Exile (The Nandor Tales Book 1) by Martin Owton

Author:Martin Owton [Owton, Martin]
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Publisher: Phantasia (Tickety Boo Press)
Published: 2016-04-15T06:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 23

Araiminta's cottage lay tucked in a fold of the hills that hid it from prying eyes. A clear stream flowed through the neat garden which was planted with orderly rows of vegetables. The cottage itself was a sturdy construction of roughcut logs and mud-covered wattle with a reed-thatched roof. Araiminta led them around to the back of the cottage, where a dozen chickens scratched in the dirt around the woodpile.

“Leave the horses here,” she said, indicating an open-sided barn whose roof looked in need of repair. “Choose whichever of the sheds takes your fancy. There isn't room in the house for all of you, and he needs the bed.” Araiminta gestured at Aron who looked up sharply.

“I feel fine,” said Aron.

“Don't argue, young man. You've just woken up from a fever sleep and I know how weak that leaves a body,” said Araiminta, her tone indicating that she expected no argument. “You need a few days of rest and good food. Fetch your gear in and I'll stoke up the fire.”

Aron had to admit that it sounded an enticing prospect as he climbed off his horse; even the short ride had tired him.

“What should we do?” asked Davo.

“Put your gear down then make yourselves useful,” said Araiminta briskly. “There's plenty to be done in the garden, and the chicken house needs mucking out.” Davo looked at Maldwyn in dismay.

“You can't have him working in the garden, he's an Earl's son,” said Davo.

“Is he really? No doubt he eats the same as other men,” said Araiminta. “Then if he wishes to eat, he has to work the same as other men.”

There was no argument after that. Araiminta hustled Aron into the interior of her cottage, dusty and aromatic with drying herbs. He was wrapped in a patchwork blanket and laid on a pallet with soft pillows beside the fire where Araiminta's stewpot simmered on an iron trivet. Davo and Maldwyn were banished to the vegetable garden after a few minutes instruction on what were weeds and what were not. Araiminta busied herself with preparing vegetables, humming a little tune as she peeled and chopped.

***

Ezrin the sorcerer bent over his crystal and tried to clear his mind. He had slept less than he needed, but Lord Hercival's demands rang in his ears. He grasped a single hair culled from Maldwyn's comb, rolling it between his fingers. He began the deep breathing pattern that initiated the focusing and gazed deep into the crystal. The familiar surge of vertigo heralded the beginning of the trance, but the crystal did not clear to give him the view through Maldwyn's eyes. Instead thick clouds of fog swirled all around him and he knew that he was not with Maldwyn.

A little knot of frustration tightened on Ezrin's brow; he had never experienced such a complication to this unsophisticated piece of magic. He drew a deep breath and pushed more of his reserves of mental strength into the crystal imagining a beam of sunlight piercing the fog.

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