Eversong (The Kindred Book 1) Page 2

  Ever since he discovered Josef, Braith had devised many ways to torture the murderous bitch before he finally ended her life.

  As he travelled down the road, he thought of how he’d found his ward and heir lying dead in a pool of his own blood. The image replayed over and over in Braith’s mind.

  In didn’t matter whether he was sleeping or awake, the scene never left him. But it gave him focus. The single-mindedness would eventually deliver the woman’s death that he needed as retribution.

  He glanced down at his hands. Years of service to the king had coated him in blood that never seemed to wash off no matter how many times he scrubbed.

  Only a year earlier, he had been given a fresh start. He eagerly left the life of battle behind without a second’s hesitation. For the first time in years, Braith had been able to look down at his hands and see them devoid of dripping blood.

  That lasted only a few short months before he came upon Josef. Braith had tried everything he could to stop the bleeding as he shouted Josef’s name, but it was to no avail. His ward was already dead.

  The sight of Josef’s blood covering his hands and clothes made Braith feel as if someone dragged him back to Hell. After he had clawed his way out the first time, he knew the ghosts of the men he killed wouldn’t allow him to get free again.

  The bellow he’d issued that day was part grief, part regret.

  And all vengeance.

  He’d taken a few days to ready Josef’s body for burial, and then as soon as he was entombed, Braith rode away from the small keep and its plot of land, which had been given to him by the king for his services.

  He didn’t expect to return. Whether Brigitta killed him or not, the path Braith was on was one of death and destruction.

  His gaze lifted to the gray sky above. More rain was coming. The scent hung heavy in the air. After several days of sun, the clouds returned to hang low and dark. The storm would be fierce. No doubt it would force Brigitta to find shelter.

  That’s when he would make his move.

  Braith held the reins in one hand while the other rested on his thigh. Brigitta disappeared over a rise on the road ahead, but he wasn’t worried about losing her or the fact that the road cut through a forest. Capturing her was something he could do in his sleep.

  Once he had Brigitta, he was going to find out why she took Josef’s life. His ward might have been reckless, just as Braith was at that age, but Josef was also loyal and honest. Women flocked to him, willingly giving him their bodies, so Braith knew Josef hadn’t tried to force himself on Brigitta.

  What irritated Braith was that the raven-haired beauty had deceived him. Nothing had warned him that she was there to do his family harm or that she intended to kill anyone.

  While he acknowledged Brigitta’s beauty, he hadn’t been enamored with her as Josef was. Then again, she had gone directly to his ward. Looking back, Braith guessed that Josef was her target all along.

  But why?

  The question rolled loudly through his mind. He would have answers.

  One way or another.

  To be one of the most feared knights in all of England, only to have a woman come into his home and kill someone he cared about without hesitation was something that would have hold of Braith until he sank his blade into Brigitta’s cold, black heart.

  Braith moved his mount to the side of the road as a man stooped with age held onto a walking stick with one hand and the reins of the oxen attached to his cart with the other.

  They nodded to each other as they passed. Braith wasn’t sure what made him look over his shoulder at the man, but he did. Nothing struck him as out of place, but he wasn’t going to take any chances. His instincts had sent a warning. He would listen.

  When he finally crested the rise and looked down the road, there was no sign of Brigitta. Braith pulled back on the reins to halt the stallion. His head turned to the right to stare into the thick woods beside him.

  He scanned the area leisurely, listening for anything. Then his head slowly turned forward and to the left. Several moments passed before he dismounted and began to look for tracks on the ground, anything indicating that the woman had left the road.

  There was no sign of anything for the next league. It was as if she’d disappeared entirely. But Braith knew that couldn’t happen. She was out there somewhere, and he was going to find her.

  He stood in the middle of the road and looked right and then left, trying to decide which way Brigitta could’ve gone. It wasn’t until he walked to his right and stood just a few yards into the forest that he heard the stillness.

  It was much too quiet. Someone was out there, and he would happily bet his sword that it was Brigitta. Braith issued a short whistle that had his horse coming to him. He opted to remain on foot to continue looking for traces of the woman.

  With the stallion’s reins in hand, Braith gradually made his way farther into the dense woodland. The trees were massive, alluding to hundreds of years of growth. Ferns lined the forest floor in thick batches.

  The only sound was the shuffling of the leaves above him as a soft wind moved through the trees. No birds sang, no squirrels chirped.

  His gaze jerked to the left when something orange flashed. A big, fluffy tail was all he saw before the fox disappeared. Something was frightening the animals, and it wasn’t him.

  The stallion snorted and jerked up his head, causing Braith’s arm to pull back. He immediately turned to soothe the steed, moving to stand at the animal’s shoulder and stroking down his neck as he spoke softly to calm the gray.

  “Easy, lad. All is well.”

  As quickly as the horse had spooked, his fear subsided. Still, Braith didn’t move for several moments. Then he walked deeper into the forest that seemed to go on forever before him and to either side. Brigitta could be anywhere.

  That didn’t deter him. After all, it had taken him over a month to find her after she fled his lands. If he found her once, he could—and would—find her again.

  His path through the forest zigzagged as he scoped out the ground for hints that he was on Brigitta’s trail, but it slowed his progress. All too soon, the thick canopy of trees blocked out what little light the clouds let through.

  Braith doubled back to a cave that he’d spotted earlier and used it for cover. He unsaddled the stallion and tied the reins to a low-lying branch so the horse could graze before Braith gathered wood and built a fire.

  He ate some food he’d gotten from the village, and then wrapped his cloak around him for added warmth as he thought of all the ways he would hurt Brigitta.

  Finally, he closed his eyes and tried to get a little rest. Not that he would sleep for very long. He dreamed of discovering Josef each night, waking with his heart pounding against his ribs as helplessness consumed him.

  His senses were attuned to listen for anything that meant danger, so he was in turns alarmed, shocked, and angry when the cold steel of a blade pressed against his throat. His eyes flew open to find a cloaked figure before him.

  “You’ve no idea what you’re getting into.”

  The husky, feminine voice was as much of a surprise as the metal against his skin. “You’re going to have to be more specific.”

  She moved to stand before him, the sword never wavering. The hood of her cloak fell away from her heart-shaped face, and he was held speechless by the stunning beauty revealed.

  The firelight sparkled in her liquid brown eyes framed by thick lashes. Her high cheekbones gave way to wide lips that looked as if they rarely—if ever—smiled. Her dark locks were braided and pulled over one shoulder.

  But it was the black pants and leather he spotted beneath the cloak that snagged his attention. She wore the outfit of a warrior, of someone who was comfortable in the attire since it fit her like a second skin. Her tall, black boots came up to her knees, and he spotted the glint of metal peeking from the top of one. Mostly likely a dagger.

  His eyes returned to her face. He was drawn to her serious a
nd silent features. Their gazes held as they sized each other up.

  While she was of average build, he had no choice but to take into consideration the blade she kept at his throat. Her arm didn’t shake, which meant she was used to holding the weapon. And that indicated that she was most likely trained in the use of it, as well.

  It would be an oddity for sure, but for some reason, that excited him.

  Finally, she spoke again. “Stop tracking the woman.”

  “Sorry. That’s not going to happen.”

  “You’re walking into a trap.”

  “How do you know?” he questioned.

  Her lips thinned as if in frustration. “I thought I could reason with you. Perhaps I should’ve just slit your throat.”

  “You’re not a killer. I know what one looks like, and while I might not know who you are, I do know you are no murderer.”

  One slender brow lifted. “I’m going to tell you this one time. Leave. Go back to wherever it is you came from.”

  “Why are you protecting Brigitta?”

  Anger flashed in the woman’s dark eyes. She pressed the point of her sword against his neck. Braith clenched his teeth as he felt the tip pierce his skin.

  “I’m not protecting her. I’m hunting her,” the woman announced.

  Every time she spoke, Braith was more surprised. The entire time they had been conversing, he’d been slowly moving his hand beneath his cloak until he grasped the hilt of his sword.

  He lifted one shoulder. “I’m sorry, but she’s mine.”

  As soon as the words were spoken, he rolled to the side and jumped to his feet as he unsheathed his weapon. He barely had time to raise his blade to stop hers.

  She jumped over the fire as if she had battled around such things all her life. And the way she moved, he had never seen anything in all his years. She was quick and fluid. Catlike.

  He had a hard time keeping up with her movements, but somehow, he managed to block her time and again. Yet he wasn’t getting any hits in himself. He should’ve had her on the ground by now. Instead, she was the one in control.

  His mouth fell open when she did some kind of flip through the air and landed on her feet, all without getting tangled in her cloak. That thought barely processed in his head before he spotted both of her feet coming right for him.

  There was no time to get out of the way. The hit landed in the middle of his chest and set him backward, slamming into a rock. Pain exploded in his head as he dropped to his knees.

  No matter how hard he attempted to hold onto his sword, it fell from his numb fingers. Something trickled down the back of his head as he fell sideways and rolled onto his back. He forced himself to remain awake, even as black dots clouded his vision.

  The woman stepped between him and the fire. He struggled to move his gaze upward to look at her. This couldn’t be how he died. Not after everything.

  She squatted beside him and blew out a breath. “I’m killing Brigitta to save lives, and that means yours as well. I can’t have you walking into something you know nothing about. Forget her. Forget me. You might actually live if you do.”

  His eyes closed of their own accord. He could still hear her speaking, but her voice grew more distant until blackness claimed him.

  Chapter 3

  Leoma felt no regret as she walked from the cave and out into the darkness. She had seen enough innocents slaughtered by witches because they didn’t recognize the evil around them. The knight, whoever the hell he was, wasn’t going to be added to those numbers.

  She realized he wasn’t the type to stop following Brigitta with just a warning. Leoma had to take drastic action, but even now, she wasn’t sure it was enough. She probably should’ve tied him up or something, but she wanted to reach the witch.

  After a league of travel, she stopped. Her gaze lifted skyward as she made out the twinkling of the stars though the trees. By the time the man woke, the witch would be dead.

  Leoma drew in a deep breath and looked straight ahead. Mist rolled through the forest as if alive. It unfurled like the gnarled fingers of a crone.

  A chill ran down Leoma’s spine.

  There was an invisible line between her and the copse of trees ahead. Within that tree line was a Witch’s Grove. Only one other time had she ever ventured into such a place.

  Before, she had been surrounded by other Hunters—and had Edra by her side. Now, she was going to face whatever was within alone.

  A Witch’s Grove was a sacred place to a sorceress. It was where they went to transition from one tier within the witch hierarchy to another. It was also a location where they could communicate with other witches within their coven, as well as sacrifice others for their cause.

  The reason for Brigitta entering the Witch’s Grove was of no concern to Leoma. And it did not matter if it was just Brigitta or several others with her...all the witches had to die.

  Leoma ran her hand down the side of her thigh. There was no denying the thread of fear that quickened her blood, tightening around her like a noose.

  There was a chance Leoma could be walking into a trap. Despite their years of hunting witches, no one—not even Edra—had figured out how many were in the Coven. What they did know was that the power of the Coven continued to grow year after year. That could only be done by a growth in numbers.

  It terrified Leoma to think what the world might be like if Edra hadn’t gotten away from the Coven. And it made Leoma wonder how many other women had been snatched by the witches.

  The soft flap of wings caused Leoma’s head to snap up. Looking around, she spotted the little owl as it landed on a branch near her. Its big, yellow eyes locked on her before they blinked once.

  “Hello, Frida,” she whispered to the owl.

  Knowing that Asa sent Frida to locate her allowed Leoma to steady her nerves. Asa had been born in Norway, but made her way to England, searching out the abbey Radnar and Edra took over.

  Asa’s Norse heritage added another element to the Hunters. It was Asa’s steady hand that put the tattoos on each of them. More importantly, like Edra, Asa was a witch fighting against the Coven. With Asa’s ability to communicate with animals, Leoma could pass on a message.

  “Tell Asa I’ve found another Witch’s Grove. Brigitta is inside. If I don’t make it out, they’ll know why.”

  The owl turned its head toward the Grove before flying away. Leoma watched the bird until she lost sight of it in the trees and darkness. At least now, her family would know where she was.

  Her heart was slamming against her chest when she finally lifted her foot and took the first step toward the Grove. Magic ruled within its confines. Things few could comprehend called it home. Those beings were mostly neutral in the war, but Leoma had to be prepared for any eventuality.

  The closer she got to the Grove, the more she wanted to turn back. But that wasn’t an option. She held fast to her courage and continued onward.

  From the moment she began training as a Hunter, she knew her days were numbered. The witches had magic in abundance, while Hunters only had their skills and weapons forged in magic to get them through each encounter.

  One thing Leoma never worried about was getting old. She understood—and accepted—that she would one day die by a witch’s hand.

  Leoma’s steps brought her to the mist, right on the edge of the border to the Grove. While her fingers itched to draw her sword, she kept it sheathed. For now.

  Unrecognizable whispers bombarded her from all sides. She ignored them. If she fought too hard to understand them, there was no telling what they might do to her. Even when a whisper came from right beside her, she refused to acknowledge it.

  The deeper into the Witch’s Grove she went, the darker the night became. She couldn’t see her hand in front of her face, but that didn’t stop her.

  The witches had implemented many things to keep others out. The silence and eeriness was enough to frighten even the most stalwart of people. If Leoma didn’t know that magic had genera
ted all of this, she would never venture into such a place.

  It didn’t matter how bright the sun or moon was, a Witch’s Grove was always gloomy, as if a multitude of clouds continuously blocked light from entering.

  One foot in front of the other, with her eyes straight ahead. It was how she moved. Nothing halted her steps or made her pause—not the whispers or the feeling of things brushing against her.

  She put one hand on the hilt of her sword, ready to draw the weapon in the next heartbeat if needed. It didn’t go unnoticed that she felt as if she were walking straight into the hands of the Devil and to her death.

  The mist finally began to clear, and the inky blackness lessened enough that she could make out a clearing ahead. The closer she got to the glade, the clearer things became.

  And that’s when she spotted Brigitta.

  The witch knelt in the middle of the clearing. Her cloak was puddled at her feet as her face lifted toward the sky. Her arms were bent in front of her, her palms face up.

  Suddenly, the mist slunk towards Brigitta like a snake. It coiled around her with flashes of bright green. Since there was no way of knowing if the mist was a magical barrier or not, Leoma decided not to attack. Yet.

  She ducked behind a fallen tree and watched, putting to memory everything she witnessed. None of the stories she’d been told or books she read mentioned the mist turning green.

  If she made it back to the abbey, this was certainly a story that needed to go into the journals Edra and Asa kept to record things that could help fight future covens.

  Of course, Leoma had to take out this one first. The Coven was the strongest and the largest in all of England. It worried Edra, and frightened Asa, and that was enough for all the Hunters to know that something had to be done, quickly.

  Not even the pounding in his head when he woke could stop Braith from wanting to find the slip of a woman responsible. Never had he been taken down by a female, much less someone so quick.

  He wanted to know where she’d learned to move like that so he could train there. It wouldn’t be useful with armor, but if he could twist and turn his body in such ways, he wouldn’t need the protection.