lad eyeing his sword
with reservation. Perhaps it was his weapon that unnerved them and
not his intimidating stance.
“I have traveled far and wish only to have
something to eat and drink for myself and my squire.” He kept his
voice even toned, hoping he sounded friendly. “Once the lad has
taken care of the horses, he will join me.”
The man standing behind the wooden bar forced
a smile and nodded his head. His hair had grayed, but he stood
tall. Age had not robbed him of his strength. “We have lamb stew
and ale aplenty.”
“Sounds splendid.” He removed his mantle as
he took the empty table near the back of the room where his back
would be to the wall and he could see the coming and going of the
men. They were Gaelic farmers by the looks of them. Most had dark
hair, darker than his, and their skin was weathered from the sun
and wind.
The innkeeper brought him a tankard of
ale.
“Your name?” Liam asked, meeting the man’s
gaze.
The man seemed nervous and on edge, but he
could not fault him. He was a stranger to this region of the
island. “Jarvis Hearne, kind Sir.”
Liam lifted the tankard to his lips, taking a
generous swig. The ale went down smooth with its sweet full bodied
and fruity taste. He leveled his gaze on the innkeeper. “Thank you,
Jarvis.”
The man nodded his head and scurried away
only to return a few moments later with two generous plates of
stew. There was even bread for dipping. He ate in silence and the
room began to return to normal with low murmurs of conversation.
They barely glanced at Cormac who strode in like a shivering
waif.
He waved to the boy and he hurried over to
him.
“Sit, and eat. The food is good and hot.”
Cormac shoveled his food in his mouth like it
would be his last meal.
“Slow down.” Liam chuckled. “I promise you no
one will steal your plate.”
Cormac wiped his face with the back of his
hand and grinned. With much effort, the boy managed to take smaller
bites.
Liam had planned to stay the night here, but
with the odd welcome, he thought it wise to continue on his
journey.
Just as he was finishing the last of his ale,
a man placed another tankard before him. His face was weathered and
his beard straggly. “’Tis not safe to be wandering so close to the
forbidden forest.” He was not stating the name of the forest in
question, but warning him in some way to stay clear of it.
Liam’s lips curved as he stared at the old
man over the rim of his tankard. “And why is that, may I ask?”
“The nights belong to her of course,
especially this time of the year when the otherworld is stronger.
Not that it matters to her. Her strength is like ten men.”
He assumed the old man spoke of the
approaching Samhain as the time of year in question. Christianity
may be practiced, but the people here still held onto the pagan
superstitions. “Her? You speak of a woman then?” His gaze traveled
over the men in the pub, large men who may not know how to swing a
sword, but they were not idle men. Strong and daring, but yet, they
sat there crossing themselves at the mention of the forest and who
dwelled in it.
Cormac paused in his eating, his dark eyes
looking too large for his face as he stared wide-eyed at the old
man.
The old man glanced over his shoulder as if
asking the other patrons’ permission to continue. No one came
forward to stop him and his gaze returned to Liam. “She is a
beautiful lass with dark strands and a face of an angel, but you
must not be fooled. She is one of the undead, a creature who feeds
off the blood of men.”
“Surely, ye jest.” Liam chuckled, but
realized no one shared in his mirth. They truly believed some lass
lived in the forest devouring men’s blood. He was only four and
twenty, but he had heard of such talk about these creatures on his
quests, but he had brushed the tales off as nothing more than
fanciful stories. He had no wish to offend and would indulge the
old man, letting him tell the tale about the fallen
with reservation. Perhaps it was his weapon that unnerved them and
not his intimidating stance.
“I have traveled far and wish only to have
something to eat and drink for myself and my squire.” He kept his
voice even toned, hoping he sounded friendly. “Once the lad has
taken care of the horses, he will join me.”
The man standing behind the wooden bar forced
a smile and nodded his head. His hair had grayed, but he stood
tall. Age had not robbed him of his strength. “We have lamb stew
and ale aplenty.”
“Sounds splendid.” He removed his mantle as
he took the empty table near the back of the room where his back
would be to the wall and he could see the coming and going of the
men. They were Gaelic farmers by the looks of them. Most had dark
hair, darker than his, and their skin was weathered from the sun
and wind.
The innkeeper brought him a tankard of
ale.
“Your name?” Liam asked, meeting the man’s
gaze.
The man seemed nervous and on edge, but he
could not fault him. He was a stranger to this region of the
island. “Jarvis Hearne, kind Sir.”
Liam lifted the tankard to his lips, taking a
generous swig. The ale went down smooth with its sweet full bodied
and fruity taste. He leveled his gaze on the innkeeper. “Thank you,
Jarvis.”
The man nodded his head and scurried away
only to return a few moments later with two generous plates of
stew. There was even bread for dipping. He ate in silence and the
room began to return to normal with low murmurs of conversation.
They barely glanced at Cormac who strode in like a shivering
waif.
He waved to the boy and he hurried over to
him.
“Sit, and eat. The food is good and hot.”
Cormac shoveled his food in his mouth like it
would be his last meal.
“Slow down.” Liam chuckled. “I promise you no
one will steal your plate.”
Cormac wiped his face with the back of his
hand and grinned. With much effort, the boy managed to take smaller
bites.
Liam had planned to stay the night here, but
with the odd welcome, he thought it wise to continue on his
journey.
Just as he was finishing the last of his ale,
a man placed another tankard before him. His face was weathered and
his beard straggly. “’Tis not safe to be wandering so close to the
forbidden forest.” He was not stating the name of the forest in
question, but warning him in some way to stay clear of it.
Liam’s lips curved as he stared at the old
man over the rim of his tankard. “And why is that, may I ask?”
“The nights belong to her of course,
especially this time of the year when the otherworld is stronger.
Not that it matters to her. Her strength is like ten men.”
He assumed the old man spoke of the
approaching Samhain as the time of year in question. Christianity
may be practiced, but the people here still held onto the pagan
superstitions. “Her? You speak of a woman then?” His gaze traveled
over the men in the pub, large men who may not know how to swing a
sword, but they were not idle men. Strong and daring, but yet, they
sat there crossing themselves at the mention of the forest and who
dwelled in it.
Cormac paused in his eating, his dark eyes
looking too large for his face as he stared wide-eyed at the old
man.
The old man glanced over his shoulder as if
asking the other patrons’ permission to continue. No one came
forward to stop him and his gaze returned to Liam. “She is a
beautiful lass with dark strands and a face of an angel, but you
must not be fooled. She is one of the undead, a creature who feeds
off the blood of men.”
“Surely, ye jest.” Liam chuckled, but
realized no one shared in his mirth. They truly believed some lass
lived in the forest devouring men’s blood. He was only four and
twenty, but he had heard of such talk about these creatures on his
quests, but he had brushed the tales off as nothing more than
fanciful stories. He had no wish to offend and would indulge the
old man, letting him tell the tale about the fallen
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