Maggie of the Mist, Madeleine M. [e book reading free TXT] 📗

“Young master?” There it was. He attempted to keep his face straight.

“See to it our guest here is kept dry, fed and bedded, as well as his ride, ‘til this rainfall comes to an end.” Keith said as he bent down to pick up his chair. Standing back up, he nodded towards his younger brother and said, “I’ll be with Da.” With that he left the hall and made his way slowly back to the chapel.

Behind him, Keith could hear Daileas’s voice. “And make sure he has a bag filled with food, an extra cloak, and a water skin. Thank you, Nettie. That’ll be all.” Keith walked faster as he heard his brother’s chair scrape back. He didn’t want to talk to his brother about this. Unable to duck into a room before Daileas came out of the Hall, Keith just turned to face his brother. The dry and thick stone walls were dull looking in the light of the torches. With his shoulders back and head held high, Keith prepared himself for a fight. “You know that we have to go.” Daileas told him as he stood in the doorway, arms crossed. “Why not come with me? It would be an adventure.”

“The Black Clan is dangerous. I thought you knew that already.” Keith clenched his hands into fists as he heard his voice echoed on the rocks. “Don’t you remember how Da slaughtered that defenceless woman in front of her child two years ago?” Keith shivered as he recalled the horrified face of the little girl. She had even tried to run to the dying woman but had been held back by a dark figure in the shadows.

“Uncle Cam told us that she was connected to that rebellious Lord. Da didn’t know anything else about her, or her child.” Daileas seemed to experience a shiver as well.

“What kind of adventure would it be if one of us had to do such a thing? I’m not going, least not ‘till I get my new sword.”

“Fine, but when it comes, I’ll be waitin’ in the stables.” Daileas said with a lofty air as he spun on his heel and disappeared around the corner.

Keith glowered at the corner for a few moments then marched right out to the stables. Once he found the stable hand, Seaver, he told him to go to the blacksmith’s and get his sword. Whether it was done or not didn’t matter, but keeping Daileas safe did. He tossed the man a bag of coins that he had slung on his belt for just an occasion. If Seaver ran as fast as he usually did, Keith would have his new blade by dawn. He headed back into his family’s castle and trotted to his chambers to begin packing, grumbling to himself all the while. Uncle Cam and Da had always told him of just how dangerous the Black Clan was. Keith just had to close his eyes and remember the time they were all summoned by Uncle Cam, two years before.

It had been during their if-you-disturb-us-you-are-a-dead-man evening meal, a messenger had come – a royal messenger. Thinking back, a smile crossed Keith’s lips as he remembered the surprise that had played across the old man’s face as he learned it was a messenger from the King of Curta. Then that smile turned into a grin remembering the shock that seemed to slap that same face when the Keith had read aloud the note that the man had brought for his father and brother.

An outlaw group, ones who foolishly supported the soon-to-be-lost Kings and Queens of Tìrbogha – the rival kingdom that would surely fall – was hiding in the mountains and thought to have been found. In order to prove the power of the Curtian thrown, and to hopefully prevent future resistance, this hatred filled boy and his younger brother had been called to fight in a battle to prove their loyalty to the Curtian king – their father’s brother, Camshron – against these treacherous people and claim victory.

The two brothers, eager to get away from their father, were excused from the meal and allowed to prepare to leave for the attack. Their father, on the other hand, had failing eyes and was not encouraged to go. Despite this he went to prepare his own gear.

These boys were trained by the best men their father could buy. Their skills were second to none that they encountered, and they were proud owners of a multitude of weapons. Neither cared who it was they were to fight – they just wanted to get out. Anything was going to be better than being trapped in their half empty house with their spiteful father. If only they had known of what waited for them as they stormed a small village not far from their home in midday. Da was the single man among the whole group that knew the purpose of the attack. Keith and Daileas were still too young to understand the cruelness of the endeavor; to them it was a grand adventure.

Keith could still picture clearly the small shack the three of them came to. He thought it was strange that while all the other people were screaming, dashing this way and that, there wasn’t a candle lit in this house, not even smoke in the chimney. Almost like no one was alive in the house. Their father had pounded on the door with such force that Keith thought it would break down. No one came. He banged again. Still, no one answered. As Da was about to knock once again, which would have taken the hinges off, a small woman opened the door.

A very dignified, “May I help you?” came from the short figure standing with her shoulders back and spine straight. The owner of the voice couldn’t have been taller than his father’s elbow and she was rather small, reminding Keith of a child. She seemed to have no fear. Keith had heard just the slightest whimper from inside and the women called to someone telling them to stay calm, and everything would be alright. Keith knew that it was a lie. He knew it from the moment the little woman had opened the door and Da had brandished his sword.

Before the woman could turn back around to face them, Da had thrown her to the ground yelling, “Traitor! Where is she?” With forceful rage, he thrust his heavy sword down at the defenceless woman. To the surprise of all three invaders, the woman rolled away from the blade just as it hit the ground and was back on her feet before Keith’s father could lift his weapon back into the ready position. Her steady hands flew to her sides, revealing two hidden thin daggers.

Glancing at his younger brother, Keith had noticed that Daileas had lowered his sword a little bit. His eyes were bulging at the sight of their father fighting a woman almost half his size. There had been something about the way the fire light had cast shadows across Daileas’s face that chilled the older boy’s blood. Keith had nudged Daileas into lifting it up and back into position, just in case their father decided to look behind him to see if his sons still stood tall. Two years ago, he had feared his father more than death. That was two years ago. It amazed Keith how so much could change in such a short amount of time.

The tiny woman-child dodged the next few lunges the large man in dented armor sent flying her way. Even blocking a few strikes with armor of her own concealed under her cotton shirt was unexpected. In return she had thrown a seemingly endless stream of blades at the direction of Da as well as Keith and Daileas. A razor-edged knife sliced through the skin just below Keith’s left eye. He whipped at it to remove the warm sensation that trickled down his face, and marking his sleeve with bright crimson streaks. His father had turned to back to give his oldest son a glare of disapproval. As if he said it had been Keith’s fault this woman could handle throwing knives properly. With anger rising in him, Keith had tightened his grip on the hilt of the light sword his mother had given him. He remembered the tingling he had felt in his eyes as his own rage blazed in the green of them.

Keith, raising his blade, had given as fierce a battle cry as he could muster and ran at the defiant woman who had left a nasty cut under his eye. A few more of the dangerously sharp blades cut through the air around his head as well as trimming small bits of hair as it flew about in the breeze he had created. Without much warning, the red-head soon heard an almost silent bow string loose an arrow. Following the light whistling sound of the arrow soaring through the smoky air, Keith felt a stabbing pain in his left shoulder. He had glanced and then curst at the thing that stuck out of him like porcupine quill. Where in the Darkness of the Vail had that arrow come from? Daileas ran to him with a similar wooden object sticking out of his shield.

The moment the younger lad had reached his brother there was a cry of pain ringing through the hot ashy air that sent all heads in the direction of the two fighters. The small – and seemingly defenceless – woman had Keith’s father’s sword run right through her belly. A muffled and terrified scream came from inside the small hut, but still no one else came out. His eyes on his father again, Keith saw the dying woman had her hands clasped firmly around the large one holding the sword that was her death. “She is somewhere…you will never find.” She didn’t let go until she saw that her life blood had spilled onto the furious man’s hands.

Using his foot, Keith’s Da had released his blade from the dying woman. He had turned to the boys. “That’s all that was needed of us. To your mounts!” he had ordered. Marching away from the mess he had just created as if it she were no better than dirt.

With their father disappearing around a group of trees, Keith and Daileas had paused to say a prayer to the Vail’s Guard, that he might let her suffer naught in his the world of the Vail. Just as they had turned to leave, a girl no taller than Daileas broke from the darkness of the house, trying to reach the woman lying in the dirt staining the ground red. Before she made it two steps, a rather large arm reached out and hulled her back into darkness. Keith still recalled her puffy, watery eyes that burned with a fury he could not begin to describe. Trying not to waste the girl’s time left with who was obviously her mother, Keith and Daileas had ran down the road to catch up with their father and their mounts. Both vowed never to speak of this to their mother.

That arrow had left a scare just above his heart. He was lucky for the protective leather vest that had prevented the arrow from landing deeper. He just never knew who had fired it, though he knew that it was shot from the small hut.

Tossing a few more clothes into a bag, Keith let his horrid memory fade. If that was what kind of fate awaited them on another adventure, then he didn’t want to go, but knew that he must for the same reason. Despite their occasional quarrels, he didn’t know what he would do if he ever lost his brother. Placing the bags on the floor at the end of his bed, Keith’s thoughts changed to whom he should leave in charge of the estate while he and Daileas were out adventuring. Bruno, the head butler should