Total pages in book: 40
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 36428 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 182(@200wpm)___ 146(@250wpm)___ 121(@300wpm)
Dawn welcomed her husband’s tight grip and moved closer to him, her arm brushing his. It made her feel safe, though she wished she had worn her cloak, the air so chilly she could have sworn she saw puffs of her own breath. She kept her eyes sharp and steady, watching for danger or whatever else the darkness might hold.
They continued to climb the twisting stairs, their footfalls echoing softly in the silence. The more they climbed the chillier and darker it seemed to get. It wasn’t as cold or dark when he was here earlier but then it hadn’t been night. But how would that make a difference with the heavy fog outside allowing little daylight? He made no remark about it to Dawn, not wanting to frighten her, but he took extra care with his steps and kept his focus alert. He’d allow nothing to harm his wife.
Dawn was relieved when they reached the first landing, a narrow corridor stretching out before them. Dust motes drifted in the torchlight, and the walls seemed to close in, the shadows so deep they appeared almost solid. She thought she heard a sound and tugged on Cree’s hand.
“I hear it too,” he said. “It sounds like the steady drip of water somewhere.”
Dawn nodded, agreeing and thought the steady drip reminded her of time passing, a warning for them to hurry.
The first door they came upon sat ajar, a sliver of darkness leaking out. Cree pushed it open with the tip of his finger and stretched the torch out in front of him revealing a small chamber.
“This room has not been in use for some time from the thick dust on the furniture,” Cree said as they entered.
Dawn nodded, casting a glance around at the items there, a basket of unfinished embroidery, a foot stool, and a wool blanket hanging off the lone chair were sure signs that the room once served as a woman’s solar. The tapestry above the fireplace caught her eye and she gestured to Cree to raise the torch.
It was a typical battle scene. Warriors lay sprawled on the ground while the victorious warriors stood over them, Lord Tiernan in the middle of them, though his hair was longer with twin braids on each side of his head. But what caught her eye the most was the forest scene at the top part of the tapestry. She spotted wolves among the trees, not hiding but rather watching as if they too were gleeful for the victory. She pointed it out to Cree and freed her hand to gesture her thought.
“Aye, the wolves do look pleased, almost as if it was a victory for them as well and they were now safe.” He tore his glance away from the disturbing tapestry. “We can’t linger. I want to get back to our quarters long before anyone returns.”
Cree led the way to the next room. Whatever the room had been used for was hard to tell, a collection of discarded furnishings and old chests now occupied it.
Something caught Cree’s eye. He believed it to be the handle of a weapon and once he extracted it from among the mountain of items, he saw that he was correct. It was a sword, an old one crudely made. Such a weapon had been abandoned by warriors long before he had even held a sword in his hand and long before this castle was built.
He wanted to dig more to see if he could find other old weapons, but moving things around would make too much noise that could possibly attract attention.
Several distant howls broke the silence and Cree hurried to grab his wife’s hand. “Time to leave.”
Dawn nodded, fully agreeing, the menacing howls running gooseflesh over her, and she wondered if they howled in victory of their hunt. And if they did, who in the clan had suffered a loss this night?
Once in the corridor, Dawn glanced down it, but it was dark, and she couldn’t see to the very end. She gave Cree’s elbow a nudge to raise the torch, and he did.
Cree stared along with Dawn at the large wood door at the end, pagan symbols intricately carved into it. It was a door that warned people away. Or was it a door that protected and if so, what did it protect?
Cree released his wife’s hand, gripped her arm, and turned her around, anxious to return to their bedchamber. “Let’s go.”
Dawn nodded, her eagerness to explore gone and her eagerness to leave here mounting. She hurried her steps and would have fallen if her husband hadn’t had a good grip on her arm and stopped her near tumble.
“Are you all right?” Cree asked anxiously.
Dawn nodded and scrunched her brow, pointing to the floor.
Cree lowered the torch and they both stared with their mouths agape at four parallel lines scored deep into the wood floor, like the marks of a clawed hand.