The Road of Bones by Demi Winters EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available for Free Download
- Author: Demi Winters
- Language: English
- Genre: Dark Fantasy Horror
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 4.5 MB
- Price: Free
SKARSTAD
Silla Nordvig believed in the little signs the old gods left for mortals—
red skies to foretell surprise, the flíta to usher in change, and the black
hawk as a herald of death. Above all else, she knew that bad fortune
came in threes, so it should not have come as a surprise when those
wretched bells started ringing. She jumped in fright all the same.
Washing the bread dough from her hands, Silla dried them on the coarse
material of her homespun skirts. Ashes, she thought. This week was truly
taking a toll on her.
It had all started to unravel when Olaf the Red had requested tenancy
payment a week ahead of schedule, stretching their threadbare budget
beyond its limits. Next, Silla had burned her thumb while pulling barley
cakes from the embers, dropping the full batch into the cookfire. Grains
were growing more and more costly—after three long winters in a row,
crops were stunted, and the harvest would be grim. Silla had earned herself
a stern verbal lashing for her mistake.
And now, the third instance of ill fortune this week—those foulsome
bells.
Silla smoothed the floral embroidery along the belt of her blue apron
dress, the same worn by all of Jarl Gunnell’s domestic hands, and made her
way outdoors. The jangle of iron keys signaled the arrival of Bera, Jarl
Gunnell’s wife and head of the household. Silla quickly found her place in
line, fingers threading tightly together as Bera counted them.
“Twelve. All right on your way, you lot,” she ushered them in a gentle
voice. “Let us hope this is swift. For all involved.”
A light breeze caressed Silla’s face and pulled a few chestnut coils from
her tightly-woven braid as she stepped along the path. For a gray day, it was
pleasantly warm, the sun obscured by clouds. A wasp buzzed at her face,
and she swatted it away. Birds twittered from the gardens of the homestead.
It was almost peaceful for a moment. Until the following toll of the bell,
long and so loud, it set Silla’s teeth on edge.
She matched her steps to the others, keeping her eyes on the blue skirts
of the girl ahead of her. They walked in a single line, making their way
down the rutted lane. Silla didn’t have to look to know Jarl Gunnell and his
men—warriors, stablemen, and field workers alike—would be following
behind. The jarl was one of the few members of nobility who did not use
enslaved thralls brought over from Norvaland, but if he had, they would
join as well.
The bells were nothing if not the great equalizer, demanding
the presence of every Íseldurian over ten winters of age, regardless of class.
Silla glanced toward the stables but could not see her father. He’d be
there somewhere, amongst the fieldworkers in his dirt-stained gray tunic.
He’d be wiping grime from his face, worrying about her, about them,
deciding they’d lingered too long in Skarstad. It would be time for a fresh
start. Another one.
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