Chapter 4
Chapter Four
Thornleigh
A Village in Leighfeld
Something was wrong, Elara could feel it.
She went to rush forward, to break through the tree line, but she was suddenly yanked to a rough stop and drawn back against something solid.
Disoriented, it took her a moment to realize her back was planted firmly against Dar’s chest, his arm secure around her waist.
An odd thought struck her. His muscled body spoke more of a warrior than a wanderer. Had something happened to him that had made him take to the road, live his life without direction?
He planted his cheek next to hers, its warmth melting his icy one as he whispered, “Do not be so foolish as to run into trouble, easy steps will get you there just as fast and more than likely avoid the trouble that waits.”
Elara eased in his embrace, feeling foolish for not having given more thought to her actions. Her only thought had been to help those in need.
His arm fell from around her waist, his hand closing around her hand in a grip that warned he didn’t intend to let go.
“Cautious steps,” he warned. “We don’t want to be caught and left helpless.”
“I fear we’re too late,” she said.
“Then let’s find out before we rush into the unknown.”
He approached the tree line, keeping her at his side and they peered through the branches together.
The village lay in disarray; cauldrons overturned, firewood scattered, baskets spilled where they’d fallen.
People moved like shadows through the wreckage, clinging to one another, faces streaked with tears and soot.
A woman knelt on the ground, her arms wrapped around an empty shawl.
Another stood staring at the spilled remains of her overturned cauldron.
Elara went to step forward, her heart growing heavier for the suffering that she feared would continue.
Dar’s hand tugged at hers, pulling her back before she could leave the cover of the trees.
“Don’t,” he urged, his strong grip warning her that she wasn’t going anywhere.
Her anger rose beneath her grief and she snapped at him. “They need help.”
“Aye, but not until we know it’s safe to approach.”
She cast a quick glance at the village. “There are no Hunters, only the pain they left behind.”
“And the Hunters could still be here,” he said, his eyes scanning the edges of the village. “They all don’t leave when the drums fall silent. Sometimes they hide and wait for those who think it’s safe to return.”
The words chilled her. How did he know that? Had he witnessed a Hunters’ attack on a village? She looked again toward the ruins of Thornleigh, the broken faces of those who had lost loved ones and those relieved to have been spared.
“How long do we wait to be sure?” she whispered.
“Patience,” was his only reply.
She wished she could run to the grieving villagers and offer what comfort she could. But if Dar was right and Hunters still lurked nearby, she would be of use to no one if she got caught.
Elara went to ease her hand out of his. “I will be mindful.”
His grip tightened. “Aye, I intend to see that you do.”
She felt a twinge of concern. Why should she matter to him? They would soon part ways, as was their agreement once they reached Thornleigh.
“Look,” Dar urged.
Elara’s eyes followed to where he pointed at a group of trees to the left of the village.
No wind blew hard, yet the branches stirred.
Suddenly, two women and a young lass stepped from the shadows of the trees, skirts torn and faces streaked with dirt, their eyes wide with fright as they hurried to the village.
A cry went up—a man’s voice—and then others followed.
Families broke into a run, rushing to meet them.
Elara pressed a hand to her mouth as the women and lass fell into waiting arms. Laughter and sobs mingled, joy shattering the stillness for the first time since they’d arrived. Children clung to their mothers, and men hugged their wives. For a moment, it was as if the world breathed again.
Then the horses came.
Two of them, dark and silent, emerging from the forest at the far side of the village like shadows given form. The joy died instantly. One of the women screamed.
“HUNTERS.”
They rode straight to the happy reunions and dismounted quickly.
The taller of the two men spoke, anger in his tone. “Those who hide have something to hide.”
A man stepped forward, clutching the lass who had hidden in the woods to his chest. She could not have been more than ten years, her hair tangled, her face buried against him.
“She’s a child,” he said, voice shaking. “She has no gift. Please—”
The Hunter’s gaze washed over them both, cold and impassive. “If she has nothing to hide, she has nothing to fear.” He reached for the lass.
The mother dropped to her knees, grasping at his cloak. “She’s no healer! She can’t even tend to a wound! Please, she ran out of fright!”
The Hunter did not look down. “All the same. The king will decide.”
The man’s grip tightened around his daughter, her thin arms clinging tightly around his neck. “You’ll not take her!”
The second Hunter moved fast. A strike, sharp, to the back of the head, and the man collapsed, his arms slackening as his daughter was torn from them. The mother’s cry broke the air, raw and unending.
Elara’s breath hitched and Dar pulled her against him.
“Don’t,” he whispered harshly. “You cannot stop them.”
Tears burned in her eyes as she watched the Hunters mount again, the lass crying out for her da as she squirmed in the one Hunter’s arm to break free. The two women were tethered together and forced to keep a quick pace behind the horses as they rode out of the village.
The wife knelt beside her fallen husband, her sobs the only sound left in the still air as she hurried to tend to his wound.
Elara turned away, pressing a trembling hand to her lips. “Hunters are heartless creatures.”
Dar’s jaw tightened. “They do what they are ordered to do. It is the king who is heartless in his demand, and he will not stop until this healer is found.”
“Then perhaps it is time she is found, for if she is such an exceptional healer, she would not want anyone to suffer because of her.”
His brow shot up. “You think to find what others can’t?”
“I think this horror must stop and she is the only one who can stop it.”
Dar shook his head. “We can talk of this later. We need to move.” He scanned the edge of the woods. “They’ll search the forest next.”
“I can’t leave. Not yet,” she said shocked he even suggested it.
He turned a stern glare on her. “You can, and you will. The Hunters won’t stop for nightfall.”
“I need to speak to the villagers,” she said, her eyes darting to the village. “Learn what was said and who was taken.”
“What does any of that matter?”
Her chin lifted, defiant. “The Hunters’ words might provide information. And as for who was taken? They must be named so they can be found and returned home.”
He stared at her for a moment, the muscle in his jaw tightening. “You think the king will allow them to return home?” He shook his head. “He will put them to use at Caerith or in the village. They are lost to their families.”
“Nay, I don’t believe that,” she said with an unshaken resolve. “There must be a way to bring them home.”
Silence fell between them. He could see the stubbornness in her eyes. Foolish yet at the same time brave. A combination that could prove dangerous.
“You’ll get yourself caught thinking such nonsense,” he cautioned.
“Or not,” she challenged.
He grunted. “Willful woman.”
“Determined,” she corrected.
Her voice held no heat, only conviction. He almost smiled at that—almost.
“Besides, we separate here as agreed,” she reminded him and went to free her hand from his.
He kept hold of it, raising it up between them. “I let go when I say so.”
She glared at him, her voice sharp. “I am not your captive. I am free like you who wanders.”
He released her hand. “You are as free as I am to follow you.” His hand shot up when she went to speak. “Don’t bother to argue. It will do no good. I will remain with you until I know you are safe, and nothing will change that.”
“You are free to do as you will,” Elara said, seeing no point in arguing with him and took a step toward the village.
He watched her go, silver hair catching the light through the trees, her figure shapely, her stride determined. And damn if he didn’t admire it more than he should.
Elara’s heart hurt seeing the village in such disarray. The Hunters had torn it apart in their search for anyone hiding, much of it unnecessary. It was to instill fear, make people obey. Women moved among the wreckage, gathering what they could, blankets, spilled grain, righting toppled cauldrons.
“Elara? What are you doing here?”
She turned at the sound of her name.
Two women hurried toward her, skirts gathered in their fists, faces streaked with dirt and ash, and Elara recognized one.
“Nell, I hoped to warn you. I am so sorry I arrived too late,” she said, tears glimmering in her eyes.
The other woman gasped. “The Hunters hit Birkfell?”
“Aye,” Elara said.
Nell drew back, her eyes searching Elara’s face. “And Maelis? Where is she?”
Elara fought her tears as she shook her head slowly. “They took her.”
Other women had joined them, and they all shuddered at the grave news.
Nell pressed a trembling hand to her mouth, tears spilling freely. “Nay… not Maelis. She’s tended to most of us since we were bairns. She saved my boy when fever nearly took him.”
Elara’s voice faltered. “Maelis urged me to run and warn others.”
“That would be Maelis, always putting others before herself,” Nell said.
The grief in the woman’s eyes struck her like a blow. Elara wished she could offer some comfort, some promise that all would be well. But that only seemed like a distant dream now.
Nell gave a nod toward Dar, helping two men carry the man the Hunters had felled, into a cottage. “Who is he?”