Return of the Ravens (Ulfrik Ormsson's Saga Book 6) by Autieri Jerry

Author:Autieri, Jerry [Autieri, Jerry]
Language: eng
Format: azw3, epub, azw
Published: 2015-05-09T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Konal awoke facedown on the high table and those of his guard that had not drunk with him were arrayed before him. Their faces were stern in the thin light of the morning falling through the smoke hole.

"Ten men from Hrolf's hall have arrived, and they have a message for you."

Konal thought his guard had repeated that same sentence at least twice but could not be certain. He struggled to see him clearly through blurry vision. His head hurt and eyes throbbed. His thin voice was even more strained and ragged after days of constant drinking. "What's the message?"

His guards shifted their weight, a few shook their heads. The lead man chewed his lip before answering. "I think they want to speak to you directly. Do you need a moment to prepare?"

"Prepare what?"

Someone in the shadows snickered, and Konal stared into the blank corners of his hall. "Something funny? I'm dying of thirst. Someone get me water and send Hrolf's men inside. Why've you kept them waiting?"

The guard bowed and left with the others. Konal waited for an old Frank slave to pour water into his mug, then gulped it down. Slamming it on the table, he pointed for a refill. This one he did not drink, but splashed on his face. Blowing away the water that ran into his mouth, his flesh prickled with cool air. When he opened his eyes, Hrolf's messengers were already filing into his hall after surrendering their weapons at the door. The low murmur of deep voices filled the hall as they clustered at the far end. Konal sat straighter and smoothed his beard, which dripped water onto his chest. A pungent odor hit his nose, and glancing at his feet he found a puddle of vomit.

The crowd of men walked with straight backs and eyes bright with purpose. Konal felt like crawling beneath his table in their presence. Even the lowliest of Hrolf's servants carried themselves like jarls, and his guards carried themselves like kings. The leader had a strong, weathered face, deeply lined, and a hooked nose with a red scar on its bridge. He bowed crisply, helmet tucked beneath his arm and clean blue cloak flipped over his shoulder. A silver pin glinted in the thin light of the hall.

"Jarl Konal, I am Magnus the Stone, and I come with an urgent message from Jarl Hrolf."

His eyes were a clear blue, a stark contrast to his dark hair. Konal envied his rugged looks, his own face a ravaged landscape of burn scars that no woman had dared overlook. Not even Runa could see past them now. She figured his heart was as scared and ruined as his face. His hand touched the jewels hanging at the pouch at his waist and he squeezed it. The contents were as hard as his own heart and no less cold.

"Jarl Konal, are you feeling unwell?"

Magnus came back into focus. He shook his head, hearing more snickers from the dark corners of his hall. "I think I'm still drunk.

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