War Raven: Barbarian of Rome Chronicles Volume One Read Free Page B

strength. The day of reckoning will come, I promise you. But, for now, we must gather our strength and prepare for the day when our blades will make the Romans pay for their arrogance.”
    Shouts of support echoed Roth’s strong words.
    His face flushed red, Roth continued, “We must send out runners to the villages of our people, and to our brothers the Usipetes and the Chatti, who also bear the iron-shirts no love. The war-chiefs will be summoned to meet on the first night of the next full moon.”
    A great baritus erupted around Guntram that seemed to shake the very foundations of the long-house.
    When the clamour subsided, his father moved proudly to his side. “Listen brothers,” his voice resonated over the heads of the assembled. “My son has returned safely with valuable news, and all this talk of battle has made me thirsty. Tonight we rejoice that Guntram is back safe, and then tomorrow we’ll turn to the task of dealing with our enemies.”
    *
    A thousand hammers pounded in his skull as he raised his head from the straw . Gods! How much beer did I drink, he pondered, as his eyes adjusted painfully to the light of dawn squeezing through the shuttered windows. Old Cort, his father’s hound, was barking at the rear of the long-house. Probably disturbed by a starving fox or badger scavenging for food scraps, Guntram thought.
    Recumbent bodies slumbered all around him. He needed water. Coughing, he got unsteadily to his feet. After a brief search he found and drained a half-filled clay bottle. His mind turned to Jenell and the welcome she’d given him the previous night. He smiled, recalling her tenderness. Afterwards, she’d listened to him talk far into the night – talk of his uneasiness following the killing of the Roman, his concerns about the fighting ahead. What a special women she is , he thought. I thank the Gods that it’s me that she favours.
    Outside, old Cort continued to bark, and was joined by other dogs across the village. Bodies now stirred around him, disturbed by the noise. His father rose and moved towards the long-house’s rear entrance. Ilse was up and starting to clear the wreckage of food utensils that cluttered the floor. Nearby, young Faiga stretched her arms before nestling deeper into her furs.
    He watched his father push the lodge’s door ajar, his tall frame clearly silhouetted in the breaking light, a lattice-work of old scars clearly visible on his bare torso. Guntram saw that he’d drawn his long–sword. Then he was gone.
    Snatching up his framea, Guntram hurried after him. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his gut. He was almost at the door when the first raw scream shredded the air. Fully awake, he rushed outside. His father was nowhere in sight, and he headed in the direction of the scream, joined by others staggering from neighbouring buildings. All about him shrieks of fear filled the air, accompanied by angry shouts and the crying of children.
    He smelt the acrid smoke before realizing that some of the long–houses were on fire. Blinking to clear his eyes, he saw the running figures of men carrying short swords and flaming torches. They were igniting anything that burned as they raced a weaving pattern between the buildings.
    “Suebi! ” Recognition struck him, and he quickened his pace to intercept one of them. As he closed, the Suebi hurled a torch at his head, followed quickly by a sideways slash at his neck with his cavalry sword. Guntram batted the torch aside with his framea and ducked low under the sword cut. In a single, smooth movement, he whipped the spear forwards into the Suebi’s exposed gut. The Suebi uttered a single, shuddering gasp of pain, before collapsing to the ground. Guntram wrenched the glistening blade head free. Heart racing, he quickly scanned his surroundings.
    Every lodge within sight was ablaze, and all around him people fought to escape from their fiery prisons. Mounted horse-soldiers were entering the fray from all directions.