Free Raven's Warrior by Vincent Pratchett

the opening hoping to lead the enemy away, hoping that the treasure of my land would be held safe by its mother.
    In the bright light of day as my eyes adjusted from the darkness, they were upon us. I charged the invaders and knew that nothing would be safe. I moved fast and dodged the arrows that came my way, with a loud cry I set upon them cleaving limb from body. A strong right arm stained the ground on which it fell, and I continued my killing until a blow from behind cut through my arm and shoulder. I staggered and turned, and saw that the one-armed Norseman had pried his sword from his severed right arm and struck me with his left. More blows fell, and with darkness descending deeper than the cave, I thought that I heard Death call me by name.
    In agony they held me roughly up and vision came to me again. Their Norse tongue was rough, but I knew its meaning. Alive I at least was of some value, although I had come at a dear price; for six were dead and three were wounded. I was lashed to a rough wooden shield to make my carry easy, and all but two descended into the darkness. With swords drawn and thirsty, they entered, and the slaughter of the innocents began.
    From Dearc Fearna, “The Cave of the Alders,” the screams and cries reached my ears but truly Dark Fear, as it sounds in the Saxon tongue, was now a more fitting name. For over one hour the painful cries rose from the mighty opening, as if mother earth herself screamed her pain. But no birth would come from this womb, finally still and silent, all inside were dead, left where they had fallen, a lesson perhaps for those that chose to resist or maybe a simple economic statement that nursing mothers, children, and the old, make poor slaves. Either way in the business of slaughter the Norse brood was methodical and efficient, for I lay now, its lone survivor.
    Half mad and half dead they carried me on shield to the waiting ships. My journey through hell had begun. I was empty, a man without a tribe, a man without a country. I jumped back from the darkness of my recollections to the sound of the lass’s voice, and I turned in her direction.
    She stood now beside her father and without judgment or pity she replied to my desolate thoughts, “It is written that one day you will have both again, and these you shall have beyond your wildest measure.”

By Sea And By Land
    That night as I lay quietly in my bed I continued to rake through my pained memories.
    I was cast into the dark hole of their long ship and did not need to be tied for, indeed, I could barely move. By oar to ocean the dragon boats raced, and once there the large mainsail was set, and we were driven only by wind and current. The movement of the ship made me sick beyond measure, and so I lay, in blood, in vomit, and in my own excrement. At first I knew not speed or direction, but by the gathering coldness and the shadows of the sun, I realized we moved northward and to the east. Rough bread was sometimes thrown my way, for even some of these men could still feel pity.
    I watched and listened to them daily, to know if I was to be fed or beaten. I got to know their habits and routines, and at times they seemed almost like normal men. They worshiped their gods, ate their food, and drank as my people did. I remembered my mother and wondered if she had faced a similar fate so many years ago, and I hated them with all the power of my immortal soul.
    Insects that thought to feed on me were quickly eaten by me, and occasionally a careless rat would find its way by my mouth to my stomach. I bound my wounds with rags found jammed between the planks of the hull, for I cared little if we sank or floated. I watched daily as my captors, men of great girth, little morals, and no fear, danced across the mighty ocean. I had been forsaken by God and prayed only for Death, but even his comfort would not be extended. Here in the cold blackness of my floating prison I knew that all had turned against me, and