Read Online The Stumpwork Robe (The Chronicles of Eirie 1) by Prue Batten - Free Book Online Page A

summer sun. ‘Run away, you say.’
    ‘Aye. O ff into the night. Her ma and brother heard her dog howling and broke into her room to see what was amiss and the girl was gone, a bag taken, food too, her father’s rowan crook gone. And no trail, for the ground was covered with drizzle. As if they didn’t have enough troubles at that farm, with Mr. Lamb up and dying and a crop failure and Aine knows what else. You know what farming’s like.’ Tara shook her head. ‘Anyway no one can find her. The Travellers have been told and they’re leaving on their way soon and will keep an eye open.’ She leaned toward Liam and he bent his head down to her. ‘But do you know what? If I wanted to get away from someone like the Bellinghams, I’d hide in the Weald. No one’d be able to find you there.’
    He touched her forehead with a faint kiss and she turned around looking for the source but there was nothing. Her memory of having talked to him was gone, as was her memory of his very existence. By the time her hand had come away from her forehead, Liam was in the stable saddling his mount. By the time she was in the tavern kitchen, he was galloping through the village outskirts to the road skirting the edge of the Weald. He knew Ana would make for the highway as far from the village as possible and with the Weald in between her and those who searched. He had no doubt she believed they would not consider her brave enough to tackle the eldrich forest at night and would look for her elsewhere, giving her time to put distance between she and the searchers. He also had no doubt the northern reaches of Eirie with mountains, deserts and exotic locales would appeal to someone who was fascinated by the Travellers.
     
    By dawn, the black mass of the woods was in his sights and he put his horse at a low hawthorn hedge, jumping into a lightly wooded valley that fell lazily down grassed slopes. Lacing through the green folds with watery tinkles, a small stream meandered toward the dark shadows of the trees. His horse picked its way carefully along the banks, finally pushing through wild fragrantissima to a coppice that glowed gold in the weak dawn light. Trees drooped under the weight of moisture from the drizzle and those that could shed their leaves in showers of gilt. The horse stepped delicately over autumn crocus, finally stopping dead, throwing up its head, eyes wide, a snort rattling down its nostrils. Liam threw himself out of the saddle and ran toward the far edge of the clearing where the stream had opened out to form a dappled pool - the kind that would please the eye of an ingénue or trap the unwary. The home of a Weald waterwight.
    A figure in dark clothes was kneeling, almost lying, by the side of the leaf-bedecked pond. A pale arm poked out of the water, hand wrapped like chain around a mortal wrist. The unfortunate anchored so maliciously was a whisker away from the watery surface. Soon the face would be under water and the wight would hold it there until the victim drowned. There would be no struggle. The malfeasant of Eirie could entice and slaughter their prey with the minimum of fuss.
    ‘Let go or I’ll destroy you!’ Liam shouted and the wight turned a snarling face toward him as his hand began to sweep, the waterlily pads curling, browning, the water beginning to steam and bubble. The waterwight opened her mouth in a silent howl, letting go of Ana and swimming to the far side of the pool to grimace with jagged teeth. Kicking up a spray of water, she disappeared into the dark green depths, Ana kneeling at the edge, shaken and faint and whispering ‘Pa? Pa?’
    ‘Come away. It’s a charm from a waterwight.’ Liam slipped a hand under her elbow.
    Ana lifted a wretched face to him, eyes filled with a wracking sadness. ‘But I saw him...’
    ‘You saw what the wight wanted you to see so it could entrap you. Ana, you are still in the Weald. It is the playground of the Others.’
    She sat on the ground, head hanging