The Red And Savage Tongue (Historical Fiction Action Adventure Book, set in Dark Age post Roman Britain) Read Free

that it came from the opposite side of the river. He walked into the water up to his knees, an arrow notched and ready, as he peered intensely into the darkness seeking the source of the splashing. The scene illuminated slightly as the inky clouds shifted away from the moon. A group of deft shadows told him that a group of deer was drinking in the moonlight.
             He aimed, and loosed his bow directly at the smallest of the shadows. The young deer fell, immediately killed, as the others swiftly faded into the deeper shadow of the wood. He ran splashing though the water, and then skillfully and quickly butchered the fawn. He secured it with twine and slung it across his back before returning to his overnight camp—his immediate need for sustenance now taken care of. When the morning came, the woods across the river looked undisturbed and unvisited. He cooked and breakfasted on a portion of the deer. What remained, he left for the scavengers of the forest; happy that they would benefit from his kill.                                                 
         After staring long and hard across the river, Dominic gathered his possessions and continued on his way. Another two days passed without event.
         He smelled the marshes half a day before he came to them. Although obstructed as he clambered over the huge boulders that littered the riverbank, he always found a way forward. Soon he was soaking, both from the perspiration of his efforts, and from the humidity that seemed to increase the nearer he got to the marshes.
            The evening was casting a dusky, pink glow when he at last got his first sighting of the swampland. It was a vision that astounded him, and not for the first time in his life he realised why he had chosen the existence of a wanderer. Before him, reflecting the low sun , was a vast grey-pink expanse of shallow water. Dragonflies skimmed its surface, and toads and coots croaked and screeched their songs into the darkening sky. Ancient alder trees rose like sentinels, stretching into the far distance.
         He decided to rest at the marsh edge that night, leant against a rock, his hands resting upon the hilt of his sword. Now he was near to his goal, he knew he should be extra vigilant, but could not help feeling enchanted with his surroundings. Eventually, he fell slowly into his usual light slumber as he succumbed to the toil of the day.
         He woke early; his brief disorientation causing him to jump with sword in hand, ready and primed. His head swam as once again he saw the swamp, this time cool and misty as the day awakened. He sighed and looked across it, seeking a possible transit.
         He soon picked out a likely route and began to splash knee deep through the chilly water, keeping well away from the many swirling currents that warned of deep turbulence. Complicated but unconstrained, his passage through the swamp proved benign due to low water after a dry summer. Whilst sapping his energy, the many dead trees he clambered over also served him as resting platforms proud of the water.
         It was mid-afternoon when he saw a thicker bank of trees ahead of him. They were not water-loving alders, so he knew the marshes were ending. He soon reached dry ground and continued as in the valley by walking alongside the river. Huge-girthed oaks, swathed with deeply etched and gnarled bark, now crowded in around him, darkening the woods further.
         He moved slowly, his eyes straining to see into the gloom. Woodland noises occasionally caused him to stop and squint into the dark, green murkiness beside the river. Soon he came to an area where the trees grew sparsely. Here, the light flooded in to reveal the track and the ruin he had travelled days to find. Looking up and down, he was satisfied that nothing stirred. He also realised that he had gained his present position the hard way by approaching from the