Norse Vengeance by Jerry Autieri

Author:Jerry Autieri [Autieri, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Action & Adventure
ISBN: 9781091942479
Google: WteXwwEACAAJ
Amazon: B07P6HZGC6
Publisher: Independently Published
Published: 2019-03-28T16:00:00+00:00

16

Thorfast did not run at the approaching Arabs. The moonlight painted the slope silver and blue and rendered the Arabs as robed ghosts floating along the ground. Though he stood in plain view, they were expecting Dimos here. One shadow must seem like any other to them. So Thorfast had a moment to consider his next step.

The Arabs were loud, full of merriment and noisome boasts typical of victorious warriors. They moved through the humid night air with speed but not haste. They savored their victory. Thorfast was pleased to allow it to them.

But they interposed themselves between Sophia and himself.

He could not run, not while burdened with two sacks of gold, packs of supplies, and Dimos’s severed head in a bag. None of these were anything he would willingly surrender. All had a purpose to their survival.

Yet there would be no survival if he remained trapped atop this craggy hill.

He turned back toward the camp as if he were Dimos awaiting the return of his conspirators. He had hoped the Arabs would have lingered at the base of the slope. Now he was forced to abandon what he had risked his life to obtain. The packs sloughed to the ground. He kept a skin of water, the smaller sack of gold, and the sword. He debated the worth of Dimos’s head now. It might have fetched a bounty from Sergius had be been able to find him again.

He dumped it out beside the gold. It thumped softly to the ground and rolled back up to face him. His dead eyes were wide and staring.

“You got the gold after all,” Thorfast said. “Tricky little bastard, you.”

With his burdens lightened, he ran for the high ridge where the rope ladder had been set. The gold jangled in the sack as if laughing at him for choosing it over rations. He could buy food he needed now. So he clutched the sack tighter to his side to silence it. As he reached the ledge where the rope ladder was set, he heard the whooping of the Arabs behind him.

He gave one last look toward the camp. How he would find Sophia and Ragnar again was beyond him. The thought of abandoning them soured his spirits. But he consoled himself knowing the gods had made the choice for him. He knew nothing of these hills or how to get back to his friends besides following the path. He might be able to find them if he could follow the slope up from the base, which for now remained impossible. Retreat was his only other option.

So he set his foot on the rope ladder, testing its strength. Then he scrabbled down a sheer cliff that felt as high as a mountain peak. No wonder everyone believed no enemy could approach from this side of the hill. The rock was cool and hard as he bumped his knees against it during the descent. At last, he came to its end and leapt into softer grass.

He

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