The Black Witch (Isolde Saga Book 1) Read online

  The Black Witch

  Isolde Saga Book One

  Robert D. Jones

  www.robertjonesauthor.com

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  CHAPTER I

  The olive green grass was too long for this time of year, and as Isolde and Harald crossed the fields they wondered where the town's flocks had gone. It was only last harvest that they had celebrated the great number of births for the spring. But now, with winter on their doorstep, there was the unspoken anxiety that there might not actually be enough to go around in the shorter days to come.

  Still, there was work to be done, pigs were being herded and slaughtered for smoking, pens were being mended, and fresh thatching was being put on homes for the coming storms. Isolde led Harald out to the fields and they waved to old man Ivar as he herded out his sheep, and they themselves were going down to tend to the milk cows and bring back the fattest of the calves for the night’s feast.

  "Do you think we're cursed?" Isolde asked with a sly smile. She looked over to Harald when she asked it and noticed his eyes quickly dart away from hers.

  "Nah," he replied. "I mean, maybe, but it's probably just raiders making off with the cattle when they can."

  "Doesn't really explain the weird infections though," she said as her boots began to slide in the slick mud of the field.

  "Not everythings magic and curses, you know." Harald seemed to be getting frustrated and Isolde couldn't tell if it was the thickening black mud or the conversation. "Infection always spreads," he went on. "It's probably something that came with those traders from Harwich or something."

  Isolde shook her head but kept silent, their village hadn't been visited by any regular traders for a long time now.

  "Hey, did you talk to your dad?" Isolde asked, changing the subject.

  He stopped and looked at her before shaking some thought form his head and continuing on.

  "It wasn't a good time," he replied.

  "It never is," she said half under her breath.

  She knew Harald had heard her but he didn't say anything, no matter how much she wished he would, she knew he would never say anything.

  "It could be elves..." he said suddenly.

  "Elves?" Isolde half laughed. "How can you be so adamant that it’s not a curse, but then say its an elf?"

  "Because I've seen them," he said seriously. "But I've never seen a-"

  The conversation was suddenly cut as the both stood slack jawed at the peak of the field’s little rise. They hadn't even noticed the smoke lightly rising until the burnt out homestead was right in front of them. Dead cows and calves lay strewn across the grass as though they had just dropped where they stood, and as for the rest of the herd, there was no sight at all.

  They moved down in silence, looking at the great black and white beasts on their sides, all pox ridden and half rotten. The sight of the baby calves in the same state made Isolde's eyes sting, but she couldn't look away. The house itself has been little more than a shelter for milking, but now it was only ash and the charred remains of a skeletal frame.

  "Raiders..." Harald said to no one in particular. He looked at Isolde and met her eyes. "We need to tell the Jarl right away."

  "Raiders?" Isolde asked in disgust. "Harald, look at the poor things, how could raiders have done this? I was here yesterday milking in the afternoon, and these cows were as healthy as you and me."

  "Get down!" Harald hissed, and Isolde quickly ducked behind the carcass of one of the cows.

  The smell was sour, but only where the pustules had burst and she scrunched her nose as Harald shimmied over to her.

  "Look," he said pointing to the far end of the field.

  Isolde saw it right away, but she couldn't tell what it was that she was looking at. From where they were ducked down, it looked like the inky black shadow of a man hunched over something. But the darkness of its form was impenetrable, it had no features, only a shape.

  They stared for a long while and the shape shifted only slightly as it busied itself, unaware of their watching.

  "Hey!" Isolde cried out as she stood up right.

  "What are you doing?" Harald cried out to her, and the shadow stood as stiff as an arrow and seemed to snap its head at them.

  Isolde yelled again and the shadow took off, moving with the same serpentine movements as a snake. Isolde ran across the field as fast as her legs would allow through the slick mud, but the shadow slipped into the woods and was gone.

  "What was that?" Harald asked between breaths as he made it to her.

  "I don't know," Isolde answered hesitantly, but her eyes were locked on the calf at her feet. This was what the shadow had been hunched over and the poor thing moaned in agony as its little legs flinched helplessly on its side. It was half dead, open sores across its sides and its deep black eyes looked at Isolde as though it were begging for mercy.

  "Look at the mark," Harald said as he stooped down next to her.

  He ran his finger along some curved lines that looked seared into the skin and the calf's eyes widened as it mooed in agony.

  "Stop it," Isolde said and she swatted away his hand. "The poor thing looks half starved."

  "It doesn't make sense," Harald said as he stood back up. "These cows have had more then enough to feed on this season."

  "It was that... thing... that shadow," Isolde said. "You saw it too right?"

  "Yeah... I mean, I think so."

  "Oh, come on, Harald! Don't do this too me!"

  "We should go see the Jarl," Harald said.

  "We should go see Ivar," Isolde corrected. "He's closer and he might have seen it too."

  "What about this little one," Harald asked, nodding down to the struggling calf.

  Isolde looked at the poor thing and knew what they should do. Harald knew too, but they both just looked at it with pitying eyes.

  "Maybe it will get better," he suggested.

  "Yeah, maybe..." she knew it wouldn't, but they left it where it lay all the same.

  Isolde stood up right and looked deep into the woods. What was that thing? She looked for a long time before giving up, there was nothing there but the tall pines. With a shake of her head, she turned with Harald and they walked back to try and find Ivar.

  CHAPTER II

  "It's the witch, it has got to be!" Ivar spoke as though this voice were somehow squeezed right up into his nose. The words vibrated out and were all pinched together. But it never bothered Isolde, she just looked at Harald with a smug smile.

  "See," she said, "every body thinks she has come back."

  "I'm not saying she hasn't," Harald said quickly. "But I'm not going to just say she has unless I actually know."

  "You just don't want to believe it because it scares you,"

  "Hey!" Ivar cut in with the sound of a buzzing bee. "Don't argue, okay?"

  "I'm not scared," Harald said with deadpan eyes and looked back at Ivar. The last word made Isolde burn and she boiled up with the need to say something back, but Ivar began speaking and she kept quiet.

  "I haven't seen a shadow," he said. "But that circular burn, all my poor lambs have it, and the older sheep are full of sores. Even my ram is raw all over."

  He shook his head and Isolde could tell he was worried as Ivar's eyes drifted into the middle ground of concentration.

  "Have you told the Jarl?" Isolde asked.

  "You're father? No, not yet, but I will tonight at the meeting."

  Isolde nodded and turned to Harald.

  "We should go back to the woods and see if w
e can find that shadow again," she said.

  Harald shook his head.

  "Look," he said calmly. "If you don't want to tell your Dad about it, then that's fine, but we should at least go and tell the guard."

  "Tell the guard what?"

  They both jumped at the roughness of the voice and turned to see Wulfric standing over them. The ability for a man so big and so rough to be able to move so silently was never lost on Isolde. She looked up at the big man's wiry red beard which was split down the middle into two parts. His chipped teeth showed when he smiled and his dark eyes looked at them lazily. But the lazy look didn't fool Isolde, Wulfric saw everything, even if he didn't show that he did.

  "The milking shed got burnt down last night," she explained.

  "Raiders," he said quickly, and looked up to Ivar. "I need to speak with you."

  Ivar looked a little worried, but Isolde was burning to know more.

  "How do you know it was raiders?" she knew better then to mention the shadow.

  "Because I know," he said gruffly, trying to dismiss her.

  "How?" she pressed.

  "Look at me, Little Birdy, and tell me what you see," he snapped.

  He was dressed in thick furs and leather, and clutched his heavy battle-axe in one arm.

  "That's right," he went on, knowing what she was thinking. "I know, because I'm the one whose been chasing 'em off. And I will know for sure about this shed when I find your raiders, and split their skulls."

  "Can I come with you?" she asked, but her hopes were dashed as quickly as they had come as the big man laughed at her.

  "Come on, Ivar. Walk with me," he said, and Isolde and Harald watched as the two men walked off, herding the sheep along with them as their voices dissolved with the distance.

  "Raiders..." Harald said once they were out of ear shot. "I told you so."

  "Harald..." Isolde said like a worried mother. "You saw that shadow thing too. And why would raiders spread disease?"

  "The raiders are from Hrothgar, everyone knows that, Isolde. He's probably plaguing the south before he attacks or something."

  Isolde sighed. "I'm going into the woods to have a look, are you going to come?"

  "Fine..." Harald gave in.

  ***

  They passed back across the field and tried their best to ignore the fat cows and calves lying limply in the tufts of grass. The forest before them was nowhere near the size of the daunting Watcher's Wood to the north of Eyndale, but still, as they looked into the gloom below the towering pines, the enormity and ancient power of the forest emanated out toward them.

  "What are you even going to do if you find it?" Harald asked as they stood at the threshold of the woods.

  "I don't know," Isolde answered carelessly. "I just want to know what it is, don't you?"

  Harald didn't answer but inside of him he felt the weight of fear that cramped his muscles. He was looking up the path, if you could even call it that, and trailed it with his eyes until it climbed the hill and disappeared around a bend.

  "Come on," Isolde beckoned him and she set out into the forest and Harald wondered where she had got her confidence from.

  He grudgingly followed her into the gloom of the woods as she strode out ahead of him. The air felt warmer here under the towering canopy despite the autumn breeze that was starting to blow through the trunks. Small outcrops of slate rock broke out in odd places which ferns and ivy clung on to and grew out of. A deafening shriek set his heart off before he realised it was Isolde.

  "I told you!" she yelled, pointing down to a fern by her feet.

  Harald quickly caught up and saw the dead calf lying limply in the bush. They stood over the poor thing, trying to make sense of what they were seeing. It's once soft skin was cracked and leathery, wrapped so tight around its body that it clung to the bones so that its spine ran a jagged line down its back, and the ribs made a poor tent across its chest. But what was truly horrific was the gaunt face of the calf. There was not an ounce of fat anywhere on it, it looked as though the very life had been sucked out of it.

  "Look at the marks," Isolde said quietly.

  But Harald had already noted the three crescent moons burned into the animals side and he felt his bottom lip forcefully frowning on its own. Isolde patted the calf's thin face and she spoke words to it as if the poor thing could still hear her.

  "This is so unnatural," Harald suddenly said. "We should go, we need to tell someone."

  Isolde stood back up and looked Harald dead in the eyes.

  "Who are we going to tell?" she asked. "Wulfric and my father are so bent on it being raiders that they don't even see this sort of stuff."

  Harald shrugged his shoulders. She was right, without the Jarl's backing no one was going to seriously look at this black magic, even when all the village knows it is happening.

  "We have to do it ourselves," Isolde said. "If we can bring back some proof, then maybe the town will consider the fact that the Black Witch has returned."

  Harald shuddered at the name. The Black Witch...he did not want to even imagine it, let alone chase it through the woods.

  "Let's go back," he said adamantly. "This is above our heads, Isolde. We should at least get help before we go wandering around out here on our own."

  He hesitantly glanced back toward the fields just beyond the forest limit.

  "Don't be ridiculous," she said. "We always used to play around here when we were kids. I know these woods like the back of my hand, we will be fine."

  Harald was shaking his head. "It feels different," he said, and he wasn't lying. The woods had a heaviness to them, a thicker air that pressed down on him.

  A twig snapped and they both flung at the sound. Their eyes were wide and Harald felt his breath catch in his chest as a rustle in the bush stopped his heart dead in his chest. Another rustle and horns burst out from the forest's under-scrub. Harald breathed in relief, they weren't horns, but antlers, and they were looking at a yearling buck. Harald felt ridiculous that he hadn't heard the signs of its approach.

  "See," Isolde said as the buck sprang off between the trees and away from them, "the forest is fine."

  "All this witch talk is making you believe she is out here," Harald said. "Its crazy, that shadow was probably just a raider."

  "You know it wasn't," Isolde said confidently.

  Harald knew she was right, but he had had enough.

  "Look," he said. "I've got watch duty in a few hours so I'm heading back. If you want to go exploring instead of tending to the scattered herd then that's your choice, but I have things to do."

  "Fine," Isolde said with tight lips and razor eyes.

  "Fine?" Harald asked a little taken back.

  "Yeah, that's fine. I will see you later."

  Harald shook his head and turned back to the fields and left Isolde to her own bidding in the woods on her own.

  CHAPTER III

  Isolde watched Harald walk off down the animal track and back into the fields. She kept watching him and not once did he turn back to look at her.Fine...she thought,I don't need him anyway. She turned her back on him and headed up the wooded slope and began to feel at peace among the ground hugging ferns and whistling birds.

  It didn't take long for here to find a second calf that had succumb to the same fate as the first, but when she found the third, fourth and fifth, all in different stages of rot, she began to feel worried. The last she had seen was so far gone that it was little more than bones jutting out of a pool of filth with worms and flies consuming the remains as though it were a feast.

  She did not stay to look on that one for long, but pushed up the little slope until she had reached a peak in the woods. The late afternoon sun broke through the canopy of pines and spruce trees so that the rays fell down like perfect panes of dusted light. It was beautiful, as beautiful as the woods had ever been, but there was the nagging feeling that something was off. It was an oppression in the air, a feeling of eyes that were watching her, it was a wa
rning that she ignored.

  The distant sound of laughter stole Isolde's attention. It was deep voiced and throaty, like a man's when he had had to much to drink. Instinct forced her to crouch into the undergrowth and she strained her ears to listen. There it was again, someone talking in a low voice and another bellowing out a distant laugh. She stayed and listened for sometime and noted that the voices hadn't moved or become quieter or louder. They must be sitting somewhere off to the east, or so she guessed by the dipping sun and the lengthening shadows.

  She moved across the forest floor on the balls of her feet, trying to be as lithe as a cat and as silent as a mouse. She followed the sound of the talking and realised their accent was off, it was too deep and harsh and some of the words didn't make sense to her. They must have been northerners. As she reached a peak in a hill, her guess was answered and she saw two men sitting around a fire in the bottom of the valley, roasting a calf.

  They were tall men, but not as big as the northern mountain-men she had seen come down south from time to time. Truth be told, she didn't know where they were from because they wore no insignia and their clothes were the common fur and tanned leather that everyone wore. But she watched them from up high and decided that they must have been in the woods for a while because they were dirty beyond belief, with soiled clothes and smeared faces.

  Isolde shifted her weight and the sharp snap of a twig underfoot sent the eye of the men right on her. She stood atop the rise like a deer stunned by the hunter, her heart stopped as her eyes met their gaze, and in that moment, the man with the mangy brown hair had a bow in his hand and they were calling at her to come down. She didn't know what to do, she couldn't run, she would be shot down, and as their calls became orders for her to come over she became more and more frozen.

  The mangy brown-haired man was silent as the other called.

  "It's alright, love. Come down here a minute," he cried out, beckoning her over with a waving hand.

  She forced her first foot forward, her thoughts blasted away by fear, and mindlessly she began to move hesitantly down the wooded slope.