Viking Read Free Page A

your village have a palisade?”
    “Aye, but the gate will be open.”
    “I’m looking for a woman. She has hair as black as midnight and eyes the color of violets. She is a witch. Do you know of her?”
    The boy’s eyes widened. “A witch? Nay, there is no witch in the village. Only one woman matches your description. Fiona the Learned, but she is no witch.”
    Thorne’s blue eyes narrowed. “Think hard, lad. The woman I seek is a great beauty, no mere peasant.”
    The boy licked his lips nervously. “I-I—nay, I know not of whom you speak.”
    Thorne didn’t believe him. He would find his witch, and when he did he would force her to remove her spell. “Take the boy away. Tell the men who will remain here to guard the ships to watch him. We’ll learn nothing more from the lad.”
    The morning was fine and clear as Thorne led his savage horde toward the village. When Ulm spotted a monastery situated atop a hill, he turned off the path with half the men, leaving Thorne to continue on alone. Monasteries usually held a wealth of gold and silver, much more than could be gleaned from peasants. Wielding their mighty swords, Ulm’s men descended upon the unsuspecting monks. ButThorne was not distracted by the promise of riches or slaves. He was here for one reason alone.
    The witch.
    Fiona the Learned wended her way through the forest to Brann the Wizard’s cottage. As was her habit, she visited the old Celtic sorcerer daily, usually before her father stirred from his bed and the villagers began their day at morning Mass. Today she carried a basket filled with medicinal herbs such as St. John’s wort, laurel, fennel, vervain and sage. Brann was a healer as well as a wizard. He concocted potions and brewed medicines that had mysterious healing powers. The villagers sought his help with everything from love problems, to impotence, to warding off danger.
    Fiona trod the well-worn path to the tiny daub-and-wattle cottage sitting in a small glen not far from the village. She knocked once on the door, then let herself inside without waiting for an invitation. The cottage was dark and smoky, smelling strongly of herbs and medicines of which only she and Brann had knowledge. Before her untimely death, Fiona’s mother had been a renowned healer and she had taught her daughter her skills.
    Though Mairie the Healer had embraced the Christian religion, her Celtic roots ran deep. She was said to have mystical powers inherited from her Celtic forbears. Fiona’s powers were not as strong as her mother’s, but Brann had shown her how to use those she did possess, such as clairvoyance and healing, for the benefit of others.
    Fiona peered through the smoky gloom of the room and saw Brann standing at the single window, staring toward the sea. He didn’t stir as she approached him. She set her basket down on the table and gently touched his shoulder.
    “Brann? What is it? Are you unwell?”
    Several moments passed before the old man turned to acknowledge Fiona. Though his eyes were clear, they burned with a fervor that made Fiona shiver. They seemed to look right through her. She’d never seen Brann so distracted and it alarmed her.
    “Brann? What’s amiss?”
    “Ah, Fiona,” Brann said, suddenly gaining his wits. “ ’Tis beginning.”
    “What? What is beginning?”
    Brann glanced past her, his eyes unfocused as he began to recite in a singsong voice: “They will arrive on our shore in dragon ships to plunder and raid. You will know him by his name. He is called ‘Relentless.’ His sword is Blood-drinker and his ship is
Odin’s Raven.
He holds your fate in his massive hands. He comes to take your life. Instead he will steal your heart.”
    His words fell off and his eyes cleared. But his expression remained grave.
    “I’ve heard that prophesy before, Brann, why do you taunt me with it now? I no longer believe it to be so. Vikings visited our shore a year ago but nothing came of it, thank our blessed Lord, and they did