Tales of the Archer: A Corthan Companion Read online

  “He was coming along; that’s why he wasn’t hobbled,” Gil shouted back, sorrow in his eyes. “As for my guards, they were at your mother’s damned funeral!”

  The punch Reid landed on Gilland’s cheek was as unexpected as it was fierce. The blow sent the Seal heir reeling back against his clansmen. “You bastard!” Reid growled. “You arrogant, cowardly bastard! Tell me, why was it even here, Gil? Don’t you have rogue bears at the Bay to prove your worth on?”

  Gilland steadied himself, rubbing his face with a tentative hand. “That’s your fault as well, Tarhill. She was supposed to marry me, but you interfered. Fynan said I needed to master the bear to earn her!” Gil pointed at Maura where she stood behind her father without even deigning to look at her.

  Shocked silence followed. Then Maura stepped forward.

  “Master the bear, or the bear girl?” she asked, bright spots of anger blazing on her cheeks.

  “Enough!” Bradan’s deep word silenced all of them. He turned to Gilland. “She was never promised to you. I said she could marry you… if you gained her favor.”

  “Gained her favor?” Gil rounded on Bradan, reckless and indignant. “You’re supposed to be chieftain. You tell her who to marry.”

  Bradan’s face was stony. “I gave you a chance,” he said.

  “And what kind of chance is that,” Gilland roared, turning in a circle and addressing the gathered villagers, “when he’s climbing in her window every night?” He jabbed an accusing finger at Reid, just like Tarhill had.

  Reid was stunned. He had killed a deadly rogue in the very heart of the village, and Gilland had the nerve to accuse him… of what? Seducing Maura? Even if Gilland believed him capable of such impropriety, how could he tarnish Maura’s reputation?

  In the awkward hush that followed the accusation, Reid stood his ground. “It wasn’t like that.” He let his voice carry so all could hear. “Maura was sick. I had recovered and couldn’t catch it again. So I told her stories to ease her sleep.” Reid leaned forward, his fists clenched at his sides and violence in his heart. “You could have tried to help instead of hiding out there with your rogue.”

  Maura stepped between them and faced Gilland.

  “Betrothal aside,” she said as calmly dangerous as her father. “You promised me that if anyone was injured the bear would be put down.”

  “But…” Gilland started; Maura cut him off.

  “You promised,” she repeated. “Reid didn’t kill it until three people had already been wounded.”

  “They should have—”

  Maura stopped him with a raised hand. “They? When will it be your fault, Gilland?” Her anger was palpable. “I acknowledge that the decision to let you try to tame the rogue rests on me.” Her voice failed as tears gathered on her lashes. “I accept my measure of blame for the damage that has been done—the death of a dear friend. But you, you avoid responsibility like a child and throw blame around like mud.”

  She drew herself up tall. Her voice was strident and sure and as much like a chieftain as Reid had ever heard. “I cannot accept a man who is unfit to lead his own people, much less mine. There will be no betrothal, Gilland Fynan of Seal Bay. I reject you.”

  Then she turned her back on him, eyes closed against the sorrow Reid saw so keenly etched on her face.

  Gilland scowled, red-faced at the slight though there was nothing he could say. Fists clenched, he and his clansmen stalked off to their lodge.

  The Bear Clan families headed in a murmuring crowd toward the feast in the hall. Reid had no doubt his scandalous outburst was on many lips. He chided himself inwardly, ashamed that he’d let Gilland goad him into striking.

  Then again, perhaps Maclan would have enjoyed it. Borran knew Maclan had wanted to throttle Gilland himself more than a time or two. He allowed himself a small satisfied smile.

  A hand slipped into his, interlocking fingers as easily as breathing. He looked down into Maura’s cautious eyes. She hesitated for a breath then whispered, “Brigga told me there’s something she wants you to have.”

  “Brigga?” Then, he remembered her power.

  “There’s a loose board behind the stove,” she said, avoiding his eyes. “Something is there for you.”

  A chill touched Reid’s neck. “Thank you,” was all he could think of to say.

  He wanted to say so much more. How could he convey what he felt when it was all tangled up with the fear in his heart. Eventually, she got drawn away, talking with other families, playing her part as chieftain’s daughter. She passed close behind him as she left the gathering, her whispered word so soft he wondered if she had actually said, “Willow.”

  While Tarhill was in the hall drinking with Connor and the others milled about the village center in eerie déjà-vu of the last funeral, Reid slipped away home. The house was smoky and quiet and he already felt like he didn’t belong, a true thief this time. He checked the wall by the stove for his mother’s hidey-hole and one of the boards shifted at his touch. Behind it was nestled a small, carved wooden box. Taking the box, he replaced the board and sat on his bed with his mother’s treasure.

  Inside, he found a small cache of carved totems. Some of them represented him and his brothers, the usual token gifts given at the birth of a child. But there were two items that were far finer. One was a leaping elk made of polished antler, smoothed and whitened to the color of cloud. The long, curling antlers and graceful legs had been crafted with loving talent, a Ceru gift. No doubt given to Brigga by Tarhill on their betrothal. He couldn’t reconcile the fine delicate workmanship with his curmudgeonly sire.

  Did Brigga want him to have this? Somehow, it didn’t feel right.

  He put the elk to the side and took out the last piece: A necklace. From a red-brown cord of braided hemp hung a bear carved out of quartz, or perhaps the more precious zircon dug from Heaven’s Peak. The fine details were worked meticulously into the brown crystal. He held the translucent bauble up to the sunny window where it glinted and gleamed like honey, the exact color of Maura’s eyes. A ghostly chill pricked his skin. If the color wasn’t sign enough, the carving itself was. The spitting image of the river marker, it looked like the bear he’d whittled for Maura himself all those weeks ago. The one he’d given to Ruari. This was what Brigga had wanted him to have. He was sure of it.

  “Thank you,” he breathed, willing his mother to hear him. He missed the steady certainty of her love. She had Maclan now, too; and he envied her that.

  He tucked the bear necklace carefully in his belt pouch and set the elk back in the box with the other items. Then, placing the box back in the wall behind the stove, he gathered clean clothes, his knife, and anything else he might want for the next few weeks and shoved them into a pack. Throwing it over his shoulder, he took the violhe from under his bed and then went to Connor’s cot. He hesitated only a moment before taking Connor’s bow, the one Connor had taught him with. Then he gave a last look at the house he’d grown up in and left, closing the door behind him with a final sounding clunk.

  Connor was standing just outside. “You better not be stealing my best bow, little brother,” he said with a pointed look at the bow in Reid’s hand. Even so, there was the shadow of a smile on his face.

  “This isn’t your bow,” Reid said, warming to the argument. “This one’s far too big for you.”

  “No, yours is…the short one,” his brother replied with a familiar lewd grin. “Besides, your bow has the frayed string. This one is definitely mine.”

  As Connor reached out to grab it, Reid held it just out of reach like he had when they were children arguing over a toy. He thought about dropping his things and wrestling his brother to the ground as they used to do, but his heart was too heavy for that.

  As if feeling the same, Connor’s hand snaked out and snagged the back of Reid’s head, pulling him into a hug. Connor thumped Reid’s back affectionately and Reid hugged him for a long minute.

  “You did good, whelp,” whispered Connor’s
sad voice in his ear. “Don’t let anyone tell you different.”

  The soft praise broke his heart more than all the accusations had done. His chest tightened. “You’re just sore I beat you to it.” Reid’s tone fell short of his usual joking banter.

  “No, I’m just sorry to see the fame wasted on a ninny who won’t even milk it for a good tumble,” Connor said.

  Reid barked a laugh at that and shoved away from his brother. “What makes you think I haven’t?”

  Connor laughed. “Because you’re here with me, and not off in the pines with a pretty girl.”

  They chuckled together, camaraderie shielding them from their losses. But Reid’s thoughts turned serious. “Thank you, Con,” he said. “I know he’s not easy. I’ll help any way I can but…”

  Connor waved him off. “I know how he is,” he said. “When I run out of coin to get him ale, I’ll be bunking in with you and Aedan.”

  A sly smile gave Connor’s eyes a mischievous glint. “Or maybe I could beguile Gwenna to let me bunk with her, she’s certainly pretty enough.”

  Reid punched his brother’s arm, laughing. He looked down at the bow in his hand.

  “Take it,” Connor said.

  “I left you Maclan’s,” Reid replied.

  Connor sobered. “Thank you for that.” Then he took a deep breath and said, “You know, my plan is still the same.”

  “What plan?”

  “I’m not staying here.”

  “Don’t say that.” The thought of Connor leaving too was more than Reid could bear to think about.

  “Now, don’t look at me like that,” Connor said. “I’ll stay for a while. Help out with Tarhill and get you settled,” Connor ran a hand over his beard braids, “but then, I’ve got someplace I need to go.”

  Reid felt his jaw clench. “As long as you’re not leaving before winter,” he said. If Connor stayed that long, perhaps he’d change his mind.

  “Fine, I’ll give you until after winter,” Connor said, with a wry smile. “But I am going and you can’t stop that.”

  Connor put his hand on Reid’s shoulder. “Now, I better hurry up and get back to the hall before Tarhill tears the place down.”

  Reid nodded, hugged his brother, and watched him go down the trail to the hall. Then, he took his things to Aedan’s hearth. He sat on the unfamiliar cot and drew out the bear necklace again, using thoughts of Maura to fend off his looming grief.

  CHAPTER 20

  The rest of the day crawled by. His initial excitement about the necklace burned off leaving a sad exhaustion that dragged him down. Summer’s heat was just beginning, adding a sluggishness that made him weary to his very bones.

  When the sun tucked itself behind the mountains, he was standing on the muddy bank beneath the willow’s canopy. The air off the river cooled his skin with a kiss of moisture as he settled in to wait.

  “You’re here,” a soft voice from the gloom said.

  He smiled as Maura emerged from the pines. “You sound surprised,” he said.

  “I guess I am. You’ve been distant.”

  “My apologies, oh my dear one,” he said, slipping on the persona that would help him say what he needed to, “Have I not told you I am at your beck and call?”

  She smiled at his tone. “You have. But thieves are rarely trustworthy.”

  He put a hand over his heart and feigned a hurt expression. “You cut to the quick, my lady. Though I admit to the charge of trespassing and being unforgivably late on occasion, tell me what have I stolen?”

  She gazed up at him with her honey eyes and for once he could see the words she was afraid to say. She sighed, turning serious. “Gilland left. For Seal Bay.”

  Reid took her hands in his. “Good,” he said, though his voice held no malice.

  “Good?”

  “Yes. I wanted you to make your own decision. And you did.”

  She stared at him. The confused furrow between her brows made her look like the child in the torn dress who wept over a rabbit. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

  “Not exactly. But Gilland had his chance.” Reid reached out a hand, caressing her jaw and twining his fingers in her hair. “Now it’s my turn.”

  He gently pulled her to him. She closed her eyes in surrender as he pressed his lips to hers with all the desire he’d been afraid to show. His other arm slipped around her waist and drew her close as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He wanted to take her into the pines and make her his, but the story of his mother still shadowed his thoughts. So, he kissed her long and well, and she was breathless when he let her go.

  “Not bad… for a thief,” she said, regaining some composure.

  “Not bad?” His shocked expression wasn’t completely an act. “Perhaps I need to practice. Mac always said Nalia was an excellent teacher.” His tone was light as he put his hand to his chin, furrowing his brow as if thinking hard.

  “I suppose you could do that,” Maura said, rising to the bait. She ran a finger over his lower lip as a small smile played along hers. “But how do you know she likes what I would?”

  “Hmmm. A good point,” he said, leaning his face closer to hers. Her eyes were as warm and inviting as her mouth. “I wouldn’t want to practice it wrong.”

  “Definitely not.”

  “But then what to do?”

  “It would be a chore, but I suppose I could teach you myself,” Maura said and twined her fingers in his hair, kissing him again with a smile.

  When she broke off the kiss, he straightened, clearing his throat.

  “My lady of the pines, you are wise and good and will make a fine leader in your time. I would never take that from you, my chieftain. But I would be the happiest thief in the North if you would deign to marry me and let me warm your hearth.”

  Maura’s eyes went wide. “Marry you?”

  “Yes. Marry me, Maura, and I swear I will spend the rest of my days trying to make you happy.”

  She grew coy. “I’m not sure,” she teased. Her eyes glowed with happiness. “What else can you offer? A somersaulting mouse, perhaps? Now that would be something.”

  He patted his clothes. “Unfortunately, the mouse stayed at Aedan’s tonight. They have a fine stock of cheese there, you see.”

  “Hmm, no mouse.” She chewed her lip. “This is a dilemma.”

  “But I do have… something.” He dug in his pocket for Brigga’s gift. Pulling out the necklace, he held it aloft. Even in the dying light of evening, it shone with a mahogany glow.

  Her mouth hung open a moment as she gazed on the necklace. “It’s beautiful, Reid.”

  “It’s what Brigga wanted me to find,” he murmured. “What she wanted you to have.”

  Her eyes locked on his. “But Tarhill…”

  Reid lowered his arm and pressed the bear into her hand. “Isn’t the one asking you. I am.” He dropped to his knees. “I love you, Maura. Will you marry me?”

  She smiled. “I will. I will share your hearth, Reid Tarhill, but only on one condition.”

  “And that is?”

  “You must tell me a story every night for as long as I live.”

  Reid laughed and stood up, wrapping her in his arms. “I swear it.”

  He thought eagerly of all he would need to do before they wed. A house in the pines would need to be built. A place where Connor too might feel he belonged.

  Then his mouth captured hers again, his happiness as large as his sorrow.

  “I love you, Reid,” Maura said, laying her head on his chest and hugging him tightly. “But Tarhill—”

  “Will have to get used to the idea,” Reid reassured her.

  “It won’t be easy,” she warned.

  “I know. But the best stories never are.”

  THE END

  AFTERWORD

  I hope you enjoyed reading Tales of the Archer as much as I loved discovering more about the Northern clans. In the original legends (those that did not make it into this book), there were four spirits who gua
rded the north and so four clans, each with its own guardian: Bear, Seal, Eagle, and Elk. As we saw in the story of Tamrach Tarhill, the Ceru or Elk Clan had been wiped out by giants, leaving only the other three. Of those, Bear Clan is undoubtedly the most like home to me. But I promise you will see more of Seal Clan, and Fynan, in Chasing the Legend the sequel to Quest of the Dreamwalker.

  For those who have not yet read Dreamwalker, you should, but I would offer a caveat: It is the story of a lost woman and her journey to find herself. Reid and Maura are essential but not the main players.

  Also, you should note that plans often go astray. Even the most romantic of you have to admit that “happily ever after” is, in reality, the result of where you stop telling the story. For Tales of the Archer, I chose to end it with Reid’s happy ending intact. However, where you find him at the beginning of Dreamwalker may surprise you. Perhaps anger you. I hope you will forgive me for that temporary dissonance, but the events between this book and that one are already relayed within those pages and need no further explanation than that.

  In truth, this is my favorite part of writing fantasy. Not just finding the original story, but telling all the tales that spin off as histories and epilogues. Each one has its own special cast of characters, each one has a reason to fall in love, to despise, and to triumph. I hope you will continue to find enjoyment in the pages of my Corthan Legacy tales.

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  The writing life is a strangely lonely one. I’ve been fortunate enough to find a very talented and wonderful group of creatives on Facebook who give me hope that I’m not actually insane, but only “special.” I’d like to thank, in no particular order, all of my friends and cohorts who helped make these books possible: Karmin—my editor, Katie for my gorgeous cover, Judy, Venus, Rose Marie, Tiffany, Hannah, April, Zach, Ashley, Shelly, Valerie, my daughter Katie, Steven, Miranda, Cara, Ruth, Lee Ann, and Judy. But there are a few individuals in particular who keep me going, keep me striving, and of course boost my flagging ego when necessary (far too often, so I’m told.). Thank you all for reading and re-reading, listening and debating, and basically having to hear about each story until they probably want to strangle me. Thank you, Audra, Shelly, and Crystal for not killing me in my sleep. I’ve recently been told this is more a matter of geography than patience, but I’ll still take it as a win.