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  DAYRAVEN

  BEOWULF - SWORD OF WODEN

  C. R. MAY

  Copyright

  This novel is a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it, while at times based on real figures, are purely the work of the author’s imagination.

  It is sold subject to the condition that it shall not by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the writer’s prior consent, electronically or in any form of binding or cover other than the form in which it is published and without a similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. Replication or distribution of any part is strictly prohibited without the written permission of the copyright holder.

  Copyright © 2014 C. R. May

  All rights reserved.

  ISBN-10: 1497484650

  ISBN-13: 978-1497484658

  Contents

  North-West Europe

  Frontispiece

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Fire and Steel

  Afterword

  Characters

  Places/Locations

  About the Author

  Also by C.R.May

  Fire & Steel

  Gods of War

  The Scathing

  Bloodaxe

  The Raven and the Cross

  Terror Gallicus

  Nemesis

  Sorrow Hill

  Wræcca

  Monsters

  … attacked the Francish lands over the deep sea with a ship borne host. They laid waste a district belonging to Theodoric, that of the Hetware or others, and carried off captives; then they went aboard their ships, which were full of captives, setting out for the deep sea, with their king remaining on the sea shore. When this news had been brought to Theodoric he sent his son Theudobert to those parts with a large army...

  Liber Historiae Francorum

  1

  The scouts slipped noiselessly from their saddles, doubling across to the old man who was beckoning from the shadow of the doorway. The boy ran on ahead, and the grandfather gave his tawny mop a tousle as he ushered him safely inside. Placing a finger to his lips the man indicated that the warriors follow him with a flick of his head, and he led them alongside the hut to point out a small hall at the eastern edge of the village.

  The leader patted the old man on the shoulder, slipping him a silver coin as the warriors’ swords slid free from their scabbards and they awaited his signal to attack. At least he and the boy would eat for a while, and besides, loyalty should be rewarded. Beyond the ragged line of trees to the east, the iron-grey light of the pre dawn was finally retreating before the first splash of pinks and reds as the sun broke free of the worlds rim. Glancing back towards the roadway they watched as two shadowy figures scurried along the edge of the settlement, and they exchanged nervous smiles when the men froze as a cockerel call welcomed the dawn of a new day.

  The Franc cursed silently, the bird could do for them all. The boy had told him that there were only six of the enemy in the settlement, but he had learned the hard way that his own eyes were far better at judging enemy numbers than six or seven year old lads. He paused as he weighed up the choices open to him. Even if the boy had underestimated their number he had thirteen experienced warriors in his patrol. There was only one action open to him he knew. He must attack or appear cowardly, and the Lord in Heaven knew that the people in this area had suffered enough at the hands of the barbarians already that summer. The cockerel crowed again and he decided to skirt the clearing ahead, hugging the cover which the large woodpile there would afford them. It would delay the attack for a few moments but that could not be helped.

  Kari groaned and slowly opened one eye as the boot playfully kicked his foot again.

  “Come on, wake up big nose!”

  The dream horses had carried him back to the arms of his family for a brief time, and although he enjoyed his life on campaign, the nights without them around him were the hardest.

  “Kari, let's get going, you know that it is your turn!”

  He rolled on his back and threw off his cloak in resignation, smiling up at the face of his friend. Today would be the last day of scouting duties, if nothing of note appeared ahead of them by the middle of the day they would start heading back to the main army. They had crisscrossed the road which led as straight as any spear shaft south into the heart of the kingdom of the Francs for several days now, and had discovered nothing more threatening to the great Geatish ship army they had left at the river than a few ceorls and their cows. These people were soft, he decided, no wonder that the king had chosen them to raid.

  It had been almost two months since they had fallen on the northern provinces of the Fris and routed their army. Scouring the land they had marched south, shadowed by the ships of the fleet, and crossed the great inland sea of the Aelmere. Moving on into the great river system of the Vecht and Rin, they had laughed and joked happily as the forces of the Fris and Francs had fled before them like deer before a wildfire. Soon the raid would be over and they could regain the ships and sail back to their northern homes in triumph, rich beyond their dreams. He would extend the farm and invest in more cattle. Scouting was good, it offered untold opportunities to unearth hastily hidden riches in the unguarded farms and settlements. His family were about to move up in the world, he reflected happily. His daughter was almost seven winters old now and thoughts were beginning to turn to marriage. Now that his standing in the community was about to increase they could set their sights higher than the local boys. If the gods were willing, the son of a thegn was coming within reach for them. Such a kinship connection would see the fortunes of his family surge to new heights. Maybe his baby son could be fostered at the hall of this lucky thegn he speculated cheerfully as a monotone grunt broke into his thoughts.

  “Food!”

  Kari glanced across and smiled at the big man who still lay tightly cocooned in his cloak on the opposite side of the hearth. Thorvald was always hungry but his strength and appetite were allied to an amiable nature which made him a popular leader of the group. Kari winked at him, and was rewarded with a wide smile as he rose from the straw strewn floor of the hut and made his way over to the bag of food which the scavenging of previous few days had provided for them. Scooping up his weapons he sheathed his sword and, with a last glance at his four slumbering companions, ducked out into the sultry morning air. It was barely a week since the midsummer solstice and the nights were short, already the sun was gilding the eastern horizon and a cockerel dutifully crowed on the far side of the small settlement. Kari chuckled to himself as he sleepily dragged his protesting body alongside the hut towards the place where they had hobbled their horses.

  It’s a good thing that he kept quiet last night or he would have been in the pot!

  As he neared the corner of the building a series of soft, muffled sounds carried to him and his mind snapped back from its meanderings. Instinctively he pressed himself back against the wall and listened intently. The unmistakable sounds made by scuffling men were coming from the direction of the horse line. Carefully dropping the food Kari slowly drew his sword, grimacing as the blade slid from the mouth of the scabbard with its familiar swish. Harald, he knew was there alone and would need help quickly if he was under attack. As Kari made to dart forward from the shadows, a movement to his right caught his eye and he froze instantly. Slowly turning his head he was horrified to see armed men, wa
rriors, ducking into the hut which he had left moments before. A heartbeat later the air was filled by the last confused cries of his companions as they were slaughtered where they lay.

  His mind raced. The men in the hut were clearly beyond help and Harald had almost certainly joined them on the rainbow bridge which led to valhall by now. He must be the last survivor of their little band and his duty was clear. The men he had seen were high class warriors, tough looking and well armed. This was no attack by the forces of the local thegn, an army must be approaching from the South. He must get the news back to the king.

  Already, curious faces were beginning to peer from the doorways of the settlement. In a few moments they would realise what was happening and reveal his presence to their own warriors, he must move now. Steeling himself Kari burst from cover and raced across the small track which served the settlement as a main thoroughfare. Rounding the final hut, he broke out into the clearing beside the old Roman Road which bounded the place. Before him two of the enemy warriors were bent over the body of his friend Harald, roughly searching his blood-soaked body for any items of value.

  Fighting against the urge to scream a battle cry Kari tore across towards the men, twisting his body as he drew back his sword for a killing stroke. At the last moment the warrior on the far side glanced up, and Kari almost laughed as the man’s cheerful expression changed in a heartbeat to one of shock and horror as he recognised his death bearing down upon him.

  Kari leapt onto the back of the nearest Franc, unwinding all the power in his body as he did so. His sword flashed down as he channelled all of his strength into the killing strike. The furthest warrior managed to throw up his arm in a pathetic attempt at deflecting the blow but Kari’s blade severed the limb and keened on into the head beyond. Cries of alarm were beginning to carry to him from the settlement now and he knew that the inhabitants were trying to attract the attention of their lord’s men to the danger at the horse line. The Franc had still been wearing his helm and the resistance it had offered had caused his blade to remain wedged tightly in the man’s head. The second Franc was beginning to recover from his surprise and scramble to his feet. Kari knew that he had to act quickly or he would die here.

  Releasing the grip on his sword he flicked up the strap which held his short seax in its scabbard and tore the weapon free. Throwing himself on the back of the warrior, Kari plunged the seax into the man’s exposed neck, sawing the wicked blade as great gouts of arterial blood pumped out to soak the dusty ground.

  Quickly clambering to his feet the Geat scout shot a panic-stricken glance back towards the huts as he wrestled the sword blade clear of his fiend’s helm. A knot of women had gathered on the central track which led through the settlement and they were pointing and crying out in their strange tongue. The Geat knew that he had moments left in which to make his escape before the friends of the men he had slain would arrive, and he was under no illusions as to the likelihood of his surviving such a meeting.

  Scampering across, Kari feverishly untied the leather bindings which were hobbling his mount and vaulted into the saddle. Big Thorvald, the leader of the group, had insisted that they replace the saddles once the horses had been groomed the previous evening, despite the tired men's protests, and Kari gave thanks as he now recognised that his leader's foresight had at least given him a chance to escape with his life.

  The king's army was encamped barely fifteen miles to the North and he would be back and safely within its ranks inside the hour. All he had to do was regain the Roman Road which bounded the settlement and ride like the wind, directly back to them.

  Kari wheeled his horse and glanced back just as the leading Francish warriors hove into view.

  Too late my friends!

  Reassured, he turned back to the roadway but stared in horror at the sight which greeted him. Only feet before him a boy was running, grim faced, towards him, his arms preparing to thrust an ancient spear into his belly. Quickly he twisted his body and slipped sideways in a desperate attempt to deflect the blow but the gods had finally deserted him. Thrust forward from such a low angle the shaft of the spear slid along the inside of Kari's thigh and carried on. His instinctive reaction to avoid the attack had provided just enough space for the boy's pathetic weapon to burrow in under the lower edge of his mail shirt. Kari gasped in shock and pain as the point of the spear slid easily into his unprotected groin and he spurred his horse towards the boy who fell back in terror. Kari gritted his teeth against the pain and tugged the spear from his body with a horrible sucking sound. Spinning it expertly in his hand, he drew his arm back to skewer the boy who had wounded him. A scream came from a nearby hut and he glanced across to see what was obviously the boy's mother silhouetted in the doorway, her features contorted in horror. The boy still stood, transfixed and defenceless, before him but the mother's cry had saved her son's life. He swept the point of the spear across and struck the boy a glancing blow on the side of the head, throwing the weapon away in disgust. He would have a scar to remind him of the day that he wounded the barbarian and saved the settlement, but he would live.

  The sound of horse bits jangling brought his mind crashing back into focus and, kicking in, he thundered back down the road. Leaning forward close to his mount's neck Kari flew north. He risked a backward glance and was gratified to see that the leading members of the chasing pack were at least a hundred yards behind him, frantically urging on their mounts as they gained the roadway, their great blue cloaks billowing in their wake.

  The sun was just clearing the tree line to his right, its golden light throwing a latticework of shadows across the ancient paving and he began to relax and take stock of his situation as the horse settled into a steady rhythm. Another quick glance behind confirmed that the Francs were not gaining on him, in fact, he noted with relief, they seemed to be slowly losing ground. That made sense he reflected. His horse had eaten and drunk well and was fresh from a night's rest whereas those of his pursuers must have ridden through the night to get here at dawn. They would be tired and hungry, and now they were being asked to race fifteen miles against a fresh mount. Kari had specifically looked to see if they had thought to bring his dead companions' horses along as remounts, but it would seem that they had neglected to do so in their haste. He started to relax. Nothing could now stop him from regaining the Geatish army at the river. Once there he would have his wound looked at by one of the cunning women which had accompanied the ship army for just that purpose. He may even let one of the 'crows' they had taken for thraldom see what he could do. The black kirtled wizards of the Roman nailed god all seemed to possess some knowledge of such things. He remembered men discussing how it would increase the price they would fetch at the slave market in Nyen. Even the pain in his groin seemed to be lessening he noted with satisfaction.

  He moved his hand down to gently massage the area and flicked a look dawn at his palm.

  Shit!

  He blanched as he saw that his hand was covered in thick, dark blood. Craning forward, he ran his palm along the side of his saddle and slowly down the flanks of his horse. To his consternation all felt warm, wet and sticky and he realised to his horror that he was now in a race against time. Ahead of him a stone bridge led across one of the interminable rivers which seemed to snake their way across the landscape. His horse shot from the cover of the tree line and clattered across as it continued its remorseless journey north.

  Kari closed his eyes and soaked up the welcome warmth of the early morning sun which now fell directly upon him. He had not realised until then just how chilled he had become as the ride progressed, and he realised with a start that he was beginning to succumb to the effects of blood loss. He had seen enough men die in the last few months to recognise the symptoms and he desperately packed his groin with his cloak in an effort to staunch the flow, but the realisation that this sunrise would be his last was now breaking upon him.

  His thoughts began to swim as he dimly realised that his horse was slowing. Desperately s
haking his head to try and clear his thoughts, Kari found to his surprise that he was leaning back and facing the sky. He began to feel dizzy and nauseous as a brace of swans, huge and startlingly white against the soft blue-grey sky, swept across his line of sight and his head lolled in their direction of flight. To his left a wide flower strewn water meadow opened out running down to a small copse of alder, and he smiled as he recognised that it almost exactly mirrored the southern boundary of his own farm in far off Geatland. It was a sign he knew, and he hauled on the reins and walked the animal across as the sound of hurrying hoof beats carried to him from the bridge.

  Kari felt inside his kirtle and tugged out the small wooden amulet which hung suspended there. He brought the small roughly carved hammer of Thunor to his lips and kissed it tenderly, breathing in softly in an attempt to detect any lingering trace of the hands which had so lovingly carved it. It had been a parting gift from his young daughter at the start of summer and he had worn it proudly ever since, but, to his disappointment, the rigours of the summer campaign had removed all trace of her scent.

  He closed his eyes and turned his face towards the warmth of the sun for the last time in this life as he became aware of the hubbub made by bees all around him as they harvested the tapestry of wildflowers. He realised dimly that his breathing had become laboured as his vision began to lose focus and he struggled to stay upright. Final thoughts of home flickered into his mind and he smiled sadly. The local boys would be as good as any thegn's son for young Signy he knew. They were strong and honest, good boys from fine families.