A Chill Wind Blows (Threads of Fate Book 4) by Ollie Odebunmi

Author:Ollie Odebunmi [Odebunmi, Ollie]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Epic Anthologies
Published: 2021-05-21T06:00:00+00:00

Council

They were big and ugly, outsized brows jutting over cruel merciless eyes, and unkempt hair matted with mud and filth. And they smelled.

But the little girl was made of firm stuff. Fear coursed through her, making her belly flutter, but mouth set in a firm line, she grasped her sword and stared defiantly at the vermin who dared make war on a child.

“We don’t wish you harm, girl,” one of them said, a particularly foul looking specimen with a huge bulbous nose and an unseeing milky-white left eye. “Step out of the way, we only want the silver.”

“There’s no silver here,” she said. “You’d best be on your way.”

“Enough talk!” Bulbous nose snarled, drawing a large, curved dagger as he stepped forward, the other four spreading out to surround the lone figure of the girl.

Then they attacked, cruel sharp blades seeking her soft flesh.

The girl leapt to meet them.

Deflecting a knife thrust by Bulbous nose, she lunged forward with her right leg, and lanced her sword into his heart. He fell and his body disappeared.

Pirouetting, ducking and turning, her movements were a blur, as she avoided the sharp blades of the big uglies, all the while her sword licking out like a serpent’s tongue. In no time, she was alone as her assailants fell, their bodies disappearing.

She stood, triumphant, eyes gleaming with satisfaction. “I told you to be on your way,” she hissed. “Now you walk the dark road and Sutr’s imps will feed on you.”

Satisfied there were no other ugly ones around, she turned and started walking toward the wood and grey-stone built farmhouse a short distance away.

Stopping at the sound of hoofbeats, she swung around to see five horsemen approaching. Her eyes lit up, for it had to be her father and brothers returning. As they neared, the look on her face turned to one of concern as she realised they were not who she had thought. Then fear rose in her, threatening to overwhelm her as she recognised them as the imaginary figures she’d been play-fighting earlier.

Dropping the stick she’d imagined a sword, Gislaug ran for the farmhouse, screaming.

Her mother appeared in the doorway, an old sword in her hand and Gislaug ran into her arms.

“What do you want?” her mother demanded, as the riders pulled up. “We do not have any riches or silver.”

The leader Gislaug recognised as Bulbous nose from earlier, slid from his horse, thin lips spread in a leer. “No silver eh, lovely lady? But have no fear, you have other gifts you can bestow upon us.”

Gislaug’s mother raised her sword, but Bulbous nose wrenched it from her hand and back-handed her across the face, sending her sprawling.

Pushing Gislaug aside, the five fell upon her mother. Huddled on the ground, the ten-year-old Gislaug hid her eyes, but could not shut out her mother’s screams or the coarse laughter, and bestial grunting of the raiders.

Finally, it was quiet and Gislaug opened her eyes to see her mother lying on the ground, her lifeless eyes staring, with blood bubbling from a ghastly wound on her throat.

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