The Witches Of Vardo By Anya Bergman EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Authors: Anya Bergman
- Publish Date: 13 Jan 2016
- Language: English
- Genre: Fantasy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 1 MB
- Pages: 324
- Price: Free
Anna
Third day of April in the year of our Good Lord 1662
The savage north held me captive. I was imprisoned in falling snow and blinded by glaring white light, empty of all shadows. I stood upon the ship’s deck, and
nothing was before me.
I could see no way forward.
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Without shelter, the snow blanketed my cape. Impervious as alabaster, I was cold but not shivering, my knuckles blue and my heart hollowed out. The hours
stretched on, but I was in no hurry to make landfall.
By the time I was caked in snow its falling had begun to falter. I shook my shoulders and snow tumbled from my cape as a few final spinning flakes
descended. Bluish dusk emerged.
Finally, I could see our destination.
The harbour was barely that, with a small enclave of rudimentary dwellings encircling it. I was ordered to disembark and staggered down the gangway, my
legs uncertain after so many weeks at sea. A biting wind urged me onto the bleak northern lands as if a man’s hand were pushing me, yet again.
It was here Captain Gunderson said his adieus. I was sorry to leave him. We had enjoyed several theological discussions on my journey along the
treacherous coast of Norway. He had kept me safe from peril and imposed a level of respect upon his crew. I feared Captain Gunderson would be the last
civilised man I ever laid eyes upon in this ravening region.
Certainly, it seemed so when a brute of a man approached me. His beard was a wild tangle of red and laced with ice, his skin grimy with filth. He paused to
spit upon the snow, yellow phlegm staining its pure white. I took a step back, repelled, but he grabbed hold of my shoulders. ‘Why are you not in chains?’ He
shook me. The stench of his breath was foul, and I detected a Scottish accent.
‘It was deemed unnecessary,’ I told the odious man, unable to hide the haughty tone in my voice.
He huffed, twisting a big key at his belt. ‘You would do well to remember what you are, Fru Rhodius – the king’s prisoner.’ He spat again to emphasise his
power over me. I pushed back my retch and held my head high as he continued to speak. ‘I am Bailiff Lockhert, and you are now under my keeping for the
foreseeable future.’
The foreseeable future. The words burned like brands upon my skin.
How cruel you have been to give me no day for your pardon. I am left hanging on a thread, hoping you will change your mind while you have sent me far
away. Why so very far?
‘If you’re any trouble at all,’ Lockhert said, grimly, ‘the chains will be on you.’
How insulting! As if I would behave in any manner contrary to that which you had ordered! I gave my new captor a withering look, but it made little impact
as he pushed me towards a sleigh tethered to three reindeer.
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