The Sheriff's Catch (The Sassana Stone Pentalogy Book 1) by Vella-Bardon James

Author:Vella-Bardon, James [Vella-Bardon, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Tearaway Press
Published: 2021-07-11T00:00:00+00:00

IX

County Sligo, Ireland

15 September 1588

A loud beating of wings woke me with a start. I pulled the mantle away from my face, which sent a black crow shrieking towards the grey sky above. For a few moments, I stared at the rushes around me, with my deep breaths of salt air relieving the bitter taste in my mouth. When the rest of my body was bared, the blanket came away reluctantly, for it was stuck to a patch of dried blood on my shoulder. The bruise around the wound seemed to have doubled in size, so that my upper arm was near violet in colour.

‘Marti,’ I gasped, remembering the events of the previous night, ‘Marti…’

I ignored my discomfort as I slowly raised my head above the dew-covered rushes. Loud squawks were heard from the beach, and the moon was but a faint glow upon the horizon. Its light was soon replaced by that of the rising sun, which revealed hundreds of corpses across the iron-coloured sand. Crows and gulls fluttered among the rows of the dead, pecking at carrion. Small groups of men could also be seen in the distance, picking through the bodies which lay between the clumps of seaweed.

My heart quickened at the sight, which was rendered more sinister by the low hum of the sea breeze. As I slowly stirred, I turned towards the body of my assailant from the previous night, thinking to search it for a weapon. The wretch was sprawled over the yellowed grass, with a welt the size of a fist upon his forehead. I averted my eyes from his glazed stare and blue lips, and sand fell from my cloak as I shuffled towards him to search his rags.

I had hardly taken two steps when my nostrils picked up a stink of raw flesh. A shaggy head was raised from among the rushes, and I froze before a tawny eye which blazed in my direction. The wolf issued a low growl as its black lips quivered around its fangs, causing me to fall back into the long grass with my hands held out in front of me.

‘Mother of God…’

The cur’s muzzle was red with blood, and I saw that it had ripped open the dead hunchback’s throat. One of the dead youth’s legs had also been gnawed down to the bone. For a few moments the one-eyed wolf and I beheld each other, as its ribs twitched beneath its grey hide. As the daylight grew it eventually occurred to me that it was not the largest wolf I had seen, and was in fact a starving, sorry creature guarding its prey.

I slowly crawled away from it, hoping to find some branch which I might use to defend myself. A loud yelp from the beach reminded me that wolves scarcely travelled alone, and another glimpse at the sand revealed that the distant figures I had mistaken for men had tails and pointed ears. At my retreat, the wolf fell silent and returned to its feast, yet I dared not give it my back until I had stepped further away from it.

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