The air stilled except for the gentle rattle of bridles and the soft breath of horses. Emma's heart thudded so hard she wondered if everyone could hear it. She willed herself to slow her breathing, noticing a hint of mirth on the face of the silver-haired knight as he addressed Stephen with a gentle Irish lilt.
“You're either very brave or very foolish to challenge us.” He gestured to his companions. “Do I need to point out we are three blades to your one?”
Stephen shrugged. “Aye, I noticed. 'Tis indeed an unfair match. You should have brought a fourth.”
The man struggled to suppress a smile. “I'm surprised your horse can carry the weight of your balls, young knight.” He nodded to Emma. “Begging your pardon, my lady.”
The serious, black-haired knight leaned forward. “What gives you the right to delay our passage? We have presented no threat.”
Stephen lifted his chin. “I am Sir Stephen de Montfort, brother of Lord Christophe de Montfort of Thurston. Since this road leads only to Thurston's gates, I'm curious as to your business there.”
“Your vigilance is to be commended, but your methods are questionable.” The knight relaxed back into his saddle. “I am Keir, this is Finn and that is Caleb. We seek to establish ourselves with a demesne of good renown. We offer fealty and services in exchange for a fresh pallet and nourishment.”
Stephen studied the three for a moment, his eyes coming to rest on the one who had yet to speak. “Sir, you do not have a tongue?”
The knight met Stephen's gaze. “What would you have me say, my lord?”
Emma's heart leapt at the sound of his voice and eased her horse forward. “You're a Scot.”
He nodded. “Aye, my lady. Does that pose a problem?”
Warmth spread across her skin, as if someone had wrapped her in soft fur.
“Nay, not at all.” She tugged on Stephen's sleeve. “Stephen - I mean, my lord -did your brother not say, just this morning, that two of his knights had left for another holding in Northumberland?”
“Aye, he did.”
The one called Finn leaned back in the saddle. “Indeed? What a coincidence. 'Tis fortunate, then, we happened along. We can replace those two and throw in another for good measure.”
Stephen paused a moment before pulling his horse to the side. “Very well, you may pass and approach Thurston, but permission to serve must be granted by my brother. When you get to the gate, ask for Marcus. Tell him you have spoken with me. He'll let Lord Christophe know of your arrival.”
“Thank you, my lord.” Finn nodded at Emma. “My lady.”
He touched his spurs to his horse and trotted off into the mist, with Keir close behind.
Caleb lingered, gesturing to Emma's bow. “You're going hunting, my lady?”
She shivered inwardly. His voice reminded her so much of Alex.
“Nay, Sir Caleb. Just practising.”
He studied her for a moment then looked at Stephen. “Keir is right. Your vigilance is to be commended.”
“Thank you.” Stephen's eyes narrowed. “Perhaps it's merely because you remind me of someone, but have we met before?”
Caleb shrugged and gathered up the reins. “If so, 'twas not here. This is my first visit to Thurston. I trust I shall see you both later. Enjoy your practice, my lady.”
As man and horse vanished into the mist Emma realized she had tears in her eyes.
“He reminded me very much of Alex,” said Stephen, reaching over to tuck an errant strand of hair behind Emma's ear. “They give the impression of being decent men. I hope Christophe accepts them.”
Emma sniffed. “You're doing it again.”
“What?”
“Reading my mind.”
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Excerpt from Triskelion © 2014 Avril Borthiry
Driving rain stabbed at Kate's skin and stung her eyes. She bent her head against the assault, resolute in her flight. Flashes of lightning gave her glimpses of her path, but otherwise she walked blindly. She looked to the east where the pale cliffs loomed out of the darkness. They lay behind her now. She had never walked out this far before, even in daylight. The tide continued its retreat, peeling back to expose miles of treacherous sand. Here and there, outcroppings of limestone broke through the surface, hidden by the night. Kate slowed her step, fearful of stumbling on the sharp grey rocks. Her resolve faltered a little as she struggled to see through the gloom.
Another lightning bolt exploded overhead and Kate saw a flat outcrop of limestone directly ahead. On it stood a creature, as unmoving as a statue and as pale as the rock beneath its feet. Piercing yellow eyes challenged her to come any farther.
Darkness descended again, thick and black, and shock enveloped Kate like an icy cloak. Was she mad? Was it real, or an apparition? Her mind tangled with fear and disbelief, unable to accept what her eyes told her. The night sky lit up once more, but now the rock stood empty. Kate cried out and spun around, fully expecting to see the creature behind her, but there was no sign of it.
“It cannot be,” she whimpered, wiping the rain from her face. “It cannot be.”
The rain stopped with a sudden finality, like some great and unseen power had closed a door on high. Kate lifted her gaze to the heavens and saw a faint glimmer of stars through the thinning clouds. Even the wind had subsided to a soft breeze, managing only an occasional gust. Shaken and confused, she stumbled over to the rock and sat down, taking the place of the ghostly creature that had stood there moments before. No, she was not mad, and it had not been an apparition. Kate felt certain of it.
The wolf had returned.
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