Chapter 19
Chapter Nineteen
Village of Falkrith in Venngraith
Home of the Hunters’ Chieftain
“It will be tomorrow evening before we reach my home, so we have time for you to tell me what you saw that had you holding your tongue,” Dar said low, so the Hunters following behind them could not hear. “And I remind you that we pledged to speak truthfully to each other.”
“I need no reminding,” she said, and wondered if he did, not about the pledge, but how the hurt of his betrayal still stung.
She would have preferred him to be truthful to her.
Yet if he had been, she would have run from him.
What then may have happened to her? He had kept her safe and continued to do so.
“You don’t trust me,” he said when she failed to say more.
She tilted her head and smiled softly. “That’s the strange part. There is a part of me that does and a part—”
“That cannot help but doubt.” He nodded. “I understand. In time…”
She hoped that would prove true.
He tucked her closer to him when the horse jostled, the terrain rough. “Tell me what you saw.”
“First, I will need to go back to the night we made camp after leaving Barloch,” she said and explained how she saw the dark, ethereal shape hovering over Muir and how it warned her to stay silent.
Dar kept his voice to a whisper. “That hints of dark magic. It is good you said nothing about it.”
“I saw the image again when the king’s warrior struck me. The figure shook its finger at me in warning once again. The first time was to warn me to hold my tongue and tell no one what I saw. The one today? Giving it thought, I believe it was warning me not to search for her.”
“This stays between you and me,” Dar ordered, fearful of what such news could bring.
Elara felt the same. “I agree. It is for us alone.”
“This could prove a more dangerous quest than I first thought,” Dar said, his brow creasing.
“What choice do we have? We must see it done.”
“I will increase the Hunters who go with us.”
Elara’s eyes went wide. “We cannot take Hunters with us. We must go alone, just you and me.”
“Absolutely not,” he snapped. “I will not take a chance with your safety.”
Elara pushed at his chest to ease away from him. “No healer will speak to me if Hunters are with us.”
“What of me? Will they turn their backs on you when they spot a Hunter with you?” he asked. “I tell you now. I will not hide who I am again nor am I ashamed of who I am. Hunters have a long, proud heritage in Scotara and I will not deny my legacy.”
“And healers are just as proud of their peaceful, healing culture. It was one thing when the king sent Hunters to question the healers and a far different thing when he sent them to take healers by force. With talk of war spreading, the king would be wise not to make enemies of his people.”
“Scotara is on the verge of war. The king will do whatever he must to keep the kingdom and its people safe.”
“Even if some people suffer for it?”
“It is the price of war,” Dar said. “And the king pays the highest price of all, since fatalities are inevitable. The reason he so desperately searches for a healer that can prevent him from losing anyone in the kingdom.”
Elara kept silent, her thoughts wandering, thinking the cost might be higher than the king would want to pay in the end.
She spent the rest of the journey in thoughtful silence, tucked close against Dar. The rhythm of the horse’s gait, the solid strength of the man at her back, the occasional brush of his breath near her ear, none of it should have felt as comforting as it did.
Yet comfort didn’t stop the worry that whispered through her upon their arrival at Venngraith, the village of Falkrith, home to the Hunters’ chieftain the next day.
A message from King Dravic, intended only for his father, Chieftain Cadmus, had brought them here. Elara had not been allowed to hear the substance of it, only told that it was for “Hunter ears alone.”
She wondered about the message. It had to be important since it delayed their start in finding the healer.
She also was not ready to see the place that was to be her new home.
She may have told Dar that she would not reside in Venngraith, but she knew in the end there would be little she could do to stop it.
Unless she wanted to live separately from Dar as he suggested and, for some reason, that idea did not set well with her.
As they rode, she kept her hand lightly against Dar’s chest, not because she needed steadiness, but because she couldn’t seem to help it. And each time her fingers brushed the leather, he shifted as if acutely aware of her touch, though he said nothing.
Still, she felt his thoughts, tight and restless.
They crested a hill and suddenly the land of Venngraith, the village of Falkrith, stretched beneath them.
Elara drew a sharp breath.
She had braced herself for harsh mountains, stony ridges, wind-carved slopes—but autumn in Falkrith lay draped in copper and gold.
Lush trees, their leaves burnished by the season, rolled across the valley.
A slow river glinted like polished steel between stands of yellowing birch.
Small woodland creatures scattered through the underbrush, their white tails flickering.
“It’s… beautiful,” she whispered before she thought better of it.
Dar turned his head slightly, enough that she caught the faint curl of a proud smile at the corner of his mouth.
“Aye,” he murmured. “Venngraith has some stark regions, but the whole of the land is not as fearsome as rumors say.”
“It is far lovelier than I imagined,” she confessed.
“I knew you would see what others overlook,” he said quietly.
Something in his tone made her chest tighten, not quite longing, but something near to it.
When they reached the valley floor, Falkrith came into view—a sturdy village of stone cottages, each warmed by curling threads of hearth smoke.
The setting autumn sun was making a slow descent behind thatched roofs.
Stacks of neatly piled firewood were placed throughout the village for all to use.
The air carried the scent of drying herbs, wood smoke, and freshly turned soil.
Muir rode ahead without comment. A few of the younger Hunters broke off toward their own dwellings.
But as the villagers took notice of Dar… the atmosphere changed and the chatter faded.
Men paused their work.
Women leaned toward each other with whispered words.
Children darted behind skirts and peered out.
Elara felt it instantly.
They feared him.
Even the air felt charged, as if the trees themselves bowed away from him.
Without thinking, she slid her hand down to his forearm—a soft, anchoring touch. His muscles tightened beneath her palm, but he didn’t pull away. In fact, he leaned into it, just slightly.
She felt that small gesture all the way to her heart.
“Dar,” she murmured, “why do they look at you with fear?”
His gaze passed over the villagers. “They fear the Hunter in me. Not the man.”
“But you are one of them. Their own.”
“I am also my father’s heir,” he said softly, “and the blade Venngraith sends when something must be done… that others do not wish to witness.”
A chill brushed her spine, though not out of fear of him, and she held tighter to his arm.
A tall man with broad shoulders, silver threaded through his dark hair, emerged from between two cottages. His leather vest was worn but clean, his posture proud, and his eyes—pale gray like his son’s but softer—locked onto Dar with equal parts relief and shock.
“Dar.” His voice carried across the open space. “By the gods… I did not expect you home yet.”
Dar dismounted in one fluid motion, the kind that made villagers whisper and step farther back, and he crossed the remaining distance with long strides.
“Da.”
No bow. No hesitation. Just the solid clasping of forearms between two men who understood strength in silence.
Chieftain Cadmus looked as though he had been carved from the very stones of Venngraith—strong, weathered, immovable. But the moment his gaze shifted to Elara, he blinked, surprised.
“And this lass?” he asked, eyes narrowing with curiosity. “She is a beauty.”
Heat rushed to Elara’s cheeks. She slid from the horse carefully, Dar going to her and steadying her waist with a gentle hand.
“This is Elara of the village of Cramond in Leighfeld,” he said. “My wife.”
Cadmus’s eyes flicked between them, sharp with assessment.
Elara kept her chin lifted, though her heart fluttered wildly.
“Welcome to Falkrith, Elara, my new daughter,” Cadmus said at last. “The hearth of Venngraith is yours now.”
His words were polite but the scrutiny behind them left her wondering if he meant them. Though having her thrust upon him unexpectedly would give him pause to wonder how their marriage came about.
“I have a message for you from the king,” Dar said.
Cadmus’s gaze lingered a heartbeat longer on Elara before he turned to his son.
“I should hear it right away,” his da said. “Settle your wife. I will wait for you in my private room in the longhouse.” He gave a quick glance to Elara. “I look forward to getting to know you.”
Elara turned to Dar. “Does he mean that?”
“The one thing you should know about my da is that he always says what he means. There is never any guessing with him. He always speaks truthfully. Now come,” he said, taking hold of her hand. “You can wait in your new home.”
New home. The idea that this was where she might remain for the rest of her life sent a worry through her. But she retained her composure and walked alongside him.
The cottage sat apart from the others, larger and closer to the woods. Its stone walls were darkened with age and ivy crept around one of the two windows. No garden welcomed alongside it, though smoke curled from the chimney as if expecting someone.
“Our home,” Dar said when they reached the thick wooden door and opened it, then moved aside for her to enter.