The Hunter's Rede by F. T. McKinstry

Author:F. T. McKinstry [McKinstry, F. T.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: UNKNOWN
Published: 2016-09-11T20:00:00+00:00

~ * ~

For three days, Lorth found himself once more in the care of the Mistress of Eusiron for wounds her son had put on him.

Eaglin had left the palace on the morning Regin sent him from the warriors’ refectory. Only Leda knew where her son had gone. Lorth didn’t ask—mostly because he didn’t care. He had had his fill of the Raven’s turbulence, so much in fact, that despite Leda’s soothing attentions, the hunter had found new energy in his desire for freedom. He would have departed already, had he been able.

Even so, Lorth had to admit a certain grudging respect for Eaglin’s actions. If some roguish assassin had captured the heart of Lorth’s mother, he would respond just as Eaglin had. Assuming the bastard had designs to use or hurt her, he would gut him like a fish—without rules or codes to temper the blows.

For all her wisdom, the Mistress of Eusiron took for granted the men around her. The shock to her innocence when she had first seen Lorth after the fight had made him wonder if she understood what really drove a man. Even Freil—a boy—had broken the Wizard’s Code by summoning Lorth for fear Leda would be harmed. The priestess didn’t feel she needed protection, and so she didn’t consider the force of male instinct. But men were men, both aggressors and protectors.

Such were his thoughts on the morning of the fourth day since his encounter with Eaglin in the refectory. Stiff and riddled with bruises, he went to the indoor training yard with his sword and his knives. He found a spot by a stone wall with withered ivy growing over the top, tossed down a musty horse blanket he had found in the stable and sat. There, he watched warriors spar while he oiled, sharpened and polished his blades, which he did with great care.

When he had finished, he sat quietly, wrapped in his guardsman’s cloak, his knees propped up with his arms folded over them. Some who passed nodded to him, some looked away quickly to avoid his knowing they did, and others spoke respectful greetings as if to honor him for having survived a hand-to-hand fight with the Raven of Eusiron. But no one came near him, let alone asked questions. They knew better.

None but one. Ivy approached, accompanied by a girl of roughly thirteen clad in sparring gear. The warrior knelt before Lorth, touched his battered face in a motherly way, and then shook her head. “Always in some kind of trouble, you are.”

“The laws of the lawless are certain,” Lorth recited, moving his fingers lovingly over the hilt of his sword.

She smiled. “You’re like a wild animal forced to live among the domestic.”

“You manage it.”

Her smile broke into a raspy laugh. “Fool wolf. On my worst day I’m not the bastard you are on your best.” She rose and waved her small companion onward. “Heal up, laddie,” she said over her shoulder. “We need you.”

Aggressors and protectors. He thought of Leaf, her blue eyes wide as her father held the knife to her throat.

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