BLACKTHORN - Chronicles of the Dark Sword Book One Page 0,4

and flying feathers the horse bolted through the thick gate. The men standing behind it were just beginning to push it closed. A few of them cursed the reckless boy as they leapt from the charging horse’s path.

He reigned Fleet in as the gate boomed shut and the cross bar was slid into place. The village was in an uproar and through this chaos of running and shouting he led the horse. He still had no idea what was happening, but from the looks on the faces of the armed men scurrying about it was serious indeed.

The men bore axes, Swords and bows a few farmers even carried the sharp scythes they had been working with just as the alarm sounded. They took positions along the palisade their faces grim. Women, children and those too old or sick to wield a weapon went to the long house, where armed men would protect them.

Securing the horse’s reigns to a post, he watched as men were being directed away from the wall and down towards the small beach.

Casius joined the trail of men; a thick-fingered hand fell upon his shoulder stopping him before he had gone very far.

“Here now,” a deep voice said merrily. “Where are you off to?”

Casius knew the voice and was not surprised to see the village butcher grinning down at him. Lon Hawsell, he was a burly man that smiled almost constantly. He wore his grin as often as he wore his bloodstained apron, always. “To see what’s caused the alarm,” Casius answered.

“That is no concern of yours, into the long house with you,” Lon’s powerful grip turned him about.

“I am not a child,” Casius said insulted by the butcher’s suggestion. “In another month I will be sixteen.”

Lon removed his hand and laughed, “My apologies good sir.” He looked Casius over with a critical eye. “You have grown now that I look at you.” He held up a well-honed cleaver. “But you’re not armed, besides your pa would be skinning me if I let you come.” He pointed to the long house with a wave of his weapon. “Now go,” he said with a smile. “There’s always next year.”

Casius knew better than to argue the point. He went back up the road towards the Long house. He walked slowly and once Lon had disappeared around the corner of one of the storehouses he turned and followed after the big man.

Down the narrow lane he sped keeping close to the buildings. On his left he could see the wooden watchtower rising above the rocky outcrop of the cliff. The sounds of the waves smashing into the breakwater grew louder and the tang of salt was in the air.

As he circled around a large smokehouse he could see out onto the waters of the cove. Small waves washed up the pebble beach, falling short of the flotsam left behind by last night’s high tide.

A line of thirty men stood shoulder to shoulder just above the high tide mark, their axes and swords gleaming brightly in the sunlight. They were dour faced and anxious, the air heavy with tension. Casius could not see what it was that held the their attention. Skulking down the beach for a better view he moved among the overturned hulls of fishing skiffs. What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks.

Just inside the breakwater a lone vessel was making its way to the shore. It was a long ship, a raiding vessel from Cythera. Sleek and low the ship was built for speed; it sported a single mast from which only a tattered white pennant flew. Snapping in the brisk wind the standard raised a few eyebrows among the villagers.

Casius had heard the tales told by the sailors. These men had the reputation as bloodthirsty cutthroats. All who lived near the sea feared the Raiders. Although Kale was a poor target, with little gold, the men of the Island still dreaded them.

The sleek vessel's oars rose and dipped with precision, slowing driving the ship towards the beach. A human skull yellowed with age was mounted upon the bow. The grotesque trophy swaying with the rocking of the ship, as if it’s empty sockets were scrutinizing the waterfront.

The men on the rocky beach stepped back as the bronze clad prow scraped up onto the shore. As the ship ground to a halt the oars were lifted out of the water. A line was thrown over the bow into the surf. The rope lolled about in the