Deep-Spire
Page 23
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The woman appeared from nowhere.
One minute, Hath Falkyn had been riding through the skeleton woods in the northern foothills of the Rock and Pillars, his gaze trained on the spot in the trees he had seen a hare escape – the next, a figure swathed in brown, homespun robes stumbled out into his path.
His horse squealed and skidded to a halt. Its front legs flailed before it – just missing the head of the person who had run into its path.
The woman let out a cry and staggered backwards, falling into the dirt.
Hath reined his horse back and sought to calm it; however the stallion, a nervy beast at the best of times, threw its head down and attempted to buck him off. It took a while before he had calmed his horse enough to be able to glance back at the female he had nearly trampled.
“I could have killed you,” he shouted at her, his voice harsher than he had intended. “What were you playing at?”
His gaze seized upon the face of the woman, of around his age, who was still sitting in the dirt, staring up at him.
She was beautiful, he noted that immediately; tall and lithe with an olive complexion and long, dark hair. However, she looked as if she was recovering from a beating; her face and forearms were scratched and her robes were travel-stained and worn.
Hath glared down at the woman a moment longer and then swung down from the saddle.
“Did you hear me? Why, for the love of the gods did you run out in front of me like that?”
“I’m sorry,” she appeared to come out of whatever trance she had been in, her cheeks colouring. “I didn’t hear you coming. The wind masked the sound of your horse.”
Their gazes met once more and the blush in the woman’s cheeks deepened. “Besides,” she continued, her tone turned flinty. “You were riding too fast.”
Hath smiled then, enjoying her fire. “Is that so?” He could see that she was starting to bristle and so stepped forward and held out his hand. “Then I too apologise milady.”
The woman gave him a withering look but took his proffered hand, allowing him to pull her to her feet.
“I’m no lady – surely that’s obvious.”
“And yet, there is culture and schooling in your voice.”
“I was raised by the Ladies of the Temple in Cathernis. They taught me how to mind my manners.”
Hath laughed out loud at that before giving her a leisurely once over. She was almost as tall as him, although graceful. Up close, her eyes were a dark, warm brown. She had a full, sensual mouth.
“So, what is such fine a woman as you doing out here, in the middle of nowhere on a cold, winter’s day?”
The woman sighed, her gaze clouding. “I’m lost.”
Hath raised an eyebrow. “Go on?”
“I was a governess, to a noble family in Dunethport. We were travelling north to Catedrâl when we were attacked by bandits. I managed to escape but the family I worked for were all killed.”
Hath’s gaze narrowed. “Bastards. They even killed the children?”
The woman nodded and looked away, her dark hair falling in a curtain over her face. Watching her, Hath suddenly felt monstrous for questioning her so disrespectfully. After all she had been through, this woman deserved better.
He stepped closer to her, wanting to reach out and comfort her but knowing that it was improper to do so.
“What’s your name?” he asked gently.
“Belythna,” she replied, looking up at him. Their gazes fused once more and Hath felt his breathing quicken. Despite her dishevelled appearance, she was even lovelier up close.
“And yours?” she asked.
“Hath,” he said softly. “I’m the Marshal of Barrowthorne, around four days ride from here.”
“A long way from home, aren’t you?”
“On a hunting trip,” he replied with a grin, “sometimes I have to get away from Barrowthorne Tower and all its responsibilities. Out here, I’m free, I’m just myself.”
She smiled back, her eyes wistful. “I can understand that. Out in the wilderness, the world is simpler.”
“Yet, by the looks of things you aren’t going to be able to continue through this wilderness much longer,” Hath observed. “You are exhausted. When did you last eat?”
“Yesterday morning,” she admitted. “Some mushrooms.”
Hath turned from her and crossed to where his stallion awaited, still snorting nervously. He removed some bread and cheese from his saddle bag and passed it to her. “Here.”
The woman gave him a grateful look and began to tear at the bread.
Belythna – a beautiful name. It was not common that he encountered folk on this stretch. They were still a few days ride from Mirfaran, and these lonely woods in the foothills of the Rock and Pillars were the last place he would have expected to meet such a woman. He watched her as she ate, and wondered if she really was who she purported to be. He could not imagine her as a governess; there was something too fiery and proud about her for that role. However, he decided not to press her.
“Thank you for the food,” she said, finally, brushing the crumbs off her front. “I’ve never known hunger like that.”
Hath smiled and passed her a water bladder so that she could slake her thirst.
“So where are you heading?” he asked casually.
She gave him a sharp look before taking a deep draught from the bladder. “Mirfaran, I suppose,” she replied, her tone guarded.
“You suppose?”
“It will be a good enough place to start again.”
Hath met her gaze, and felt his chest constrict once more.
“If a new start is what you’re after, why don’t you come back with me to Barrowthorne?” he offered.
Her gaze narrowed. “Excuse me?”
“You can find employment,” he said hastily, “and I can make sure you’re fed and clothed until you do. It’s dangerous out here in the wild, Belythna. I’m only offering you safety. You don’t have to accept, if you’d prefer not to.”
She regarded him for a few moments, her gaze speculative.
“Will I be free to go, if I chose?”
“Of course,” Hath frowned at that. “You’re not a prisoner. Who do you think I am, a brute?”
Belythna laughed, a gentle, warm sound that was whipped away by the chill wind that gusted through the bare trees.
“I’m sorry,” she gave her head a rueful shake. “Events of late have made me suspicious of folk. Thank you, Hath. I accept your offer.”
Belythna Arran took the Marshal of Barrowthorne’s hand, and placed her foot on top of his. Then, she vaulted up onto the saddle behind him. Neither of them spoke as he turned his horse the way they had come; the quarry he had been hunting forgotten.
The warmth of the horse’s flanks against her thighs soaked into her chilled and aching body. She sagged against the man seated in front of her, not caring if it was improper. She was only grateful that she did not have to walk a step more.
They rode down the slope, with the towering crags of the Rock and Pillar Range behind them. An icy wind from the south blew in their faces and the first fluttering flakes of snow fell, swirling around them like blossom on a windy spring day.
Belythna glanced up at the pale sky. “Bad weather is coming,” she murmured.
“A blizzard by the looks of it,” the marshal confirmed before adding, with a teasing tone. “It seems that we met just in time.”
Belythna smiled at his back but did not answer. Indeed, they had. Although she had almost ended up trampled beneath his horse’s hooves, Belythna had never been so relieved to see a man in her life.
Hath Falkyn – the enigmatic marshal who had strode into Deep-Spire all those months ago and demanded Lady Serina answer to him – had reappeared in her life. And this time, he had seen her, responded to her, and offered her a safe place to hide.
I won’t be able to stay in Barrowthorne, she thought. It’s too close to Deep-Spire.
And yet, a small v
oice within taunted her, tempted her.
You could hide there. You could vanish under layers of cloaking spells and she would never find you. You could fall in love with this man, bear his children and forget about your old life.
Belythna closed her eyes and forced those thoughts back into the recesses of her mind. She remembered Floriana’s warning but she could feel herself weakening nonetheless. Another existence beckoned, one that almost made the risk worth it.
She reopened her eyes, wrapped her arms around Hath’s waist and leaned against the strength of his back. At this moment, she was too weary, too traumatised, to fight fate. Hath was taking her back to Barrowthorne, and she would let him. Whatever came after would be her choice.
Together, they rode on through the skeleton trees and disappeared into the fading light.
Did you enjoy DEEP-SPIRE?
The adventure continues with Sam J. Charlton’s epic fantasy series: the Palâdnith Chronicles.
Thirty five years after DEEP-SPIRE ends, another story begins. This time, we follow the adventures of Belythna and Hath Falkyn’s three sons: Val, Eni and Seth.
Three brothers. One legacy that binds them.
***
The Paladnith Chronicles
JOURNEY OF SHADOWS – Book One of the Palâdnith Chronicles (Shortlisted for the Sir Julius Vogel Awards, ‘Best Novel’, 2014)
THE CITADEL OF LIES – Book Two of the Palâdnith Chronicles
THE WELL OF SECRETS – Book Three of the Palâdnith Chronicles
Find out how the adventure begins!
Read the Prologue and first chapter of JOURNEY OF SHADOWS…
Journey
of
Shadows
Book One of the Palâdnith Chronicles
Sam J. Charlton
“Three things cannot be long hidden: the sun, the moon, and the truth.”
Buddha
Prologue
Exile
Barrowthorne, Central Omagen