The Doom of Fallowhearth: A Descent: Journeys in the Dark Novel by Robbie MacNiven

Author:Robbie MacNiven [MacNiven, Robbie]
Language: eng
Format: azw3
Tags: epic fantasy, sword and sorcery, Media Tie-In
Publisher: Aconyte
Published: 2020-10-06T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Fifteen

They rode north the next day. Logan almost considered not going. His body felt broken, and the encounters in Blind Muir and his meeting with Ronan had drained him emotionally. How stupid he had been, to imagine any of this would be like it once was. How stupid to forget how difficult and desperate it had all been in the first place. But when he started making his excuses to Ulma, he couldn’t make them add up to himself, let alone her. All that was left to do was admit he was a sad, spent old man, and Kellos burn his eyes if he ever did that.

“You can take word back to Baroness Adelynn,” Ulma said as she packed fresh tinctures into her smock. “Tell her everything we’ve seen and found up here. I’m sure she’ll be willing to unbind your oath when she hears about what we’ve all been through.”

She was only trying to be helpful, but it annoyed Logan. He’d had enough help lately.

“Damhán will have sent enough messengers to keep the baroness informed,” he said. “You’re not giving up, Durik’s not giving up, so I won’t either. Besides, I’m not letting you go north on your own with that barbarian.”

“Think I can’t handle the big ones?” Ulma grinned. Logan chuckled.

The big one in question met them outside the castle stables. He was mounted on Durik’s black stallion, the hefty beast looking altogether regular-sized with the clansman on his back. His red-furred familiar was perched behind him on the back of his saddle, looking somewhat unimpressed by the mode of transport.

“Well met, friends,” Ronan called heartily as Logan and Ulma approached. The latter had her stocky pony, Ransom. Logan retrieved Ishbel, fondling the horse’s nose and patting her neck reassuringly. He’d missed her.

“How long before you dig back your heels and give us the slip then, Ronan?” he asked as he mounted up with some effort beside the northerner. Ronan laughed, the sound drawing glares from the men-at-arms on the walls overlooking the stables.

“Oaths might count for little for a crafty man like you, but they are more than life and death for the clans. They are reputation itself, and reputation is everything. Besides, I would not have abandoned the daughter of Maelec Morr if I intended to make good my escape. Her father will not act rashly while he knows I am still on the hunt.”

“Not going to ride back to the Redferns and tell them we’ve got her locked up and it’s time to burn the town down?”

“And appear before Maelec Morr without his heiress? I would like to keep my head for a little while longer!”

The northerner accompanied his words with a heavy slap on Logan’s back, nearly unhorsing him.

“Who would have imagined this day?” the man continued, voice booming. “Ronan of the Wilds joining with the Borderlands Four, off to slay a witch!”

“The Borderlands Four is currently the Borderlands Two,” Logan pointed out.

“Off to slay a witch,” Ronan repeated, grinning.

“We’ll see about the slaying part.

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