Gallows Born: Epic Viking Fantasy (The Bane Of The North Book 1) by Salter A.C

Author:Salter, A.C.
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2024-02-15T00:00:00+00:00

14

In The Shadows

The lamp took on the second strike, and he stowed the strike box in one of the many pockets he found in his jerkin and closed the hidden door in the back of the wardrobe.

A draft picked up and tussled his hair as he ascended the spiral staircase, ensuring that his boots fell into the prints left from the previous day.

He thought about calling out to Glance yet remembered that his uncle had warned him to remain silent in the passageways.

After a single turn, the steps came out into the circular room. The glow from the lamp was barely bright enough to chase the darkness into the corners, yet it was enough to see that Glance wasn’t here. The staircase at the other end appeared like a rectangle of blackness, while the archway was fixed in a permanent yawn, the darkness looming beyond.

He took out the parchment and held it to the light, affirming that the arrow pointed through the picture of the archway.

Stepping in the old footsteps, Bane made his way across the circular room to the archway. He held the lamp high, the light catching a mouse that scurried into a crack that split the floor from the stone wall.

Spiders clung to webs in the ancient eaves; several that had been hanging hastily climbed up the silver threads they’d been dangling from, tiny black orbs staring back at him.

He hated spiders.

An eery tingle crept down the nape of his neck, playing with his nerves, and he began to pick out shapes in the gloom.

He felt as though someone else was there.

Swallowing a rising fear, Bane slipped his sword from its scabbard, the steel whispering as it was drawn.

The solid weight of the weapon lent him reassurance as he paced further into the room.

It was littered with broken furniture. Old stools, dining tables, split barrels rotting on the floor and casting strange shadows that seemed to dance as he moved.

The thorns beneath the vambrace began to itch as the tattoo sensed something sinister. The lamp lit him up, a victim, easy to see, easy to attack from the myriad of dark places.

He took another step and heard a scrape behind him.

He whirled, blade raised, but saw nothing but his own imprints in the dust.

His imagination was getting the best of him.

Maybe he ought to return to his chamber and wait for Glance to come to him.

No.

The parchment had been left for him to find. This was a test; he was sure of it.

After a few more steps, he found another archway ahead - or at the least, half the archway. The roof had partially collapsed, a slab of stone leaning at an odd angle on the ground, revealing a small triangular hole barely large enough for him to squeeze through.

He knelt and placed the lamp on the floor, attempting to see further into the hole, but saw that it was covered with rocks and rubble and was impassable.

As he rose, he heard another scrape. This one was much closer and was followed by the intake of a breath.

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