The Sword of Wayland

by Gavin Chappell

  * * * * *

  The yelling and shrieking echoed through the trees. Oswald, Edwin and Bork crouched in the clearing, eyes wide.

  ‘They’re attacking Egfrid’s men,’ whispered Oswald.

  ‘Whoever “they” are,’ Edwin said. The screams of dying men mingled with an inhuman gibbering, and a bestial song of triumph.

  Running footsteps pounded through the trees, and an ululating howl pursued them. Two figures burst into the clearing, and Oswald raised his sword instinctively, but instantly lowered it. The two men who staggered towards them posed no threat: both were weaponless; their bodies were slick with blood, clawed and scratched; their eyes bulged with fear.

  It was only when they were upon him that Oswald recognised the taller of them as Egfrid son of Offa.

  ‘Run!’ cried the king-in-waiting. ‘Forget our own feud - devils haunt these woods!’ He ran past them, not waiting for a reply, his sole surviving thane at his heels.

  Edwin turned to Oswald and Bork.

  ‘Seems like sound advice to me,’ he said. ‘Let’s get back to Watling Street. We can follow the road south and reach the Forest of Arden that way.’

  ‘And what of Egfrid?’ Bork demanded as they headed for the road at a run.

  ‘He won’t be much of a threat for a while,’ Oswald replied. ‘He’s probably halfway to Tamworth by now.’

  They burst from the trees into the cold midnight air of the road. Staggering onto the cracked track-way, they glanced up it towards the town. Two figures were just visible, disappearing over the crest of a rise.

  ‘There they go,’ Edwin said. ‘Maybe we would do better to join them.’ He cast a glower at the oaks as they loomed over them menacingly, though now silent. Oswald shook his head.

  ‘They don’t seem to be pursuing us anymore,’ he said, trying to keep the tremor from his voice. Now the crisis was over, he found himself shaking like a child. ‘Better that we stick to the road - it seems they avoid it - and carry on. I’m anxious to give your camp an inspection.’

  Edwin grinned, back to his old self now the threat had receded. He slapped Oswald on the back.

  ‘We’ll make a robber of you yet,’ he laughed. Bork joined him. They began to stroll down the road, talking and sparring idly as if nothing had happened.

  But beneath the trees, red eyes glimmered, following their progress.