Throne of Darkness by Douglas Nicholas

Author:Douglas Nicholas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Emily Bestler Books/Atria

CHAPTER 22

THEY MADE THEIR WAY BACK to the wagons, where Sweetlove, sleeping with Jack—curled on top of Jack, in fact—in the small wagon, had detected Hob’s departure: her acute hearing noticed at once the closing of the middle wagon’s door, the creak of the rope loop, Hob’s fading footsteps. Dogs are averse to unusual occurrences, especially at night, when all the pack should be denned up till sunrise. She had broken out in insistent objection, and Nemain, disturbed, feeling sleepily for Hob and encountering nothing, had come sharply awake, quickly ascertained that Hob was not merely outside relieving himself, and had run for Molly.

Between them they managed to arouse Jack, peacefully snoring through Sweetlove’s din, and set off, following what the two women could barely describe to Hob: a sense that he had brushed this tree, or pushed this shrub aside, a sort of psychic scent left on things he had touched. All the while Nemain was calling to him with her thoughts, along the thin thread of soul that connects husband and wife, useful to such an adept as Nemain was becoming, and so strong had she become in the Art that even Hob, that least fey of men, heard “Hob, Hob, where are you?” as though she were beside him.

Now, arrived back at their wagons behind the inn, they released Sweetlove from the little wagon, and after her usual paroxysms of joy at greeting Jack anew, as though he had been gone for years, they took stock of their next move. It was decided that they were too tired to go on by night, and besides, Molly could not detect any lingering threat in the immediate vicinity. Jack, that old campaigner, insisted on setting a watch, and so he climbed up on the big wagon with some bedding and his war hammer, and then went down and scooped up Sweetlove. He could sleep lightly when he knew it to be necessary, and he had a good vantage point on the rooftop, and it would take enemies a moment to climb up there, at which point they would find Jack and his hammer waiting for them.

• • •

THE NEXT MORNING, they held a council of war at breakfast. Molly waited till the host’s mother, a silent woman in her middle years, had deposited the creamy Lancashire cheese, dark bread, onion, and jacks of small beer, and had retreated from the common room, disappearing into the kitchen, before she began to speak. “Sure they’re knowing of us now, and trying to lure Hob away by enchantment, and so perhaps to snare him like a coney.”

“But, seanmháthair, ” said Nemain, “why seize Hob and not ourselves?”

“ ’Tis no shame to you, lad,” said Molly, “but consider: ’tis that sorcerer who’s setting them on us, and he will know that Nemain and I will be the most powerful to resist his bouda ’s spellcraft. And Jack—well, they sense that Jack is more than he seems, and that pilgrim blacksmith calling him ‘Brother,’ and he’s dangerous enough as he is before he changes.

Download

Copyright Disclaimer:
This site does not store any files on its server. We only index and link to content provided by other sites. Please contact the content providers to delete copyright contents if any and email us, we'll remove relevant links or contents immediately.