Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Etta paused, shaking her head. “The healer met a man cloaked in charm, his words like honey, his gaze like fire. She gave her heart where she should have guarded it, and by the time she knew his true nature… it was too late. He was no man of flesh and soil, but a sorcerer born of Driochmor, seeking not her love but her gift.
“When she discovered his deception, she fled in terror, carrying his child beneath her heart. She vanished into the realm of men, hiding from the shadow that would claim her. Some say she died giving birth, others that she found sanctuary in a place even Driochmor’s mists cannot reach. None know for certain, only that the child was never seen. But the sorcerer still lives, or so the whispers claim. He scours the Kingdom of Scotara, seeking the healer who defied him and the child who bears both gifts of life and death. And it is believed that if he ever finds them, no realm, not Caerith, nor Venngraith, nor Leighfeld itself will stand against the wrath of Driochmor.”
Gooseflesh ran along Elara’s arms. “Do you believe this tale is true?”
“There is a kernel of truth to every tale. It’s finding that kernel that leads to the truth,” Etta said.
Elara shook her head at a loss of what to do next. “Where do I start?”
Etta leaned down and whispered in her ear, “With the old healers who know the tale. Listen well and find the kernel of truth that runs through each telling.” She dropped her head back against the cottage wall and sighed. “Nell was right, I need to rest.”
Elara got to her feet. “Let me help you.”
This time Etta took the help, giving her one last time to whisper in Elara’s ear, “Stay away from Driochmor. Evil is the only thing that lives there.”
Chapter Five
Near The Northern Road
Echoes of the Hunters
* * *
“It’s time to stop,” Dar said, his voice cutting through the hush that had followed them for hours.
They had walked until twilight settled over the forest, the path narrowing to a stretch of earth along a winding stream. The air was cool, rich with pine and the faint sweetness of wild thyme crushed beneath their boots.
Elara said nothing, though her limbs ached. She was grateful when Dar stopped not far from the water, eager to settle for the night.
He unfastened his cloak and shrugged it off, leaving the heavy wool to fall where it may and began gathering kindling. He got a fire started quickly.
She watched as firelight licked over the planes of his face, strong lines and sculpted angles, fine features for sure. Then there was the breadth of his shoulders and the lean, capable strength in his arms. He was solid muscle, not a speck of loose flesh to him from what she could see. He moved with purpose, efficient, practiced, too sure for a man who claimed to wander aimlessly, not caring where he landed next.
Elara tore her gaze away before he could look up and hurried to say, “I’ll see to my needs while you see to the fire.”
He didn’t glance back. “Don’t stray far. Hunters could be haunting these woods.”
She slipped through the trees, the firelight fading behind her until only the sounds of the forest remained: the rush of the stream, the sigh of wind through branches, the occasional call of a nightbird.
When she stopped by the mossy roots of an oak, a faint shimmer stirred at the edge of her vision. She waited, half expecting to see something but as the flickering light faded all she heard was a flutter like the wings of a bird. And once again, she felt a faint brush across her cheek.
Elara did not dare give it thought nor did she dare share her imaginings on seeing such a shimmer numerous times or hearing the flutter of wings when no birds were in sight or felt a brush against her cheek like earlier. To do so could bring harm. She did not even want to admit to herself that she was beginning to believe that the fae folk had emerged from Driochmor, where they had been banished. Or could it be they never left the surrounding forest? Had they simply become invisible to the human eye? Why or how she didn’t know, but she strongly suspected the fae folk were among them.
She pressed her hand against the large oak and closed her eyes and waited. The unease trickled into her hand and up her arm quickly. The forest was worried. It knew something was amiss.
It hit her then—a vision. Or was the tree sharing what it had seen?
The image raged in her mind, troops of Hunters spreading throughout Leighfeld, reaching every village. None being warned, especially the villagers to the south and east. Hunters poured through Leighfeld—no one able to stop them.