Total pages in book: 109
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 103333 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 517(@200wpm)___ 413(@250wpm)___ 344(@300wpm)
The comparison struck deep. Elara had grown up among those fields. She could almost smell the crushed heather and peat smoke that clung to Cramond’s hills. Now all she could picture were the two Cramond healers’ empty homes and shuttered doors, like her cottage now since her absence. The two women were the only healers Cramond had. She didn’t worry about her mum and da’s safety. Neither would be of interest to the Hunters, her mum a weaver and her da the village record keeper. But they would be worried about her.
She drew in a steady breath. “There is no way for me to reach the various healer villages before Hunters close in.”
The older woman shook her head. “There’s no outrunning the Hunters, lass. They ride for the king’s purpose, and no purpose has ever driven men harder.”
Silence fell with the weight of the inevitability of the situation.
Then the woman stepped forward, her hand firm on Elara’s arm. “But remember what Maelis often says, even the smallest light can keep the dark at bay. Find a way to stay hidden, Elara of Cramond. Maelis would want no less.”
Elara’s throat tightened. “Her sacrifice must mean something.”
Dar moved then, his voice quiet but certain. “We need to go. The longer we stand here, the easier we are to find.”
The tall woman nodded grimly. “Aye. We’ll head north toward the hollows. Pray the trees keep us safe.”
Elara opened her mouth to answer but the words caught in her throat.
The world around her wavered. The sound of the forest dulled to a low hum, then vanished altogether. A sharp, searing light flared behind her eyes, then came the roar of hooves, the clatter of harness, men shouting. She saw them, dark shapes slicing through the mist, Hunters driving their mounts hard, faces shadowed beneath their hoods. The vision came so swiftly it stole her breath away.
“Elara?” Dar’s voice reached her through the haze, distant, muffled. She stood frozen, staring into nothing, her hand pressed to her temple.
“Elara!” He caught her by the arm and gave her a hard shake. “What is it?”
She blinked, her eyes wide with terror.
Then she screamed, the sound raw and breaking from her chest—“RUN! HUNTERS!”
Chapter Seven
Brannoch Forest
Mayhem & the Road to Wedderlie
* * *
The forest erupted around them.
Dar pulled Elara hard by the arm, dragging her where the trees grew the thickest as the first thunder of hooves shattered the air. Shouts followed, harsh and commanding, the sound of Hunters closing fast.
Branches tore at her cloak. Mud splashed beneath her boots. The world narrowed to breath and pounding heartbeats and behind them, the women screamed.
Elara twisted, catching a glimpse of the frightened group of women scattering, their gray cloaks blurring into mist. The lass, no older than eight, tripped on a root and went down hard.
Elara tore free of Dar’s grip.
“Elara!” he shouted, his voice lost to the roar of hooves.
She reached the lass and got her to her feet with a quick tug. “You need to hide.” Stumbling toward a tangle of brambles thick as walls, she pushed the girl beneath them, heedless of the thorns that scratched at her hands. “Stay quiet. Don’t move.”
The lass’s wide eyes filled with tears, but she didn’t speak. She nodded once before curling into the hollow darkness.
A sound split the air, the heavy snap of reins, then the guttural call of a Hunter urging his mount.
Elara didn’t stop to see how close they might be, she kept running. The ground turned uneven, roots and fallen branches snagging at her boots. Yet she avoided them easily, as if the terrain was familiar to her. Somewhere to the right, riders cut through the trees, their dark cloaks flashing like ravens’ wings.
“Elara!” Dar’s shout came from behind her, distant, broken by the crashing of brush.
She turned once, just once, and saw him. Then the mist rolled between them like a living thing. She went to call out to him, then locked her mouth tight. She would not have the Hunters hear her.
The forest closed in, silence returning as suddenly as the chaos had begun.
Elara stopped, chest heaving, straining to hear. Only the fading echo of hooves and the distant call of a Hunter lingered.
Suddenly, the trees around her faded, her vision blurred, and light flared behind her eyes. Shadows moved where there were none, flashes of dark hoods, horses snorting, and a hand clamping around her wrist like an iron shackle.
Unsteady, she reached out and was relieved when her palm felt the bark of a tree. The vision faded. But the fear it left did not. A tremor ran through her, and she swallowed hard. Was it a warning? Or had the vision shown what waited for her, a glimpse of her own capture?
She pressed a trembling hand to her throat, forcing herself to breathe, and whispered, “Nay. Not yet.”