Sword Song
The Battle for London
Chapter One
"The dead speak," Æthelwold told me. He was sober for once. Sober and awed and serious. The night wind snatched at the house and the rushlights flickered red in the wintry drafts that whipped from the roof 's smoke-hole and through the doors and shutters.
"The dead speak?" I asked.
"A corpse," Æthelwold said, "he rises from the grave and he speaks." He stared at me wide-eyed, then nodded as if to stress that he spoke the truth. He was leaning toward me, his clasped hands fidgeting between his knees. "I have seen it," he added.
"A corpse talks?" I asked.
"He rises!" He wafted a hand to show what he meant.
"He?"
"The dead man. He rises and he speaks." He still stared at me, his expression indignant. "It's true," he added in a voice that suggested he knew I did not believe him.
I edged my bench closer to the hearth. It was ten days after I had killed the raiders and hanged their bodies by the river, and now a freezing rain rattled on the thatch and be ... read full excerpt from: Sword Song ebook
