Broken Blade by Ann Marston

Author:Ann Marston
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fantasy, Scottish, swords
Publisher: Five Rivers Publishing [email protected]
Published: 2013-10-31T00:00:00+00:00

If I dreamed that night, I didn’t remember it on waking. Shortly after fast-breaking, I went out onto the mountainside carrying a basket and a small knife, with orders from Donaugh to collect as much snowberry root as I could find. The plants bloomed as the last of the snow melted around them, and by the time the new grass began to spring up, the flowers were gone. The tough, fibrous root was good for medicinal decoctions only after the pale flowers had withered and the small, bitter green berries had formed. If left until the berries had turned brown, the root could be poisonous.

I found a patch of snowberries in a small glade high above the lodge and set to digging out the roots. There seemed to be no hurry as I carefully stripped the berries from the plants and dropped them into the holes I’d made to dig out the roots. In the brilliance of the sun, the mist rising from the river swirled in ever-changing rainbows in the deep cleft of the valley below the lodge.

Far below me, on the track between the trees, something moved. I frowned and shaded my eyes with my hand, trying to see better. Donaugh doesn’t discourage visitors here, but he seldom has any, and no one except family would visit him without the courtesy of sending a messenger first to ask if a visit might be convenient.

I was too far away to see clearly, but I didn’t think the rider on the track below wore the livery of a messenger. Then he passed out of the shadows of the trees into the open meadow above the lodge and drew his horse to a stop. He sat there, nearly motionless, looking out over the lodge and its gardens, a tiny dark figure against the green of the new leaves and grass. He seemed to be watching, waiting for something. It wasn’t the way a courier or a visitor should act. He was too still, too watchful. That frisson of uneasiness shivered along my spine.

He remained still for a moment or two, then shed his cloak and carefully folded it across his saddle. A dark shadow fell over him, shrouding him in sudden darkness. I looked up. There were no clouds in the sky to block the sun. When he slipped the sword in the scabbard at his side and urged his horse forward, cold dread closed around my heart. No Celae horseman wears a sword at his hip. It’s too awkward, and the sword can tangle in the trees and undergrowth along the narrow tracks. I began to run.

I lost sight of him as I entered the forest above the lodge. Branches snagged at my hair and clothing as I ran through the trees. My foot caught on a protruding root, and I tumbled headlong, measuring my length in the damp carpet of last year’s leaves, but I managed to bounce to my feet and run again. I thought my heart would tear itself loose from its moorings, and my breath came in harsh, gasping sobs.

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