Heart of the Flame Read Free

shift of sound came from a toppled cabinet to his right. The door to the piece hung askew on its hinges. Too small to hide but a child, yet it afforded the sole spot of concealment in all of the chapel. From the darkened wedge of space at the top, Kenrick saw the glint of a wary stare watching him as he approached.
    "Who are you?" he asked, coming to stand there. He wished not to frighten the chit, but he wanted answers. Needed them. "What do you know of this place?"
    When no reply came, he reached out with his booted foot and began to move aside the broken door of the cabinet to reveal its cowering occupant. There was a whine, then a fearful, animal growl as he bent down to peer inside.
    "Jesu Criste."
    It was not his stealthy observer after all.
    A small red fox glared at him with hackles raised and teeth bared, trapped between the unyielding back of the cabinet enclosure and the dagger-wielding man who blocked its easy escape. The instant Kenrick withdrew, the little beast dashed out and fled the chapel for the safety of the outlying moors. Kenrick turned and watched it go, letting out his anxiety in a long, heavy sigh.
    Where had she gone?
    Whoever the woman was, she had managed to vanish.
    Into thin air , he was tempted to think, as he scanned his surroundings and saw no trace of the lovely intruder.
    "I wager it don't take long for the animals to come nosing about when there's no one here to shoo them off," said the graybeard from the village. He clucked his tongue as he ambled forward to where Kenrick stood. "Nothing of worth in this place for anyone now, man or beast. They burnt it all, save the stone of the keep and chapel. Sorrow is all that dwells here."
    Maybe so, Kenrick thought, unable to argue that the destruction of the place had been as thorough as it had been brutal. But there was something else lurking here, too. Something beyond the death and cinder, and far more elusive than an errant forest scavenger hoping to root out its next meal from amongst the ruins. That particular something had a riot of long, rich red hair, and the most beautiful face Kenrick had ever beheld.
    And as sure as he had seen her, wherever she'd run to, he was certain she hadn't gone far.

 
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
     
    Chapter 2
     
    By nightfall, the worst of the rain had passed. The air outside was damp and briny, bringing a chill into the vacant stone tower as Kenrick ascended to the private chambers abovestairs. He was alone now. The old villager had departed hours before, perfectly willing to leave Kenrick to continue his perusal of the manor without him.
    Kenrick's torch flame wobbled in the draft that followed him up the spiraling stairwell, throwing long, eerie shadows against the curving walls. Were he inclined toward a belief in such things, he might have been tempted to think the place haunted, so vivid were his memories of the lives that had once inhabited this modest keep. He reached the top of the stairs and paused, assailed anew with recollected sights and sounds of Rand and his young family as they had been when they lived there.
    Laughter echoed in his ears. Bright smiles and loving looks shared between mother and child, husband and wife, filled his vision as he strode into the empty family chambers on the second story.
    A small table had been overturned near the entryway to the solar; Kenrick righted it with reverent care, striving to make no sound lest he disturb the sacred stillness of the place. Elspeth's favorite chair stood near the shuttered window, next to it a frame and stand that held her needlework, neatly set aside as though its maker were shortly to return. The torchlight spilled over the design as Kenrick neared, illuminating the pastoral design in charred, half-completion. The piece would never be finished now.
    He turned away, and his eye was then drawn to the large bed that dominated the other side of the chamber. Empty, unmade, standing as it likely was in those black moments of panic when the