Read Online Cloudfyre Falling - a dark fairy tale by A. L. Brooks - Free Book Online Page B

from the
steed’s it lowered both its noses and nuzzled his neck.
    Its swift affection toward him
surprised him. He had apples in his sack with which he supposed he
might use on gaining its trust, though it seemed almost unnecessary
now. Still, he removed two and offered them. As the steed sniffed
the offerings and then took them, crunching them heartily and
noisily in both its mouths, Gargaron stood there ruminating on what
he had presently “seen” within the steed’s minds. Delving into the
thoughts of animals were akin to deciphering an unlearned foreign
language. And there were much hidden there in the minds of this
majestic creature that he could not decipher. Yet what he had
interpreted with some confidence were that this steed had indeed
come from the Watchguard. A destrier, it were, a warhorse. It had
seen battle, and it would not flinch in a fight.
    He had also learned its
name.
    ‘ Grimah ,’ Gargaron said and both
heads of the steed swung about to look at him. ‘So, that be your
name. Grimah.’ He rubbed its noses and it lowered its heads
enjoying the attention.
    Still, Gargaron remained puzzled.
If this were indeed a destrier of the Watchguard, be that Autumn’s
or some other garrison, then it should have been suitably trained,
which meant it should have displayed a healthy distrust of
strangers.
    Were Gargaron to believe that the
current circumstances had driven this steed to loneliness? That it
had actively sought company?
    He tried not think too much about
it. Besides, the fate of its rider tugged increasingly at his
curiosity.
    Slowly, he reached out and took
hold of the reigns. And found the steed Grimah willing to be lead
back toward the bed of glowing coals where last night’s flames had
roared.

    8
    He tethered the horse to a tree
and untangled its rider, dragging him down upon the grass at
fireside. This rider, although having mounted a giant’s horse, were
not of the giants, Gargaron now discovered. The rider were tall and
fair, with pale white skin. And it were not until Gargaron had
smoothed the hair from his face did he realise two things: the
rider were no male. It were a woman. And she were an elf, born and
grown.
    Is this why my
Nightface did not react with alarm? he
wondered. It did not sense her as a
threat?
    ‘ Do you hear me?’ he asked her
closely. ‘Come now, do you hear me, pray tell?’ He put his ear to
her chest. There came back the slow tick of her heart. He took her
hand and patted it, lightly slapping her cheek. He even took his
gourd and poured water upon her face. ‘Come now, awaken
please.’
    Nothing roused her. He peeled back
her eyelids, her soft green eyes blankly gazing up at him. He poked
a firm twig at them, a trick he had watched his father perform on
the Liilaal, beings who could trick you into thinking they were all
but dead. The elven woman however did not flinch, did not react one
bit.
    Gargaron turned to campfire,
stoking its embers, dropping on dry kindling. When flames licked up
about the crisp wood he heated some Lyfen Essence into a
revitalising broth, something that ought chase off death and rouse
her. He lifted it to her lips. He crouched, gently held back her
head, pushed her mouth open, tipped a few drops of the tincture
upon her tongue. She did not need swallow it. The healing
properties would be absorbed though her mouth. Gargaron had seen
this brew work on many who had lost consciousness in battle, those
who had been injured whilst hunting, those stricken with sickness,
those who were suffering from the crushing effects of advancing
death.
    He lay her back down. She breathed
still but nothing more. He touched her forehead. The backs of her
hands. She felt biting cold. He dragged her closer to fire’s edge,
let its warmth reach out and drape her.
    Often the brew could take its
time. So he waited.

    9
    He inspected the
steed. Despite the death of nearly every creature he had come
across since Hovel, this animal looked in fine health. It