Total pages in book: 105
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 97306 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 487(@200wpm)___ 389(@250wpm)___ 324(@300wpm)
“LIAR!” Harold shouted from the battlement, having insisted on joining the fight to save his new home. “You starve and beat your people. You did it to me and my wife.”
“Another poor soul who fell prey to the witch’s power,” Lord David shouted. “You have time to think on this. Do not be foolish. Save yourselves from evil. And, Lord Varrick, if I see you or any of your clan attempting to rescue your wife before morning, I will release my hounds on her and let them tear her to shreds.” He whistled and growls and barks were heard before four wolfhounds appeared, their snarls continuing as they stopped near Lord David.
“Pray that the God of Death reaches you before I do, Lord David,” Varrick called out, his words sounding as vicious as the snarls of the wolfhounds, “for I promise you that I will show you less mercy than he ever would.”
Several of Lord David’s warriors retreated into the darkness and the hell hounds whimpered while Lord David fought to keep his horse calm until the horse finally got his way and he turned the animal around to ride away from the castle.
Varrick turned to Argus. “There is much to be done before sunrise.”
Fia huddled by a lone fire, all around her keeping their distance and that was fine with her. She needed to survive until morning when her husband would come for her. He would rescue her of that she was certain.
She stretched her hands out to the heat of the flames, rubbing warmth into them. There would be no sleep tonight and she would be wise not to sleep anyway. Her mum had taught her that head wounds could claim a person in their sleep if not careful. So, no sleep would do her best for what remained of the night.
“Do you curse us, witch?”
Fia looked to see Abbott John unsteady on his feet. He wobbled toward her and collapsed beside her. She had thought his loss of blood caused his wobbling, but the heavy odor of ale told her it was a combination of both.
“I have henbane. A little of it can ease your pain,” she offered. “Unlike the amount Brother Luke brought with him and caused his death.”
“The fool took too much,” Abbott John said, shaking his head. “I told him just enough to make him sleep like at the monastery.”
Fia understood. It was clear now. “That is why Brother Luke begged for a message to be sent to you. It was part of the plan. You would come when he summoned you and he would once again take the henbane, copying the incident at the monastery hoping to convince everyone that I was a witch.”
“His death helped even more. They believe your magic killed him.”
“Brother Luke began dying the day he stored the pouch with henbane in his boot. It caused a sore and the pouch being so porous leaked into his wound killing him slowly. It was his own hand that caused his death.”
Abbott John stiffened suddenly. “Did you feel that?”
“Feel what?”
He gasped, his hand grabbing his chest. “The God of Death, I feel him near.”
“You lost too much blood. If you rest, you may survive,” Fia said, fearing it might be too late to save him.
“Nay, I will not let you take me,” Abbott John said, gazing into the darkness as if speaking to someone.
“Go fight him then.”
A chill ran through Fia as Lord David stepped out of the dark shadows.
“He is not strong enough,” Fia argued. “He needs rest and care if he has any chance at all of surviving.
“The very reason the God of Death is here is to take those suffering souls.” Lord David tapped Abbott John on the shoulder. “Go, warrior monk, and fight evil.”
Abbott John nodded. “Aye, I hear him calling to me, challenging me. I have fought him before and won and I will fight him again and win.” He stood, grabbing the hilt of his sword, and fought to pull it from its sheath as he stumbled into the dark woods.
“He has served his purpose,” Lord David said as if the Abbott no longer mattered to him. “You, however, have yet to serve your purpose.”
“Which is?” she asked curious as to what had caused his madness.
“Ridding myself of a problem at long last that could have been dealt with sooner if your grandmother had not died before I barely laid my knife to her. Her death caused me years of tracking down the person I searched for when she had the information I needed.”
“You make no sense to me,” Fia said, though she did understand since Abbott John had spoken about a secret her grandmother had kept. “Though I imagine it has something to do with my husband.”
“Aye. I couldn’t have a nephew of such power claiming my title and lands. Though they are rightfully his.”