Tales of the Northern Kingdoms volume 1 by Barbara G. Tarn

Author:Barbara G. Tarn [Tarn, Barbara G.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: fairy tale revisited, novella, short novel, personal quest, dragons and magic, magical blood, fantasy world
Publisher: Unicorn Productions
Published: 2016-08-06T04:00:00+00:00

The Path of Water

CHAPTER ONE

Hinrik hurt everywhere. Inside and outside. Bruises, wounds, those he was used to. The rest, not so much. The smell of blood was overwhelming and he had an awful taste in his mouth.

He forced his body to move and get off the ground, but his legs wouldn't sustain him, so he crawled towards the Ondan. He could hear and feel the river inside him. Luckily the battlefield wasn't too far from the river shore.

The crawling peeled off what was left of his chainmail and clothes, but there weren't any living human beings around to notice. Crows filled the air with their caws, but none had glided next to him. The damned birds obviously knew he was still alive even when he was passed out.

Hopefully Humans would think he was dead. Both friends and foes. He didn't think he could go through another battle and another defeat and another... aftermath at the hands of the bearded Varian soldiers.

He was thirsty but at the same time wanted to throw up. The river came in sight and he found new strength to reach it on all fours.

Water enveloped him and he closed his eyes. His face must be as bruised as his body, but the gentle current was like a healing balm, washing away the blood and dirt of the battlefield.

He thought about his faithful war stallion, a beautiful blue roan that now lay butchered under the walls of Moriana. The city had fallen to the enemy and was now part of the quickly expanding Varian Kingdom. The efforts of the Salamar army, to which he belonged, had been in vain.

Hinrik thought he'd let the river take care of him. Take him away. If he stayed in the current, he'd reach Salamar and by then he might have recovered enough to show himself to others. Or maybe he'd just let the river take him to the sea.

For some reason, he knew he wouldn't drown. And even if he did, he was so hurt, he couldn't care less. He shivered, but not because the water was cold, more from a memory of what had been done to him.

He could feel the sun on his face and hear the birds in the trees along the shore as he floated like a log, trying to forget the past day. Or was it the day before? He had no idea how long he'd been out after the Varian soldiers assaulted him.

Much like a log, he bumped into a rock and opened his eyes. The walls of Moriana were somewhere upriver, hidden by the trees. The Ondan had gently brought him to the opposite shore in a safe, secluded spot. A weeping willow covered him and the water had given him back enough strength that he could finally sit up.

He checked old wounds and new bruises. The chainmail had spared him new cuts, but he still hurt and probably still bled somewhere. Sitting was still quite uncomfortable, so he lay down again.

Too much water usually hurt people's skin, but not him.

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