The Invasion Read online

  The Invasion

  The Haunting of Ravenstock Castle

  Carrie King

  Caroline Clark

  CazClark.com

  Contents

  Introduction

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Epilogue

  The Haunting of the Old Box Preview

  Also by Carrie King

  Introduction

  Ravenstock Castle Book 1 – The Invasion at Ravenstock

  There has to be a beginning, a start to all things whether sinister or good. Often, the two are closely bound. One can lead to the other, and the other can lead to one. Intent is key to life. The intent to harm leaves a stain. When that intent is combined with murder and tarnished with blood then it can call forth forces that defy logic.

  The lonely hillside of Ravenstock was once soaked in blood.

  Journey there with me if you dare…

  ©Copyright 2019 Caroline Clark

  All Rights Reserved

  Caroline Clark

  License Notes

  This e-Book is licensed for personal enjoyment only. It may not be resold. Your continued respect for author's rights is appreciated.

  This story is a work of fiction, any resemblance to people is purely coincidence. All places, names, events, businesses, etc. are used in a fictional manner. All characters are from the imagination of the author.

  1

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  The waxing moon was only a couple of days before it was full. The light she was shining down into the valley was glorious indeed. It sparkled white on the death black waters of the peaceful river that wound its way through the valley. Languorously it wove its way through forest and dale before passing the Celtic village of Obaireadhain. The moonlight illuminated the village as if it were day, but not even a shadow moved and no smoke rose from the sleeping huts. It was a warm night in late summer, no fires were needed.

  This was a lucky village. Many nearby settlements had been raided by the fearsome Norsemen. They rose from the sea like monsters, pillaging and burning, leaving practically nothing standing in the wake of their violence. Then they vanished again, slipping back into the sunrise with their stolen spoils.

  Obaireadhain, with its convenient location not far from the east coast of Scotland, was a tempting prize. So far it had escaped the same fate. Perhaps its wooden spike defenses, deep trenches, and watchful guard dogs had put off the marauders… or maybe it was the monastery high on the cliff… but you could never tell with the Norsemen. They were terribly superstitious, believing in the wrath of ghosts and spirits, they would leave a single house standing among the ruins of fifty others if they thought their gods demanded it.

  Further out to sea, the scene was a little less peaceful. A longboat with vertically striped sails was gliding towards the shore. The decks lined with rows of enormous men—the Norsemen, or Vikings, who were staring greedily toward the land where their destination lay.

  The deck groaned the sea splashed against the hull and the air was full of oaths and muttering. One young Norseman stood with hungry eyes fixed on the approaching land. His hand twitched on the hilt of his sword; he was almost ready to draw it in his excitement and eagerness.

  “Leave off Colborn,” said the Viking next to him. “This is no place to wave a blade around. No man will thank you for cutting his beard off before we land.”

  Colborn regretfully dropped his hand but still fidgeted uncontrollably, rocking from one foot to the other. The landing couldn’t come quick enough as far as he was concerned. He was lucky to have been selected for this voyage and had only been picked for the crew because of the sickness that had kept a few of the older Vikings at home with their wives. Colborn didn’t yet have a wife but was hoping that this voyage would yield enough treasure to allow him to pay a bride price to one of the nearby farmers so he could marry one of their daughters.

  Colborn was cursed with being unusually thin and gangly. All the good food his mother had fed him and all the hard physical work in the forest that his father had pressed him into hadn’t made him bulk up like his fellow Vikings. It was hard being the only skinny one in this gang of heavy, robust Norsemen. Though he was used to being teased and derided, he knew this trip was his chance. If he could prove himself, bring back treasure… he knew that money would make all the difference. With a bit of gold decorating his person, those farmers wouldn’t laugh in his face the next time he went looking for a wife.

  At last, the big ship was close enough and Thurmond, their leader, gave the order to lower the sails and drop the anchor. It slid into the depths with hardly a sound and pulled the ship up sharply as it dug into the sand below.

  They were leaving the longboat a good distance from the shore, behind the cover of a cliff that would hide it from view. Although the Vikings were used to simply showing up and raiding the villages closest to the shore, this time was a little different. They had heard tales about a monastery in the hills near Obaireadhain. They had heard that the monks were guarding unimaginable wealth, and that very monastery was their target on this raid.

  After all, as Thurmond put it, “why raid a village and come back bearing chicken feathers and a few trinkets, when we could sail back home weighed down with GOLD!”

  The Viking company had, of course, agreed with this sentiment, hence the reason for their current stealth. They were unsure of the exact location of the monastery and therefore wished to avoid alerting the local people to their arrival before they had had a chance to find and pillage the place.

  With the longboat lying fast at anchor, small rowing boats were lowered and the Viking crew crammed into them. It was necessary to leave a guard to take care of the longboat. Colborn sweating beneath his furs, very much feared being the one chosen for that job, which would mean he would miss out on the chance for treasure. However, he was relieved when Thurmond gave responsibility for the ship to a couple of older Vikings. Greatly relieved, Colborn’s natural arrogance kicked in once more. This would be easy.

  It’s only fair, he thought to himself. After all, they’re old and have already taken part in plenty of raiding trips. They were blooded, old, and fat, now it was his turn. The young new blood who would show the old men what he could do. Excited about the battles and treasure to come, he squeezed himself into one of the rowing boats between two fat Viking comrades.

  “Hey there, Colborn,” said Haldor the man to his right. “It’s about time you joined a raid. We’ve always needed someone who’s small enough to squeeze through the gateposts and then open the gates of the village for us.”

  This was met by guffaws from the surrounding Vikings which rocked the rowing boat.

  “Haldor’s right,” said the huge Ove, joining in the teasing. “This monastery might have a couple of tiny windows where we can sneak you in. Just be careful that none of the monks see you or they’ll mistake you for a new recruit.”

  More chuckles went around the men.

  Colborn was fed up of being mocked. “That’s right,” he retorted. “I’ll sneak in, kill the monks, and take the treasure before any of the rest of you fat pigs can even get through the gate.”

  “Ho!” said Haldor. “Big words for a skinny boy. We’d better watch out lads! Colborn here is going to steal all the treasure.”

  “Five silvers say he doesn’t get any of it,” called out Ove. “Colborn’s mother is going to be disappointed again!”

  That was the last straw for most of the Vikings in the small boat, who dropped their oars and collapsed in laughter, digging Colborn in the ribs and calling out “Mother’s boy
.

  Thurmond yelled from the other boat for them to quiet down and Colborn felt a touch of relief. He was here, he would show them and then on the trip back there would be no teasing. It would be different, he would be one of them; a seasoned warrior with gold and the chance of a wife.

  “Seriously, Colborn,” whispered Ove as they started rowing again. “I bet you five silvers that you come back from the raid emptyhanded.”

  “How can I pay you five silvers if I’m emptyhanded?” Colborn was now truly irritated.

  “All right, I tell you what,” said Ove. “If you come back with some treasure, I’ll give you half of whatever I get on this raid…” He stared down at Colburn with eyes like black ice in the moonlight. “…and if you don’t get anything, you have to come and sweep the floor of my hut every day for the next month.”

  “Bet he’s good with a besom in his hands,” nudged Haldor, and the boat erupted into laughter once more.

  “All right, fine!” Colborn was thoroughly sick of the taunting. “If I don’t get anything, I’ll come and sweep your floor.”

  It was a terrible fate for a Viking warrior to contemplate, as menial work was considered the job for the women in the village. If he lost, he would be ridiculed even more than usual. But he would win and then they would see.

  “And if he wins the bet, he’ll have more to take home to Mummy,” continued Haldor.

  Luckily, they were close enough to the shore that the other Vikings had to give their attention to fending the boat from the rocks lining the coast and the subject was dropped.

  Colborn’s anger was barely contained. Clenching his fists, he had to fight down the urge to start throwing punches. That was no way to begin a raiding mission. Seething in silence, he vowed to himself that he would die rather than come back emptyhanded. He’d show them! It took more than pure brawn to be successful in a raid. If he was canny and cunning, he could outsmart the lot of them.

  2

  After rowing a short way along the coast, buffeted by the waves, the Vikings found a small beach sandwiched between two rocky cliffs. It was the ideal place for them to leave the rowing boats. They rowed onto the sand and jumped out. They could drag the boats up out of reach of the tide.

  Colborn almost let out a wail of shock as his feet hit the cold water. What would the men say? Quiet was essential now for the sound would carry now they were out from the shade of the cliffs.

  Biting down on his cheek, he waded through the chilly water with the others and took his first step ashore in this foreign land. That step warmed him, he was here, he was part of this, and it was momentous.

  The tiny strip of sand lay lonely and desolate in the moonlight. As he stared up at the surrounding cliffs, he fancied he could hear a raven cawing, and a shiver traveled down his back. Ravens were omens of death and dark spirits. For a moment his courage failed, it wasn’t a good sign for the beginning of his first raiding party.

  Giving himself a mental shake, he looked for the bird but could see nothing. It was probably just a seagull. However, the uneasy feeling stayed with him for a while as they quietly alighted on the beach, just shadows in the night.

  They spent some time covering the overturned rowing boats in seaweed to disguise them, although there was little chance of them being stolen. Local folk were too scared of repercussions to steal from the Vikings. After that, the company trekked inland, walking silently in columns.

  Thurmond sent a couple of fast runners ahead to spy out the land and the rest of them followed at a more moderate pace, carrying the supplies and weapons. When sunrise came, the whole company settled down to sleep in a small copse of trees where they would be hidden from any local folk passing by.

  Colborn was feeling a little bothered by the hiding. “Why can’t we simply kill anyone that finds us?” he demanded of Haldor.

  “We’d kill anyone that came stumbling into our camp, all right, but there’s a chance someone would spot us from afar and then run off to fetch help,” said the older Viking. “Say they come back with a couple of hundred village folk and maybe some mounted fighters. Well, we’d probably still beat them, but we’d certainly be injured and exhausted afterward. No fun going after treasure in that condition, I can tell you. Better to stay hidden and save our strength for carrying the gold back.”

  “Huh,” said Colborn. “I suppose it makes sense.”

  He could see the logic in this argument, but he still chafed at the orders. It felt like cowardice, hiding among the trees, and he was eager to prove himself in battle and get rid of those stupid nicknames. “Bones” and “Skinny” weren’t so bad, but it was “Mummy’s boy” that really got under his skin.

  “There’s also the druids to think about,” added Haldor.

  “What’s a dr—druid?” asked Colborn, his tongue stuttering over the unfamiliar word.

  “Well,” said Haldor, settling into his storytelling mode. “No one has ever actually seen a druid.” he paused. “Or, at least, I’m sure there’s plenty of folk seen them, but not one that’s returned to tell the tale. They’re the medicine men of the Celtic tribes, but the trick is that what they call medicine is what we civilized folks would rather call horrible bloody murder. They got all sorts of terrible gods over here. These gods regularly demand human sacrifice, to keep them happy.”

  “And are these druids fearsome warriors?” asked Colborn. “They must be if they manage to kill so many people.”

  “Not at all,” replied Haldor. “From what I’ve heard—and you have to wonder where these tales have really come from, if no one’s actually seen a druid … anyway, from what I’ve heard they’re all old men with long beards who go around cutting up plants with great curved blades.”

  “Huh!” said Colborn. “I’d chop them up with my sword if any of them looked at me.”

  “Well, see, that’s the thing,” said Haldor. “They sound harmless and easy to beat, but they have magical powers. They can talk to animals and birds and some say they can turn into ravens and fly away. Makes them nigh on unbeatable, I guess.”

  Colborn remembered the raven back at the beach and a tingle went down his spine. What if it had been a druid? With a short laugh, he shook off the feeling. “Silly stories!” he said. “Whoever heard of a person that could turn into a raven?” His voice sounded a little hollow, but he was gratified when Haldor nodded gravely.

  “Aye, it’s probably just stories, but we’ll stay hidden while we rest all the same.”

  Colborn lay awake under the trees as the other Vikings snored around him. He was ready to jump up and fight an enemy at a moment’s notice, no matter whether it was a normal man or a druid.

  He kept putting his hand out to feel his sword and check that it was still there. It had been his father’s blade, but Colborn had been allowed to bring it on this trip as he didn’t yet have one of his own. His father, who had been a renowned raider in his day, was now content to stay in his forest and leave the raiding to younger warriors and Colborn was honored to be bearing the same blade that had killed so many enemies.

  The day passed, and when night fell, Thurmond ordered them up to continue on with their search again. The night passed much like the previous one, with the hunter’s moon shining down, lighting their path. Scouts were sent out to search through the land and the rest of them followed at a more sedate pace.

  Half the night passed with no sign of the monastery and most of the Vikings were getting fed up. Colborn wasn’t the only one impatient to see some action. The men weren’t used to the stealthy approach and Thurmond was hearing more and more complaints from these seasoned warriors about the tedious waiting and endless walking. He finally called a halt and discussed the approach with the most seasoned men.

  “We haven’t found the monastery, nor are we totally certain it exists,” announced Thurmond to the gathered Vikings. “We can keep looking for another night or we can give up the search and simply attack and pillage a nearby village instead. We may not find as much gold, but at least o
ur journey will not have been for nothing.”

  The men were mostly in favor of ending the monotony by attacking a nearby village. Just then the scouts came back with news of a village called Bancor just over the next hill, and so it was decided. They would abandon the monastery plan and instead attack the village, taking whatever they could find. It was far enough inland to have so far escaped being raided, so the chances were good that it would hold some rich pickings

  They formed into groups and Colborn excitedly placed himself with Haldor and Ove’s group. The two older Vikings might be infuriating at times, but they’d seen plenty of battles and would be good men to follow in the coming raid. However, just as he was practicing drawing his sword and spinning to attack an enemy behind him, he heard Thurmond call out to him.

  “You, skinny boy! What’s your name?” said the chief. “You’ll stay here with the gear and wait for us to get back.”

  Colborn was aghast. He wasn’t to go with the raiding party? After all his waiting and preparation? “But why me?” he exclaimed in a loud voice.

  There was a hushed silence as all the Vikings stared at him, aghast. It was one thing to silently question their leader’s orders, but no one would dare openly speak out against Thurmond.

  Colborn instantly regretted his hasty reaction, but luckily, Thurmond did nothing more than glare at him for a couple of seconds before moving on, issuing orders to the groups of warriors who were standing ready in raiding groups. In a remarkably short time, the company was ready to move out and they disappeared over the hill.