by C. Greenwood
Cold reason reasserted itself and Brig’s image wavered. I had to stop this. Brig was gone. Unless I wished to let go of my reason entirely and live the rest of my life in a world of pathetic imaginings, a place where the dead walked and events I didn’t like could be changed, I needed to pull back from what I was doing. As much as it pained me to do it, I pushed Brig’s flickering image aside and forced myself to see the reality instead. The space opposite me was empty, occupied only by a fallen tree stump with a handful of jumper beetles crawling on its surface.
But my vision of Brig helped me form a decision I’d been contemplating for a long time. It was as if he had appeared to remind me of things I already knew but had refused until now to accept. Of old obligations unfulfilled and promises broken.
I returned to camp, where the outlaws were just beginning to stir in their dew-soaked blankets. Someone started to build a campfire, until Rideon ordered there be no fires lit today. We weren’t safe from discovery yet, he said.
I slipped quietly among the men, found the lonely spot where I had passed the night, and collected my bow. Then I set my back to the camp and my comrades without a word of farewell. No one called out to me or even, I suspected, noted my departure.
I’d come to a decision and with this new-found direction a little of the strangeness of last night fell away. I was done settling for whatever fate served up to me. If I followed along the road life set at my feet the future was already a given. I would be a hunted criminal, forced to skulk within the boundaries of Dimming the rest of my life, wondering daily if this would be the day a Fist’s blade or the Praetor’s noose found me. Such an existence I had once craved but Brig’s death had opened my eyes to the waste of it.
It was time to step off that path.
NOT AN ENDING, BUT A RESTING PLACE
Golden and amber leaves crunch loudly beneath my boots, startling my thoughts back to the present, as I follow the forest trail leading away from Rideon and the others. I have come far since the dark night so long ago when I lost my parents. In some ways I’ve journeyed farther still since losing Brig two nights ago. But as I leave the outlaw camp behind, anticipation stirs within me and I contemplate the distance I have yet to travel.
A sudden flair of warmth radiating from the bow slung across my back seems to echo my sense of hope.
Continue Ilan’s journey in Book II, Betrayal of Thieves.
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
C. Greenwood is the fantasy pen name of author Dara England, who lives in Oklahoma with her husband, two young children, and a Yorkshire terrier. To receive updates on future books, visit www.DaraEnglandAuthor.com and sign up for her monthly newsletter.
WRITING AS C. GREENWOOD
Legends of Dimmingwood Series
Magic of Thieves ~ Book I
Betrayal of Thieves ~ Book II
Circle of Thieves ~ Book III
Redemption of Thieves ~ Book IV
Other Titles
Dreamer’s Journey
WRITING AS DARA ENGLAND
The Accomplished Mysteries
Accomplished in Murder ~ Book One
Accomplished in Detection ~ Book Two
Accomplished in Blood ~ Book Three
The American Heiress Mysteries
Death on Dartmoor ~ Book One
Murder in Mayfair ~ Book Two
Other Titles
Beastly Beautiful
Love By The Book
The Magic Touch
Eternal Strife (The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance)
