Deceiving the Bandit Lord

by Elle Clouse

  Aisling took a seat and her mother sat beside her. Of course their path would lead them to Watervale, her mother had said that’s where they lived. And if that’s where they lived, why were they near Armanta at all?

  “How far?”

  “A week. It’s slower with the supply caravan.” Her mother smiled. “It’s faster by wolf.”

  She looked over the bed, she supposed that made sense. When Aisling ran in her wolf form, she spanned miles. The distance passed as if taking a casual stroll but she had kept to Brogan’s lands. Never into the Wylderlands where her mother called home.

  Aisling sighed.

  “You look exhausted, you can rest for a bit if you like.”

  “It’s been a long day,” she admitted.

  Her mother chuckled. “Right, and it’s only noon.”

  It felt like an eternity since she stepped out on Brogan. Had she made the right choice? Maybe she have been harsh, hadn’t Bowen approached when she tried to kiss the lord? She dropped her head into her hands.

  “Do you want to talk about what happened?”

  Aisling shook her head, she’d barely had time to think about it. She had to wrap her own mind around it before she could tell her mother.

  “Rest then. I’ll wake you for supper. We’ll be traveling again at first light.” Her mother stepped out of the tent, leaving her to fester in her waring emotions. Who could sleep when she agonized over if Brogan missed her or loathed her and was happy she’d left?

  Aisling moved to the bed and used her cloak as a blanket. Fatigue washed over her despite her whirling thoughts, her evening with Brogan had taken more of a toll than she thought. Tears threatened to escape her lids but she wouldn’t allow them. She’d done exactly what she set out to do, she deceived the lord. So why did it feel so hallow?

  WATERVALE LAY NESTLED in a valley with a crystalline river flowing through the city. Oblong buildings constructed out of logs and thatch clustered around large bonfire pits. People and wolves were everywhere.

  “This is nothing like what I expected.” Aisling had feared the worst, living out of dark muddy holes in the ground. Or maybe they didn’t have holes, they shifted to their wolf form and lived that way. Only bearing human form long enough to get their supplies. But that was nonsense, why obtain human supplies if they never assumed the form.

  “It’s not the great halls you are used to,” her mother said as she walked up beside her. “But the M’Tyr are a welcoming and warm people.”

  Aisling had no doubt. She arrived with nothing but the clothes she wore and in the days on the road, the few tribesmen and women who travelled with her shared everything they carried. Even the dress, fur lined and cozy, was lent from a woman Aisling didn’t know the name of.

  “Come along, your sister will want to meet you straight away.”

  Aisling smiled, finally a little sister. She loved her brothers but four brawling boys and a surly father in one manor was enough. There needed to be more of a balance, and her father refused to marry again. Lest his new wife be ‘one of them.’

  Curious eyes followed her as they walked through the paths of the town. Aisling couldn’t imagine they had many visitors, Valko had said outsiders weren’t welcome. So their hospitality ended beyond their own kind.

  Members of the travel party split off, presumably when they passed their homes. The supplies followed Conri and Valko to a central building while her mother led her to a house closest to the opposite forest. Smoke drifted up from the top, hinting at a warm fire within.

  Her mother opened the wooden door at the long end of the building. Inside, the ceiling arched high with tall wide bunks built against the walls and spanning the length of the house. Some bunks were open and Aislng could see living spaces, others were concealed in a curtain.

  “Jilly, I’ve got someone for you to meet,” her mother called.

  A small girl in trousers and tunic darted from the closest bunk and leapt into her mother’s arms. She had riotous blonde curls just like Aisling had as a child. “Oh, I’m so glad you’re back!”

  Once she’d received a big hug, her green eyes turned toward Aisling. Eyes just like her mothers.

  “This is Aisling, your sister.”

  Jilly leapt at Aisling much like she had her mother. Aisling caught her and knelt so she could keep the wee things feet on the ground. “Finally, a sister. There’s too many boys around here.”

  Aisling laughed. “I know the feeling. How many brothers do you have?”

  “Two!” She held up two fingers on her hand to illustrate.

  Aisling glanced up at her mother who said: “Valko and Bran.”

  “Ah, well I have four!”

  Jilly gasped.

  “Connor, Bowen, Shane and Niall.”

  “Mama,” Jilly said with a glance up at her mother. “Can Aisling sleep on my pallet? I’ve got the space.”

  “No, I don’t think that will work.” Her mother met her inquisitive gaze with a smile. “Ever slept with a child before? It’s like trying to cuddle a wolverine. She’s cute but there’s a reason she has her own pallet. But come, I’ll get you settled.”

  Jilly kept her hand while her mother showed her an empty bunk with sleeping pallet and privacy curtain. Not the comforts of home but more than she expected. Corinna had made it sound like the wolfkin of the Wylderlands were nothing more than savages.

  “Jilly is above you,” her mother explained and pointed to a narrow ladder that one might use to ascend to the upper bunk. “Valko and Bran are to the right and I and my husband are to the left.”

  Although only a curtain separate the bunk from the center room, the side walls were solid wood. Glancing down the building, all the bunks looks a similar size. For being the chief, Conri didn’t claim more than his fellow man.

  A flapping noise drew her attention to the far end of the house where a divider stood. A man’s head popped up over the divider and bobbed as if he were dressing. He strode in and sat on a pallet. She must have been staring.

  “Those are wolf doors,” her mother explained. “So we can come and go as wolf or man. Tuck your clothes in a cubby, shift and go.”

  “That’s amazing.” A woman walked to the door and disappeared behind the divider. Men and women, doing as they pleased. Could it be so simple? “Just like that?”

  “Just like that. I can imagine it will take a while to acclimate but you can do whatever you want here. You don’t need a chaperone or to ask permission.”

  Whatever she wanted? Why was she thinking about Brogan then? All the rules she hated were gone and her thoughts remained in Armanta with a man who hadn’t stopped her for a proper goodbye. She’d kissed him on the cheek, for heaven’s sake. Was that all their night together had meant to him?

  “Supper will be in a bit, did you want to explore the town? We can give you a tour? Or you can rest? Draw the curtain and no one will disturb you.”

  Jilly bounced up and down, anticipation bright on her face. Ailsing knew her choice, and Aisling wouldn’t be able to rest. She had too much on her mind. “A tour would be nice.”

  “Hurray!” Jilly squealed, grabbing a cloak from the family pallet. “This is going to be so much fun! I’ll show you all the best hiding spots.”

  Chapter 20

  “How long has it been since Miss Murphy left?” Ardhor asked.

  Brogan set down his glass of brandy. “A week?”

  “Miss Cotton has been sobbing since she disappeared but the excuse that she is wolfkin seems to hold weight. That a father could disown his wife and children is appalling. Aric is talking rescue party.”

  No one would find her, she’d be with her people by now. Safe and far from him. But if it made Aric feel better, let him look.

  And Aisling’s admission that she was wolfkin was no shock. The shock was that she walked out of his life. He knew she was safer with her people but how could she leave after all they’d shared? He didn’t care that she was wolkfin, he cared that she wasn’t in Armanta any longer
.

  Ardhor threw a journal onto the desktop and shook the glass. “You’ve not read this one yet. Perhaps when you are done sulking, you can return to your lessons?”

  “I am not sulking,” Brogan scowled as sat up.

  “Hiding from your problems will not solve them,” Ardhor said. “Declan will be here in little over a week with who knows how many magicked items. We need to be as prepared as possible.”

  Ardhor was right. But the vision of Aisling riding into the forest behind Valko kept playing in her mind. She hasn’t looked back. Could her heart be turned so quickly?

  “I told her the truth, Ardhor. I told her who Brogan really was, and she’s gone now.” Anger swelled in his chest. “Are you happy? Brogan Fletcher came out and she left. Gone. Are you happy now?”

  “I’ve never been happy. But you’ve more important matters to address. Like the magic wielding madman on his way here to kill you and your friends. Ailsing was wise to retreat to the M’Tyr. It allows you focus on this.” Arhdor jabbed a finger down on the journal then left the study.

  Brogan sneered and reached for his glass. Gone, along with the decanter. Sneaky elf. He flipped open the journal and saw blank pages.

  “This is one of the blank ones.” He slapped his hand on a page while he yelled. Since all the journals looked similar it was a simple mistake to grab the unused one. His fingertips brushed over indentations as if someone had applied a quill to the book.

  “Ardhor!” Ink appeared beneath his hand, as dark as pitch, and ebbed across the page until it was filled edge to edge with writings.

  Ardhor stepped into the room, his brow raised. “Amazing.”

  “It reacting to my hand,” Brogan said. He lifted it and the words faded, then returned when he applied his palm again.

  Ardhor stepped beside Brogan so he could look over the newly emerged words.

  “It’s a family history.” Brogan skimmed over a recounting of a battle between House Talesin and House Dhuebarth. He turned the page.

  “Talesin was a house of powerful spell casters,” Ardhor gasped. “Possibly the last destroyed by the emperor. This is an amazing treasure trove of information. I’ll fetch you pen and paper for notes.”

  “Wait, why do I have to take the notes?” Brogan grabbed the elf’s arm to stop him from leaving.

  “You’re the only who can make the words appear.” Ardhor pulled himself free and disappeared down the hall.

  Not interested in taking notes, he leafed through until the writing ceased to appear. There was still a quarter of the journal remaining blank. The book was written by several different hands, each generation adding their pages until the last master of Armanta Hill.

  Ardhor returned with a tray laden with a coffee pot, mugs, and the pen and paper.

  “Listen to this: Relations between my daughter and Gilroy Dhuebarth have deteriorated and I cannot in good conscience force her to marry the man. Attempts to negotiate a new peace with Emperor Dhuebarth have proven fruitless. I fear this is the end of the House Talesin as the crown has declared war on all practitioners of Taika’s arts. I fear for my children as they are scattered over Northam making their own path. My only hope now is to make it into the Wylderlands and hope my kin can follow. May Taika protect them in this, our darkest hour.”

  “When was that written? Is there a date?” Ardhor set down the tray on the desk and poured them both a cup.

  “Thirty years ago.”

  “That’s about the time of the Purge, must be the war he spoke of.”

  “Who or what is Taika? And why does Gilroy Dhuebarth sound familiar?”

  “No idea about Taika but Gilroy is the Emperor’s younger brother.” Ardhor sighed. “To think the purge may have been avoided if this daughter had just married the man.”

  Brogan frowned. An image of Aisling wed to Declan to appease the man’s blood lust. No, he’d find another way to justify his carnage, just as many men had before him. “It’s not this daughter’s fault the war happened. Spoiled rich man didn’t get his way and threw a tantrum that probably killed thousands. Lay blame where it’s due, the emperor.”

  Ardhor regarded him a long moment, then nodded. “I wonder if any of them made to the Wylderlands.”

  Brogan flipped a few paged forward, leaving a finger in the pages where births were announcements

  “His children were Harlan, Fiona and Soleil. Odd coincidence.” Brogan turned and glanced at Ardhor. “My father’s name was Harlan and my aunt Fiona.”

  “Are you sure it’s a coincidence? You and Kiera have a magical gift and Fiona did spend time beyond the Wylderlands with my people.”

  “Is it possible they are one in the same?” Brogan thought back over the harsh winters and wandering summers. Moving every season, he believed his father when he said they were fletchers, it was their very name. And he believed they moved to avoid debt collectors. But as he remembered farther back, the closer their wanderings were to the Wylderlands.

  “It would explain why the book reacted to you,” Ardhor said. “And that room in the wine cellar. It must only react to someone from the family line?”

  Brogan removed his hand and watched the words fade.

  “I assume your father never spoke of anything like this?”

  No, nothing like this. He shook his head.

  “Who was your mother?”

  “Her name was Murna. Died giving me life.” His father never spoke of it. If he lied about the family history, he’d easily have lied about his mother. Was the purge so dire that they didn’t dare speak the truth about any of it? “I don’t know the truth of it anymore.”

  “Well,” Ardhor sighed. “Glean what you can from this history. If there are more such journals, we will find them. Perhaps there is a record in Cearbhall. In the spring, we can engage the help of your cousin.”

  Brogan closed the book and pushed it aside. If they lived to see the spring, he thought. He grabbed his mug and breathed in the earthy aroma. Time for a subject change. “How is Erann?”

  “She is well,” Ardhor said. “I was able to redress her wounds and apply some salves to aid healing. I believe she will make a full recovery.”

  Brogan shook his head.

  “And Brigid’s friend?”

  “Uilleam has returned to Talisan. He’s promised to return but he’s not said when. Can we trust the man?”

  “Brigid trusts him, that’s good enough for me.” The man knew what the troupe did for a living, he could have turned them in at any time. Brogan may have tried recruiting the man if he’d known he was drugai. “But we can’t count on him for help when Declan arrives. What do you say to some drills?”

  Chapter 21

  Aisling’s legs burned as she pushed herself into a run, trying to keep up with the rest of the pack. Even with a week of running with them, she could barely keep up. Racing and wrestling, it was all so new. She yipped her defeat and slowed to a trot, headed for her longhouse and a mug of warm mead.

  She ducked through the wolf door, shifted and grabbed a wrap dress from the cubby just inside the house. It wasn’t her dress, it didn’t belong to anyone really. It lay in wait for the next woman who needed it and when she was done, she laundered it and placed it back.

  The M’Tyr didn’t strictly own anything, they shared what they had. No one went without, no one suffered from classist thinking or entitlement. Those who were curious about her befriended her and taught her their ways. Those that held back treated her with respect.

  Aisling strolled to her pallet, sat and slipped into her moccasins. Meals were served in the main lodge and there was drinking and bread between feasts. It appeared the M’Tyr liked to celebrate as often as her people in Northam.

  “Valko tells me that your choice to join us may have been under duress.”

  Aisling glanced up to her mother, two mugs in her hand. She accepted the offered beverage and inhaled the steam: coffee with brandy.

  “Does he speak the truth?” Her mother sat beside.

&nb
sp; Aisling’s shoulder slumped. “Yes, he does.”

  Her mind had returned to Brogan more often than she’d care to admit. She couldn’t shake the man from her mind. He even invaded her dreams.

  “Was it Fletcher, did he mistreat you?”

  Broke my heart, she wanted to say but that was a lie. “Brogan was always a gentleman to me.”

  Her mother arched a brow, an unspoken question for her to continue.

  “We agreed it would be safer for me to be here in Watervale.” Which was the truth, until she’d gone and fallen in love with the bandit. Now she wasn’t sure she should have left. “Someone from his past, harmed his friends and he believed he was next.”

  Her mother nodded. “I agree that you are safe here and you’ve adjusted well. Many speak well of you for being raised on the outside. I’d like to think that it’s because you are a lot like me.”

  Her mother tucked a stray curl behind her ear but Aisling knew she wasn’t done speaking.

  “Which means I can tell you aren’t committed to a life here. You hide your melancholy well but the moments you think no one perceives you, those are the moments you give yourself away.”

  Aisling sighed, even now the ache in the pit of her stomach persisted. It was every present and at times threatened to overtake her mind. She fought it but the urge to find a corner and cry it out overtook her daily.

  “I’d just be a distraction,” Aisling said. “Brogan’s enemy is a powerful man. He’d use anything and anyone to his advantage.”

  Even those closest to him.

  “You know him?”

  “Yes. Father betrothed me to him.”

  Her mother took her hand and squeezed. “Your father and I had an arranged marriage, I understand. Although I grew to respect the man, there was no love between us. For you, for all my children, I’d wish nothing but a love match. It’s the most fulfilling connection one can have with a mate.”

  “Well now I have the man I love fighting off the man I’m promised to.” Aisling paused, love. “I’d only get in the way. Declan wouldn’t hesitate to use me against his enemies.”