his. He looked at it mournfully. She would always be Rothar’s.
In the distance, Peregrin caught site of the huntsmen, approaching on horseback at a surprisingly fast pace. The clan never moved so recklessly through the Banewood unless there was a matter of some urgency.
Peregrin stood up.
“Is there something wrong?” asked Taria, reading the concern on his face.
“We shall find out soon,” he replied.
In a few moments, a half dozen riders approached. Their horses were lathered and panting. The men looked grave. Leading the group was an older huntsman called Briar. Peregrin’s falcon circled high above the horsemen.
“Should I be afraid to ask, what brings you in such haste?” said Peregrin.
Briar’s face was drawn and his eyes looked sad and haunted. Taria was not yet familiar with the man, and wondered if he always looked that way.
“It is about the men who went scouting to the east…” Briar replied, trailing off as a wind from the north kicked up and swept across the hills.
“Yes, what of them?” Peregrin asked, impatiently.
“Two horses returned to camp today, just a short while ago…” Briar was having difficulty finding his words. “One of them still carried it’s rider… dead… stabbed through with a spear.”
Peregrin bowed his head. Taria saw his lips move as he uttered a quick prayer for his clansman. When he looked back up he asked Briar who it was they had lost.
“It was Nester, son of Hale.”
Peregrin nodded sadly. “A good young lad. And what of the other horse?”
Briar swallowed hard. “No rider, but there is a great amount of blood.”
Turning to Taria, Peregrin explained. “Eight men went out to scout the eastern forest for herd movements. We expected them back a couple of days ago.”
Violence against the huntsmen in the Banewood was not unheard of, but it was extremely rare. Occasionally, some upstart band of thieves would tangle with the clan, but only once, for they were all quick to learn that the huntsmen were nothing to be trifled with. All in all, the huntsmen lived in relative peace with everyone, so something like this was quite unsettling. At least two hunters had been, at the very least, grievously wounded. Most huntsmen considered themselves more likely to die by the claws of a bear than at the hands of any man.
“I am taking you to the King’s City,” Peregrin said to Taria.
“The City? Already?” Taria asked, her voice a mixture of excitement and confusion.
Peregrin was slow in response.
“Yes, I am afraid I must insist,” he said. “Huntsmen are being attacked and killed, and I can not risk having you hurt. I swore myself to protect you, and I believe the best way for me to do that right now is to take you to Rothar immediately.”
“But he is not prepared for me,” Taria half-heartedly protested.
“He is going to have to be,” Peregrin answered. “He is a man of creative means, he will find a way.”
Peregrin gave instructions to the riders. Most of them were to head east, with reinforcements, to search for the other six scouts, but two of them were to retrieve Taria’s belongings and bring them to the City.
“We leave at once,” he said.
Before they parted ways with the riders, Peregrin asked Briar, almost as an afterthought, “Who’s horse was it? The riderless one?”
Briar was turning away, and his voice trembled as he replied.
“Canus.”
***
Riding westward through the Banewood, Taria asked Peregrin who Canus was, although she felt as though she already knew the answer.
“Canus is, or was, Briar’s only son,” said Peregrin. “And woe to the man that harmed him, if Briar ever gets a hold of him.”
Chapter 17
Rothar had never seen his home in such disarray. By nature, he used the place for nothing more than sleeping and reading, and he only did those things there occasionally, as his vocation caused him to be away most nights.
But three days of Allette had transformed his neat and meager domicile into
In the distance, Peregrin caught site of the huntsmen, approaching on horseback at a surprisingly fast pace. The clan never moved so recklessly through the Banewood unless there was a matter of some urgency.
Peregrin stood up.
“Is there something wrong?” asked Taria, reading the concern on his face.
“We shall find out soon,” he replied.
In a few moments, a half dozen riders approached. Their horses were lathered and panting. The men looked grave. Leading the group was an older huntsman called Briar. Peregrin’s falcon circled high above the horsemen.
“Should I be afraid to ask, what brings you in such haste?” said Peregrin.
Briar’s face was drawn and his eyes looked sad and haunted. Taria was not yet familiar with the man, and wondered if he always looked that way.
“It is about the men who went scouting to the east…” Briar replied, trailing off as a wind from the north kicked up and swept across the hills.
“Yes, what of them?” Peregrin asked, impatiently.
“Two horses returned to camp today, just a short while ago…” Briar was having difficulty finding his words. “One of them still carried it’s rider… dead… stabbed through with a spear.”
Peregrin bowed his head. Taria saw his lips move as he uttered a quick prayer for his clansman. When he looked back up he asked Briar who it was they had lost.
“It was Nester, son of Hale.”
Peregrin nodded sadly. “A good young lad. And what of the other horse?”
Briar swallowed hard. “No rider, but there is a great amount of blood.”
Turning to Taria, Peregrin explained. “Eight men went out to scout the eastern forest for herd movements. We expected them back a couple of days ago.”
Violence against the huntsmen in the Banewood was not unheard of, but it was extremely rare. Occasionally, some upstart band of thieves would tangle with the clan, but only once, for they were all quick to learn that the huntsmen were nothing to be trifled with. All in all, the huntsmen lived in relative peace with everyone, so something like this was quite unsettling. At least two hunters had been, at the very least, grievously wounded. Most huntsmen considered themselves more likely to die by the claws of a bear than at the hands of any man.
“I am taking you to the King’s City,” Peregrin said to Taria.
“The City? Already?” Taria asked, her voice a mixture of excitement and confusion.
Peregrin was slow in response.
“Yes, I am afraid I must insist,” he said. “Huntsmen are being attacked and killed, and I can not risk having you hurt. I swore myself to protect you, and I believe the best way for me to do that right now is to take you to Rothar immediately.”
“But he is not prepared for me,” Taria half-heartedly protested.
“He is going to have to be,” Peregrin answered. “He is a man of creative means, he will find a way.”
Peregrin gave instructions to the riders. Most of them were to head east, with reinforcements, to search for the other six scouts, but two of them were to retrieve Taria’s belongings and bring them to the City.
“We leave at once,” he said.
Before they parted ways with the riders, Peregrin asked Briar, almost as an afterthought, “Who’s horse was it? The riderless one?”
Briar was turning away, and his voice trembled as he replied.
“Canus.”
***
Riding westward through the Banewood, Taria asked Peregrin who Canus was, although she felt as though she already knew the answer.
“Canus is, or was, Briar’s only son,” said Peregrin. “And woe to the man that harmed him, if Briar ever gets a hold of him.”
Chapter 17
Rothar had never seen his home in such disarray. By nature, he used the place for nothing more than sleeping and reading, and he only did those things there occasionally, as his vocation caused him to be away most nights.
But three days of Allette had transformed his neat and meager domicile into
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