Fall of the High-King: Isolde Saga, #5
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Thousands of campfires twinkle in the night like so many fireflies waiting to swarm.
The city of Harkham is less than a day's march away and already the countryside is in flames and chains. Isolde and Harald have seen the bloodlust and utter chaos brought on by Hrothgar and it must end now.
But time is not on their side. They are alone, outnumbered, and in Hrothgar's sights. With Skaldi coming from the west, Wulfric from the east, and Sigurd from the south, all Isolde and Harald have to do is hold the line until help arrives.
Will it be too little, too late?
Fall of the High-King is the epic finale of the Isolde Saga series. If you like fast-paced adventure, heroic deeds against impossible odds, and magic darker than the abyss, then you'll love Robert D. Jones' brand new epic fantasy.
Buy Fall of the High-King and join Isolde's epic adventure today!
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Fall of the High-King - Robert D. Jones
Robert D. Jones
Fall of the High-King
Isolde Saga Book Five
First published by Robert D. Jones in 2017
Copyright © Robert D. Jones, 2018
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
Third Edition
ISBN:
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Contents
ISOLDE SAGA
LAND OF THE NORTHMEN
CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
WANT EXTRAS?
ABOUT ROBERT D. JONES
ISOLDE SAGA
The Black Witch
Shadow of Ravenscar
The Blind Seer
Land of the Gods
Fall of the High-King
LAND OF THE NORTHMEN
CHAPTER ONE
The smouldering embers of the village shook Isolde and Harald back to reality and they knew that the terror that had befallen these people had only just been missed. Isolde could tell by the small flames that still licked the blackened frames of the skeletal homes and barns that the destruction had happened that day. The smell of death lingered in the air with the thickness of a slaughterhouse.
The pair looked on in shocked silence and Isolde couldn’t tell whether she felt rage or sorrow, or perhaps she felt neither and the nagging exhaustion that plagued her days had numbed her so much that she didn’t feel anything at all anymore. This was the third village they had seen put to the sword since they had come out of the Silent Hills, and somehow she was getting used to the sight of senseless violence.
Isolde let Harald take her hand in his and he led her through the light snowfall and down into the hollows of the town. They walked slowly, knowing only too well of what they would find. There would be the bodies of dead men, maybe the odd woman or child, mercilessly cut down, the slaughtered livestock would be left to rot in the fields, and the comely homes ripped apart and put to the torch.
The wind lifted up and the light smoke wafted toward them, carrying with it the pungent smell of blood and offal that had been baking in the winter sun. Isolde tilted her head down as if it would block the smell and she let Harald’s hand go as he moved ahead of her through the village square.
No women…
he said vacantly.
The silence in the settlement seemed like a thin veil holding back the screams of the dead. All around them were the signs of murder. The bodies were piled together haphazardly, limp arms jutting out with upturned heads and broken legs. A wounded dog crawled out from the remains of a half-collapsed house, its tail between its legs as it sniffed the air before retreating from the strange intruders. Isolde shook her head, she didn’t know what to think anymore.
She watched Harald kneel down on the road, it looked like he was searching for something and Isolde followed his gaze. There was the obvious signs of movement, the crushed snow and scuffled dirt from moving feet, the blots of dark crimson on virgin powder. Harald stood back up and looked out to the north, his eyes followed the hills beyond the village to the copse of trees that seemed to watch them like standing sentries in the distance. He stared for a long moment before turning back to her.
Every village,
he said, the only dead we see is the men. But where are the women and children?
I don’t know,
Isolde answered. She shook her head again as if it were all she could do and felt the helplessness swallowing her.
Why slaughter these towns at all?
she said. It doesn’t make sense. If he kills them all, then who is he going to rule when it’s done?
But he isn’t killing them all,
Harald said. He’s keeping the women and children.
Isolde sat down on the thin snow, her shoulders slumped forward and she dug down to take a handful of frozen soil and watched as it slipped through her fingers.
I saw you being carried off in chains…
Isolde said, still watching as the wind carried away the fine dust.
Harald knelt down beside her.
In the netherworld?
he asked and put his hand on her knee.
No,
she replied vacantly before looking up to meet his eyes. They were intense as he peered into her, they held new depths full of love and strength. She looked at him deeply and saw his care.
No,
she repeated, I saw it in a vision when I was at Ama’s. I didn’t know how to tell you, but seeing all this death makes it feel so real.
A vision of the future? I thought you didn’t believe in fate,
he said with a wry smile.
He rubbed her leg and the comfort felt good, but Isolde was at war with herself, she didn’t know what to believe anymore. She looked back at the ground for a while before speaking again.
Ama told me the future can still be changed,
she said. I had another vision where Hrothgar was killed.
Harald stood back up and stretched his back.
See,
he said, there is still hope.
Isolde stayed silent, there was more she wanted to say, but the words got choked in her throat when she tried to voice them until they seemed to come out in one great blurt.
I wasn’t in either vision…
Harald looked at her with a crooked brow that stretched the scar along his eye. She looked up at him and met his gaze, took a deep breath and tried again.
I wasn’t in either vision,
she said again much slower. Ama said that some things cannot be changed, no matter what.
Harald shook his head.
That’s ridiculous,
he said dismissively.
It’s not,
she shot back, desperation in her voice. Harald, she told me that my son was destined for great things, but that I would die birthing him!
Harald took a knee beside her and picked up Isolde’s hand. Again his intense eyes caught her own, but this time she felt her breath catch. In that one gaze he seemed to see all her fears and yet with nothing more than a squeeze from his hand, she felt safe again.
I don’t know what the future holds,
he said, but I promise you, Isolde, no matter what happens, I will look after you, and I will look after any child you bear until my dying days.
Their eyes were locked when the rough shout of a man broke the moment. It was distant but unmistakable, and Isolde watched Harald’s eyes snap from comforting care to stern awareness. He lifted her up by the arm and they both moved swiftly toward the voice. They kept low as they skirted a wicker wall bordering a field and crawled through long grass toward the edge of the village’s hill. The road out of town wound down through a whitewashed valley and they watched as a troupe of men marched up toward them.
Look!
Harald whispered, but Isolde shushed him, she could see what he was pointing at.
In front of the five men were a woman and two children. Their faces were cast down and they seemed to walk as if their legs were made of lead.
They’re chained,
she whispered back.
Isolde watched as the men laughed and one kicked out at the leg of the child trailing behind, forcing the poor thing to tumble down and drag his sister and mother back with him. A bellow of laughter roared from the men as the mother tried to stoop down and shield her children like a helpless bitch sheltering its pups. But it was no use for her, Isolde could see the prisoners’ arms were