Chapter 9
Chapter Nine
Beyond Wedderlie
Whispers of the Forbidden Land
They had left Wedderlie at first light.
Bella had breakfast waiting for them, warm oatcakes, roasted apples, and smoked fish that filled the small inn with mouthwatering scents. She’d smiled as though expecting them, her knowing gaze following every movement.
“Eat while it’s hot,” she’d said with a pleasant smile.
They had eaten heartily, not certain when they would next find food so fine, then thanked her and departed.
Now, Wedderlie was far behind them, hidden by the sprawling forest that marked the edge of the borderlands. The season had begun its slow turn toward autumn, the air carried a faint chill, and the first blush of amber brushed the edges of the leaves.
The road wound narrow and shadowed, lined with rowans whose red berries gleamed like drops of blood. The forest smelled of damp earth and fallen leaves, the soft crunch beneath their boots loud in the hush.
Dar kept a steady pace, his eyes always sweeping ahead, his movements sure and cautious. Elara followed in silence, but her thoughts were restless. The further they walked, the heavier the air seemed to grow, thick with unseen watchfulness.
Her step faltered and she drew a quick breath. Suddenly the forest felt too still and the wind too soft, as if holding itself apart from the world.
Then came the sound.
Not to her ears, not yet, but inside her. A rhythm, distant but distinct… the steady pounding of hooves. The vision flared so sharply she gasped, clutching at the nearest tree for balance.
“Elara?” Dar’s voice snapped toward her, sharp with concern. “What is it?”
Her lips parted, but the sound came again, louder now, echoing through her skull, stopping her. For a moment, she saw them, black shapes moving through a misted hollow, their horses restless, eyes gleaming like embers. The flash of blades, the harsh creak of leather.
“Riders,” she whispered, breathless. “They’re close.”
Dar turned instantly, scanning the trees as he hurried to her, seeing she appeared unsteady and needing the tree for support.
His arm shot around her. “You heard something?”
“I saw them,” she said, pressing a hand to her temple. “Three—maybe four—riders. In dark garments.”
“Hunters,” he murmured.
“I’m not sure, but they are close.”
The first real sound reached him. They were not far off. He scanned the area for a place to hide, but saw nothing, not even a place he could tuck her safely away. And if they ran, they would be seen and no doubt followed. He had no choice.
He pushed her behind him. “Stay there and don’t say a word.”
Four riders appeared moments later, cutting through the morning mist. They wore no black leather, their garments more a mix of leather, fur, and plaids.
It was their faces, heavily worn and scarred from endless battles, that warned they were mercenaries.
Warriors who fought for the most coins or took what they wanted from those they found traveling along the road.
Elara’s pulse hammered in her throat and her stomach turned. One man and a woman was no match for the four of them.
They brought their mounts to a halt not far from Dar and the largest of the four grinned. “What have we here?”
“A husband and wife who want no trouble,” Dar said.
Elara was surprised at how calm Dar sounded, as if he had no worries or fear.
Another fellow leaned forward in his saddle and grinned. “No trouble as long as you share that beauty of a wife with us.”
Elara watched the way Dar’s shoulders drew back and his body grew taut.
“That’s not going to happen,” he said with such strength and confidence that Elara believed him.
The four men laughed.
The largest man spoke again, laughter lingering in his words. “You think you and your puny dagger can stop the four of us from taking what we want?”
“Ignorant men fall easier than most,” Dar said, his eyes darting at each man.
All laughter stopped and grins vanished.
“Let’s see how you feel when you watch us have fun with your wife before we slit both your throats,” the large man said.
“You’ll not put a hand on my wife. I promise you that,” Dar challenged.
Again, his confidence was strong, but to Elara, the odds were against him.
One of the men said, “Go, Brinley, and hurt him enough that he can’t bother us, but he can watch while we enjoy his wife.”
The large man laughed and dismounted.
“And be quick about it,” another fellow called out. “It’s been too long since I had a woman.”
“I get her first since it’s me who puts the husband down,” Brinley said, approaching Dar.
For a moment, Elara thought to flee, but the other men would only chase after her and something in her just could not leave Dar on his own, no matter the circumstances.
Whatever way she looked at the situation, it seemed hopeless.
Yet Dar stood there prepared to fight even if his only weapon was a dagger.
She hastily glanced around and spotted a slim branch on the ground. The forest had provided her with a weapon. She hurried and scooped it up.
Brinley laughed along with the other three men.
“She thinks a branch will stop us,” one said with a laugh.
“Hurry and be done,” another shouted. “My shaft’s as hard as a rock.”
“I’m first,” Brinley reminded as he lunged toward Dar.
Elara stood shocked, seeing how fast Dar’s dagger left its sheath and was thrust in Brinley’s neck. Blood squirted out when he pulled it out and Brinley grabbed his neck, but the blood surged between his fingers. His eyes went wide, he gurgled, then fell to the ground.
The three men stared in shock. Dar didn’t hesitate, he rushed at them. He jabbed one man in his thigh and blood gushed out. He caught another man in the stomach before he could draw his sword. The third jumped from his horse and headed for Elara.
She raised the branch ready to defend herself but the man fell to the ground before he reached her, Dar’s dagger protruding from his back. She stood speechless seeing three men dead and one only minutes away from death.
Warrior.
The thought rang like a tolling bell in her head. Dar had to have once been a warrior to be so skillful with a blade. His dagger had landed on each man where there was no chance of survival, the blood loss too great.
Dar gathered the four horses’ reins and secured them to tree branches, then he retrieved his dagger from the fallen man’s back, wiping it clean on the man’s cloak before sheathing it and went to Elara.
His hand went to her face, cupping it firmly. “I will always keep you safe, Elara.”
Words failed her. She simply did not know what to say.
Dar smiled. “I am glad to see that you would have fought beside me.”
The word slipped out from her lips without hesitation. “Always.”
“We make a good pair, wife,” he said, his hand falling away from her face as he leaned closer and kissed her lips gently.
Her trembling legs, she hadn’t realized trembled, gave way and she fell against him, his arms going around her to hold her tight.
She pressed her face to his chest, inhaling his manly scent that mingled with the rich scent of the forest she loved so much.
He almost smelled like home to her and his scent calmed her.
“It’s over. You’re safe,” he assured firmly, leaving no room for worry. “And we have horses now, which will make our quest easier.”
She drew her head back and smiled faintly. “An improvement for sure.”
“Aye,” he agreed and brushed his lips over hers once again even though he silently warned himself not to.
He favored the taste of her, sweet and potent, and her courage intoxicated as well. That she hadn’t run in fear, hadn’t left him, had him admiring her even more. But that was a dangerous thing to think, dangerous to feel, dangerous for them both.
Dar kept hold of her as he asked, “How did you know the men approached?”
“I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice steady now. “I heard them before the forest did, felt them, saw them.”
“You have the power of sight?” he asked, looking at her strangely.
She allowed herself to feel comfortable with him, trust him, and, in doing so, she made a mistake.
The power of sight was linked to dark magic, though she did not quite understand why.
What was evil about seeing things before they happened?
Could it not somehow prove beneficial? But after the Great War that divided Scotara and brought about Driochmor, the forbidden lands, the power of sight was considered evil.
She had only the truth left to her. “It would seem so, though I don’t know why. I mean no one harm and it has only served to help me.”
He stared at her as if contemplating this unexpected revelation. “Does anyone know about this?”
She shook her head. “Nay, I was too fearful to speak a word of it. It is my secret alone and now yours… I hope.”
“It is a dangerous secret to keep.”
“And even a more dangerous secret to reveal,” she countered.
“You will alert me to these visions and share them with me,” he ordered.
He commanded as if he was used to doing so and Elara once again questioned if he had once been a warrior and one used to command. If so, what had happened to him to make him choose the solitary life of a wanderer?
“Your visions could prove helpful to us as they just did,” he added.
“And you will share my secret with no one?” she asked, needing a direct answer from him.
“It will not slip past my lips, but you are foolish to think it will remain a secret. These visions do not come upon by will but unexpectedly. One day someone will see how you grow unsteady on your feet and look dazed and begin to question.”
“I can feign illness.”
“Not for long. The history of dark magic and how it almost took control of Scotara lives long in people’s memories. They are quick to spot it and eradicate it before it spreads.”
“Yet the king searches for the healer who has Driochmor blood running through her. How is that different?”