The Thrall (The Viking Hero Series Book 1) (2 page)

Sven looked at him with a visibly hurt expression
on his face. He couldn't believe he was being told to go help a
thrall.

"Make sure the wool is washed so it can be
hung to dry and be put on a distaff as soon as possible. Go now,
don't just stand there looking at
me."
Bjord barked as he reached over and took over pumping the forge's
bellow.

Sven hesitated for a
moment, but he knew not to make a protest. "Go now boy!"
Bjord barked one last time as he grabbed the tongs and shifted the
iron heating in the coals.

Sven did as he was
told and moped his way out the door towards where he heard the sheep
bleating. He muttered a few whines of self pity under his breathe as
he walked away, but made sure his father didn't hear him.

Amongst the
household dwelt a thrall named Rowan. He'd
been in the
blacksmith's household since he was a small lad. He was sold to the
blacksmith by a trader whom had found him in the burnt rubble of his
family's longhouse in another land called Jutland.

Rowan was too small to remember who the invaders
were that attacked and destroyed his village, but he knew his village
were a tribe of people called the Hard-Jutes.

The trader that found him came the morning after
the invaders had left to scavenge through the village's ruins. While
rummaging, he discovered Rowan hiding under a table in the ruins of
his charred home.

The trader gathered small boy up, along with what
household items of value remained and sailed off.

Rowan was put aboard a knarr boat that had a huge
red and white striped sail, marking it as a merchant's trading
vessel.

They sailed across the cold waters of the sea
towards the mountainous lands of the north. Their boat fought across
a violent and angry sea. The knarr crashed over the savage waves as
the wind howled terrifyingly beyond the darkness. Rowan held on for
dear life as he watched with wide eyes, the men aboard the ship
laughing loudly at the angry sea, mocking it.

The trader tied Rowan to the mast and then
reassured him, "don't worry boy, the gods aren't coming for you
today!"

When the sea calmed and the morning mist lifted,
Rowan could see that they were sailing along steep bluffs until they
finally broke open to reveal pristine fjords.

Along one of these fjords, the trade ship ported
at a village that was inhabited by other folk that belonged to a
different tribe similar to his
own
folk that were now gone. Rowan would soon learn, this was the
Hard-Anger tribe.

When he was
disembarked, Rowan was hoping to be adopted by one of the villagers,
but was sold immediately as a thrall to the blacksmith.

The blacksmith had
bought him for less than the price of a calf and immediately put him
to work chopping wood for the house's fire and stacking coal for the
blacksmith's fiery forge.

Mind you, although he
assisted the blacksmith, he was not a blacksmith's apprentice and was
not trained in the trade. He was but a lowly thrall dressed in a worn
tunic and woven pants. The first thing the blacksmith had put on him
was a ring around his neck revealing this status.

His dirty blonde hair
was also cropped short, common to that of a bond servant. His duties
varied from tending to the household's livestock to gathering wood to
whatever he was told to do by anyone in the blacksmith's house. He'd
been in the Blacksmith's household for ten winters now.

Today, Rowan was out
herding the newly shorn sheep when Sven arrived.

"I'm here to take
over herding the sheep, you're to go and wash the wool." Sven
said in a resentful tone while looking at the ground avoiding eye
contact.

Rowan knew because of
Sven's tone and manner and the fact that he was here to take over
herding the sheep instead of helping his father that he'd probably
been scorned again for not paying attention.

Rowan nodded at him
and headed towards the side of the longhouse where he'd left the
sacks of wool. Sven coming to take over herding the sheep was fine by
him, he needed to gather up the fleece skirts so they could be washed
anyways.

Grandmother Helga had
shown Rowan how to wash the wool in a particular manner in which she
insisted on. It required lots of rinsing and took Rowan longer to
get it done to her specifications, but it always paid off. She'd
reward him with a candied biscuit she made from honey comb and dried
blueberries.

Rowan was fond of
Grandmother Helga. Even though he was a thrall, she never treated him
as such.

Helga also insisted on
being the one who carded the wool. She always used her special combs
with strange symbols carved on them. She'd quietly sing to the wool
as she carded it.

Rowan spent the
remainder of the daylight washing the wool and laying it out to dry.
Hopefully, he'd get his reward for doing a good job on the wool
tomorrow.

It was late in the
night when Rowan woke up startled. He felt like he was drowning in
his sleep. He dreamt that he was in the water of the fjord and
someone was standing on his chest holding him down underwater.

Although he'd awakened, it still felt like
something heavy pressing down on his chest.
Groggily,
he opened eyes and was startled to what he saw. There was a rather
large house cat sitting on his chest.

It just sat
there looking down at him with its yellow eyes that seemed to glow in
the darkness and look directly into his soul. It was t
he
biggest cat he'd ever seen. It wasn't a mountain lion or anything
like that. It
was just a simple
orange house cat, but it was biggest house cat that he'd ever seen.

Rowan wasn't sure if
he was still half asleep and dreaming or what, but the cat seemed to
be getting heavier and heavier as it sat there on his chest. It
wasn't even moving, it was just sat on his chest staring down at him.
It had the weight of a large man.

The cat's unusual
weight had Rowan pinned down and he couldn't move. It was making it
harder and harder for him to breath.

Rowan made a desperate
attempt to get the cat off him, as it was definitely getting heavier
and heavier. It was now making it impossible for him to breath,
crushing his chest under its impossible weight. He tried to roll to
his side and knock the cat off him, but he couldn't move. He was
pinned down under its weight as it seemed to grow even larger.

He
was
suffocating under its weight and couldn't yell out. He needed to wake
someone up and get help. He had to get the cat off his chest before
it killed him.

In another desperate attempt, he threw up his legs
and tried to force the cat off him. The cat leaned his head down
closer to him and hissed the most horrible and eerie hiss he'd ever
heard loudly in his face. At that moment, the cat leapt off from his
chest as Rowan choked and gasped for air.

The cat's screech alerted the entire household out
of their slumbers. After leaping off Rowan it ran towards the byne
and leapt towards the livestock, all of which were all wide eyed and
now in panic.

The ghastly screech the cat made as it ran caused
the sheep to charge out of their pen and break through the door in a
frenzied attempt to get away for the cat.

The cows ran to the opposite side of the house,
where the goat was already perched from its usual rebellious nightly
escape.

The panic stricken sheep ran screaming outside
into the darkness and out of sight with the ghoulish cat in hot
pursuit howling demoniacally behind them.

Everyone in the longhouse quickly rose wide eyed
and in a panicked frenzy. Nobody knew what was going on. It was the
most frightening and unnerving sound ever made by the animals, sounds
never heard before. It was terrifying.

Bjord sprang from his bed and quickly ran over to
grab a torch by the wall. He lit it from the central fire pit and
then used it to look around the longhouse. Seeing no threat, but
terrified animals, he rushed outside to investigate. He could still
hear the sheep screaming as they continued to run in the darkness
outside.

Everyone else, including Rowan, rushed outside
behind him. Sven grabbed a torch and lit it from the hearth fire, he
also grabbed an ax to arm himself. The fear in his eyes was obvious.
He wasn't about to step outside unarmed.

The sheep were gone. They could still be heard off
in the distance madly running up the hill in the darkness. The
unnatural howls of the cat chasing behind them could also be heard.
It was obviously trying to run them to their deaths.

"What just happened?!" demanded Bjord as
he turned around towards everyone with an angry look on his face.

Rowan, half afraid to answer and a bit unsure
himself of what had just happened answered, "a feral cat. I
think."

"A cat?" inquired Bjord. "Are you
kidding me?"

Rowan nodded and said, "I was sleeping and
woke up to a cat sitting on my chest."

Bjord cocked his head to the side and looked at
Rowan oddly.

Rowan nodded and added, "even stranger was
that it got heavier and heavier as it sat on me. I wasn't sure if I
was dreaming or not until it started to take away my breath."

"It tried to take away your breath?"
Bjord asked unbelieving.

"Yes, from the weight. It kept getting
heavier and heavier. It was as if it was trying to crush me. When I
tried to get it off me, it got even bigger and heavier until I
couldn't move or breathe at all."

Bjord was starting to get angry at this point,
listening to this nonsense.

Rowan, still trying to convince him added, "I
managed to roll to my side a little and that was when it hissed,
jumped off me and then chased after the sheep."

Everyone looked at Rowan bewildered.

This is when Grandmother Helga spoke up and said,
"that was no cat. That was a draug." She had been standing
behind everyone, looking from the doorway.

"A draug? What's a draug if I dare ask."
asked Bjord in an almost mocking tone.

"Yes a draug, a dead walker." she
replied back with a scornful tone. "It's a person that has risen
from the dead and now walks the Earth cursed by its own obsessions or
hatred."

"Oh yes, I remember my grandfather telling
stories about dead walkers. But he also spoke of many other unseen
beings in the forests and mountains from the myths of old, such as
trolls and elves too. Nobody's ever seen such a thing and I don't
mean any disrespect, but Grandfather also used to run outside naked
flapping his arms squeaking like a bird." Bjord said with a
laugh, referring to when his grandfather began to become a bit
'touched' in the head the last years before he died.

Helga just looked at him with contempt for his
mocking. She threw her arms up as she turned around and went back
inside.

"I suspect that it will run the sheep to
their deaths. That's what the ancient legends say they do. It's
fortunate that the cows ran in the opposite direction and didn't run
with the sheep, otherwise they'd be lost too," she added as she
disappeared inside.

Bjord angrily responded, "I'm not going to
lose
my
sheep to a damned
feral cat. Dead walkers are nothing but superstition."

He turned towards the boys and said, "Rowan!
Fetch my ax and grab some torches. We're going to get those sheep
back."

Rowan immediately jumped into action upon Bjord's
command. He ran inside and grabbed Bjord's battle ax that hung near
the blacksmith's favorite place to sit. He briefly looked at Bjord's
shield that hung next to it and pondered whether or not to grab it as
well, but decided against it. He scrambled to grab an armful of unlit
torches and ran back outside with his bundle, handing the ax to
Bjord.

Bjord turned towards his son Sven, "Boy! Grab
some rope in case we need to tether any of the sheep to bring them
back."

Sven ran inside to gather some rope as Rowan
busied himself binding the extra torches together with some twine. He
then improvised a strap and slung the bundle of torches across his
back.

Sven and Rowan shared a look when he came back
outside with the rope and tossed it on the ground in front of Rowan.
Rowan knew how lazy Sven could be and without changing beat, picked
up the rope and slung the rope over his shoulder.

Meanwhile, Bjord was standing at the edge of the
treeline where the sheep had ran, staring into the darkness while
contemplating whether or not to try to find them in the dark or not.

Sven and Rowan quickly joined him and quietly
stood behind him waiting for instruction.

After a few moments, Bjord still holding the torch
in the air while looking into the darkness said, "we're not
going to find them in the dark. We will have wait until the morning
when we have sunlight."

He turned around and looked at Sven, then at Rowan
and then back at Sven again before saying, "let's get some sleep
and go after them in the morning."

The morning came fast, with little sleep for the
blacksmith's still shaken household. The events just hours ago had
left everyone sleeping with one eye opened and their ears perked for
even the slightest sound. Nobody was granted a restful sleep.

Rowan couldn't find it within himself to sleep
lying on his back for fear of the thing coming back and trying to
seat itself on his chest again.

Perhaps this time it would be successful and end
him before he'd be able to wake up in time. This time he slept, or
rather attempted to sleep on his side to prevent anything from
resting on his chest.

When the light shined through the doorway and
announced daybreak had come, Rowan was relieved. He was tired, but
glad to have made it through the rest of the night.