Chaos of the Gods: A fast-paced Viking Saga filled with action and adventure (Ormstunga Saga Book 3) by Cook Donovan

Author:Cook, Donovan
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2022-09-29T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 17

“Come, Bjørnson. Come and see.”

Ulf opened his eyes at the sound of the voice. It sounded familiar, but unfamiliar at the same time. That was what had woken him, not the words. It was a voice he was sure he had heard before, but at the same time, had never heard.

“Come, Bjørnson. Come and see.” The voice came again, further away this time. Ulf looked around but saw nothing. It was dark, but not the middle of the night dark. This darkness was different, and it was one Ulf knew too well. He groaned as his hand searched for Ormstunga and was not surprised when she was gone. So were his friends and the men of Thorgilsstad. The familiar fear started creeping into his stomach. “Come and see, Bjørnson.” The voice repeated, uncaring of Ulf’s trepidation.

Ulf took a deep breath and got to his feet. The old man would not wait for him. But Ulf did not know where he needed to go, or what he needed to see. He shivered at the icy darkness which surrounded him. At least the ground was dry. The last time this cloaked man came to Ulf in his dreams, he found himself in a marsh of blood and bone. “Where are you?” Ulf shouted, trying to fight the fear creeping into his limbs.

“Come and see, Bjørnson.” The voice came from his left. Ulf turned and ran to it, fearing that he might lose the old man again.

“I can’t see anything,” he said when he felt the figure beside him. The old man stood as straight as an oak tree and wore a cloak that hid his face. An ancient hand, its skin stretched thin over the bones and mottled with age, held on to the long staff the cloaked figure carried but never leaned on.

“Come and see,” the old voice drifted over him.

“See what?” As if in answer, a light appeared in the distance. It wavered in a wind that Ulf could not feel, and he was sure it was a fire. Ulf strained his eyes, trying to find the other figure that always came to him in his dreams. The giant mountain troll.

“Look,” the figure said, and Ulf imagined he was pointing at the fire as it grew.

Ulf squinted as he noticed something inside the flames. At first, it looked like a house, and Ulf wondered if it was Arnfinni’s hall. But as the fire grew bigger, Ulf could make out more houses. A noise reached his ears, one he did not recognise at first until the scream of a woman made him understand what he was looking at. It was a village. A village much like Ansovald’s. Flames danced from the rooftops as they chewed through the straw roofs and crept down the wooden walls. People ran out of the buildings, women clutching their children, their hair and dresses ablaze. Men stumbled as the flames tore through them. The church, with the large cross on the tower, was engulfed in flames which leapt high into the darkness.

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