The Knight and the Seer Read Free Page A

their number behind.” His voice was a low rumble of anger. “Prepare to die, woman.”

Chapter Two
    G wenellen struggled to think of a spell. Any spell that might freeze this stranger before he could run her through. But her mind went completely blank. All she could think to do was hold her hands out in front of her, as though they could somehow stop the path of a sword that was nearly as big as she.
    He stared in suspicion at the bucket on her arm. “What weapons are you hiding in there?”
    “Hi…?” She swallowed and tried again. “Hiding? I hide nothing, sir. I was out picking berries.”
    “Here?” He swung a hand to indicate the charred rubble. “You expect me to believe you were picking berries and didn’t realize you’d wandered into my family fortress?”
    “This is…yours?”
    He nodded, eyes narrowed on her. “If you lived in the village, you would know of this place, for I am Andrew Ross, and this castle is known as Ross Abbey. My ancestors have been here for hundreds of years.” When he saw no flicker of recognition in her eyes he hissed out a breath of impatience. “Tell me quickly who you are and what you do here.”
    “My name is Gwenellen, of the clan Drummond. My home is in a land known as the Mystical Kingdom.”
    That had him taking a step back. “I’ve heard of such a place. All Highlanders have heard the tale. Of the mortal, Kenneth Drummond, who married a witch, then gave his life to save hers. Of the dragon that guards the Enchanted Loch. Of the Forest of Darkness that lies between it and the rest of the Highlands. But it is no more than a myth.”
    “If it be a myth, than I am one, as well.” When she lowered her bucket to show him the berries inside, he seemed unconvinced. She reached out a hand to touch his arm. “I assure you, sir, like these berries, I am real.”
    All too real, he thought, as he was forced to absorb a strange rush of heat that nearly seared his flesh. He pulled away as though burned and looked down to see if she’d left a mark on him. Though his skin was without blemish, he could still feel the tingling all the way to his fingertips. “How do you come to be here?”
    She shook her head. “I know not. One moment I was picking berries, the next I was standing here before you, as you now see me.”
    “Perhaps you’ve been bewitched. Have you brought witchcraft to this place?”
    She paused. “In your land it is called witchcraft. In my kingdom we are simply practicing the gifts of the ancient ones. My sisters, my mother and my grandmother have many gifts.”
    Again she saw his look of disbelief. “What of you, woman? What are your gifts?”
    “I fear I’m not much good at the art of mysticism. But I’m very good at falling from the sky. And getting lost, it seems.” She started to laugh, then thought better of it when she saw his frown. “I have no idea what my gifts might be, nor why I’m here.”
    “Nor do I.” He abruptly turned away and stared at the smoldering ruins of his home. “Leave me. For I have graves to dig and loved ones to bury.”
    “I could help.”
    “I doubt one small female could be of much help. Unless you can conjure my enemy and have him kneel before me to face my sword, for he will surely pay for destroying everything I hold dear. Leave me now.” He strode away, leaving her standing alone in the smoke and ashes.
    She watched as he began tossing aside charred timbers, unmindful of the burns he was forced to endure to his hands. Like a madman he pawed through the ruins. Suddenly he dropped to his knees and lifted the body of a man whose hand was still clutching a sword.
    “Oh, Father.” His voice was a low rasp of pain mingled with fury. “How has it all come to this? I was such a fool. If only I’d stayed.”
    “Nay.” The word was little more than a whisper on the wind. But Gwenellen heard it as clearly as though she had her ear pressed to the old man’s lips. “Ye mustn’t blame ye’rself. I was the fool.