Free The Serpent Sword (Bernicia Chronicles Book 1) by Matthew Harffy Page B

woken him. He did not know whether it was day or night. The air he breathed in felt cold and his body was stiff from inactivity. He lay still, listening. Footsteps rushing over wooden boards. Muffled whispers, urgent and sibilant in the dark. By the gods, how he wished he could see. He was helpless. Blind and powerless against the threats in the darkness. He sat up as quickly as he could. In the distance a man shouted something angrily. A dog barked. Then there was a scream.
    Beobrand needed no more signals. All was not right. His life was in danger. Moving his hand to the bandage around his head, he tentatively tweaked the cloth up to uncover his uninjured, right eye. Before he had moved the bandage more than a hair’s breadth, he heard someone enter the room. He stiffened, ready to pull the bandage off. He would not be killed by an unseen assailant.
    “Wait! Don’t pull off the bandage! You will lose your sight for sure if you do!” the voice of Coenred spoke from the cold gloom. He spoke urgently, but in a whisper. “I will lead you. We must leave.”
    “What is happening?” Beobrand demanded. He felt Coenred place the blanket from his bed around his shoulders.
    “Waelisc are here. If they find you, they will kill you. Come on, there is no time.” Coenred tugged frantically at Beobrand’s hand and pulled him to his feet.
    Beobrand felt giddy. Disorientated. The searing pain in his chest was like fire and his head throbbed. His legs buckled as he stood upright, but Coenred held him steady and after a moment he rallied. Coenred’s urgency and fear were almost palpable. As if to accentuate the peril they were in, another scream rent the darkness. The dog’s barks grew louder and more frenetic, and then were cut short with a yelp. Coenred pulled Beobrand, urging him to move and together they stumbled out of the room.
    Beobrand knew nothing of the monastery’s layout, so he had no idea where Coenred was taking him. All he could do was to concentrate on his footing and try not to jar his aching chest. Coenred had obviously decided in advance where they should hide and he moved through the night with haste. From time to time he would warn Beobrand to duck his head or that there was a step down or up, but other than that they moved in silence. Listening to the sounds of the night. There was more shouting. Then some crashing. Wood splintering. Screams.
    Coenred faltered for a moment, but his resolve quickly returned and he pushed on. Beobrand felt the air grow colder on his skin. The atmosphere and acoustics changed. They had stepped outside.
    “Come on,” hissed Coenred and set off at a faster pace. Beobrand thought he would surely lose his balance or trip on a tree root, but for once wyrd smiled on him and he managed to keep up with Coenred without falling. After a short distance walking uphill, Coenred told Beobrand to stop and to sit down. The ground beneath then was soft and dry. There was a strong redolence of bark and sap in the air.
    “We are inside a hollow oak,” explained Coenred in a whisper. “If we are quiet, I hope they won’t discover this place. It is hard to see from the path and the entrance is hidden completely from Engelmynster.”
    They made themselves as comfortable as they could and spoke no more, both fearing discovery. Sounds of screams and coarse laughter drifted up from the buildings they had left. Coenred prayed the Waelisc would not find them in their hiding place.
    After a long while, the scent of smoke was borne on the wind and they feared that the monastery had been put to the torch. The smell of burning passed soon enough though and they were left wondering what fire they had noted.
    So it was that they spent the rest of that chill night, huddled together, not daring to speak. Each was glad of the other’s company, though they barely knew each other. Time passed and the sounds of destruction and torment from the monastery died down.
    By morning, Beobrand had decided that he would