Harald to trial and we can travel faster without him."

  "How far is Ravenscar, anyway?" she asked.

  "At this pace, we should get to the Thurso by tomorrow, and then if we take the river it should only be another day or two... longer if we walk though."

  She nodded in approval, "the sooner the better."

  She stopped walking and clutched at her shoulder.

  "Are you okay?" Erik asked.

  "I don't know," she said, "I can feel it throbbing like it runs up the side of my neck and all the way down my arm."

  "Will Skaldi know how to help?" he asked.

  She sighed and said, "I hope so."

  They kept moving and made amazing time. By late afternoon they had reached the top of the Whitewash River. The coming of winter had iced over its northern limits, and it looked like a glistening mirror cutting through the landscape. Isolde edged her way down to its crystal banks and marvelled at its beauty.

  "Look," Erik said pointing to a tree on the far shore.

  Isolde peered over and gasped in shock. Seven stick men were hanging from the bough, four by their necks, one by its foot, and the last two hung limply by their waist which had been snapped in half.

  Isolde looked around her, every shadow seemed to come alive, every sound a threat. Her heart hammered in her chest and she slowly backed up into Erik.

  "What are they?" he asked.

  "She's here..." Isolde whimpered.

  "Who? Orlog?"

  "They're us, Erik. Look!"

  "Sven and Bjorn are the broken ones?" he asked.

  She nodded slowly, "who is hanging upside down?"

  "We have to cut them down," he said.

  "No!" she cried, "we can't touch them."

  "Why not?" he protested.

  Isolde fell to her knees as pain spiked up through her neck. Dark cackling rang in her ears but she could see no one else around. Erik came to her instantly, she could see his lips moving but she could only hear the sinister laugh mocking her.

  "Make it stop!" she screamed.

  And as quickly as it came on, her hearing came back and the voice was gone.

  "Make what stop?" Erik cried with eyes wide open.

  Isolde began to sob, "she's in my head... she's in my head."

  "Who is in your head?" Erik asked with wide eyes.

  Isolde got to her feet and pushed him back.

  "Who do you think?" she cried, "we have to go, we have to get out of this forest."

  ***

  It was dark by the time Harald and Wulfric made it to the River Whitewash. A thick fog had rolled in, and the twin horns of the yellow moon glowed somewhere hig
h in the sky. All about them an impenetrable mist had come in and carried with it the aura of secrecy and deceit.

  Harald heard it first, he took Wulfric's arm and begged him to listen. They both stood silently in the shallow snow, holding their breaths in hope of catching that distant sound. Hrmmmmm...it carried through the still night, like the low hum of an aged man.

  Harald's heart fluttered in his chest and he squeezed Wulfric's huge arm.

  "Did you hear it?" he hissed.

  "Aye," Wulfric replied under his breath.

  Hrmmmm.... the tone came again and then another from behind them.

  "They're horns," Wulfric whispered as he looked over his shoulder, "hunting horns."

  Hrmmmmmm...the horn called out still louder through the trees and then the other sounded in reply. They were getting closer.

  Harald watched Wulfric pull his heavy axe off his back and hold it ready. The big man nodded to Harald to do the same. His heart was hammering like crazy as another horn sounded. Harald pulled out his axe from his belt and listened as soft voices began to carry across the frozen river. They chanted in a strange tongue, their voices rising and falling in a methodical intonation that left Harald yearning to know the speech.

  "Incantimus purgare terram,

  Saturare nox lumine Lunarum..."

  A horn called out from behind them hrmmmm... and distant voices echoed the first verse in reply.

  "Capimus emaculare mundum,

  Bellare quod omnis virtum est perditum..."

  Again and again, the voices sang back and forth. Harald gripped his axe tighter, the tension in the fog was too much.

  "Custodes silvarum dormire non poterimus..."

  Faint lights began to bob in the foggy air, first one, then two and soon there were ten or fifteen little lamps jittering around.

  "Non dormimus cum lacrimat Throndirus..."

  "Hold fast, lad," Wulfric growled.

  The lights grew clearer, the horns blasted again hrmmmmm... and the voices could be heard all around.

  "Vigilamus salvare genu noster,

  Salvare iuventi noctis..."

  Figures began to appear out of the fog from all sides. Harald and Wulfric were caught in a snare. They stood back to back, weapons held high ready for the onslaught. Both horns blared together in a great HRMMMMM... that shook Harald to his core. The strangers came closer, the lanterns held high with poles. He could see them now, tall men draped in white silk. They were slender and graceful and moved with a natural ease. They walked closer still, chanting the end of their song as one.

  "Morimor servare verbum noster,

  Reddare malum revertere ad iustum..."

  A cold wind blew in from all sides and rushed through the long blond hair of the strangers, and into the faces of both Harald and Wulfric. The singing had stopped and Harald realised they were not men at all. Thirty of the wraith-like creatures stood shoulder to shoulder in a great ring around them. Their eyes burned bright like perfect crystals of clear azurite. Each was armed with slender blades of intricately worked silver, and the finest bows of yew.

  Harald could feel Wulfric's tension. The great man was shifting his weight from one foot to the other. But Harald wasn't scared, he felt calm, he knew there was no danger here.

  From among the strangers, one stepped forward and approached Harald. Wulfric peered over his shoulder to see and spun around to meet the intruder.

  The slender creature raised his hand in a sign of peace, and lowered his blade in the other hand. His eyes shone out in a piercing gaze as if he saw everything at once.

  "Salve barbari, estis in magnus periculim," he said softly.

  He lowered his hand and looked at Harald and Wulfric as if they were lost children.

  "We don't speak your words," Wulfric growled.

  Harald looked at his friend and put his hand on his shoulder.

  "It's alright, Wulfric," he said, "I think he is saying hello."

  "Saying hello?" Wulfric laughed, "and what about the rest of them?"

  "Your friend is perceptive," the stranger said in his soft voice, "he knows intention even if the meaning is veiled."

  "Who are you?" Wulfric said whilst gripping his axe tight.

  "I am Narbeth son of Wynballa of the Iuventi Silvarum," he said. "You would be Harald son of Arne and you are Wulfric son of Gunnar?"

  Harald nodded slowly but Wulfric was sharp-tongued.

  "What is it to you?" he said.

  "I have a message from an old friend," Narbeth said, "A wanderer you would know as Skaldi."

  Harald's eyes lit up, "what did he say?"

  "He has been taken, he sent word to my people to find your party and to steer you away from the north, away from the rock of the raven."

  "Ravenscar?" Wulfric asked, "why?"

  "We do not know why, the message just said to ensure you do not follow him. We have been tracking this area for a quarter moon in search of you. We found tracks here by the Whitewash, a struggle took place but I have no more to tell you."

  Wulfric rubbed his wiry beard, "did you see a young man and woman? They would have passed here only hours ago."

  Narbeth's face did not move, he had perfect composure over his emotions.

  "We did not see them," he said, "but brother Amroth caught their track beyond the hill across the river. There is a great evil here, a shadow lingers and we could not pursue the trail. Our work is here now, we must return light to this place."

  "Can you help us?" Harald pleaded, "the man she was with is deceiving her. He is leading her to Ravenscar."

  Narbeth paused momentarily before speaking, "Amroth will take you as far as where the Jotunn falls to the Thurso. Then he must return. But I urge you to make haste, the land has been corrupted, it is no longer safe to walk the forest."

  CHAPTER V

  Isolde and Erik pushed on through the deepening shadows of the afternoon. She couldn't shake the image of the stickmen swaying in the breeze.

  Who was the one hanging upside down?... she needed to know.

  They had found the valley between the woods and the Ice Lake, and followed the setting sun westward. The snow was crisp and the fresh air was clear.

  "We will go on into the night a while if you can manage it?" Erik asked her.

  "I can manage it," she said thinking about the pain in her shoulder, which was slowly spreading, "we need to get there as soon as possible."

  Erik stopped her and frowned.

  "How bad is it?" he asked referring to the wound.

  "It's sore," she said and pulled back the top of her jacket.

  The bruise had deepened and the fat slug-like veins were spreading. Their black bodies looked like dead worms snaking out. Already they had reached the base of her neck and down her arm past the shoulder.

  "It's getting worse," he said.

  She nodded in agreement and said, "we'll go as far as we can and rest for a little. Is that alright?"

  He smiled at her, but she could tell it was forced, his eyes cried out in empathy.

  "It's no good getting you there if you're dead on arrival. We'll rest when you need okay."

  They kept moving through the valley and the sun fell below the horizon streaking the sky in brilliant flames that danced high into the clouds above. Night came on soon, and the horned moon moved high above their heads throwing a brilliant yellow light that guided the way better than any torch.

  Isolde felt fresh in the night air and the pain left her. She flexed her arms and stretched them high above her head. Erik looked at her with wide eyes and a loving grin.

  "It's feeling better?" he asked.

  "It's like it's not even there," she smiled, "we should keep going for as long as we can."

  They travelled deep into the night until their legs could bear them no more. Isolde was exhausted, the pain hadn't returned but the dark mark was ever present and always spreading. They made a rough camp under the boughs of the tall pines. They lit no fire and lay close to each other to keep from freezin
g. She could feel Erik's breath on her neck and felt the warmth of his body as he squeezed her tight.

  "I am always here for you," he whispered into her ears, "no matter what happens, I will protect you."

  She felt a wave of comfort flow over her, as he squeezed her tighter and she nuzzled herself back into him. She closed her eyes and as the thoughts of tomorrow faded away from her mind's eye, the darkness of sleep came on.

  Glowing walls of crimson rock faded into view, and the faint screams of tortured souls echoed past her. She was alone in the depths of some hellish place, sharp rocks like teeth broke up from the ground while others hung from the roof like great spikes that threatened to drop and skewer her at any moment. Her heart began to beat as the screams came again and heavy footsteps thudded from behind her. She wheeled around and the wretched Orlog was before her. Twenty feet high and towering down, white teeth snarling behind blackened lips and burnt skin.

  "Run!" the witch screamed through a shrieking voice that rattled through the cavern, "run... run!"

  Isolde sprinted away as the titanic monster thudded behind her. Her heart was hammering out of her chest and she followed the cries and screams through twisting corridors and glowing tunnels.

  "Run to me!" the gravelly voice taunted.

  She sprinted on, praying for escape, but the thumping steps were always behind her. She passed rooms of tortured souls, beings caged in hideous iron suits as foul demons prodded them with white hot rods. They paid no attention to Isolde as she flew past them all.

  "Run, run, run to me!"Orlog cried from behind.

  She fled down jagged steps and into nightmarish scenes. Whips and knives, flayed flesh and screams for mercy. Down and down she went until there was nowhere else to go. She ran down the last passage, it was open and wide and the thunderous steps shook the ground behind her. She flew around one last corner and gasped in horror.

  Her mother was before her, bound by iron chains to a floor of fire. She looked at Isolde with eyes wide and opened her mouth.

  "Run…" she whispered.

  ***

  The strangers drifted back into the fog chanting their verse in low tones that swung and stretched its words. Harald listened in wonder and watched as the torches disappeared into the forest.