The Exiled Heir by Jonathan French

Author:Jonathan French
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Open Road Media
Published: 2024-09-15T00:00:00+00:00

“I found Bulge-Eye,” Slouch Hat said slowly. “While I was on the run. And I can tell you it was no goblin spear that I pulled from his corpse. I have lived around the Thegn’s men long enough to know their arms.”

“And Deglan?” Padric found himself asking.

Slouch Hat shook his head. “I found no sign.”

Padric went cold. Kederic told him the gnome never made it to the fort and now he knew why. The villagers said Rosheen led them to safety, yet … The man had lied to him! They called him the Winetongue and Padric had become drunk on his words, senseless to the truth. He thought of Rosheen, hunted by the Thegn’s men, ridden down like an animal and pierced with cold iron. Was she lying out there now? Moldering in some lightless track of woods?

Slouch Hat was wrong. This was not about the fate of the island.

Airlann could rot! Padric thirsted only for vengeance.

“We move now,” he told the husk. “Acwellen’s dogs are the only ones in the hall and stupefied with drink by now. He will never be more vulnerable.”

The husk nodded grimly and snuck quietly out of the stall.

Padric made to follow when Jileen caught his arm. She said nothing but the meaning in her look was clear.

When they reached the yard, Padric took Slouch Hat by the wrist and looped an arm over his shoulders. The husk’s limb felt fragile, devoid of muscle or bone, but there was strength when he tried to pull away. Padric held tight.

“Just act drunk.”

Slouch Hat must have understood, for he went limp, stumbling along as they made their way to the hall. Some of the refugees under the support beams were awake and watched them from the dark, but Padric paid them no mind. They just needed to reach the Thegn’s bedchamber. After that, Padric saw only red.

They dropped the act after opening the heavy doors and slipping into the hall. It was black as pitch inside, the central fire cooled to embers. Padric crept close to the wall, leading Slouch Hat, hoping they would not tread on someone sleeping in the dark. He felt his away along until they came to the side passage which led to the Thegn’s quarters. Padric paused to listen for any sign that their passing had made a disturbance. Silence met his ears and he breathed easy. Nothing stirred, no footfalls, no mumbles of wakened sleepers, no snores. It was completely quiet.

Curse his stupidity!

He turned to flee when the torches flared. Banan stepped out of Kederic’s chamber, an axe riding one fist, a sword the other.

Poncey Swan had an arrow trained on him from across the hall, his smile willing Padric to run. Seon and Big Cunny stepped forward with leveled spears, and behind, Fat Donall lounged on a bench with his torch held lazily. Drefan almost danced as he approached and held his torch close to Slouch Hat, who backed as far into the wall as he was able to avoid the flames.

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