Untold Tales by Flynn Sabrina

Author:Flynn, Sabrina [Flynn, Sabrina]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

A guard stood in front of the archway that led into a walled garden, the same helmeted paladin who had guarded the temple. The woman was tall and she blocked the pathway with her bulk. Oenghus stopped in front of the paladin, turned back to the Inquisitor and jerked his head. At a gesture, the guard stepped aside.

The walled garden was already overgrown. Yasine’s mere presence renewed life. But before he could find the Sylph, Morigan found him first.

“By the gods—” she caught herself, steadied her voice, and said instead, “You’re a mess, Oen.”

“I’m fine, Mori.”

“Well, you’re walking, aren’t you?” she sighed, eyeing his wounds. “You do like to make me work, don’t you?”

He bared his teeth—the only clean bit on him.

“Thank you,” a voice said from the shadows. Oenghus was not surprised. Even before she spoke, he could sense Yasine, knew she was content and pleased with his deed. A moment later, the Sylph emerged from darkness into moonlight, and for a heartbeat, bathed in the silver light of her own moon, she appeared in her true silver-eyed form. Morigan’s breath caught. But the vision was fleeting—easily dismissed as a trick of the eye.

Yasine glided closer.

“Step away from him,” Ashe snapped as she marched into the garden. “Take the nymph inside the temple,” she ordered the large paladin at her side.

A low growl rumbled from Oenghus’ throat, but a flash of green eyes stilled his intent. Yasine looked meekly at the earth and followed the Inquisitor willingly. When they were alone, Morigan gripped his arm. He winced, and she loosened her hand, glaring at the offending wound.

“You can tell me what the Void is going on while I put you back together.”

Oenghus grunted and gave himself over to Morigan’s will, feeling like a helpless coward. The Sylph’s plea rang in his ears: stand still and do not react.

With efficiency, Morigan commandeered a private room, ordered fresh linens, hot water, and handed off his kilt to be laundered and mended—as if the castle had nothing better to do. But in one day, Morigan had restored the chain of command and brought order to the survivors. There was no disheartened, disordered, leaderless army that stood a chance against the healer’s calming presence.

Oenghus, like so many others, surrendered to her competent hands. This worried Morigan to no end. She stood by the bed, frowning at the blood soaked bandages on his back and shield arm and the cuts that were not bandaged. He shifted on his stomach to eye her. The lines of exhaustion had not left.

“Just get the back and arm. The rest will heal with your salve.” It was a testament to her state that she did not argue. But Morigan did not immediately set to work, she planted her backside on the bed.

“Before I start—what’s going on? Rotting Void fiends don’t turn up every day.” While she waited for water and linens, he had sketched over the details of the battle and the subsequent betrayal of the Knight Captain.

“I

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