The Wolves of Dumnonia Saga Box Set

by Peter Fox

  ‘Saeric!’

  Leo’s screams came from somewhere around the corner.

  ‘Leo!’ Saeric shouted back. He snatched the ploughshare out of the bloodied sack and tore the leather sheath from the blade as he ran towards the ford. He rounded the bend to see Leo being dragged toward the river by three more armed bandits. Another two victims lay on the road, both bloodied. Further beyond, three more travellers were running away. A wagon laden with cargo stood abandoned in the middle of the river, its two oxen standing patiently in the water, awaiting their master’s whip.

  What will you do now? said the Devil. They will kill her and then come for you.

  Saeric let out a growl and ran at Leo’s assailants, clutching the heavy implement in his hand. One of the men broke away to confront their foe. His face showed surprise when he saw what his opponent held, then he charged at Saeric, no doubt confident that the servant had little hope of defending himself with such an awkward weapon. Saeric lifted the blade two-handed to parry the brigand’s overhead swing. The two iron weapons collided with a mighty clang and shower of sparks. To Saeric’s surprise, the brigand’s poor-quality sword snapped against Heremund’s solid, cast iron tool with a high-pitched ping. The broken blade span away, leaving the brigand holding little more than a hilt and the stump of the blade. The brigand’s eyes widened with alarm, and he stumbled backwards, but Saeric gave him no time to recover. The Briton threw himself at his assailant, using both hands to ram the sharp edge of the ploughshare into the man’s chest. The brigand’s leather armour protected him, but he went down with Saeric on top of him, falling heavily onto the road and winding him. Without hesitation, Saeric lifted the blade with both hands and brought it down as hard as he could on the man’s neck, crushing his throat, larynx and the bones within.

  Saeric rolled off his victim and left him choking on his own blood. He barely had time to stand and raise his ploughshare to defend himself as the second of Leo’s kidnappers attacked. His assailant landed a thrust with his sword, and Saeric felt a sharp, hot sting in his left shoulder. The Briton grabbed his opponent’s outstretched wrist with his free hand, and at the same time swung the ploughshare overarm and brought it down on the bandit’s head. The bandit dropped to the road, dead, the ploughshare embedded in his skull. He still held his sword, and as he fell, Saeric stepped backwards, pulling the blade from his shoulder.

  Swearing in agony and fury, Saeric wrenched the gored ploughshare from his quarry and turned towards the last of them, gritting his teeth at the searing pain in his shoulder. His opponent stared at the blood-spattered monster advancing on him, stunned that, despite having just received what had to be a severe, if not mortal wound, this same demon seemed oblivious and unhindered by it.

  ‘Let her go,’ Saeric growled.

  The man looked over Saeric’s bleeding shoulder, perhaps hoping the horseman would return to save the day.

  ‘He’s dead too,’ Saeric said. ‘Release her.’

  The brigand shook his head, eyes wide with fear, backing away, holding his knife to Leofwynn’s throat and dragging her with him.

  Saeric continued to advance, pleased that he was still alive, revelling in the power of his apparent immortality.

  ‘I’ll cut her!’ the brigand shrieked.

  ‘No, you won’t,’ Saeric countered calmly, still walking, ‘and I’m going to kill you, whatever you do.’

  Suddenly the bandit shoved Leofwynn aside and threw his knife at Saeric, then he turned and ran towards the trees. Saeric ducked out of the way of the knife and ran after him. He followed the brigand’s example and flung the ploughshare at him as hard as he could. The blade hit the other man high in the back between the shoulders, and he stumbled, tripped on a rock, and fell. He scrambled to his knees in readiness to flee, but Saeric got there first. The man raised his hand in a desperate appeal for mercy.

  The Briton was in no mood for clemency. He snatched up the ploughshare and swung it at the man’s neck in a sweeping backhand blow. It wasn’t quite sharp enough to take the head clean off, and the semi-decapitation was messy as a result; blood spraying in a scarlet arc as the body slumped onto its back, the severed head hanging to one side, its eyes wide open with shock.

  Saeric paused, steadying his breathing, then he turned to check that no other attackers were coming after him. Leofwynn stood rigid as a stone in the middle of the road, hands to her mouth, wide-eyed with horror. Two other people had appeared from hiding places and likewise looked upon Saeric with a mixture of astonishment and dread.

  Still holding the ploughshare in his right hand, Saeric walked up to Leofwynn.

  ‘Are you harmed?’ he asked.

  Leofwynn continued to stare at the demon, who stood calmly talking to her as his lethal instrument dripped blood onto the ground. More blood pulsed freely from the deep wound in his shoulder, staining his tunic dark red. Leofwynn tried to back away, seeing the chilling hardness in Saeric’s eyes, but something seemed to be wrong with her. She swayed on her feet, almost toppling over.

  ‘Saeric,’ she whimpered, holding a hand up in front of her in entreaty. ‘Please? I’m your friend, remember?’

  Saeric blinked at her, surprised. ‘I know that,’ he said, but it didn’t seem to reassure Leo. ‘You’re hurt,’ Saeric added, noticing that she was bleeding from a wound in her side.

  Leo let out a whimper, then her eyes rolled upwards, and she flopped to the ground.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Eanswith stared in astonishment at her bloodied scortum from her hiding place amongst the underbrush. The idiot brigand had almost given her away, rushing towards her like that, but ironically, Sugu had put an end to him just in time. She was both horrified and aroused by what she had witnessed. Her plan was in tatters, but she had enjoyed every moment of Saeric’s slaughtering of her men. While she had seen hints of it in the past, his raw power and brutality were unexpected and entirely exhilarating. How she wanted to feel him pressed against her right now, his eyes blazing with hatred, his breath hot on her neck, and the taste of his blood strong on her tongue. Such was the urgency of her desires that she nearly abandoned good sense and revealed herself to him, but self-preservation prevailed, and she remained crouched amongst the trees, cursing the incompetent fools hired by her brother on her behalf. Then again, all was not lost. They appeared to have achieved one half of their instructions; the girl would surely die, judging from her wound, although it wasn’t entirely as she’d intended. She watched as her scortum rushed to the girl’s aid, catching her as she fell, and crying out in despair when he realised his friend was finished.

  You think you are safe, she thought, invigorated and excited, but soon you will be mine again. What a fine hunt this is turning out to be! She imagined him bound in heavy chains, snarling and fighting against his shackles like some wild beast to be tamed. Yes, she promised herself. Not long now. She took one last look at him, then reluctantly turned and crept deeper into the woods to her horse, muttering a little prayer that Hunlaf would at least carry out his part in her plan as instructed.

  13. Azrael, Angel of Death

  Scirburne, Kingdom of Wessex

  ‘Leo!’ Saeric cried, springing forward to catch the noblewoman as she fell. Leofwynn sank to her knees and slowly tipped into his arms. Saeric dropped down with her, dismayed.

  ‘No, no, no!’

  Well, that friendship was short but sweet, the Devil observed.

  Saeric tugged Leofwynn’s tunic up so that he could see the extent of the wound. It was far worse than Saeric had thought. Leofwynn had been stabbed in the stomach, just above her hip. Blood pulsed freely from the cut.

  One of the survivors – a maidservant by the look of her – approached but maintained a safe distance. ‘You and your Lady are badly injured,’ she said. ‘My master’s hall is nearby. I will get help.’ She hitched her kirtle and dashed across the shallow ford and off up the road beyond, as keen to get away for her own sake as Leofwynn’s.

  In the background, Sae
ric spotted a man in tattered clothing looting one of the dead ox herders. The thief realised he had been caught and ran off, clutching his takings to his chest. Saeric looked back down at Leo, wondering what to do about her wound. Reluctantly abandoning his ploughshare, Saeric scooped Leo up in his arms, staggering a little under the girl’s weight. He was aware of the warm flow of blood from his shoulder, and his left arm seemed to be growing weaker.

  ‘Saeric!’

  The voice was Gerard’s. The huscarl was staggering in Saeric’s direction, one hand clutching his chest, his other hand held out towards the Briton. Gerard’s tunic bore the bloodied pattern left by the mace’s spikes.

  Christ almighty, Saeric thought, astounded the man was alive, let alone walking.

  ‘Stay here,’ he said. ‘I’m getting help and will send someone for you.’

  One of the survivors came to assist, looking upon Saeric with awe. Saeric instructed the man to stay with Gerard, then Saeric splashed across the river and made for the direction the maidservant had run. Soon afterwards he crested a low hill to come upon two riders galloping towards them.

  Saeric didn’t recognise them or their household crest.

  The lead rider took one look at the scene and ordered Saeric to hand Leo up to him. ‘Do it now, slave!’

  ‘I’m no slave,’ Saeric replied. ‘Where is your hall?’ Immediately he asked the question he saw a building and its compound a short way up the road. He started in that direction.

  ‘Insolent serf. Do as I say!’

  Saeric ignored the huscarl and picked up his pace.

  The rider hesitated, then he turned to his companion. ‘This is going to be harder than she thought. Go and find out what happened while I see to the thrall.’

  ‘Yes, master Hunlaf,’ the other said, and spurred his horse towards the ford.

  Saeric ran toward the nearby hall, half jogging, half running, his left ankle beginning to hurt.

  ‘Faster!’ the huscarl yelled, trotting up behind him on his mount. Saeric felt the sting of a whip on his back. ‘Run!’ the Saxon shouted and whipped Saeric a second time.

  Saeric stopped and looked up at the scowling soldier, who raised the whip to strike Saeric a third time.

  ‘Hit me again, and I will ram that down your throat,’ Saeric said coldly.

  The soldier struck Saeric across the face.

  Had Leofwynn not chosen that moment to let out a whimper of pain, Saeric would have dropped her and hauled the soldier from his horse. Instead, Saeric locked gazes with the huscarl, and said, ‘you will regret that.’

  ‘No, Dumnonian scum, you will. And yes, I know who you are, you worthless piece of shit. Your freedom ends today.’

  KILL HIM! shouted the Devil. DROP THE GIRL AND KILL HIM!

  It took all of Saeric’s willpower to ignore the Devil, but Leo moaned again, and Saeric turned and ran hard towards the house. The soldier followed, laying the whip into Saeric, so hard that it tore both his shirt and his flesh.

  KILL HIM! the Devil shouted again.

  Oh, I intend to, Saeric assured his teacher.

  They arrived at the modest timber-framed hall, where the woman and her mistress awaited them. Saeric took Leo inside and laid her on the table. The solder followed him in and immediately ordered Saeric out.

  ‘No,’ Saeric said, locking eyes with him. There was something about this huscarl, something familiar, but Saeric couldn’t quite place him, but he was sure he knew this man from somewhere.

  ‘Insolent mongrel,’ the soldier snarled, raising his whip to strike the Briton.

  Now that Saeric was relieved of his burden, he was free to act. He grabbed the leather tail and ripped the weapon from the huscarl’s hand. Saeric attacked immediately and violently, whipping the huscarl hard and fast across his face and head, forcing the man backwards towards the door. Hunlaf held his arms up to protect himself, but as soon as they were outside, Saeric wrenched the huscarl’s arms out of the way, and he rammed the handle as hard as he could down his assailant’s throat, just as he’d promised. He immediately followed with a heavy blow to the chest and then stomach, watching with satisfaction as his enemy dropped to the ground, choking as his body tried to gulp in air. Saeric followed the man down, planting his knee on the man’s chest and pinning his arms down to prevent him from wrenching the whip free. The huscarl’s face turned from red to purple, and his eyes grew impossibly wide as he twisted his body from side to side in a desperate effort to free himself. It only served to hasten his end. His back arched and his nostrils flared as his body tried one last desperate intake of breath, but it failed, and the huscarl twitched once, then fell limp under Saeric. Saeric drew in a long breath, savouring the moment, then he rose to go back inside, leaving the dead man in the dirt outside the door. As he stood, a rush of dizziness caught him, and he swayed on his feet for a moment. He grabbed the door jamb to steady himself, and then he stepped inside to see what could be done for Leo. To his surprise and anger, the two women were huddled in the corner farthest from the entrance, clutching one another, terrified of the monster that had entered their home.

  ‘Help her!’ he roared at them.

  They didn’t move.

  ‘Do it!’ he yelled again, then suddenly another rush of dizziness hit him, and he frowned down at his shoulder. The entire left side of his tunic was now stained red with his blood, and at that moment, he realised he bore a serious injury. He swore and pulled off his shirt to inspect it. The women gasped when they saw the state of his scarred and bloodied body and shrank further into the shadows. How I wish Carwyn were here, Saeric thought desperately. She’d know what to do! Saeric knelt beside Leo and pressed his bloodied shirt onto Leo’s wound to try to stem the bleeding, but it seemed to have little effect. Leo was clearly in serious trouble.

  Leo moved her head slightly on feeling Saeric’s touch. ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered, then she closed her eyes and let out a long sigh.

  ‘No!’ Saeric cried. ‘You will NOT die!’ He slapped Leo’s face to bring her back around.

  Leo let out a sharp gasp, then a frown formed on the young woman’s face. She opened her eyes to see a furious Saeric kneeling over her. ‘You’re hurt,’ Leo whispered, her gaze on Saeric’s shoulder, then she closed his eyes again, but this time her chest continued to rise and fall to her breathing.

  ‘For Christ’s sake!’ Saeric swore at the two women. ‘Help me stop the bleeding, you useless biććes! What’s the matter with you?’

  They stayed where they were, terrified by his black fury.

  ‘You stay with me,’ Saeric roared at Leofwynn. Another dizzy spell hit him, and the room swam.

  ‘Why are you doing this?’ Saeric snarled at the Devil. ‘Help me!’

  Why? It is amusing, you trying to save the life of this Saxon girl. She will die, you know. As will you if you don’t attend to your wound.

  ‘What? Save her. I know you can.’

  Are you making demands of me now? And what will you give me in return?

  ‘I gave you five souls today,’ Saeric retorted.

  Worthless brigands.

  ‘Fuck you,’ Saeric spat, pressing down on the wound, but all the while feeling weaker. The room began to swim again, and suddenly he and Leo were spinning, faster and faster in ever-tightening circles. There was a flash of white light, and then nothing.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  ‘Saeric?’

  Saeric woke to a searing pain in his shoulder and the smell of burning flesh. He opened his eyes to see Heremund standing over him with a drawn sword, its point glowing red hot. Did he just stab me? Is that what this pain is in my shoulder? Does he think I hurt Leo? Leo! He tried to get up, but someone was holding him down with firm hands on both shoulders.

  ‘Leo!’ he cried again.

  ‘Saeric!’ It was Carwyn. ‘Heremund must cauterise the wound. You will die otherwise. God help us; we may be too late as it is. There’s not a drop of blood left in you.’

  Saeric shook his head as the r
oom swam again. He saw that Leofwynn lay on the floor beside him. His friend was as white as fresh-washed linen; all the colour drained from her body. Why have they not fixed her?

  ‘So that you know for next time,’ Heremund told him, ‘the best way to stop bleeding is to sear the wound. Try to use something the same size and shape that caused the wound, but anything will do as long as it is red hot.’

  Then without warning, Heremund plunged the sword into Saeric’s shoulder again. Saeric screamed as his flesh sizzled and smoked. The nauseating sounds and smells brought a flood of horrendous memories into Saeric’s mind, and he struggled to break free. His fury and terror consumed what small reserves of consciousness remained, and he fell limp onto the floor.

  When Saeric awoke again, it was to find himself lying on that same floor; only some time must have passed because his shoulder had been bandaged and his head rested on a soft pillow of folded cloth. He felt ill and weak, and both his shoulder and the welts on his back throbbed with deep, hot pain. But it was not Eanswith who greeted him; instead, Carwyn’s kindly, tear-streaked face.

  ‘Thank the Lord in Heaven and all the saints and angels,’ she whispered, holding her hand to his cheek. ‘I thought we were too late to save you. What in heaven’s name have you done to yourself this time?’

  ‘We were attacked,’ he began, but Carwyn shushed him.

  ‘We know, Saeric. Gerard has told us what happened. He barely survived himself, but he says his armour and your valour both saved him.’

  Saeric turned his head and saw the huscarl sitting on the floor, his back to the wall, pale and distressed. His chest was bandaged, as was his arm where the arrow had struck him. He met Saeric’s gaze, then dropped his eyes.

  Leo! Saeric looked to his left and saw Leo lying on the bed pallet a few feet away. Bishop Ealhstan knelt beside her; his head bowed in solemn prayer. A black cloth lay over his wrists. ‘No,’ Saeric whispered, tears welling in his eyes and blurring his vision. ‘No!’