Black Monastery Read Online Free PDF

of his men reached the wooden gate in the stone wall, he began to sense something was wrong. At first, he thought the wooden gate had been left open by mistake. But then, as he drew closer, he saw the door was smashed and shoved inward.
    What?
    His men screamed in fury as they funneled through the open gateway, hungry for blood. Asgrim pushed through the throng of men and came out in the monastery’s inner courtyard. One of his men tripped over something and fell flat, dropping his spear. The others fanned out, but then faltered. Silence dropped over the raiders as they ground to a halt, their mouths hanging open, their eyes betraying their confusion.
    Asgrim lowered his shield and sword and gaped at the inner courtyard. Bodies of armed warriors and unarmed priests lay scattered everywhere. Clearly, the soldiers and priests had killed each other. Many of the corpses were ripped apart, their limbs lying nearby. Entrails lay scattered everywhere, and the soil was soaked in congealing blood. The stench of feces and rotting flesh washed over Asgrim, and clouds of flies buzzed angrily. Although he was no stranger to death and battlefields, the stench still almost gagged him. Beside him, Hopp whined once before turning and disappearing back out the opened gate.
    By Odin’s ass, what had happened here? What kind of battle had these men fought? The bodies of the priests had been cut down with sword, spear, and ax. The soldiers, though, had been pulled apart, shredded, their guts ripped out and discarded.
    All of the bodies of priests had blood-stained hands.
    These were the strangest holy men he had ever heard of, more berserker than man.
    He pointed toward the stone buildings with his sword. “Move, damn you! Search inside.”
    Some of the men stood in place, looking about themselves stupidly, but others began to pile through the monastery doorways.
    “Get moving!” screamed Asgrim as he shoved a young raider forward.
    What had happened here?
    He stalked toward the main buildings and pushed his way inside. He was met by complete darkness, the stench of more dead, and a feeling of dread. He stood in place, trying to make sense of this. Inside, the air was moist and thick with the smell of the sea. How was that possible? The floor was sticky with something that sucked at the soles of his boots. Thousands of angry flies poured out the doorway, so many that men covered their mouths and eyes with their hands.
    “Torches. Light torches,” he ordered.
    When the first torch blazed to life, chasing away the darkness, Asgrim found himself facing a foyer with a large curved stone entranceway that led inside the monastery. Over this entranceway, the monks had painted a scene of piety and welcome: a faded and chipped painting of a woman sitting on a throne and holding a baby. On either side of her, men with wings knelt in supplication. The woman wore a smile of serenity as she gazed down at Asgrim and the scene of carnage around him. At least six bodies, monks and soldiers, lay piled in the small foyer. In one corner, the corpse of a priest still sat astride the chest of a soldier. The dead priest’s teeth were locked on the savaged throat of the other man, and the soldier’s dagger was rammed into the priest’s heart. Asgrim stared at the corpses. He had seen men bite each other in combat. Once, he had even seen a warrior, caught up in his battle rage, bite his own arm and tear away a chunk of flesh, but he had never seen a man sink his teeth through another’s throat like a wild animal.
    His first mate, Gorm Louse-Beard, moved past him and examined a bloody pile of… something in a corner. As Gorm bent to examine the mess, his expression betrayed his confusion. Using the point of his sword, he lifted the flayed skin of a man. Impossibly, it was still mostly intact, as if someone had just popped out the bones and wet tissue.
    The two men’s eyes locked over the bloody skin on the end of the sword. “What orders,