Chapter 3
Chapter Three
The Northern Woods
Leighfeld
Elara took an instinctive step back. Her hand brushed the rough bark of an oak beside her as her heart quickened at the sight of the man in front of her.
He stopped at once, hands open at his sides, as if to show he meant no harm.
“I didn’t mean to startle you,” he said, his voice firm as he tossed his hood back.
She studied him carefully, her gaze sweeping over him the way she might assess an unknown plant—slowly, searching for what was hidden beneath the surface.
His cloak was dark, spattered with mud and frayed at the hem, the fabric too fine for a common wanderer, too worn for a soldier.
One side was thrown back off one shoulder, and she was able to see he wore a mix of brown cloth and leather, frayed in spots.
Dark leather boots, scuffed and worn, rose to his knees.
Even in the dim light she could see he was no villager.
He was tall, a head and more above her, broad-shouldered, his frame lean, but taut with muscles, travel-worn, and watching her with such intense gray eyes that she swore he could see deep inside her.
The light that filtered through the trees caught the line of a jaw rough with scruff from a day or two’s growth and the faint scar that curved from his left brow to his temple.
His eyes remained on hers, waiting.
“Do not trouble me, sir, I am on an errand and will meet with friends just up ahead,” she said, to dissuade him from harming her.
“Wise to tell me such a tale, but no one waits ahead for you.”
He didn’t even glance over his shoulder to make sure he was that confident.
She stared at him, not sure what to do. He could be a thief, though he would have attempted to rob her by now. If he was a seeker, he would be asking her endless questions, searching for answers. And worst of all if he was a mercenary, her fate would be sealed. Or could he be a wanderer—
“You wonder who this stranger is who stands before you,” he said, cutting through her thoughts.
She eyed him suspiciously. It was a reasonable assumption or he was astute.
“Aye, I am,” she said cautiously.
He gave a slight bow before saying, “I am a wanderer.”
A wanderer. One of the lost ones who moved between villages, trading labor or stories for a meal. A few had passed through Birkfell, harmless people who vanished as easily as they came. Yet there was nothing harmless about this man. He looked more like a warrior than a wanderer.
“Then I shall not keep you,” she said, expecting, hoping, he would simply step aside and let her pass.
He tilted his head. “I assume you are a healer hiding from the Hunters with the way you watched the village through the trees.”
Her eyes shot wide and worry turned her stomach. He had seen her and followed her. What did he want with her? Would he turn her over to the Hunters for coins?
His hand went up. “I wish you no harm. I enjoy my freedom and would not deprive another of it.”
She did not know what to make of him. He could speak truthfully or could tell tales as wanderers were known to do. And she did not have the time to find out. She had to get to Thornleigh.
She hesitated, fingers tightening around her cloak. “I am an herb-scribe, and I am wasting time speaking with you. I must be on my way.” She waited for him to step aside.
Understanding sparked in his gray eyes. “You ran not just to avoid capture, but to warn the other healer villages.”
Her head lifted sharply, caught off guard by how easily he understood what she meant.
“It is what I would do,” he said and gave a faint shrug. “If I had reason to care.”
Elara frowned. “Yet you sound as though you do.”
“Maybe I don’t like to see innocent people dragged away for a king’s fancy.”
“And that concerns you why?”
“I told you that I’m a wanderer. I go where the roads lead, and I’ve seen enough to know when they’re about to run red.
The road is a dangerous place to travel alone, even more so for a woman.
You had no idea I followed you after seeing you run from Birkfell.
I could escort you if you’d like. It matters not where I go, so it is no chore to accompany you. ”
His words unsettled her. Why had he followed her and why would he, a stranger, suggest such a thing? Once again, she wondered about his honesty or was he clever enough to sound it?
She studied him, noting again the curve of his scar, the fine make of his worn cloak, the confident weight in his stance and the way his dark hair brushed his shoulders, the strands glimmering from a fresh wash. Nothing about him matched the aimless poverty and neglect of a true wanderer.
“You say you care little,” she said slowly, “yet you offer to help me. Why?”
“As I said, the roads are dangerous, strewn with Hunters who will not stop until they find what they search for and thieves who will take more than you want to give, and then there are the heartless mercenaries. Alone, you’ll be scooped up.
With me, I can protect you from the dangers that lurk on the road and Hunters will find no interest in you if you’re not alone. ”
“And why is that?”
“They will think we are a couple who wander together.”
Her pulse quickened at such a ridiculous notion, though she kept her expression still. “You expect me to trust a man, a stranger, I know nothing about?”
He smiled faintly, but it wasn’t warm. “Wisdom would serve you better than trust right now. It’s me or the Hunters.”
Elara had no desire to come across Hunters, but how did she trust a wanderer?
He seemed to read her silence. “I’ll see you safely to your destination. After that, we can part ways. Refuse my offer if you want, but I intend to follow you anyway, as I have been doing, and see you get there safely.”
She drew a slow breath, not knowing what to make of him.
Did he speak truthfully or did he have another reason for wanting to travel with her?
In the end, he was leaving her with no choice.
He intended to follow her whether she granted him permission to do so or not.
But why? Why should her safety matter to him?
She continued to be suspicious of his motive.
But if he intended to follow her, it would make more sense that he did so alongside her rather than somewhere she could not see what he was up to.
With no choice or time to spare, she asked, “Your name?”
He smiled as though victorious, and she noticed then that neither the scar nor the scruff on his face could disguise his fine features. Nothing about him, his appearance, his garments, or his persistence made sense.
“Dar,” he said, bowing his head slightly. “And yours?”
Elara stared at him for a long moment, torn between mistrust and a reluctant sense of safety his confident manner stirred before saying, “Elara. And we will be traveling companions until Thornleigh, then we part.”
He stepped aside, sweeping his hand out for her to pass. “Elara. You may find that you enjoy my company so much that you may not want to part from me.”
“I doubt that very much,” Elara said, and thought she heard him chuckle as she swept past him.
They walked in silence and hadn’t gone far when Dar suddenly moved ahead of her, his posture changing, tense and alert, his eyes wide scanning the area, and his head tilted, listening.
“Quiet,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, carrying the weight of command.
Elara slowed, her heart quickening. Something in his tone told her not to argue.
Then she heard it, the steady thud of hooves, the creak of harness, the murmur of voices threading through the morning air.
Dar turned to her, eyes sharp. “Follow my lead.”
Before she could ask why, his arm coiled around her waist, drawing her firmly against his side. His cloak fell around her, enveloping her in warmth and the faint scent of earth and pine. The move was so swift, so sure, she hadn’t time to resist.
“Keep your head down,” he whispered against her hair.
Two riders appeared along the forest path, their dark cloaks heavy with dew, faces hidden beneath their hoods. Even at a distance, Elara could feel their presence, the air thickened with it, cold and oppressive.
Hunters.
They reined in their horses, blocking the narrow pathway.
“You there,” one barked. “Hold.”
Dar obeyed, his arm still firm around her, his stance shifting subtly between her and danger.
“Your names,” the man demanded.
“Wanderers,” Dar said. “We keep to the woods and stay clear of trouble.”
The second rider’s gaze swept over them, lingering on Elara. “You’ve come from Birkfell?”
Dar shook his head. “We heard the cries and stayed clear. Whatever business brings Hunters to a healer’s village, it’s none of our concern.”
The man’s stare narrowed. “You’ve seen no one? No healers fleeing the village?”
“Nay,” Dar said. “We’ve heard only the echo of your drums.”
The Hunter’s eyes fixed on Elara. “You—look at me.”
Dar tightened his hold slightly and spoke before she could respond. “If my wife were a healer, we would not be wandering these woods. We make no trouble, nor do we want any trouble.”
For an instant, Elara forgot to breathe. The warmth of his body, the way he held her snug against him, as though he would let no one take her from him, felt all too real.
The Hunter studied them for a moment longer, then he gave a curt nod. “Keep to the forest while the Hunters hunt or you will find trouble.”
Dar inclined his head. “Aye, we want no trouble.”
The riders turned and continued down the path, their figures swallowed by trees.
Elara didn’t move until the sound of hooves faded completely.
When Dar finally lowered his arm, she stepped away, the sudden absence of his warmth leaving her unsteady.
“You lied well,” she said, though her voice came out softer than intended.
He shrugged. “It comes of needing to stay alive.”
Her gaze met his. “If they’d looked longer—”
“They didn’t. Because they believed what they saw, a husband protecting his wife. Now let’s keep moving if we’re to beat the Hunters to Thornleigh.”
Elara hurried to keep step, the chilled, autumn morning air cool on her skin, though she could still feel the ghost of his arm around her. The memory of his strength lingered like the echo of the drums.
They walked in silence, the only sound the steady rhythm of their steps and the distant calls of busy birds. The forest had begun to thin, the trees stretching taller, as a cool wind drifted through the leaves just beginning to turn colors, carrying the clean scent of rain-washed earth.
Dar kept a few paces behind her, content to let her lead though she followed no path he could see. She moved with quiet purpose, her stride even, her head held high. There was no fear in the set of her shoulders, only resolve.
He’d met healers before, kind, soft-spoken women, some who flinched at the sight of blood yet faced sickness and death with a bravery most warriors lacked.
But he had never met an herb-scribe, women who spent more time in the forest than with people.
He’d also never met a woman with hair and eye color such as hers.
He watched as her hair caught the light, a faint sheen of silver. It was like no color he had ever seen before. That alone marked her as uncommon and the Hunters would be sure to think she was a healer, the one they searched for, if they found her among the healers.
Her eyes, a rare color, like the amethyst stone, were unsettling—had met his with the directness of someone used to truth, not flattery. He wondered how many had looked at her and seen a blessing, and how many had seen a curse. Though to some, her beauty alone might have outweighed any unease.
She was also independent and far too brave for her own good. She’d chosen to walk into danger when most would remain hidden. Foolish, perhaps. Admirable, certainly.
She glanced back once, just enough to meet his eyes before turning forward again. He looked away first, not wanting her to look too deep and learn anything about him.
Though, he intended to learn more about her.
They walked a while longer, the quiet stretching between them like a thread that neither seemed inclined to cut.
Elara preferred the soothing melody of the forest, the rustle of leaves, the drip of earlier rain from the high branches, the distant gurgle of a stream somewhere beyond the trees.
This was home to her more than anywhere else, a place that welcomed her.
A place she felt secure. A place that willingly shared its vast and ancient knowledge with her.
Wanderers also had knowledge of the forest’s ways and what passed between villages. They carried news as easily as they carried tales. If anyone might know the truth of the king’s command, it would be one such as him.
Without looking back, she said, “You move among many villages. You must hear things.”
“Most villagers are eager for news. It helps to secure meals and shelter, and I am eager to listen so I may spread the word.”
She didn’t hesitate to ask, “What have you heard of the king’s search for a healer?”
He was quiet for a few more steps. “Enough to know it isn’t gossip. The Hunters ride with royal warrant. They take those healers they think might be the one the king searches for… and none return.”
Elara’s brow furrowed. “What happens to them?”
“I don’t know.” His voice was low, roughened by what she didn’t know. “No one does.”
The words lingered heavily between them.
Elara glanced at him, searching for more, but his gaze stayed on the terrain ahead. Whatever he knew—or feared—he had no intention of sharing.
Elara pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders. “You speak as if you’ve seen much.”
“More than I wanted,” he admitted.
“And yet you still walk toward it.”
He gave a small, humorless laugh. “It is a wanderer’s lot in life.”
She looked away, uneasy, and suddenly stopped abruptly.
Dar halted as well, scanning the trees, his hand dropping instinctively toward the dagger at his belt. “What is it?”
Elara turned slowly, eyes narrowing as she listened. The forest held its breath, the rustle of leaves stilled, even the birds fell silent.
“Did you hear that?” she asked.
He frowned. “Hear what?”
“An odd sound, one that does not belong to the forest.”
He listened, the muscles in his jaw tightening. But after a moment, he shook his head. “I hear nothing.”
Elara wanted to believe him, but the echo still thrummed faintly in her ears—low, rhythmic, distant.
Drums.
A chill swept through her. She forced her expression to remain steady and started walking again.
“It’s nothing,” she said, though her voice lacked conviction.
Dar watched her for a moment longer before following.
Elara didn’t look back. The sound had already faded, but she knew what it meant.
They would reach Thornleigh too late. She was certain of it.