Eochaidh - Legend of the Horsemen (Book One) Read Free Page A

wooden surface. “You’re right,” he
agreed as he guided Galahad over to a tack wall and selected a long, rough
walking staff.   “But I believe there’s
going to be trouble before that.”
    “Seems like there is always trouble with that one,” Jepson
murmured.
    “Aye, there is,” Lord John agreed, resting the staff across
his legs. “And someone needs to teach her a lesson before it’s too late.”
    Lord John dug his heels into Galahad’s flanks, urged the
stallion forward and galloped away into the early morning mist.
    Jepson sighed, “Good hunting, milord.”
    The forest stood at the edge of his estate.   The manicured lawns and the wild meadows
flanked the powerful, shadowy terrain, like a sandy beach on the edge of a
dark, turbulent sea.  
    Lord John reined in Galahad at the edge of the forest.   The stallion’s nostrils flared slightly as he
pranced nervously awaiting his next command, steam flowing from his nostrils
into the cool morning air. Lord John leaned forward in his saddle and carefully
surveyed the woods.   All of his senses
were on alert. Taking a quick inventory, he noted the birds in the trees, the
scurrying noises of small rodents in the brush, the soft trickle of a brook not
too far from the road, and the glisten of an ethereal mist that hugged the
bottoms of the trees and danced along the narrow deer paths of the forest. He
shivered and wondered if the eyes of the forest were even now watching him.
    But the eyes of the forest were not on Lord John and Galahad
or the twinkling diamonds of light. No, they focused deeper in the woods on a
girl who knelt at the base of the grandfather oak and hid in the swirling
mist.   Meaghan was no longer looking for
the fae; she was alert to the world around her. For now, her breathing was
measured, slow and steady. She waited, watching the meadow beyond the trees,
listening to the sounds of the forest.
    The sound in the distance that had seemed like the warnings
of a summer storm became more distinct. Meaghan heard the rhythmic pounding of
hooves against hard soil, and her body tensed. Eyes narrowed, she gripped the
center of her stick tighter. Now was not the time to move.   Now was not the time to flee.   She had planned and strategized, and now was
the time to see if her trap would work.
    Peering through the overgrown ferns that surrounded the
giant oak, she could see the man at the edge of the forest.   He had dismounted and was looking for signs
that would betray her whereabouts.   She
inhaled sharply when he picked up the twig she had purposely snapped and placed
at the edge of the path.   He studied it
carefully and then peered into the forest.   She could see his shoulders move in response to the sigh that escaped
his lips.
    “Well, Galahad,” Lord John said, remounting his steed. “I’m
afraid we must enter the forest and meet the she-bear in her den.”
    He clicked the stirrups, and they trotted into the
forest.  
    The temperature dropped decidedly once they moved forward.
In the canopied forest, the sun was nearly completely blocked, and he could
feel the dampness of the cold morning seep through his clothing.   He pulled on the reins unconsciously as they
moved into the depths of the forest, and Galahad slowed immediately.   Both man and horse seemed to be watching and
waiting, trying to anticipate the danger before it was upon them.
    They moved toward a clearing at the center of the woods.
Suddenly Lord John heard the crisp snap of a twig underneath Galahad’s hoof,
contrasting sharply with the muffled sounds of the thick ground cover they had
experienced since entering the forest.
    Before he had time to react, a large round object swung from
an ancient tree alongside the path and hit him squarely on the side of his
head.   Stunned, he slid off his horse,
his staff falling to the ground at his feet.
    Rubbing his head and shaking it slightly, he took a deep
breath, desperately trying to regain his composure. Once he could