Thorfinn and the Witch's Curse by Jay Veloso Batista

Author:Jay Veloso Batista [Batista, Jay Veloso]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2019-09-09T16:00:00+00:00

Karl

A village maid sits by the well, wrapped head and shoulders in a white linen cloak, her bucket empty, slowly chipping at the ice that rims the water. She wears a wreath of lavender, a strong floral scent drifting about her. The dull stone knife she wields hardly dents the frozen cap, chipping bits and flecks. Chip, chip. Her breath hangs around her head like a cloud. She huddles on her stone seat, her head hooded and hung low over the frozen water. Tiny whirlwinds of snow spin in the village square, dancing across the empty alleys between the low, stacked stone homes, the moon low in the sky, extending the gloomy shadows from the passages between the buildings.

The village is shuttered tight, doors barred, the hearth coals banked so only a trickle of smoke lifts into the clear night sky. The woman sits facing the well, seemingly oblivious to the cold. Chip, chip, chip. All appears quiet, the village slumbers, nothing stirs….

Yet, reflected moonlight suddenly flickers, blood-red eyes deep in shadow. In the darkened alley behind her a shape slinks closer, silently creeping low in the gutter. More shades move forward, inching closer to the unaware girl quietly chiseling away at the icy water. Chip, scrape, chip. Long, dark forms slip free of the gloom, eyes and sharp fangs glittering in the moon light. A lead beast crawls into the open moonlight, breaking the silence with a deep, throaty snarl. It’s a full-grown wolf, a silver maned pack leader as large as a man, barring its teeth in a grimace, a bit of drool dangling from its jaws. Crouched in preparation for a leap, its growl is joined by a chorus as its pack begins to creep from the shadows and circle the unfortunate girl.

With a graceful motion the girl stands and shrugs off the cloak, revealing that she is a warrior suddenly brandishing his sword, raising it high over his shoulder. He smiles at the packs’ eyes sparkling in the dim light, as he has been waiting this long night for such a sneaking attack.

Jorn the Wyrm Slayer swings as the lead beast leaps. His swift blade strikes the wolf’s head from its shoulders, but the momentum of the attack slams the brute into the warrior’s chest and pushes him off balance. Blood spurts from the severed neck, covering the warrior in gore. Jorn stumbles, kicking the carcass aside. Two more snarling beasts jump to battle, growling and snapping at his arms and neck. Jorn scrambles, waving his sword back and forth to hold them at bay.

Throwing off a woolen blanket that disguised his hiding place on a nearby, low-slung roof, Vermund draws his bow and places an arrow in the side of Jorn’s nearest tormentor. It yelps in surprise, turning to snap at the dart now firm in its side, rolling away in pain. A second shaft is released before Jorn can regain his footing, finding the eye of the second wolf and dropping it dead to the frozen ground.

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