Man from the North Aun Series 2 by Lee Bezotte

Author:Lee Bezotte [Bezotte, Lee]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Insparket Media
Published: 2018-07-10T16:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER ELEVEN

AN EMPTY CHEST

Dulnear stood in pain-filled bewilderment at the sight of his friend. He looked at Faymia, feeling equal parts relief and shame. He carried a great fondness for her, but was no longer the warrior she knew the day before.

“Dulnear!” she cried as she ran toward him. “You made it!”

The man stood and looked into the face of the woman. Tears began to pool in the corners of his eyes. “I failed,” he lamented, and his knees gave out. He fell to the ground and began to weep. “It was all for naught. I have lost everything and gained nothing. Tromdel’s brother still seeks my death, and I am a Nairetu now, worse than dead. My hand has been taken from me, and I can no longer wield a sword.”

Weeping along with the sobbing northerner, Faymia reached out, lifted his chin, and looked into his eyes. Her forehead wrinkled with concern. “What can I do?” she asked.

“Leave me,” Dulnear said, trembling. “I will only bring you misery. I will return to my home. There, Thorndel can complete his revenge by ending my life and claiming my estate. It is the only way that you, and the children in Laor, will ever be safe.”

Beneath the tears, an amused expression crept over Faymia’s face. She held her gaze on Dulnear’s eyes and asked softly, “Is anyone ever truly safe?” Then she added, “You cannot protect everyone all of the time, my precious. Besides, I have already gone through the dread of losing you once, and I don’t think I could do it again.”

Dulnear lowered his head. The pain and shock of the last few hours made it difficult to think clearly. He waited until his tears subsided, and then pulled himself up off of the ground. Finally, standing there, he admitted, “I do not know what to do.”

The woman reached up and wiped away some of the blood that was drying on her friend’s face. She then gently lifted his arm, pushed back the sleeve of his coat, and examined the blackened wound where his hand had been removed. “Let’s start by dressing these wounds,” she said.

The man exhaled deeply. He trusted the woman and said, “I have supplies at my home, but we must be fast. If Thorndel finds us there, he will kill us both.”

“Okay, are you sure you can make it there quickly?” Faymia asked with a concerned expression.

“I have to,” Dulnear assured as he began walking toward his estate. Each step was painful, and it was difficult to summon the will to continue, but having his friend with him brought a measure of fortitude.

When they arrived, they entered through the eastern kitchen door. The kitchen was a large room with an ample roasting range to one side, and in the center of the room was a long wooden table with benches situated on each side of it. Being in the house during daylight had a different feel to it than the night before. Windows allowed light to illuminate the room.

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