Aeleva; The Viking Saxon

Chapter 1

792 A.D. By the North Coast, Kingdom of Kent, England.

As I watched the fire consume my village, I didn't feel anything. I saw the flames cling to every wall and roof. All I knew was being swallowed up by menacing clouds of smoke and I was helpless.

I smelt the fire before I saw it. It was a thick suffocating smell. It was bitter and sour, clung to everything it could. It clung to the woollen dress I wore and the wooden pendant my brother carved for me. It filled me with innate dread and an urge to flee. I wanted to ran as far as I could without looking back.

My mother had sent me to trade eggs with the Fisherman's boy. And so, I stood, on the return journey from the cove, watching from the hill as disaster thundered through Marden. 

My body moved before my mind cleared, first in slow steps before I was in a full sprint toward the chaos. I prayed to God all the way down the hill that my family was still alive. I could hear the screams and see the panic that has seized my town. Women were being dragged every which way, their husbands trying their best to fend off their captors. Children were running around their wooden houses and screaming for their parents. The older and smarter ones running off into the woods for shelter.

I, myself, wasn't so clever. I sprinted past the mayhem and down the dirt track to my home to see my mother being dragged out by her hair, her hands still covered in dough. A cry died in my throat, I couldn't breathe.

My eyes snapped to my father as he attempted to fight off a bald man that struck at him with an axe. The man's trunk of arms bulged out of his dirty shirt. My father was no longer a young man and it was clear the brute that challenged him was too much for the small hoe my father wielded. It was hurled out of his hand by the man's axe and on the returning swing, the blade found itself embedded inside my father's shoulder. His body crashed to the floor and a huge pulsating gush of blood sprang from his neck. He clutched his wound, but it was no use, the liquid oozed between his fingers at an alarming rate. In that moment all I could do was watch my father grasp the final moments of his life as I felt my heart stop.

The shrieking of my neighbours brought my attention back. My mind suddenly telling me to move. In my panic, I looked around for my brothers hoping they were wise enough to leave this place. I had two brothers Wilfred and Osric. I couldn't see Osric but to my terror I saw Wilfred watching my father's fight with the same look of horror I had.

"Wilfred RUN!" I screamed at him. I did not think to shout these words, perhaps it was someone else speaking through me. But it worked as he ran off in a sprint into the field behind, leaving my father face down in the dirt.

I didn't have time to see if he got away because my shouts had shown my position and I saw a man hurtle towards me. Without thinking I grabbed another hoe that was leaning against the fence. My body had decided to fight as I was taken over by the adrenaline that ran through my veins. I swung blindly with as must force as I could muster. I was unable to finish the motion as the hoe landed into the man's side. The jolt caused by eyes to open and I found myself looking directly into his. They were wide as I withdrew the hoe and land it again, into the right side of his neck. His green fixed to my hazel ones filled with as much surprise that I had. I ripped out the hoe, blood sprayed from the force, and the man fell to the ground spluttering out blood, gasping for air.

I looked up just in time to see another. He was older, more experienced and wielded a sword with deadly grace. A huge scar ran across his cheek and ended by his ear which was missing. This time I kept my eyes open as I lifted the hoe and made it jump into his leg. However, before I could strike the hoe again the man ripped it from my grasp. Throwing it to the ground as he grabbed my arm to push me down as well. I look up at him to see his ugly, scared face as he raised his blade above his head. I could see the polished, well used metal glinting in the sun. Blood ran off it and dripped off the tip. My breath hitched in my throat as I tried, hard, to break the man's hold on me. But his strength was overpowering and I remained pinned in the dirt. Panic boiled in me, rising up my throat so I could taste bile in my mouth. I was writhing beneath him, barely screaming any words.