Consider the Ravens (The Scribe of Lindisfarne #1)

Prologue

The raven flew into the tithe barn. It was a cold morning and the air was completely still. But there was something wrong about the space. A man hung from the rafters and a stool lay on the floor.

The bird hopped up to the stool, turning his head to the side.

It didn’t hold his attention for long. He turned to the man.

He knew him. The body smelt fresh but wasn’t moving.

The rope holding him to the beams was roughly tied around his neck, digging into his flesh.

The raven flew up to him and landed on his shoulder, starting the body swaying gently in the morning air.

There was nothing shining about the man. Not his eyes, they were a dull blue now; not his clothes, worn and patched. The raven pecked speculatively at his hands but there were no rings.

‘Pol! Come now, where are you?’

The raven’s head turned at the voice he knew so well. There was nothing here for him, nothing to eat and nothing to collect.

‘Pol!’

As he flew back through the barn door, behind him the man was still swaying silently in the barn.